The Last Fairy Tale

by Lowell, E. S.

  I’ve gone mad. She suddenly felt a little embarrassed that she had even considered the idea that her father had seen Ink in his dreams. My father couldn’t have had these dreams. I saw Ink only because I’ve seen him in this diary. I made him up because of this drawing. She sighed and walked over to her door. She wasn’t quite sure of what to expect from the day ahead of her, but what she was sure of was that the memory of Ms. Canterbry’s death and Ms. Cooper’s departure was still very vivid. It pushed her thoughts about the dream and Ink to the back of her mind.

  Outside her room, Olivia saw the other children lining up outside their doors. Most of them looked tired, as if they hadn’t slept the night before. Olivia heard some of the children sniffling in a failed attempt to hold back tears. In a way, Olivia respected the children a little more than she previously had. They were showing emotions that she had believed had been all but snuffed out. She walked down the hall and took her place in line. She heard Mr. Schafer waking the boys on the other hall. She thought about Nachton and how weak he had become the day before. It worried her.

  When they had all gotten in line, Ms. Kobayashi led them down the stairs and into the main hallway. A sheet lay over the place where Ms. Canterbry had fallen. The children bowed their heads sadly as they walked past it. Shortly after she reached the main hall, Olivia looked up the stairs to see Mr. Schafer and the boys coming down. She didn’t see Nachton among them.

  “Alban’s boy refuses to leave his room,” Olivia overhead Mr. Schafer mumbling quietly to Ms. Kobayashi. “I told him that I would bring his breakfast up to him.”

  “That will be fine,” she replied, nodding solemnly. “He’s having a tough time dealing with these recent events.”

  Olivia was suddenly struck with a sense of dread. What if something is wrong with Nachton? He can’t be sick. We’re immune to illness, she thought. Maybe it’s deeper than a physical illness. Our bodies may fight disease, but our minds... She turned this thought over in her head as they walked to the dining hall. Olivia was somewhat relieved that Mr. Schafer and Ms. Kobayashi were being as kind to Nachton and the other children as they were. She figured it must have been a result of Mr. Gloome’s absence.

  The children ate breakfast in silence. Olivia noted that Mr. Dewberry was looking increasingly worse with each passing day. He appeared to be in pain as he slowly helped the nannies pass the trays out to the children. Olivia wasn’t hungry, but she knew that she needed to eat. She watched as Mr. Schafer explained to Mr. Dewberry that his son wouldn’t come out of his room. Mr. Dewberry shook his head and wiped a tear from his face. He thanked Mr. Schafer repeatedly for offering to take a tray up to Nachton’s room. Then he walked slowly back into the kitchen.

  * * * * *

  They spent the remainder of the day in the physical education room, where the children halfheartedly threw balls back and forth and jumped rope in silence. Olivia spent the time worrying about Nachton and Mr. Dewberry, wishing that she could go and talk to them. She was relieved when Ms. Kobayashi announced that they would be returning to their rooms after dinner. Olivia wanted to be alone, to use the solitude to think.

  After dinner, Ms. Kobayashi and Mr. Schafer led the children to their rooms. Just as they made it to the doors, one child asked the question everyone wanted the answer to. “Where is Mr. Gloome?”

  “He is...” Mr. Schafer said. He glanced over at Ms. Kobayashi.

  “In his office,” she finished. She said no more on the subject.

  * * * * *

  After she was in her room, Olivia pulled the journal from under her mattress and lay on her bed. She felt a strange need to help everyone. She wanted to walk out of her room and reassure everyone that everything would be just fine, despite how it appeared. But she knew it wasn’t true. No matter how hard we try, we are always going to be doomed here. The thought weighed heavily on her mind. She felt like crying, but she had already done so much of that lately. Suddenly a knock on her door jarred her. She jumped up and scrambled to tuck the journal under her mattress. “C-come in.”

