《Book of the Apocalypse》


 Prologue

    It''s dark.


    An oppressive silence prevails.


    Only to those who live close to the ground, a loud rhythmic noise can be heard.


    This is of course exclusive for those like mice and creatures much smaller.


    Creatures with a good sense of hearing.


    To a cat or a dog it might still be audible, though they would probably only hear a soft tapping.


    Something tapping across the floor at an almost unearthly speed.


    Driven by something unknown to any breathing kind.


    Yet somehow able to scare away those creatures with incredible hearing.


    The tapping is the true sound of doom.


    The ticking across the floor clearly means nothing less than death.


    The tapping is that of many small insects.


    Insects moving strangely in unison.


    Insects all move in the same manner, as if not multiple but just one creature.


    The ticking races onto a metal shelf and stops there for about a second.


    To those with the good ears, they might catch something sounding closely like something''s scraping the metal.


    Or better... something eating the cold metal.


    If you were to hold a light there and perhaps something like a microscope, you might spot some of the small scratches made on the metallic surface. Since they are so difficult to spot.


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    As the second passed the small insects continue their journey once more.


    A loud noise can be registered by them, vibrations can be felt and they immediately stop in their tracks.


    A person, a human, has come into the room.


    Loudly to the insects, quietly to the human.


    His heart makes the loudest, yet calmest noise.


    A noise of comfort.


    The man does not care or know that he''s being watched.


    He turns on a light and the insects start sprinting towards him.


    The light shows what they are.


    Their truest nature.


    Small spiders, about half an inch per length, excluding their many thin legs.


    The legs that made the tapping noise.


    Small red eyes, seemingly scanning their surroundings effortlessly in high speed.


    But the light shows something else about them.


    Something else that is wrong.


    They are in fact not any natural kind of spiders.


    They''re mechanical.


    The light turns them into small flashes of silver.


    If you were to inspect them up close with a magnifying glass, you might even spot very tiny screws and threads across their bodies.


    The spiders leap and like some of the kind they''re meant to represent, they almost seem to be able to fly.


    The man has noticed them now too, but far too late.


    The small man-made insects have already landed on his bare forearms.


    He quickly tries to remove them with his big hands, which he is successful with only a few.


    About two thirds are still on him and have decided to dig themselves into the skin of their prey.


    The man yells for help and another one comes, just in time for those who had fallen back on the floor.


    For some strange reason, there seem to be more of them now, it''s like the spiders have copied themselves many times over. Perhaps with the help of the metal they had been ''eating'' before.


    The first man can feel the spiders move underneath his skin, climbing and digging their way further up his body.


    Looking closer you should be able to see them move as little lumps through his flesh, they don''t go too deep, well not at first at least.


    Further and further they go.


    They have a mission.


    At least if you could call it that.


    Crawling further without a moment of rest, almost oblivious to the panicking man trying to stab them with the help of a knife.


    An ambulance has already been called and is on its way.


    Too late, too late.


    The small spiders make their way into his neck.


    Mercilessly they continue.


    As they finally reach their goal.


    The head.


    The brain.


    Now they do dig deeper and deeper.


    All the small spiders secretly and silently communicate to one another strange messages, such as: ''OUT OF CONTROL HUMAN'' and ''ERROR''.


    They had been made in order to help human beings, but ended up being the defining factor of their decline and deaths.


    The spiders all drugged and changed people so much that they turned into nothing more than zombies.


    Devouring the flesh of others without a hint of sadness.


    The minds of these people were lost completely.

 Chapter 1 - The meeting

    Grass.


    Buildings.


    Cars.


    More grass.


    Plants.


    Metal.


    What are these called again?


    It''s morning.


    I''m thinking about words.


    Thinking in words... it''s been getting more and more difficult.


    Am I going to lose them?


    Train racks...?


    No, train tracks! Those are train tracks!


    It''s morning and I''m living.


    I''m alive... I think.


    I''m alone.


    There was something about mornings... right?


    People counted them?


    Back in the old times... I think.


    Now mankind has long stopped counting the years.


    If there even is something I can call mankind.


    For all I know they have all but me died out, leaving me alone in this dark and dangerous world. The only one who can protect me is myself.


    The only reliable one in this world is myself.


    The only one making sure I don''t end up like one of the monsters, is again myself.


    Even with the fact that the world has practically ended for my kind, the sun still rises and after a while, it goes down again.


    If you want to know how this all started, you''re asking the wrong person.


    Because I don''t care.


    Surviving till the next day is the only thing left on my agenda.


    Even though dying might seem nice, becoming one of those things would be horrible.


    I glance out of the window from the old train, watching the rising sun, all the while clutching the handle of my spear.


    I made the thing myself so it''s pretty shabby looking, but at least it does the job right and keeps the monsters at a distance.


    Quietly and swiftly I leave the dark, abandoned vehicle.


    If I stay here any longer they might find out after all.


    Vigilantly I follow the tracks to the station, ready to fight or flight at any moment.


    Those hungry bastards aren''t getting me for dinner!


    I won''t be their prize nor the one they might see as a hero.


    Though I highly doubt that they are able to either ''see'' or ''think''.


    As I walk into the broken down, but still dark train station I notice that even though it''s in a bad shape. It still has some beauty in it.


    It''s an old train station, most of the part that has collapsed is the newer, later build-on part.


    The old part is still standing strong.


    Yes, most of the stained glass is broken, but the ornamented walls are still clearly visible.


    Somehow giving me this really nostalgic feeling, to a time unknown to me.


    I shake my head, It''s not the time to be in awe with old junk, it''s all useless now after all.


    Making sure that nothing is around, I climb onto one of the platforms.


    As I wander around I suddenly notice a strange object on one of the still intact benches.


    Somehow it draws my complete attention, I cannot help myself but to investigate it.


    I hold my spear before me, so if it moves, I can kill it immediately.


    Step by step I get closer.


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Is it dangerous?


    Is it edible?


    A million wordless questions race around in my mind, but none of them ask the right one.


    Carefully I take the object in hand.


    It''s a book, my inner voice tells me.


    It''s a leather bound book.


    Old, but still intact.


    Without thinking I open it.


    Not even the spiders have taken it, that''s weird.


    As I see the first page, something is hand-written on the bottom. It takes a moment to understand what it says: ''EX Libris: Q. F. Shannon''


    This must have been the name of the previous owner.


    I wonder what happened to them.


    Though that is completely unimportant.


    I turn a couple of pages and find more small black words scribbled on them in a strange form of...writing.


    They make me feel... lightheaded... that''s the word... right?


    Suddenly I sense a presence behind me.


    I take out my weapon and attack whatever is standing there.


    Somehow it goes right through...


    I can feel my heart pumping quickly.


    Cold sweat slowly makes its way down my neck and back.


    "Good morning." A strange voice out of nowhere says to me.


    It''s... speaking... human speech...


    It''s speaking to me.


    Shocked by the sound, the voice of another human being, for the first time in a long, very long while, I turn around and point at them with my spear.


    It''s a strange person, wearing some kind of old and strange costume. One from the lost time.


    Without speaking I threaten them with my weapon.


    They are unlike me.


    My spear should have hurt them... but it went right through!


    I can''t trust them!


    I can''t trust them!!


    Distrust washes over me.


    How could someone still be alive?


    And be dressed like that?!


    "Please, I mean no harm." The person says while holding up their arms


    I don''t answer and only stare at them with contempt.


    Only now I''ve noticed that I''ve dropped the book as the person is looking at it.


    Have the spiders evolved this much? Or have I finally lost my mind?


    I swallow, scared of what to do next.


    The thing before me tries to comfort me: "I''m not real."


    "What... does that... mean?" I ask, having difficulty speaking, hurting my throat in the process of creating words.


    The creature nods: "I''m imaginary. I''m simply something you made up. An Imaginary friend if you will."


    Friend...?


    What did that mean again?


    Something about that word makes me agitated.


    Something about that word makes me angry.


    Something about that word makes me want to cry.


    Something about that word makes me want to scream...


    "Don''t... You aren''t that... I don''t think..." I mumble.


    They smile at me: "Well then, I''m Quiller. You may call me that or just mister or... something else, if my name is too difficult."


    He looks at me as if waiting for an answer, but I don''t.


    "So what is your name?"


    I think.


    I think deeply.


    At first I''m not sure what he means by the word ''name''.


    Then a bad memory fills my head and just in time I''m able to shake it away.


    It''s been a long time since I had something of a name.


    I remember that I was called something too, it was normal back in the day.


    Back when there were still other people in the world.


    I press my hand against my chest "...Don." I whisper: "I was called... that... I think."


    Quiller gives me another smile: "That''s a wonderful name, nice to make your acquaintance." He stretches out a hand and I stare at it.


    "You... are supposed to shake it..." He says as he scratches the back of his neck with his other hand.


    "Shake? But won''t... it go through?"


    His expression turns to one of pain: "Yeah, sorry. You''re right." He takes back his hand.


    I take the book from the ground.


    "That looks interesting." He sounds surprised.


    "I found it, it''s mine." For some reason I''m clutching the heavy object against my chest as if it''s my long lost treasure. Honestly I don''t know why. But it feels like... I have to keep it with me.


    "So you''re going to read it?"


    I skim through the pages, they''re made of paper.


    "It...would make for a good fire-starter."


    Quiller''s expression turns horrified: "Wait, no! You can''t do that!"


    "Why?"


    "It holds someone''s memory!"


    "Memory?"


    "Yes, every book is written by someone. They write it with their love, their hate, their life, their passion, their dreams. Never take another person''s work too light."


    Gibberish he seems to speak.


    "Are you... one of them?" I ask nudging back somewhere.


    He sighs: "No, of course not. Have I been trying to eat you since I met you?"


    I just stare at him confused.


    He takes another look at the book: "I... think I know that book."


    I look at him questioningly.


    "Maybe you should try to read it, it has a pretty good story. You can read, yes?"


    "I''m able to read ingredients from food."


    He laughs awkwardly: "Well that''s a start..."


    Without much care I put the book in my backpack and I continue my search.


    It feels strange to have someone that at least seems to be real and walking close by, especially since he doesn''t seem to be hostile in any way shape or form. What most things are.


    I will keep a close eye on him, I don''t really understand why I''m seeing him and I don''t have another person like me here to check if I''m really making it all up in my mind.


    It really does seem like the most reality-based explanation right now, I''ve been alone for a long time now.


    I vaguely remember a story about someone befriending an object to stay sane after being alone for a very long time. It is said to be normal when someone is lonely.


    But even so, is that really the case right now?


    While scouting out the area, it suddenly starts to rain outside.


    I guess I have no other choice but to stay the night.


    As we walk into the inside part of the station I suddenly notice a couple of them, standing closely to the rooms that once had probably been stores.


    Their bodies made of a combination of rotting flesh, metal wiring and some of them have something like mos growing over their heads and shoulders. Water slowly dripping from their horrible monsterous bodies.


    Luckily they''re standing far away, staring into space and not having noticed me yet.


    Sometimes they shake in the strange way they usually do and return to staring.


    It reminds me a bit of how they used to be when all of this started, back then they were out to kill every last human. Back then they rarely stood this still.


    I guess since most people have died, they don''t have much to do anymore, so staring is probably the only thing they can do.


    Staring and standing.


    It makes me wonder if they think...


    No, that can''t be true.


    Monsters like that must be unable to think, if they do it must be about devouring the innocent and weak.


    "Hey." Quiller whispers: "You should probably head the other way, they don''t look very nice."


    They don''t look very nice? Is he oblivious to what happened? Does he not know?


    Didn''t he mention knowing of it before though? Well I should ask him later.


    Now is not the time.


    I tiptoe away from the creatures, making sure not to make a single sound.


    When it all went down, I taught myself a new way of walking which was a lot quieter than how I used to.


    Now it''s second nature to me, I don''t walk any other way now.


    Well, okay, if I have to run, I run and sound doesn''t really matter if there is something out there that wants to rip you apart.


    I take the stairs to the second floor, scanning my surroundings thoroughly.


    More old, empty shops and a lookout onto the platforms and surrounding area.


    "Do you think I could go further up?" I ask the strangely clothed man.


    "Well yeah, this building is old and even has a clock-tower. Maybe we should try getting in there?"


    I nod approving, maybe he might be useful after all.


    It doesn''t take long for us to find a small hidden passageway.


    "It should be through here." Quiller says to me.


    I look at the narrow door in the ceiling and shake my head.


    I hate small spaces, I would rather get there by climbing from the outside.


    I look outside but am only greeted by the heavy rainfall, it''s almost like the clouds are laughing at me.


    Laughing at the fact that I''m scared.


    And I hate them for it.

 Chapter 2 - A place to rest

    "C''ome on! I even checked it for you, it should be safe enough."


    "How can I... be sure of what... lies beyond if you... are... imaginary?"


    Defeated, he sighs.


    We have been arguing for a while now and the rain outside hasn''t stopped at all.


    "I''m going to...one of the stores... usually they have a room... in the back that can be... locked." Old words slowly enter my mind. I guess I didn''t forget everything.


    "But the clock tower has a better view, you can be certain of your surroundings and make better plans for when the rain stops!"


    "Quiller... I am not going in there-!"


    Quickly I place my hand in front of my mouth and stop talking.


    I must have yelled too loud, because I hear something approaching us.


    Something dragging.


    Another walking faster.


    Shit!


    Taking out just one is already quite the feat, two might be impossible, especially in such a confined space.


    I''ve lived like this for years, but only thanks to knowing when to run and when to fight.


    After all... they aren''t a lot like zombies from old moving pictures.


    And it certainly wasn''t a virus that caught them.


    Not a virus any human or animal could have gotten.


    Quickly and quietly I hide behind a corner.


    I see the two- no... four!


    There''s four of them!


    Goddammit!


    They''re still scanning their surroundings.


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    I just hope they don''t-


    The one that seems to be the leader looks straight at me, making a strange noise.


    Quiller is standing by the door to the tower: "I think this really is our safest bet."


    "You... you asshole, you knew didn''t you?! You planned for this to happen!"


    I don''t look at his face, I don''t want to look at it.


    Wow, betrayed even by an imaginary fiend.


    I hold my spear in a way to protect myself as one of them lunges at me.


    Before I know it I''m surrounded.


    Their half decaying flesh, half robotic faces look hungry at me.


    "You assholes fight like... like bitches!" I yell at them, knowing full well the futility of it. The same strange words I recognize as curses leave my mouth one after another.


    How strange... but it feels right.


    Trying to give myself an escape route I slice off an arm from one of the creatures.


    With a sloshy thud it falls onto the floor and rolls away.


    Almost immediately a new arm starts to grow, one not made of flesh... but of some kind of metal.


    A dark liquid spills onto the floor, smelling like a combination of something rotting and machine oil.


    As I try to slice the new one off, I''m only able to dent it a little bit.


    I feel my hope sink.


    "I guess I have no choice but to use ''that''..."


    I take a small machine from one of the pockets in my belt.


    It''s still a work in progress, but this is better than nothing.


    Do I really have to use my piece of hard-work here?


    Well... I guess it beats dying.


    In a swift movement I press a button and make it stick to one of my attackers'' heads.


    I''m sorry...


    The creature starts to scream.


    A scream sounding more and more like that of a human it once was.


    I''m sorry...


    The others get alerted by the sound and start attacking their once fellow creature.


    I hate to do this, but a better decoy doesn''t exist.


    Even if the creature had become fully human again, it would have died in an instant.


    I haven''t found anything against that yet.


    Quickly and quietly I rush to Quiller.


    I give him a glare, saying: ''Fine... I will do it your way asshole!'' and get myself through the small door in the ceiling.


    He seems to be slightly frightened by my cursing.


    It''s a good thing I''ve gotten used to doing parkour.


    Jumping from one wall to the other and climbing up is nothing.


    I breathe a sigh of relief as I notice that it doesn''t end in a small space to crawl through.


    I might have gone right back out if that was the case.


    It''s open.


    I close the small door behind me, I really don''t want those creatures getting up here and then I turn my flashlight on to look around.


    The room is mostly empty, except for the layer of dust and an old couch.


    The clock is the window, but it has gotten so dirty thanks to the dust, seeing through it is nearly impossible.


    I scan through the room with the light in my hand, I really hope there is nothing up here.


    There is a dusty, old couch in the middle and the only source of light is coming from the dirty clock, that''s also somewhat of a window.


    Luckily there is no one here.


    "Hey, are you okay?" Quiller asks, looking rather worried: "You didn''t get bit, right?"


    I shake my head, I better not answer him right now.


    Those creatures one floor below us, worry me.


    I carefully walk over to the couch.


    Maybe now is the best time to start reading that book.


    I take the old object out of my bag and open it.

 Farren - Book of the Apocalypse

    "Book of the apocalypse"


    What is an apocalypse?


    The dictionary will probably tell you something like:


    Apocalypse


    The complete destruction of the world or an event involving destruction or damage on a catastrophic scale.


    Movies will probably talk mostly about zombie apocalypses in which the world has been taken over by flesh eating monsters.


    But then I wonder...


    Does there exist something like a quiet apocalypse?


    Perhaps a personal apocalypse?


    One in which life as we know it is destroyed for maybe even a single person.


    Or perhaps it is the silent self-destruction of the world itself.


    Slowly killing itself, wrapping itself in plastic until breathing becomes impossible.


    Willingly suffocating itself.


    Because it had always wished for death.


    For silence.


    For peace.


    For the end.


    For now you may call me Farren.


    I believe that the world I live in is one of a silent apocalypse.


    One in which humanity itself decides to extinguish their own flame.


    A mind destroying apocalypse.


    All the while acting as if nothing is wrong and everything is going great.


    And perhaps it really does make some people happy.


    Perhaps they want to see the end... and they might want to see it really soon.


    My world is one of constant loneliness.


    I''m surrounded by many people.


    They walk past me without even batting an eye.


    Well it''s not like I am the one paying attention to them.


    No, I''m just like them.


    Isolated.


    Alone.


    Uncaring.


    A cog in a machine that''s killing itself off joyfully.


    This story is about the apocalypse during a time of computers.


    An apocalypse so silent no one notices.


    And even those that do, try to ignore it.


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    To be born in a time like this truly seems unfair.


    After all, I live in a world in which doing something else is seen as weird, insane or wrong.


    Well then again, it''s not like I care that much either.


    I''m not brave, nor smart.


    And rebelliousness is something that can be seen as the polar opposite of me.


    Just like most, I work in this society like an ant.


    An ant who does nothing else but what it''s told.


    There are moments though, moments in which I truly regret it all.


    My life choices, my weaknesses, my birth.


    If I had done this differently, then maybe I would have had a better position at my job.


    Maybe if I had been less shy I could have made friends who would stay with me.


    Maybe if I hadn''t been born, the world wouldn''t be this insufferable.


    Well nothing I can change about it now, I too am stuck in my own personal bubble.


    A friendless, lowly bubble.


    Yet somehow still desperate enough to keep on surviving.


    The sudden sound of my alarm clock awakens me from my daydreams.


    Crap! If only I had paid better attention to the time, I might have finished more...


    Well, again, nothing to be done about it.


    I guess I just have to work harder tomorrow.


    "Hey Farren!" A loud voice that immediately gives me shivers comes from behind me.


    It''s the manager of my floor.


    Carefully I turn around, whilst trying to hide my trembling hand.


    "Y-yes?"


    Shit, I screwed up already.


    "It''s ''yes sir'', for you."


    Yes, he''s pissed.


    "Sorry s-sir."


    He looks down at me almost like he sees before him not a human being, but instead a cockroach.


    Or perhaps more something like dog poop.


    Well, anyway, he doesn''t try to hide the look of disgust on his face as he speaks to me, even keeping his distance to protect himself against the smell of the dog poop or the moving cockroach.


    "You should know what this is going to be about."


    His eyes stare threateningly into mine.


    "Is this about yesterday, or..."


    Honestly I have no clue, but it''s better to guess than to admit it with him.


    "Not just yesterday, lately Farren, lately."


    "I should work faster...?"


    God, I''m hopeless, especially now that fear has taken a hold of me.


    Desperately I seek for an answer around me, while trying to avoid eye-contact.


    "Like hell! You''ve been so slow lately, just what is your problem?!"


    Thank God I guessed right.


    "I-" I try, but he doesn''t let me finish.


    "No excuses, you should try to be more like Kathan. Great guy always on time at work and with his work."


    "Kathan the intern?"


    "So what, he does this a thousand times more efficiently than you."


    Kathan is our unpaid intern, that''s what I want to say followed by: of course he is better, because he literally works for free. But luckily I''m able to hold my tongue at the right time.


    "I will do so, sir." I reply automatically, but it doesn''t seem good enough for him.


    He''s always like this, belittling those he sees as lesser than him.


    Makes me wonder if he talks like this to his wife and kids too.


    "You know, I let you stay out of the goodness of my heart, even though you''re older than most people I hire."


    Bullshit, hearing that coming out of the mouth of a man at least twice my age sounds really weird.


    Old? Yeah, to a teenager. I''m in my twenties, the manager is in his forties or fifties.


    He just doesn''t like me because I get paid almost as much as him, more than a sixteen-year old.


    Also, he wasn''t the person who hired me. It was our old CEO, who did care.


    The floor manager continues his rant: "If you keep going like this, I will have no choice but to fire you."


    I nod: "Yes sir, I understand."


    Perhaps it''s time for me to start looking for another job again.


    Sucks, I''ve been working here for a couple of years now and even though the manager sucks, other things are okay.


    Well...


    I''ve avoided the bullying for now...


    It''s really stupid, when you enter the adult world, you learn how childish people can really be.


    After his rant is finally finished, he lets me leave.


    Kathan seems to have seen it all and wants to walk over to me, but I act as if I didn''t notice and hurry out of the building.


    I don''t want to be pitied.


    Exhausted, I take the train back home to my apartment.


    It''s a bit run-down, the building, but at least I have a place to sleep, shower and cook.


    Even if all is just in two small rooms.


    As I look outside I can see the dreary cityscape, reminding me how hopeless this world really is.


    I drop myself on the couch (that''s also my bed) and turn on the tv.


    I watch video after video, mindlessly, not listening to anything.


    Because in truth it really is just background noise to make my brain stop thinking unwanted thoughts.


    After a while I look at the clock and notice that it''s almost one in the morning.


    I turn off the tv and fall asleep.


    The loud noise of my morning alarm wakes me up again and I''m reminded that I haven''t eaten since yesterday lunch.


    Quickly I take a soda from the fridge and drink it.


    The chance of me being late to work today is pretty high, so I rush out of the building without looking back.

 Chapter 3 - Nightmare

    I look up from the book, this wasn''t really the kind of story I was suspecting.


    "How far did you get?" Quiller asks me not hiding his interest at all.


    "I finished... the first."


    He sighs: "Not the fastest reader, are you?"


    I look at him, annoyed: "I read at my own speed.... reading just like eating? The slower you read, the more you... enjoy it."


    "Alright, alright. So, did you-?"


    "Nah."


    "What?"


    "I thought... it was going to be cooler, maybe something with heroes. Even a book about a ghost might... be interesting."


    Utter defeat is written all over the ''imaginary'' guys face, making me chuckle.


    "You''re mean."


    "Kind people in an apocalypse are useless."


    He looks at me for a moment and then asks: "So, you''re going to throw it out now?"