  The door opened and Mr. Dewberry stepped into her room. He carried a tray of Crud and had a few papers tucked underneath one massive arm. Despite his sickly state, Mr. Dewberry was still a hefty man and dwarfed Olivia as he stepped closer. Olivia didn’t know what to think, but she was happy to see him. She offered to let him sit on her bed, because he was bent slightly forward from pain.

  “No, no, lass,” he said softly. “If I sit, I may never get back up.” He tried to laugh, but he stopped suddenly with a grimace. “As ye can see, I’m not in the best o’ shape. Wanted to come up here to give ye a little somethin’.”

  Olivia felt tears forming in her eyes. She could tell that he wasn’t planning on living much longer.

  “Thought ye might be interested in seein’ these,” he said, handing her the stack of papers. “They were torn from yer father’s journal. I’m so sorry that I didn’t give ‘em to ye before. Thought ye’d get the wrong idea about yer parents if ye read those papers at such a young age.”

  Olivia looked down at the papers and saw they were filled with what must have been her father’s handwriting. She couldn’t wait to read them.

  “Thank you,” she said, looking up at Mr. Dewberry. He was smiling at her, his usually jolly red cheeks now just as pale as her own skin. She laid the papers on her bed, walked over to him, opened her arms as wide as they would go, and threw them around his waist. She had never done something like that before, because contact with staff was against the rules, but she knew she needed to do it now. Mr. Dewberry was like a father to her, and she felt close to him.

  “Oho! Look at ye,” he said, patting her back with his free hand. “Ye’ve gone and made me cry.” He sniffed loudly, and Olivia felt a warm tear fall onto her face. “I love ye, lass. Just like ye were one o’ my own. Don’t ye forget that.”

  Olivia was stunned. She had never heard the word love in her entire life, except when she had read about it in an encyclopedia article that explained the concept of human affection. She began to weep as she felt a new sense of belonging. Her heart ached almost unbearably at the fact that she would soon lose Mr. Dewberry. However, no matter how painful the ache seemed, it was tolerable knowing that he loved her. Mr. Dewberry backed away and looked at her, tears streaming down his cheeks and into his beard. A wide smile spread across his face.

  “Yer lookin’ more an’ more like yer mum, Olivia. Tore her apart to give ye up to this place.” He sighed and shook his head.

  “What was she like?” Olivia asked.

  “Oh, she was a wonderful person—quick-witted and carin’. She would go to the end o’ the world for you an’ Will.” A fresh stream of tears rolled down his face and his voice broke as he continued. “I miss ‘em lass. If it weren’t for the construction o’ these bloody vaults, I would’ve never had to part ways with ‘em. But I had to. For Nachton. For you, Olivia.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Olivia said. She felt cold, her insides shaking with nervousness. “Are you saying you built the orphanage?”

  “Yeah. Dr. Alban Dewberry, lead engineer. World’s finest. See where it got me?” He huffed and shrugged his shoulders. “Anyway, I’ve said too much. I’m gonna take Nachton the meal that he missed at dinner. Hopefully he’ll eat it.”

  “Okay,” Olivia said. She had so many more questions to ask. But she knew that he needed to be with Nachton. She wished she could go too, and the three of them could stay together forever, like a family, but she knew it wasn’t possible.

  “I know that he’s waiting to see you. Please tell him hello for me.” She smiled through her tears. He patted her on the head, returned her smile, and left her room.

  Olivia stood motionless and stared at her door for a while after he had left. She was in a daze. She didn’t know whether to feel happy or sad, so she felt both. After a few moments, she finally managed to walk back to her bed, where she remembered the journal pages Mr. Dewberry had brought her. She picked them up, sat on the edg
e of her bed, and gazed at them. The entries were short and hastily written. Her heart began to race as she took a deep breath and started to read.

  Filled up my other journal. The other IPHA scientists joke about how I don’t use a computer to keep my notes. So I ask them, “Who will still have notes after the power fails?” Even as the pollution spreads and engulfs the world in darkness, they still act like there’s nothing to fear. Well, they’re wrong.