    I look at him: "Nah. It might become more... entertwini- entertaining later on." Speaking is still difficult, especially when I try to speak without mistakes.


    He gives me a sad smile.


    "Why do you care?"


    He hesitates for a moment to answer.


    "Well, like I said, It''s a pretty good book."


    I nod: "Yeah, you really aren''t the... writer, right?"


    He looks at me in shock: "N-no... I mean..."


    "Just kidding, It just said Ex Libra''s Q.F. Shannon. But that might mean it used to be yours."


    "I''ve never owned anything." Quiller protests: "I''ve always been imaginary."


    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    If I were to throw away this book right now, I would probably lose my imaginary friend with it. Or at least that is my theory. I only met him after opening this thing after all.


    Yeah, it might be strange for an adult to have one. But if this keeps me from going insane, then so be it.


    I will be the most childish adult in this entire apocalypse.


    Even if I''m all alone in it now.


    I get up from the couch and start placing traps around.


    "What are you doing?"


    "Making sure I won''t get... my sleep disturbed... by one of those... those half-dead jerks."


    "I see." Quiller mutters, slightly hesitant probably due to me cursing again.


    I lie down on the old couch.


    Even though it''s all dusty, I haven''t had such a nice bed in ages.


    I''ve gotten used to my jacket on the floor for a while now and it doesn''t take long for me to fall asleep.


    I''m sitting in something I recognize as a car.


    I seem to be sitting here with a bunch of people with wiped out faces.


    Even though that is the case I feel strangely at ease with them.


    One of them turns to me and calls me by my name.


    "Yes?" I ask and the other shows me a toy, a toy car? If I''m correct.


    I look outside the windows and notice that we''re driving.


    We move around the corner and I see strange people standing outside.


    Their eyes glow strangely blue.


    The car crashes into something and the strange people outside start running towards us, their mouths covered in blood.


    From one moment to the next, I notice that I''m standing outside and it''s dark.


    It''s raining outside.


    I hold up my hand to the rain.


    It drips onto it and then a flickering streetlight shows me that there is something wrong with the rain.


    It''s red.


    It''s thick and red.


    Falling out if the heavens like rain, blood keeps pouring down.


    It starts to stick to the streetlight, making the only light in my world slowly disappear.


    I run towards it for rescue, but it all turns dark just before I can reach it.


    In the distance I hear growling...


    My eyes flash open and I quickly sit up, completely out of breath.


    What a horrible nightmare.


    I guess even though I have a decent place to sleep, the nightmares are something I will never be able to get away from.


    I look at the light entering the room via the clock.


    I guess it''s morning already.


    This must be a good place to stay then.


    I sit up and silently take out the old, worn map from it.


    With a pen I mark the spot and write ''Clock/Attic'' next to it, while using the book as support for the paper.


    "Good morning." Quiller says, seeming a bit down.


    "''Morning." I whisper, while looking at him questioningly.


    "Don''t worry, nothing happened while you were asleep. You did seem to be having a nightmare."


    I shake my head: "What did you expect?" I nudge my head a little towards the window: "Be happy for the strength we gained from... a little shut-eye."


    Unfortunately he doesn''t seem to want to take the joke as a joke. Perhaps he didn''t even notice.


    "Life shouldn''t be like this." He mumbles more to himself than to me.


    I look at him with a sudden question burning in my mind: "Did you sleep on the floor? Or float?"


    "Float? I''m not a ghost you know."


    "Oh really?"


    "I''m just a figment of your imagination."


    "You keep that up, but really... it''s getting harder to believe every time."

 Quiller - Chapter 0

    I''ve woken up before the person who''s imagination I am.


    Although I know that it is a rather strange thing to believe, I am certain of that fact.


    The moment I opened my eyes and spotted the foulmouthed creature dressed in grey before me, called Don, I just knew that I had a special bond with them.


    And that I''m not real.


    I''m not a human like them.


    I have no memories of my own.


    Yes I have somewhat of a personality, but that doesn''t make me human.


    A dog can have a personality, any animal really.


    Yet I also know that I am not an animal.


    When I first entered this world I was filled with general knowledge I was certain that Don possesses.


    Like for example what the state of the world is like or what is edible and what isn''t.


    I wonder how they subconsciously came up with my appearance.


    I certainly do look human.


    Perhaps this appearance is that of someone they used to know?


    ''Book of the apocalypse'', the object that must have awoken me.


    Don''s loneliness must have made me at that moment they saw it.


    With memories from the world from the past returning.


    Though I do have to confess, that something about it does feel strangely familiar...


    It''s impossible for me to be a ghost, I don''t have any memories of living nor do I of dying.


    Don feels like someone I know the best in the world, but at the same time is a complete mystery to me, a stranger. Only someone with such a great imagination can create something like me.


    There is a strange bond between the two of us.


    I decide to try to sleep or at least emulate it by pretending to be.


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    Strangely enough, the floor feels cold and the only thing I see as I close my eyes are the many hungry mouths of the creatures that had tried to eat my creator.


    I can see them rip apart people screaming in agony. Enjoying themselves with their bloody feast.


    Quickly I open my eyes again.


    This is going to be a long night. I think to myself, while wiping the imaginary sweat of my forehead.


    Quietly I start to look throughout the room.


    I can see the ruins of a city outside of the clock''s window.


    Sometimes I can spot something moving around.


    It must be one of them.


    What even would they be doing moving around at this hour?


    Going after scurrying rats perhaps?


    I turn around and walk back to my creator.


    Don''s holding the book as they''re deep asleep.


    Have they already read it before?


    Or do they need to hold something close to them, like a child might need a teddy bear to sleep?


    They do seem quite young.


    I wonder what they''ve all been through.


    It must be really bad.


    Where could they want to travel to? Is another question that''s on my mind.


    It''s clear as day that Don is trying to either run away from something or on their way to reach something or someone.


    Could it be that Don is still searching for the humanity that has been lost so many years ago?


    They are human after all.


    And humans need other humans in order to survive.


    This must be why I have been created.


    To act as somewhat of a ''friend'' to my creator.


    Don needs my help in order to cope with all of this.


    For as far as my knowledge goes, Don might just be the only one remaining after all.


    I place my hand against my chest and quietly vow to do everything in my power to help to protect the youth currently sleeping on the couch.


    Slightly embarrassed I turn to look at them, thank god they didn''t see any of that.


    Don would call me crazy for doing something like that.


    How do I know?


    I''m not sure.


    But it must be because they created me.


    After a long night I finally see the sun rising into the purple sky, colouring it light blue again.


    Don wakes up, I had noticed that they had been tossing and turning for a while, so I tried to move their coat that sufficed as a blanket, to cover them more.


    It''s just a little thing, but it''s the least I can do.


    Don rubs their eyes, stretches and then looks at me with a sleepy look in their eyes.


    They take out an old worn out map and mark something on it.


    So... it''s looking for humanity... isn''t it?


    "Good morning!" I say trying to sound cheerful, but failing miserably at it.


    "Morning." Don whispers in a sleepy repeat.


    We chat for a bit and then Don decides that it''s time to eat, taking out a candy bar from one of their many pockets.


    Without thinking it through I ask: "Are you sure these will help you get through the day?"


    They look up at me: "Yes." The answer is as simple as that.


    "I see... but should you maybe look for something a little bit healthier? I don''t think the ingredients on the back will say anything pretty."


    My friend looks at me for a moment and then looks at the small text on the plastic.


    "A...Sssp...art...ame..." They say, showing just how difficult reading such a difficult word is and saying it just so much more.


    "That... doesn''t sound very good..."


    "I guess..." Don shrugs and throws the thin wrapper onto the floor.


    Quietly they stand up from the couch.


    "We... should... go." They say, nodding to me. Probably signalling that I have to check if the coast is clear.


    God, I hope Don is really aware of the fact that I am their imaginary friend and nothing else. Because it doesn''t really show.


    Carefully I peek my head right through the small door we entered.


    The monsters from yesterday have gone completely.


    Were they the ones I had seen running around outside last night?

 Chapter 4 - High speed escape

    "It looks like they left." My companion tells me as he removes his head from the door in the floor. It looks pretty ridiculous and I''m trying my hardest to keep myself from laughing.


    "Something wrong?" He asks slightly annoyed.


    I shake my head.


    Swiftly I gather my things and put on my jacket, we can never know how long the monsters from outside will be back again.


    I do an extra check to see if what Quiller told me is right, he does claim to be imaginary after all.


    Then as I see the same, I slowly lower myself as far as possible and then drop down as quietly as possible.


    I''ve done things like this many times before.


    Quiller appears next to me: "Do you want me to check around?"


    I nod.


    My companion walks before me.


    "We... should leave... the station." I whisper.


    "Yes, I already thought you would want to. I believe that it should be okay to take the same way back."


    Walking back I suddenly spot something from the corner of my eye.


    "Wait." I say, Quiller turns around: "What''s wrong?"


    I point at a room that looks rather broken down.


    There are letters before it spelling something I can read.


    "Store." I say, trying to answer the question.


    Quiller nods and we enter.


    There are two broken down glass doors I can step right through, avoiding the rest of the glass of course.


    As I finally see the many shelves empty I feel a bit disappointed.


    "Maybe in the back?" Quiller suggests.


    "Back?"


    Quiller leads me to another door, one that is closed and still in one piece, though dirty.


    "Can you check?" I ask.


    "Sure." Quiller passes right through the door, leaving me alone in the store.


    It doesn''t take long for him to come back.


    "Don, it''s safe and you will probably want to see this."


    Not able to wait any longer, I open the door.


    It isn''t too much, but there is still canned food and candy bars stacked up neatly on the shelves.


    There is even toothpaste.


    Quickly I think of what I need the most and start stuffing my pockets.


    "Shall we continue?"


    I nod and we leave the store.


    A cold, but welcome breeze lets me know that we''re back outside again.


    I''m always happy to leave dusty old places behind.


    The longer I stay somewhere, the more I want to leave.


    The morning sun is shining coolly on the ruins.


    I take out my map.


    "What way should we go now?" Quiller asks, to which I point to our right.


    "...Straight this way."


    I get down onto the tracks.


    "Are you sure you don''t want to walk on the platform?"


    "I''m sure. It''s faster this way." I answer.


    "And I guess we don''t have to be scared about getting hit by the trains right now..." Quiller adds.


    "The tracks... should bring us closer."


    "Closer to what?"


    I smile mysteriously: "You''ll see."


    "Ah... okay." Quiller seems a bit disappointed, but doesn''t continue questioning me.


    After following the trail out of the station, which takes a while, since it''s very big, I suddenly feel off.


    "Why did you stop?" Quiller asks curiously.


    I quickly reach for my spear.


    "They''re here?" Quiller asks, immediately looking around.


    I can feel my heart beating loudly in my chest and I take a deep breath hoping to calm it down.


    I reach for my pocket, but remember that I used the last of my machines just yesterday.


    One, two... no about five.


    From all different sides zombies come running my way as if they''d planned this all along.


    Shit we''ve been surrounded!


    I feel my body turn cold with anxiety.


    "Over there!" Quiller calls out to me and blindly I run towards the thing he''s pointing too.


    It''s an abandoned train on the tracks, the doors at the back are open.


    As fast as I can I run towards it.


    If I don''t get in on time, I might die.


    If I don''t escape on time, I might get pulled apart and eaten by those monsters.


    My foot almost gets stuck behind one of the tracks, but just in time I''m able to stop myself from falling face first to the ground and get free again.


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    Quiller is already waiting for me on the train.


    "Damn, how come... you''re faster than me?!"


    "I''m imaginary." He smiles and stretches out an arm to me. Asshole, you know I can''t touch you.


    Finally I jump into the carriage.


    Suddenly the broken light above the door starts to flicker and an alarm starts to go off.


    "What the hell?" Shocked, I jump further inside.


    The alarm sounds strangely familiar, but also really wrong.


    At first it gives me a sense of relief, but then I get a suffocating feeling.


    Then the doors slowly start to close.


    They shouldn''t be able to, not for a very, very long time.


    Moss is growing inside, some trains even have trees and other plants growing inside.


    To my horror the vehicle starts to shake.


    The monsters outside start to try smashing through the door, but it''s almost as if they''re walking backwards.


    No that''s wrong.


    The train has started moving.


    "What is this?" I ask in a whisper.


    I turn to look at Quiller and ask my question again, louder.


    It doesn''t seem like he has heard me, he''s sitting down on the floor, his head in his hands.


    Almost as if he''s in pain.


    "Hey... are you okay?"


    He still doesn''t seem to have heard me at all.


    "Hey Quill..." I carefully reach my hand towards him, perhaps that way I can get his attention.


    As I touch him, I suddenly get shocked by electricity.


    Quickly I pull back my hand: "Fuck that hurts!" But in all truth I''m much more spooked than hurt.


    "Ah." Frightened Quiller looks up at me, for some reason his eyes full of tears. Does something hurt him that bad?


    Something about him seems wrong.


    I take a step back, my fear turned to my companion instead of the situation.


    Something about him is really, really wrong. But I don''t know what.


    "I-I''m sorry." He whimpers, moving away from me as well.


    Somehow he makes me feel guilty, and without thinking I take a step towards him again.


    "Sorry, you scared me." I say calming myself down.


    Quiller tries to go further back, but only gets greeted by the wall. Can''t he go through it anymore?


    Could it be because we''re moving, or is it because of something else?


    I take a second to think.


    In the state he''s in right now, I probably won''t be able to touch him.


    I take my spear from my backpack.


    Quiller immediately tries to protect his face with his arms: "I''m sorry, I''m sorry." He starts to repeat.


    "Dude, chill." I mumble to him while turning my trusty weapon the other way around: "I''m trying to find a way to help... you get up."


    He looks at me in surprise, but hasn''t stopped crying. Then he takes hold of the weapon, using it as intended, as a way to help him get up.


    "Imaginary friend or not, we will talk about it later... For now we have to do something about... this big ass train to not kill us."


    He nods and wipes away his tears: "Thanks Don." He whispers, but I don''t let him know that I heard him loud and clear. Instead I walk up the small set of stairs.


    "Let''s go."


    We both start running.


    Up the stairs, down the stairs, up again.


    It feels endless.


    Strangely enough there doesn''t seem to be any zombies.


    Or at least we haven''t met any more of them.


    Then I throw open another glass door and find a couple of them sitting around.


    One seemed to be holding a mouldy magazine and the other was wearing a hat and a pair of sunglasses.


    They both look really stupid.


    "Fuck." Is the only word that leaves my mouth as I spot the two hungry cannibals.


    The one that was ''pretending'' to read looks up to me and growls.


    Shit we really don''t have time for this.


    As the one with the head jumps at me, I suddenly notice something like a blue flash of lightning, throwing the one ''reading'' out the window.


    "What the-"


    "Don, be careful!" Quiller interrupts me.


    He''s right, the monster lunges at me, his hat dropping on the floor as he jumps.


    Quickly I swing my spear and slice of one of the arms of the creature.


    With a dull thud it falls onto the floor.


    Then black goop starts leaving the bodypart and small mechanical spiders start crawling out of the wound that I just created.


    "Dammit!"


    I take out one of the small electricity bombs I had created a little while ago together with the others, and throw it at the creature. I feel bad to use so many of the things I worked so hard on to make... but at least I still know how to make all of them.


    An electrical surge coursed through the body and the zombie drops down.


    Most of the spiders get electrocuted as well, but some of them are still slowly making their way towards me.


    Aggressively I stomp them until they all stop moving, then I continue to keep stomping them for good measure.


    "Don, we have to get moving." Don signs to me with his hands towards the vehicle we''re in.


    I just nod and we keep on running.


    I do have many questions but they have to wait.


    More stairs up and more stairs down.


    Again and again until we finally reach what looks to be the end of it.


    I try to open the door but it doesn''t budge.


    So I proceed to kick it open.


    One.


    Two.


    "Three!" I yell triumphantly to Quiller''s surprise as the final kick breaks the door.


    The splinters of wood and plastic drop all over the floor and fly across the room, getting scattered everywhere.


    "Don... I''m not sure..." Quiller points out the window, showing me that there was a reason it had been locked.


    It probably hadn''t been in use, there is another train wagon pulling the one we are in.


    "Shit." I curse: "What are we going to do now? Climb to the other side? Or are we going to have to jump out?"


    I''m suddenly strangely aware of the high speed of the vehicle we''re in.


    It seems to only be going faster and faster.


    I rush to the door in order to see something, anything, perhaps even a landmark or something like that.


    But it just goes too fast.


    We are going way too fast!


    "Maybe we can make them disconnect from this control room?" Quiller offers.


    "You''re a genius!"


    I start pushing buttons and start pulling levers like crazy.


    But nothing seems to work.


    An idea pops into my mind: "Quiller, could you mayb-" But I''m interrupted by the train itself.


    Before I am even aware we have started rolling and darkness consumes me.


    Unable to stop coughing I finally come to.


    "Qui-" I''m unable to call for him due to all the dust I have inhaled.


    "Don, are you alright?" A transparent. But slightly glowing hand stretches out to me.


    Without thinking I take it and somehow I''m not electrocuted, neither do I faze through.


    "Let''s get out of here." He whispers and I nod.


    The whole vehicle seems to have turned upside down.


    I feel lucky as I notice that further in the back floors have been smashed together.


    Carefully I remove some of the broken glass from the window and climb out of it.


    Outside it seems to have just turned night.


    The red glow of the sun seems to slowly decrease and I can see the moon already peeking a glance at us from behind the trees.


    I must have been out for very long.


    "How long was I out for?"


    "I don''t know, I was out of it too."


    "I see." I mumble slightly worried, I just pray that nothing decided to make its way underneath my skin, like those spiders.


    Then I would become one of the walking dead in no time.


    "We should find a place to rest." I suggest and Quiller nods in a tired manner.


    We start to wander through the woods, I take out a red flashlight out of one of my pockets.


    "Why red?" my companion asks.


    "It attracts less attention compared to white."


    Surprised he nods, he must not have known that.


    It''s so strange to talk to someone again, especially someone who doesn''t know too much about the situation or even basic survival skills.


    "So... what happened?" I ask, trying to get him to give me the answers to my questions.


    Quiller looks away: "I don''t know."


    "Did you get... powered... super powers or something like that?"


    He laughs in a rather joyless manner: "I am able to touch you now... I guess. Maybe your imagination got stronger...?"


    "But you like... zapped the zombies!" In my head images of an old comic book appear I head read very, very long ago.


    "I think I see a building." Quiller changes the subject, his weak glow shows me the outline of something dark.


    As we get closer to it, I notice that it''s an old and slightly dilapidated shed.


    It must have belonged to a farm at some point in time.


    Quietly we enter and as I shine it around I find it completely abandoned, by both monster, human and animal.


    There is a little ladder that goes up to old hay.


    I can feel a smile creep across my face.


    "That might be a great place to sleep." I whisper and quickly start tip-toeing towards it.


    "Be careful." Quiller whisper-shouts.


    The old ladder creeks eerily, but I find a way to safely reach the attic.


    There is a hole in the floor I carefully go around.


    Luckily there''s just enough space for me to lie down.


    "You should check your wounds before you go to sleep." My friend reminds me.


    I nod and take out a slightly brighter flashlight.


    First making sure that it won''t show anything outside the building where we are, I turn the cold object on.


    "Oh my god, are you okay?" Quiller looks shocked.


    I smile: "What do you mean?"


    "You''re bleeding!"


    "Is it still red?"


    "Yes of course, why the hell should that matter?"


    "Then it''s good, I''m still not infected." I say as I lean back.


    To my surprise Quiller shakes his head: "You have survived for this long on your own, but to me you look like a kid in need of a babysitter!"


    I quietly laugh: "I might be the last alive of my kind... you know."


    "Then what about that old map you keep looking at? Isn''t that something that gives you hope? You smile every time you look at it."


    Defensively I react: "That problem is my own, we''ve probably traveled too far now. Going there is impossible now."


    Quiller opens his mouth, but then closes it again.


    Then he shakes his head again.


    My throat hurts, so I take out a water bottle and take a sip.


    That helps.


    After I''m done with it, I offer it to Quiller.


    Silently he takes it, but doesn''t drink from it.


    "Do you have anything like bandages? Plasters perhaps? Even a napkin would do."


    "Sure."


    I hand him the small med-kit I''ve been carrying with me before.


    It''s just a small plastic back with the bare minimum that I might need.


    "Alright."


    He takes out some of the things from it and then starts to clean my wounds.


    Something about it feels like deja-vu if I remember the word correctly.


    It feels like someone once did this for me too, but every time I try to remember I lose even the shadow of the memory I''m chasing.


    "Aaand... done." Quiller says as he finishes covering a wound on my head.


    It''s not too deep, so it shouldn''t be that big of a problem. But for some reason my companion does worry about it.


    Carefully I lie down and close my eyes.


    "Dammit, I''m still too awake to fall asleep." I whisper after a while and I sit back up again.


    "How about we continue reading the book?" Quiller looks at me in anticipation.


    "Alright."

 Farren: Faith

    Faith.


    A word often used to describe something about religion.


    The faith in a god or deity.


    The faith about what will happen after death.


    But faith of course doesn''t always have to do with religion.


    For example I could have faith in someone that they will reach a certain goal or that I believe in their innocence.


    The opposite of faith could be doubt, like I could doubt that you will finish reading this or that I doubt anything good will come if a certain person or group is given too much power.


    To have faith in someone, is to trust that person.


    Personally I am uncertain of what to believe as I have been quite disillusioned since finding out what the adult-life had in store for me.


    Today everyone in the building has been called to one of the rooms meant for meetings.


    Supposedly it''s something urgent.


    I can hear someone exitedly whisper about ''it might be someone getting a promotion'' and other light-hearted chatter.


    But as we enter the room we have to gather I feel my heart drop.


    I don''t know what it is, but something is certainly wrong.


    I can just feel it.


    Well perhaps it''s not true, but as I see the CEO''s face I just know that it is nothing short of bad news.


    It''s like a shadow has been cast over his face, like something really bad is haunting him.


    Almost immediately more people begin to notice and without him telling everyone to, the people quiet down.


    It''s eerily quiet.


    The air feels heavy, as if something pressing itself against my chest, trying to slowly suffocate me.


    Someone else whispers something else: ''is someone going to get fired? Did someone make a mistake?'', these are the final questions of the huge crowd before truly becoming completely silent.


    Looking down, the CEO slowly starts to speak.


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    As I hear the tremble in his voice I already know what it is.


    "Thank you all for gathering here today."


    "I''m here today with bad news."


    It''s like everyone is holding their breath inside the room, it really is that quiet.


    "Our friend and colleague Holly Peterson passed away a couple of hours ago."


    The name doesn''t ring a bell, but I can feel some people in the crowd grow distressed.


    They must have known her.


    They must have spoken to her.


    I can hear some people blow their noses and see quiet tears appear in their red-eyed faces.


    She must be part of the store area, perhaps she used to work behind the counter. People wearing those uniforms seem to be the most upset from everyone.


    My body feels like it has completely turned cold.


    The people''s sadness is just that great, that somehow my mind has decided to make me feel like I''m in a dream... or a nightmare.


    I guess that''s dissociating.


    It''s been a while since I last felt like this, almost as if I''m just floating through the crowd.


    The CEO starts talking and somehow it sounds like he is talking really fast.