  Emma and I huddle up together every night in the bunkers they’ve provided in the underground facility. We know things are going downhill at an alarming rate. Within a month, more than half the population of the entire world has either died or become Hackers, a term the other scientists use to describe people who have become mindless, twisted monsters due to their DNA being modified on the fly. I could kill the guy that started all this CADNA crap.

  Emma says she can feel the baby kicking now! Even as it seems the world is coming to an end, it’s still exciting to me as a father to hear that my daughter is strong and healthy. I just hope that the work we’re putting into making this cure pays off. If there is any way to put an end to this DNA Flu madness, Emma and I will find it.

  A discovery has been made that indicates that if the AVDNA Vaccine is injected into the womb, the child will be born with an attachment to its DNA that acts as a sort of firewall against the incoming mutated viruses. This means that newborn children now have a chance at living. If the Coalition keeps their end of the bargain and allows Alban to build those vaults for the children, then perhaps we really can rebuild...

  Work on the AI is almost complete. The result should be a machine that can scan and detect viruses and other defects in human DNA and correct them. This will hopefully do away with the cellular computers altogether. I sure hope so... Being in this facility is driving me insane!

  I had an odd dream last night. Probably a result of recent events. Anyway, Olivia was born yesterday!!! It’s the greatest thing that has ever happened in my life! She is so beautiful!

  Communication to the Coalition has been lost and most of the power in the facility is gone. Olivia has been transported to one of the vaults. Emma and I are devastated. God, I hope we’ve done the right thing...

  Had that dream about that Ink creature again. Don’t know why I think it’s worthy of an entry in this journal. It’s just disturbingly realistic. Probably a result of my insanity. Whether that’s true or not, it still convinced me to sneak into the AI’s testing room and add an exception in the code...

  That was the last entry. Olivia wept as she read them again and again. Reading some of her father’s own words was wonderful and terrible at the same time. She stood up and began to pace her room. She couldn’t sit still any longer; she had to do something.

  Suddenly she heard two sets of footsteps racing up the main staircase. She ran to her door and pressed her ear hard against it to listen and heard Ms. Kobayashi and Mr. Schafer.

  “I’ll carry him if he’s too weak to walk,” Mr. Schafer said.

  “Thank you,” Ms. Kobayashi responded. She sounded as if she was crying as well. “He needs to be with him.”

  Olivia knew immediately that they were talking about Mr. Dewberry and Nachton. Mr. Dewberry must have been dying at that very moment. Although she knew his death was coming, she still felt her insides knotting up. She twisted her doorknob roughly, but her door had already been locked for the night. She cried out and pounded the door with her fists in frustration, knowing that no one would come to unlock it. Realizing that she couldn’t do anything, she slid to the floor into a heap and sobbed into her shaking hands.

  Chapter Four

  Outside

  Olivia was standing in a forest. The ground beneath her was green and covered with beautiful flowers and tall grass. Ivy climbed the enormous, ancient trees that surrounded her. She tried to peer further into the distance, but couldn’t make out anything. Everything was dark.

  As she gazed around, more of the forest came into view, but she could only focus on that which she was looking at directly; everything else was blurry. Am I dreaming? she thought to herself. She picked a direction and started walking, but she couldn’t lift her leg. She felt her muscles working as though she was walking, but her leg remained motionless.

  Suddenly a deep, hoarse voice startled her from behind. “Hello again, little human.”

  Olivia spun around to see what looked like a man’s face smiling at her. She gasped and tried to take a step back, but then she remembered that she had done this before. She was looking at the somnivate called Ink.

  “Wait, I know you,” Olivia said.

  “Ah, that is good, my child,” said Ink with a chuckle. He dropped from the limb where he was hanging and transformed into black fog. He reappeared as a goat and walked up to Olivia. "It is good to see you again, Olivia.”