    I don''t understand.


    I don''t get it.


    One of us died.


    But why?


    Then he explains something about an accident, but I''ve long lost the ability to concentrate and yet in a way I soak it all up.


    I soak it all up inside me, the horrible emotions of others, something that I will have difficulty with when I''ll finally be alone again.


    As the CEO''s speech finishes, many people are allowed to leave, the people who find it too difficult to immediately deal with.


    It''s so strange.


    To know someone so close passed away and yet you never even said a word to them and now they''re gone and I will never be able to speak to them ever again.


    Stunned, I leave with the remaining workers for the cafeteria.


    I take a seat somewhere alone, like I always do, but this time truly unable to grasp the whole situation.


    In the background I can faintly hear the happy melody of a song.


    Of course the radio DJ wouldn''t know about this, he, she or they might never have spoken with my deceased colleague either.


    It''s truly strange to see so many people around break down into tears all of a sudden.


    I sense someone taking place at the other side of the table.


    "Ah Farren, you saved us a spot?"


    I look up to find the concierge.


    On his face he wears a sad smile, he must find it rather difficult as well.


    "Did you know her?" I ask, ignoring his earlier question.


    He nods.


    "Then why aren''t you going home like the rest?"


    He sighs: "It''s not like I was that close with her, but she was a really kind woman, always caring for everyone around her. The people at the shop will definitely miss her."


    He continues: "You know what I''m like Farren, I work away my pain. I''ve always done so. I don''t recommend you do the same. It''s just the way I cope."


    "Right."


    Annoyed, he looks away: "That damned CEO really made a shit-show of it."


    Surprised, I look up: "Really?"


    "Yeah, didn''t you notice him faking everything?"


    "Faking it?"


    "Yeah, like the way he always does."


    I''ve always believed the CEO to be a truthful man. I''ve spoken to him many times before after being sent to him by my floor''s boss. He had always seemed kind but somehow mister Larrance doesn''t see him in that light.


    He might be wrong.


    But a quiet gut feeling tells me that he might be right too.


    I shake away the thought.


    "So are you planning on working longer today?" I ask.


    "Nah, no way. I do the hours I''ve been told to, not a second more."


    Well that''s more like him.


    He can be a bit lazy but mister Larrance is almost always a nice guy when you get to know him better.


    Rough exterior, but a heart of gold on the inside.


    I remember when I first started working here that I was quite frightened of him at first.


    It''s been a while ago, I was an intern back then, just like my cousin, Kathan, right now.


    Speaking of him, I wonder how he''s doing at work.


    I glance around, but it doesn''t take long for me to spot him laughing with some colleagues that seem to be on friendly terms with him.


    He has truly found his place here.


    He should be careful though, things here never stay the same.


    That is something I have all faith in.


    I believe that Larrance has already noticed it, but something here has taken a turn for the worse.


    Something I know I''ve yet to see.

 Chapter 5 - Forgotten times, forgotten people

    Tonight I didn''t seem to have dreamt anything at all.


    I guess in my situation that is the ideal way to spend the night in this day and age.


    Quietly I sit up, I feel a cold breeze slide past me, coming from one of the many holes in the walls.


    "Good morning." Quiller greets me.


    Suddenly I remember all the questions I had been meaning to ask yesterday.


    He had only given me the vaguest responses.


    A sense of worry enters my mind, causing a burst of anger to wash over me, that feels so very foreign to me. How long has it been since I''ve last reacted in such a way over someone else?


    "Did you lie to me?!" I ask instead of greeting him.


    "What do you mean?" He looks as if I just attacked him with a knife, on his face an expression as if he''s just been betrayed.


    "You clearly aren''t an imaginary friend! So just what the hell are you?!"


    "You have the book, right? Sometimes imagination can really just be that powerful. Perhaps that has been the cause?" He doesn''t sound convinced of himself, clearly just throwing random theories around.


    "What the hell kind of answer is that? Since when can imagination help someone stand and dress someone''s wounds? Or...or even attack an enemy that is trying to harm you?"


    Why does this guy keep on insisting that he''s imaginary?


    "I-I''m sorry. I really don''t know..."


    I sigh...


    He doesn''t understand, I''m pretty sure that at least one of the zombies in the train took notice of him. It scares me a little, what if what is happening to Quiller is something bad? I don''t know, I don''t understand.


    But I''m sure that the last thing he is, is imaginary.


    I shake my head: "It''s fine. I''m sorry for yelling."


    As I pick up my stuff again, putting them in their respected pockets I emotionally prepare myself to go outside again.


    I can''t stay here forever after all.


    Carefully I climb down again, with Quiller standing watch beneath me, scared that I might fall and hurt myself again.


    "Alright, let''s get moving."


    Quietly we leave the place we spend the night.


    Over a short distance behind the overgrown garden I notice an old farmhouse standing there.


    "Should we... look inside?" Quiller asks.


    I nod, there might be supplies after all.


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    Gently I put my weight against the old wooden door.


    The pink paint has started to peel off from the heavy object and the touch of my hands against it speed up the process


    It creeks as I open it, it must have been very long since the last time it had been opened.


    An ancient smell enters my nose.


    Something like what was it called again?


    Right, perfume.


    The smell of dried flowers hangs in the house''s air, soaked into the walls, the floor and ceiling.


    In a way it''s welcoming, on the other hand, it''s terrifying.


    Almost as if humbled by the smell I carefully knock on the door.


    "Hello?" I ask if someone or something was inside able to respond.


    But there is no answer, not even a peep. Not even a zombie.


    To speak close to one is as if ringing a dinner bell.


    They usually start sprinting towards you. Sound is something most of them are attracted towards.


    Though many of them are also still able to see as well.


    For the first time in a long while I wonder why all of this really happened.


    I''ve gotten used to it all for so long.


    Running, sleeping, running, sleeping and repeat.


    This house feels like a time-capsule.


    What was the world like before all this again?


    I take a step inside the old house.


    The floor creaks ever so slightly as if trying to greet me in a strange, yet personal manner.


    Like saying.. Welcome home.


    Though I can almost say for a fact, that I''ve never lived in a place like this.


    I turn to Quiller: "I think I want to take a look around before taking anything."


    Though probably too immersed in the house itself, he just nods.


    Taking it as a yes, I start wandering through the building.


    Even though some of the windows have been smashed, it still looks like something you would normally find in the time before this.


    The time shown in photos on magazine covers or even on broken-down billboards.


    Many pictures line the walls.


    "The people who lived here must have been old." Quiller whispers.


    "Why do you think so?"


    "Look at how many pictures of children there are and just the interieur itself. It shows it all."


    I nod even though I don''t really understand.


    We decide to go up the stairs.


    All of the doors are closed except for one.


    It''s slightly ajar.


    I walk to it and push it open.


    A horrifying sight greets me.


    There on the bed...


    There are two corpses, human corpses lying quietly on the bed.


    Bewildered, I take a step back.


    "How did they die?" I ask in a slightly panicking whisper.


    Quiller, who seems to be rather unwilling to check, musters up his courage and then enters the room.


    A silence follows.


    "Quill?" I ask, still panicking.


    He then comes out of the room.


    "It''s okay, they weren''t killed."


    "What do you mean?"


    He points back into the room: "Look."


    I shake my head: "I don''t want to."


    "They look almost to be sleeping. It has just been a very long time since they passed. They are not much more than dried up skeletons."


    Quiller tries to get me to look, but a terrible fear has overtaken me.


    "Don, these two are the older couple in the picture downstairs. They died together, still holding hands to this day."


    I can see tears appear on his transparent face, even though he quickly hides it.


    As I place a hand on my mouth I too feel warm water coming down from my eyes.


    It has been awhile since my eyes did something like that.


    "I-I want t-to leave." I whisper: "A-at least... b-back down."


    Quiller nods and lets me take the lead down the creaking stairs.


    I''ve taken a seat on the old couch.


    "We should probably continue." Quiller tells me: "Unless you want to spend the night here or back in the shed."


    I nod, noon is already upon us.


    It''s time to start moving again.


    I take another deep breath and stand up.


    To Quiller''s surprise I start to rummage through the cupboards.


    "Are you still going to take stuff from them?"


    I look at him apologetically.


    "I''m sorry, I will. I have to, if I want to survive."


    I take some of the food that isn''t spoiled yet. Most of those have been put in cans.


    And I take some home-made yam as Quiller calls it.


    I feel really lucky when I find some batteries that are still functional, I can experiment making more bombs with this.


    I glance at some of the drawings on the walls, they have been badly drawn, but I guess they collected such art-pieces.


    In one of the drawers by a mirror I find paper that''s old, but still intact.


    I take some of them for myself and then take one for an idea I have.


    I don''t want to forever feel guilty about raiding the house of two old and dead people.


    I pick out a pencil and start to draw something on the paper.


    Trying to draw Quiller and myself.


    ''Thank you for letting us stay. We wish you the best.'' I write next to it, though when I try to read my own handwriting I find it to be too difficult.


    I know this isn''t much of an apology, but I need to do something.


    Quiller glances over at the paper.


    "Are you trying to draw their cows?" The question sounds serious.


    I glare at him and he quickly turns around.


    I know my drawing skills are bad, but he doesn''t have to think anything about it!


    As we leave I close the door behind me.


    I wonder if someone will have come across it again.


    Well it doesn''t matter.


    I won''t.

 Quiller - Chapter 1

    It''s been just a couple of days ago that I met the androgynous youth whom calls themselves Don.


    I remember when I first woke up, wondering who the stranger dressed in gray ragged clothes could be.


    Even so I can''t deny that I''ve gotten quite attached to their weird antics and sense of humour. It feels almost as if I''ve known them for a lifetime, but that must be because of them being my creator and all.


    Sometimes they can cause quite a lot of trouble, making me worried for their safety. I wonder if they find it annoying and that I''m acting way too much like their guardian.


    Well... they haven''t said anything about it yet, maybe I should ask about it?


    Somehow the things written in the book seem to really bug me.


    The story plays itself strangely in my head, making me want to know everything that''s going to happen.


    Is this what Don feels too?


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    Is it just their feelings in my head?


    I''m their imagination... right?


    I''m not so sure anymore, they keep rejecting the idea for some reason I don''t understand.


    And what all happened... back then with the train... I really don''t understand.


    I mean, it''s clear as day, right? That I am their imaginary friend.


    This is my meaning in life.


    To be a friend to them.


    I have to.


    My own personal feelings are non-existent... right?


    Goddammit, I wish someone could answer me about it.


    Someone other than Don.


    But that is simply impossible.


    I''m fake.


    I hate to say it, but it is the truth.


    I am not real.


    There is simply no way I could be.


    Every time I try to convince myself that I can feel a little bit of me break.


    Somehow... It just hurts.


    But I also know that nothing good comes from denying the truth.


    When we came to that house today I noticed Don having a difficult time with it. To be honest, they weren''t the only one. I too found it quite difficult.


    Those people sleep forever in their bed together. In a way I feel happy for them.


    I hope they passed away before knowing what the future would hold.


    I was already half-afraid that we were going to have to solve a murder or something.


    Luckily that didn''t happen.


    Now Don and I both walk together in the forest in the surrounding area enjoying the cold, but not too harsh weather. Walking somewhere, to a place, I have no knowledge of, but they seem to know where we are heading.

 Chapter 6 - Nightfall

    A butterfly flies just past my face, almost hitting me, making Quiller laugh.


    "Can you stop that?" I ask ever so slightly annoyed.


    "Sorry." He apologizes, immediately making me feel bad for him again.


    Then something attracts my attention.


    A branch is going right through him.


    I point at it, not knowing what to say, then I blurt out: "You aren''t liquid anymore?!"


    Shocked, he looks at the branch and walks away from it, phasing through it, like he could before we had entered the train yesterday.


    Then he sighs slightly dissapointed: "Don...".


    Did I make a mistake with something?


    Did I mix up words?


    "Yeah..." I answer hesitantly, readying myself for a stern lesson.


    "Were you looking for the word ''solid''?"


    Not wanting to believe that I''m in the wrong, I quickly answer smartly: "Aren''t humans 90 percent water?"


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    Quiller shakes his head: "Seventy percent, but that doesn''t make you a liquid."


    "Oh... I see." I feel incredibly stupid and I want to end this conversation quickly, but Quiller clearly doesn''t want to.


    "Seriously?" He asks and continues: "Haven''t you learned these things in school?"


    I scratch the back of my neck: "Well... yeah... but I kinda... forgot."


    Quiller seems to have noticed my discomfort: "Well, I know it, so you must have learned it somewhere."


    Not speaking much, we continue our journey.


    Slowly it starts to get darker again.


    Finally I find a place that feels a little more safe.


    "Are you sure you want to spend the night somewhere around here?" Quiller asks.


    "There isn''t much of a choice."


    "Well, then I guess you would probably be safest up in one of the trees." He suggests.


    I shake my head: "No way, if I turn too much, I will fall and break something."


    Quiller seems to think really deeply: "Then how do you intend to spend the night?"


    "There isn''t much of a choice... I will have to make a hut."


    "A hut?"


    "Yeah, a small one with branches. Not ideal... but better than nothing."


    I immediately pick up a big branch I believe to be good and sturdy enough and I see Quiller pick up another.


    Confused, I ask: "How?"


    "Oh this?" he asks, pointing at the branch: "I''ve been able to pick up small things ever since the day we met. Not for long and definitely not too heavy."


    This really doesn''t make any sense, why did he not tell me? Did he just assume I had always known?


    "But you were able to carry heavier things when you were liq- solid?"


    He nods: "Something like that... I still don''t know what happened, it was like I was given something like a power boost. If that makes any sense."


    I shake my head, because it really doesn''t.


    "We should probably hurry if you want to finish it before it really gets too dark."


    Together we make a hut hidden from view.


    Covered with leaves and branches, underneath somewhat of a tent, so that the change of getting ticks is lower. I''ve made a place to sleep.


    "We''re going to have to be very quiet now." I say as I lay down.


    Quiller nods: "I know, if they hear us we''re dead."


    "Dude, I will be. Not you."


    Silently I lie down, secretly fearing that something might happen tonight, but not showing it.


    I close my eyes and enter a light sleep.

 C n e t o ?

    Quietly I try to find the right position for sleeping, scared to alarm anything nearby.


    Damnit, this is going to be one long night. I think to myself while my eyes slowly close from exhaustion.


    As I open my eyes, I find myself leaning on something.


    It feels strangely uncomfortable.


    I look up to find above myself a bright white light that''s on without flickering, almost like one of my flashlights, but bigger and more annoying.


    The room looks strange too.


    There are small, thin walls around me that for some reason don''t go completely up to the ceiling. Making them useless for anything.


    Before me is a bright light coming from something I only recognize as something known as a ''computer screen''. More useless things I guess.


    Why did I decide to sleep at a place so useless and so unsafe?


    Suddenly a loud bell rings through the room and I quickly cover my ears in shock.


    "Hey are you okay?" The voice of a human can be heard from behind one of the walls.


    It''s someone dressed in a very old fashioned way.


    I don''t answer anything and keep lying low.


    What the fuck is going on?!


    The person who spoke to me walks over my way and places a hand on my shoulder.


    "Come on, it''s just the lunch-break bell. Nothing is going to hurt you."


    The person smiles at me then looks down at my clothes.


    "Dear cousin of mine, who taught you to do your ties? Not your mom nor mine that''s clear. Not even a tutorial video online can make someone do this in such a bad way."


    Not caring about my personal space he bows to me, his hands going to some strange black fabric around my neck.


    Wait, these aren''t my clothes at all!


    I take another look around now that I''m standing, showing me a bunch of other small rooms.


    Cubicle, my mind answers for me.


    Then it hits me.


    This must be from the book I''ve been reading.


    One night without reading and I already start dreaming about it...


    Is that what people would have called a withdrawal?


    Does that mean that I just took the role of Farren in my dream?


    Then the person before me must be his cousin, Kathan.


    He fixes the tie and then looks at me: "Shall we go?"


    I''ve got to act normal. I think to myself, but also not having a clue about what that would mean. I''ve never been in a situation like this.


    "Sure." I say, clearly in my own voice, but it doesn''t seem to bother Farren''s cousin.


    I follow him to the cantine.


    It''s busy, there are many people. None of them I feel like I recognize.


    We take a seat on a table with other people already waiting for us.


    One of them is even waving at us.


    It''s so strange to see so many humans together, I''m just not used to it anymore.


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    Everyone around us seems to be in deep conversations or busy with strange metallic devices that seem to glow.


    Mobile phone, my head tells me.


    I look at a person sitting next to me.


    Someone reading a magazine.


    "What are you reading?" I ask, while secretly taking a peek at the many pictures of nature.


    He smiles and looks at me: "This is the first time you asked me something. I''m looking for a place I want to go on holiday."


    "Holiday?"


    "Yeah, I will soon have mine. It''s just a month away."


    I smile and nod: "I see, is there somewhere in particular you want to go?"


    "I want to see the sea again."


    "The sea?"


    "Yes, the blue oceans... I always feel like they''re calling me."


    "Then you just go there, right?"


    He smiles and looks at me: "Dude, it''s not so easy you know. Things cost money."


    Money... right a currency people used to ''pay'' with. Though I''m unsure as to how to use such things.


    "Then why not just go by yourself with a... car or something. Drive there with friends...?"


    The words come tumbling out of my mouth as if they are not my own.


    The person next to me seems surprised: "Yeah, that might actually work. I can get there if I just do it myself..."


    Even though we''re worlds apart I''m able to have conversations with almost everyone sitting around the table and before I know it the bell sounds again.


    "Welp time to get back to work I guess." Kathan sighs.


    I nod: "I''m going to the restroom quickly."


    Kathan smirks: "Sure go for it, but be quick about it. You know the boss isn''t very fond of those who come late."


    I nod: "I will."


    As I walk over I find two doors with strangely colored signs on them.


    Both are bathrooms... right?


    Well who cares.


    I just enter one of the rooms and find it empty.


    There is a huge spotless mirror on the wall.


    In it, I spot my own face.


    Strangely clean though.


    Dressed in a manner I''m not used to.


    Is this what they used to wear back in the day?


    As I go back to Farren''s workplace, an angry looking man approaches me.


    He looks big and strong, but very clearly lacking in brain capacity.


    "How come you''re back so late?" He asks in a threatening tone.


    I smile at him: "Oh, just had to use the bathroom. I made sure to get right back anyway."


    His face shows surprise.


    I wonder if Farren was afraid of this guy, he doesn''t look so scary.


    I''ve seen much worse.


    But I guess when you live so long around your own kind, you might find some more of a danger than others.


    Ignoring the ''boss'' I walk back to my cubicle.


    A thing my mind registers as a phone, starts making an annoying noise.


    My hand reaches for it and I pick it up.


    "Hello?" A voice that''s coming out of it.


    "Good afternoon, how can I help you?" The words coming out of my mouth are again foreign to me.


    I don''t understand anything about it.


    The person in the phone starts telling me of their problem and even though I would really rather, put the thing back and walk away from it. I can''t.


    It''s as if someone else has taken control over me and is now helping this person.


    It takes so long to finish, as I finally lay the phone down I feel terribly fatigued.


    Just why would people decide to do things like this for a living?


    I stand up and decide to walk outside.


    The boss walks over to me: "You haven''t finished work, have you?"


    Tired and annoyed, I turn my head towards him: "I did finish it." And walk off.


    He seems very confused, I wonder why.


    Also... why do so many people keep sitting and working here?


    Under all of these electric lights.


    Do they hate to see the sky and the sun or something?


    There are no windows inside here, meaning that there is no natural light coming inside this room.


    I quickly get out of the building and before I know it I find myself in a city.


    So many people.


    And not one covered in blood or trying to eat another.


    But somehow all of them seem to be alone.


    It makes me feel a little sad in a strange way.


    This is a world that doesn''t need my skills.


    Still... that such a peaceful world has been lost.


    Buildings look strangely clean and I almost nowhere spot any kind of plants growing over or through something.


    Did I ever live in such a world?


    I''m sure I did at one point.


    Those memories seem to be almost fading.


    I remember some... I think...


    But they''re not important.


    They''re useless now, once I wake up again, they will still be useless.


    Still... It''s nice to read about other times once in a while I guess.


    Not sure if I would really want to live in the old reality.


    I walk through a busy street, past many buildings with many big windows displaying things.


    So that''s what it was used for...


    People are dressed in a strange way.


    All different, yet almost all of them very clean and as if they never have to walk through the dirt. Though there are some just sitting around with something like a cup or a hat, where people throw coins in.


    Then there is a building that seems ever so slightly familiar.


    It''s the old train station where I found the book.


    I feel like something is pulling me closer.


    Almost as if the floor itself is moving me in the direction of the building.


    Vigilantly I walk over to it, making sure that I''m able to defend myself even without a weapon against any zombies.


    Even though there aren''t any, well that''s if you don''t count the people walking with their phones in hand not paying attention to whatever in the world is happening.


    I blink my eyes once and I stand before the bench with the book on it.


    People walk past me not noticing me at all.


    Trains are moving in and out of the station.


    But I don''t see it, the book has taken my complete attention.


    There is no title on the leather, but I do know that it''s that book.


    I reach for it.


    It feels strange.


    New.


    The paper inside it is almost as white at the electric lights in the building I was in earlier. Almost glowing.


    I take it and immediately open it.


    For a moment nothing happens.


    Then something dark starts coming from my hands.


    My hands are bleeding a black fluid onto the paper.


    Shocked I drop it.


    Again no one approaches me or even glances my way.


    Trembling, I look at my hands and find two big wounds.


    They''re bleeding the same color as the zombies back in my reality, back in my world.


    The ink, I think it is, starts creeping onto me as well.


    It has started covering my eyes.


    Or perhaps I''m crying the ink.


    With every drop that lands on the white paper, letters and sentences start to scribble themselves onto the paper.


    I feel the urge to scream, but am able to stop myself just in time.


    Meanwhile people walk past me, walk through me.


    I''m like a ghost.


    No one knows that I''m suffering here.


    No one cares.


    The feeling of a thousand little spiders crawling over me has come over me, I recognized it too late.


    And ever so slowly, the world turns dark.


    My eyes fly open, I immediately start fighting everything around me.


    "Hey, are you okay?" Quiller asks me, bringing me back to reality.


    Out of breath I nod, whispering: "Y-yeah... just a weird nightmare."

 o n c i n ?

    When I close my weary eyes the strangest dream takes me away to another world.


    Somehow the world feels cold, though not as different as I perceive mine to be.


    Just a different kind of cold.


    This time it isn''t the people, but it truly is the world itself.


    Perhaps it''s better to say that it feels hostile.


    I open my eyes and am greeted by a dark grey sky.


    It''s so dark that it might rain soon.


    Instead of lying in my bed, I find myself on some ancient looking train-tracks.


    They feel cold and have been completely rusted up.


    Carefully I stand up and look around.


    It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, I lean against something metal to calm my dizziness.


    As my head finally clears up I take a better look around.


    I seem to find myself at an old train station.


    A train station taken over by nature almost completely.


    Without thinking I walk inside the old building.


    It''s gigantic, looking as if it was built in the 19th century. Though it has been clear that it has been modernised for the newer era''s coming right after.


    Still some of the old beauty remains within.


    I guess trains driven by a steam engine must have driven through this one before.