  “Wait,” she said, remembering what they had discussed in her previous dream. “I want some answers. No more of this confusing nonsense. Why are you in my dream? And why can I talk to you like it’s not a dream? And...why were you in my father’s dreams?”

  Ink tilted his head back and laughed, making a raspy sound. “I knew I was correct when I touched your dreams for the very first time. You are smart and curious, and not afraid to step out of line if need be. But most of all, you’ve quite a wonderful heart.”

  “But how do you know all this?” Olivia asked. “And why does it matter?”

  “I have been watching you for quite a while now,” Ink replied. He walked around her, the black fog from his beard and tail trailing off in wisps as he moved. “It was my job to locate you and make sure that you were the right choice. And now, it is my job to guide you.”

  “Right choice for what? Guide me where?” Olivia asked, beginning to lose her patience. “You haven’t answered any of my questions yet, and you’re confusing me again!”

  “Patience, child,” Ink said calmly. “All will be known soon. But for now, will you follow me, please?”

  Olivia was surprised that he expected her to trust him even after he had refused to answer any of her questions. She looked around at the forest and remembered that she was dreaming.

  “Sure, I’ll follow you,” she said. “But only if you promise to start answering my questions and making some sense.”

  Ink chuckled. “Yes, yes. I will certainly try my best.”

  With his promise, she followed him. Olivia suddenly noticed that a path seemed to clear in front of them as they walked ahead. She peered back and noticed that the trees and ground behind them were vanishing as she and Ink continued walking. She felt frightened, so she kept reminding herself that she was only dreaming. After all, disappearing trees and such were completely acceptable in dreams. When she focused her attention back on Ink, she saw that he was now a sleek black cat. He leapt into the air, disappearing into black fog. He soon reappeared as the cat, floating on his back in the air as if lounging. His back legs were crossed and his front paws were folded behind his head. He looked lazily at Olivia.

  “Ask away,” Ink said. “However, ask wisely, because we don’t have very long.”

  Olivia wondered how he had managed to stay on the path even as he faced away from it to look at her, but he had said that she must ask her questions wisely, so she decided against asking him how he did it.

  “Where are we going?” Olivia asked.

  “To the Door,” Ink replied.

  “And what door might that be?” she asked, crossing her arms. She had almost decided that there was no good way to talk to Ink without feeling like she was losing her mind.

  “The Door,” he replied. “But considering the fact that you won’t be satisfied until you have heard the full truth—which is good, I might add—in short, the Door is a rift opened quite a long time ago. It serves as a doorway between here and there, but that is a story for another time.”

  Olivia was beginning to have a difficult time convincing herself that this was still a dream. Most dreams revolved around things a pers
on had seen or heard before, but Olivia had never even come across the word rift. She suddenly felt cold. She looked around and noticed that the grass was gone and the trees looked charred and bare, like the life had been sucked from them. She tried to think of the next most important question.

  “How did my father know about you?” she asked. She was beginning to shiver, her teeth chattering.

  “Ah, your father,” said Ink. He seemed to think this question deserved more concentration, because he floated back down to the ground with a more serious expression on his face. He walked on his hind legs and put a paw on his forehead as if to think. “William Wickworth...” Ink laughed and then said, “Your father was a brilliant man, Olivia. At least, in my opinion. You see, I also visited William in his dreams. I have taken it upon myself to seek out those who possess the ability to help us with a bit of a problem. And William seemed to fit the description absolutely.”

  Olivia forced herself not to become distracted by Ink’s confusing babble. She wanted to know about her father.

  “What about him was special?” she asked.

  “The same things that make you special,” Ink replied. “Your family has a history of dedication to helping others and trying to make the best of a bad situation. That alone is special. But, whether by some very curious stroke of luck or perhaps that you were born of the same blood, you and your father possess incredibly strong imaginations. You are not afraid to use your imagination, are you, Olivia?”