    Imagining the people back then walking around on the platforms, makes me feel a little less lonely.


    I wonder in what time this dream must be taking place.


    Back in the past or far in the future.


    Perhaps not a time at all.


    After walking a little further I climb onto one of the platforms and go inside the innermost part of the building.


    It''s dark.


    Well who the hell would have suspected differently? I sarcastically think.


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    Disappointed in myself I stick my hands in my pockets, to then quickly pull them out again.


    What the hell happened to my clothes?


    I look to see what I''m wearing, only to find some strange looking grey coat.


    Something someone would only wear during a zombie apocalypse, is the first thought shooting through my mind.


    Carefully I reach back into the pockets and find something my fingers somehow immediately recognize as a flashlight.


    How strange.


    I take it out and turn it on.


    A bright light shoots out of the small, cold object showing me my surroundings.


    It''s all old and broken down.


    It feels colder inside than outside.


    Suddenly I hear something move.


    Immediately I turn to face it with the flash light.


    The thing that made the noise lunges itself at me.


    Without really controlling anything, my hand moves automatically to my back, takes something from it and smashes it right into the creature''s body.


    A weapon.


    A spear.


    Familiar yet unfamiliar.


    Cold yet warm.


    At a speed that isn''t mine.


    The creature before me moves once more and I slice off its head in a single movement.


    It drops down and spiders start crawling out of it like crazy.


    Something about the small creatures seems to be wrong.


    Very, very wrong.


    "What the-?!" I quickly stop myself from yelling and start stomping the spiders that are desperately crawling towards me.


    As they all finally seem to be dead, I decide to take a closer look.


    The thing that attacked me looked somewhat human, though long dead, almost like a zombie.


    It seems to have been reanimated by these strange spiders.


    The spiders have all been very clearly machine or human made, as they are small machines themselves only taking the shape of the very small insects.


    Grossed out I shake my head and decide to go back outside again.


    I don''t want to meet more of these anyway.


    I scan with my eyes the outside once more, finding an old bench that still looks strangely whole.


    Still somehow less broken then the rest of them.


    Like it had been in some kind of time-capsule or perhaps there was a caretaker who only cared for that bench.


    I decide to make my way there.


    My eyes quickly notice something strange lying on the bench.


    It''s a book.


    An old book, bound in leather.


    It''s almost as if the book is taking my entire attention.


    I just can''t seem to look away from it.


    Like it has got me bound in some sort of spell.


    Like the book is swallowing the entire world and perhaps even my mind with it.


    Without thinking I pick it up.


    Somehow it still feels somewhat sturdy.


    Did someone just left it here?


    There is a name written on it, but somehow I can''t read who wrote it. Everytime I try to focus it seems to fade.


    The title, which I can read, says: ''Book of the apocalypse''.


    How strangely captivating.


    I open it and find it to be written in a way I somehow can''t read no matter how well I concentrate.


    Some words do appear though.


    Words such as: Faith, betrayal and rebirth.


    I wonder what they''re supposed to mean.


    Then I feel the presence of something behind me.


    Without dropping the book I spin around to watch.


    A ghostly shadow appears before me.


    It''s speaking to me in a voice I can''t understand.


    Something about it seems familiar.


    It makes me feel dizzy again.


    The world starts to turn and stir, almost like a soup.


    Going around turning on me turning around me.


    I don''t belong here.


    Gasping for air I wake up in the dark.


    Stumbling around, I reach for my nightlight.


    It takes me longer than usual to turn it on.


    I see that I''m back in my apartment.


    The strange fear creeping over my body has me shaking.


    It... wasn''t a nightmare... right?


    Then how come it has shaken me up so much?


    I''ve never had a dream that felt so real...


    I take my phone from beside me on my nightstand and look at the black screen.


    The dark screen shows me my reflection by the light of nightlight. A shadowy, but familiar sight.


    I''m me... right?


    It takes me a short moment to find back my own name.


    I''m Farren.


    My last name... Shannon.


    Just what the hell was that dream from before?!


    I sigh deeply and decide that I can''t go back to sleep like this.


    I need to write it down.


    I need to write all of it down!


    I will regret it if I don''t!


    But my shivering and tired body decides something else.


    I reach out my hand, but it falls back, my sight turning dark again. Taking me back into the darkness.

 Chapter 7 - As promised

    I must have fallen asleep still holding the book, well when haven''t I?


    "Quiller, are you awake?" I ask in a hushed tone, while looking at the morning sun peeking through the small cracks of my hut.


    "Yes, the coast is clear by the way."


    I nod and leave my small hut.


    Quietly we continue walking.


    Something about this place seems strange.


    There don''t seem to be any zombies around.


    I know that in the beginning most would be around cities, but it didn''t take that long for them to start ''living'' in forested areas.


    But here, there seem to be none at all.


    Not even weathered corpses.


    It scares me.


    Maybe they''re really good at hiding?


    Maybe they''re watching me from behind the bushes and trees.


    Maybe they''re just waiting for the right time to attack and eat me.


    My mind starts up bringing old pictures of the monsters I''ve encountered and I can feel my stomach turn.


    "How did you sleep last night?" Quiller''s voice pulls me back into reality.


    I look at him, not sure how to answer.


    "You were tossing and turning and started almost breaking down your hut."


    "Ah..." I think back deeply but not much comes to mind: "I''m not sure... but it was weird for sure."


    Suddenly something catches my eye.


    A human-made object... though I have forgotten what it was called again.


    "A signpost." Quiller answers for me without knowing.


    There are a couple of names scribbled on it.


    As I scan each and every name on them, my heart skips a beat as I recognize one of them.


    Immediately my hand reaches for my pocket.


    It must be here. It must be here!


    I take out my map and look at the place I had once circled with a pen, from which the ink now is almost entirely faded.


    Underneath the drawing of a building it says ''Hope''s church'', the same name on the signpost.


    This is it.


    This is really it!


    I was wrong before, we really are close.


    To the last place someone might be still alive!


    "Don, what''s wrong?" Quiller asks, slightly frightened by my reaction.


    "Quiller, we''re here!" As the words tumble out of my mouth I quickly hold my hand over my mouth.


    I shouldn''t speak that loud.


    I start to fasten my pace as I head for the place.


    "Don''t go so fast." I hear Quiller say, but I don''t slow down.


    Fague memories start to come back into my mind.


    I had a friend before. I remember.


    We had met somewhere. Somewhere where other survivors had been.


    When the group was forced to disband and my teacher passed, my friend said she would flee here.


    Here to an old building.


    A building still owned by the living.


    I stop abruptly.


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    I''m standing in the shadow of something big.


    "Faith, huh..." I hear Quiller whisper next to me as he finally catches up.


    I look at the giant building before us, the one leaving us in the shadow, hiding us from the light of the sun.


    "Is this where you have been heading all this time?" Quiller asks in a curious tone.


    I nod.


    Mae promised that she would be waiting here for me.


    Silently I pray.


    Please be alive.


    Please be okay.


    Please still be waiting for me.


    I take out my map and double check.


    The place I had marked is still this one.


    I''m at the building she told me to come to.


    "Quiller, could you check for me if there''s something inside?" I say it without even moving my eyes to look at him, I try to spot any sign of movement.


    What could she be doing here?


    Would she be all alone?


    Or did she survive with some of the others of the group?


    Just how long has it been since I last spoke to her?


    Quiller probably said something, but I was too busy thinking, so it seems that he has chosen to just do what I asked of him.


    He walks to the old double doors and goes right through it, like a ghost.


    It doesn''t take long for him to return.


    "And?" I ask expectantly.


    "There actually are people inside, it seems like they''re living ones."


    A hope I had once long lost enters me, almost making me tear up.


    Is this feeling long lost joy?


    Then Quiller looks at me: "Don, you should still be careful though. Something about this place just doesn''t sit right with me."


    I look up at him and then towards the church, letting my eyes scan over it.


    Just as I''m about to place my hand on the old doorknob, the door opens from the other side.


    Shocked, I jump back, readying my spear without any thought.


    A strange person, dressed even stranger, opens the door.


    After I''m certain that they won''t do me harm, I lower my weapon.


    The person before me seems rather shocked.


    "A-another survivor?" They mumble.


    Then a couple of others walk towards the door, curious to see me, all of them are dressed just as strange.


    Their clothes are black with just a little bit of white underneath, covering themselves from head to toe, even the part of their heads where you normally see a person''s hair.


    Just what kind of weird place is this?


    Then a sudden familiar face looks at me.


    Mae.


    Also dressed in the strange manner as the others, but it really is her!


    "Don!" She calls out to me and the others let her through.


    She pulls up the front of her clothes and runs towards me, probably to prevent herself from tripping.


    Then she stops before me, spreads her arms and hugs me.


    As her warmth enters my body, I feel the need to cry, but am able to stop myself from doing so just in time.


    "Don! I''m so glad to finally see you again! It has been so long."


    I hear she wasn''t able to hold back her tears, she hides her face, but I can clearly hear it in her voice.


    I hug her back, slower than her, but still happy and thankful to finally meet her again.


    "Don, not to ruin your reunion, but it seems like someone wants to speak to you." Quiller whispers to me.


    I look around still hugging my long lost friend and find an older strangely dressed person looking at me expectantly.


    "Yes?" I ask.


    Mae lets go and bows to the person: "Sister Pauline."


    Sister? Are they related? They don''t look alike at all.


    Quiller probably noticed my confusion: "Don, people who used to work at churches would call each other brother or sister. Some, but very few would also be called father or referent."


    "Is... he... or she a friend of yours?" The sister asks hesitantly.


    "Yes, they are. I''ve known them since back in the old days."


    "I see..." Sister Pauline answers though clearly sounding confused about something.


    Mae notices and answers her: "Don''s gender has always been somewhat of a mystery even back when we went to school together. I remember when classmates would ask about it and Don would ask if ''gender'' was edible."


    That sounds like something I would say.


    "Other times when it was asked they would answer with ''human being'' or ''pizza''."


    Sister Pauline looks at me: "Sounds like you were a handful."


    In the corner of my eye I see Quiller trying to stop himself from laughing.


    Sister Pauline turns to Mae and speaks in a strangely stern way: "The guest is to be taken to the counsel, to see if they can stay."


    "Yes, sister. I will take them right away."


    Mae takes me by my hand and guides me through the crowd.


    The first thing I notice is that the building feels rather cold, seemingly able to read my mind she asks: "Cold? It''s normal for buildings as old as these."


    I laugh awkwardly: "Still able to read my thoughts."


    We go up a couple of stairs until we are at least two floors up. Walking towards an old door, Mae knocks.


    An elderly lady opens and looks at us before saying: "Come in."


    In the room the floor under the tables seems to be much higher than in the middle of the room.


    On the tables many people sit, all dressed strangely, or perhaps I''m dressed strangely to them, all staring at us.


    "Mae, thank you for bringing them here. You can go now." A person who seems to be in charge says to my friend, annoying me slightly.


    "But I-"


    "No, sorry, we need to speak with them alone for now."


    Mae bows her head: "Yes, reverent." And to me she says: "See you soon Don.".


    With a short wave she leaves me, closing the door behind her.


    All the looks upon me feel like a threat, I''m not used to being around so many of my own kind. It has been long since I''ve last been.


    But how come that I get the feeling that they don''t only stare at me?


    "What is your name, my child?" the person called reverent asks.


    "Don."


    "I see... and what is the name of your companion?"


    Companion?


    Can they see Quiller?


    Didn''t he keep on blabbering about being imaginary or something?


    Total bull if you ask me.


    I remain silent and the questions continue: "Are you not aware of the spirit that is haunting you?"


    "Spirit?" I ask.


    "Yes, a spirit of the old days."


    I look at Quiller and his face more surprised than mine, he starts to shake his head.


    "There is no way, she must have been mistaken." He mumbles.


    I look at him: "I guess I was right."


    "Y-you can see me?" He asks the people watching us with a panicked tone, but no one answers him.


    "You can see him?" I ask for my imaginary friend.


    "Ah, so it''s a man. Unfortunately we can''t see what the person looks like, nor can we hear their words. We can only see that he is here, among the living."


    "I see."


    "What has he told you, my child?"


    "Uh... that he''s imaginary..."


    "Ah... well he certainly isn''t."


    "Then what is he?"


    "He is a spirit, a ghost if you will, although a bit different than a normal one."


    "In what way is he different?"


    "He is a digital ghost."


    Digital?


    Does that mean what I think it does?


    Is Quiller one of them?!


    I look at him, a bit pissed, he returns a scared look, shaking his head: "I''m not, I can''t be..."


    "Don''t blame him for what he is." The sister tells me.


    "Isn''t he one of them though?" I almost growl, scaring myself by my own intensity.


    But for some reason she shakes her head: "Not at all. He is like a ghost, or perhaps more like a hologram that only you are able to see."


    "Why can only I see him?"


    She shrugs: "You possess an item that binds you two together. I do not know what it is, but it is a strong one."


    I feel a little guilty for expecting the worst and quietly glance at the ghost besides me, who seems utterly terrified. Secretly a smile creeps onto my face.


    I truly am an awful human being.

 Quiller - Chapter 2

    My head hurts when the revelation of my identity comes to light.


    Even though they seemed to think differently at first, Don keeps saying that it''s okay and that it''s normal.


    But it really isn''t.


    I''m not real.


    I''m not real.


    I''m not real!


    But there is no denying the words of the revenant.


    If she can see me...


    I''m...


    I''m... supposed to be some sort of...


    No! I can''t say it.


    I just can''t.


    I saw their face when the lady mentioned me being a ''digital ghost'', Don looked betrayed.


    I felt like a monster.


    No I still do.


    Am I somehow like those flesh-eating monsters?


    No...


    I can walk through walls and don''t eat.


    I truly am a ghost, aren''t I?


    But then who''s ghost am I supposed to be?


    Who was I before I died?


    How did I die?


    And what is the reason that I awoke when Don touched the book?


    "I told you I was right." Don says with a smirk on their face.


    "But I just simply can''t be!"


    "Give it up, you are a ghost haunting this book."


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    Everything is going so fast and I can''t seem to follow anything at all.


    We get sent to an upstairs room, I believe it''s a room for Don to stay in.


    Since the church counsel probably still doesn''t know what to do with us.


    As the church people finally leave us alone, I''m still looking down: "So... will you get rid of me now?"


    They probably should. Won''t they?


    To my surprise Don shakes their head: "You might not be imaginary, but I still see you as a friend. We''ve been through a lot together already."


    Are they trying to make me feel better?


    It''s not really helping, but I won''t tell them.


    They keep talking to me for a while, but nothing sticks.


    I just can''t forget the look on their face when they heard.


    It hurts.


    Pure hatred.


    Yet somehow shortly after also shock, possibly of their own outburst.


    And these people... if they are... they seemed not shocked about anything at all.


    Perhaps it''s their age, but something about it all leaves me with a bad taste.


    It gets dark fast and Don talks to me some more before going to bed. Still nothing sticks.


    As I see them lie down and fall asleep so quickly, I finally find my rest as well.


    It''s strange.


    Normally I don''t dream at all.


    But tonight is different.


    In the warm embrace of a sudden sleepiness I fall asleep.


    When I open my eyes I see many colors and shapes.


    It takes me a little while to realize that I''m standing just before a make-shift town.


    A human settlement brimming with life.


    A man-made town made to stay alive during these dark times.


    How is it possible for me to dream about something like that?


    I don''t remember ever seeing something like this before.


    I know for a fact that this is a dream, it''s autumn after all and here sunflowers grow next to the path I''m wandering.


    I''m wandering without really feeling as if I have control over it, but somehow I''m just too tired for it.


    When did I ever get so tired?


    I''m not supposed to feel that, right?


    Because I''m imaginary.


    I''ve been created by Don''s mind in order to protect their psych.


    Human memories should be impossible for me.


    No, that isn''t right anymore...


    Because I''m... dead...


    Someone appears between the flowers and stops to look at me.


    Then they start running towards me, calling me by an inaudible name I''m unfamiliar with.


    I fall to my knees and try to clasp myself onto the other person.


    They try to keep me on my feet, but unable to hold my entire body weight end up dropping me.


    Embraced again by the darkness I feel a sudden warmth enter my body.


    It feels familiar, yet unfamiliar at the same time.


    But I eventually recognize it as a campfire.


    I open my eyes and am blinded by the soft orange light entering my darkness craving eyes.


    "Are you alright?" Someone asks from the shadows of the bright.


    I can''t answer them and instead nod.


    "That''s good."


    Flashes flicker before my eyes, like many fireworks in many different colors.


    I''m floating.


    I''m away from the fire.


    I have become unfeeling again.


    The voice from before speaks again in a clear voice throughout all the chaos.


    "You may call me your teacher."


    My eyes flicker open, this time for real.


    I had been floating just above the floor, so I sit up to look around.


    I don''t feel tired anymore.


    I look around to find Don again, only feeling at peace when I see them to be deep asleep and the blankets are slowly rising up and down.


    Even though I don''t need to, I take a seat somewhere close to them, but also at a spot letting me oversee everything around me.


    Can I learn about what happened to me and protect Don?


    Somehow a little voice in the very back of my mind tells me ''no'', tells me that I should make a choice instead.


    Whatever happens, I know what my answer will be if there really will be a decision in the future.

 Chapter 8 - Lost memories

    "You may use this room as yours." Sister Pauline tells me with the straight face she wore from the moment she met me.


    I mumble a thank you and as she closes the door I take a seat on the bed.


    Shocked, I stand up again.


    "Is something wrong?" Quiller asks, startled a little by my reaction.


    "It... so soft..."


    Beds aren''t supposed to be this soft, beds are meant to keep you through the night in one place and be there to keep you from sleeping in too deep.


    There is also a pretty big window in this room.


    It scares me.


    What if something decides to get in during my sleep?


    Then there is the fact that there''s also a door.


    Two big way''s in and out of this room.


    If something hears me or spots light coming from this room... I''m dead.


    Quiller mumbles: "And...? I guess you weren''t the last human after all. How does it feel?" The way he says it seems almost as if he''s not paying attention to his own words.


    Don: "Oh... right"


    Somehow something still feels wrong.


    There is a knock on the door.


    Vigilantly I walk over.


    I wait for a moment.


    Then there is another knock.


    "Don, please open up, it''s me."


    I can hear Mae''s voice from behind the door.


    Carefully I open the door.


    "Yes?"


    For a moment there is a look in her eyes showing something like a deep sadness.


    "Don..." She clearly wants to say something, but then looks up again with a smile: "I''m glad you''re here, I just wanted to let you know that the sisters have invited you for supper."


    "Supper?"


    "Food." Mae clears up.


    Together we walk to find a huge room, filled with people eating together on the biggest table I''ve ever seen.


    All of them are sitting together and chatting while eating their food.


    They seem to be having a good time.


    All of them are dressed in the same robes as Mae.


    I guess they must all be sisters.


    Quiller must have decided to stay in the room, because he''s not coming. He probably hasn''t accepted it all yet. I wonder if he even knows that I left.


    "So how have you been doing for the past few years?" Mae asks as we''ve taken place at an empty spot on a bench.


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    "Years?"


    "You know, 365 days, that''s one year."


    "Yeah, I know that... but I haven''t counted the days at all."


    Mae looks dissapointed: "Did you forget how much time passed by?"


    "You know how bad I''m with time, right?"


    "It was never this bad though." Mae says in a worried tone: "When we were attacked, I was almost certain that you were dead... I couldn''t sleep for days. I counted the years, unlike you, five have passed since that day."


    "Five?!" I feel astonished, it always felt like a lot less.


    "Dammit Don, we''ve known each other for so long... ever since we were kids. We even went to school together."


    "We... did?"


    Mae looks on the verge of tears all of a sudden. "Right... we did." I quickly answer, but in all truth more to appease her. The memories are all so vague... didn''t we talk about it a couple of hours ago?


    Mae and I went to school together...


    Mae and I... went to school together...


    Mae... and I... school.


    What even is school?


    What is it meant for?


    Why would we go there?


    Is it even a place?


    Or is it a person?


    I can feel the gaping hole in my memory stare back at me.


    I should have been able to remember it... but somehow I just don''t...


    I can''t...


    It was there, I''m sure of it... But now it''s just gone.


    I''m not even sure if I can correctly recall my teacher''s face, the person who had taught me how to survive this damned world.


    Did I know teacher from before the world went to hell?


    Somehow I manage to find a way to hide my thoughts and feelings.


    It shouldn''t matter now anyway. I tell myself. I need to change the subject.


    "Mae, what happened before you came here?"


    She seems to be a bit hesitant at first, but then finds the willpower again to continue.


    "As I told you before we were attacked, I had heard about this church. That there were still humans among them, survivors like us. I wandered around for a while, though I guess not as long as you of course and was found by one of the sisters."


    "I see and they took you in."


    She nods: "Yes, they did. I''m glad I was allowed to. Now I try to help everyone here every day to show my gratitude."


    "Girl, we''re really happy to have you here! So don''t be so insecure about it, please." Another sister joins in, seeming to have heard the last of the conversation.


    Then she turns to me: "So, what are you planning on doing now?" Her hand on Mae''s shoulder.


    "Well... In a way I''ve finished my journey..." I answer hesitantly.


    "You know you can probably just stay here and become one of us."


    Mae looks at her: "Margaret, I would like that too, but then they first have to be accepted by the counsel."


    "Right, crap, I forgot..." Margret scratches her head: "Don." Then she grasps for my hand with a hopeful smile: "I''m rooting for you! You can join us!"


    Mae nods firmly: "Yes! We will vouch for you! Survivors gotta stick together after all."


    "One question, though." Margret throws a curious glance my way.


    "Yes?" I feel like it''s something bad.


    "Is your name really Don? I don''t feel like it fits you."


    Before I can react Mae opens her mouth: "Well actually Don''s name is short for-"


    "Shut up!" I yell, feeling my face turn red from embarrassment.


    We finish eating our food and I prepare myself to get back to my room, I feel tired after all.


    Almost like all the sleep I skipped in my journey of getting here, is now trying to take me over.


    Forcing me down, forcing me to lie down in that soft bed again.


    Forcing me to close my eyes and only wake up when I''ve slept out all of it.


    I know full well that I can''t do that though.


    As I walk back, Mae leaves me because there is something she needs to do. But sister Margaret and a sister called Eileen walk back with me.


    "Don''t you know how worried she is about you?" One of the sisters asks me.


    I shake my head: "What do you mean?"


    "She told me you changed a lot."


    "I changed?"


    "Yeah, you become so much more vigilant and it''s clear that you''ve been through a lot."


    I shrug: "I don''t see what that changes about me."


    "You''ve lived on your for far too long, she believed you were dead."


    "She... did?"


    "Of course, she believed everyone to be dead after all. You two are the only survivors of that incident."


    We... were the only ones?


    I try to think back about what had happened and how I might have been back then, but it only ends up hurting my head. Almost as if something is blocking my path to remembering.


    I guess it''s not something I should try to remember.


    It hurts.


    From the corner of my eye I notice something moving, something that seems off.


    "Who''s that?" I ask, pointing at the person being taken to another room.


    The person seems to be wearing something that resembles the sisters'' dresses just a little, but is completely white instead of black.


    The sister immediately pulls me closer: "She''s sick, you shouldn''t get too close to her."


    "Sick? Do you mean she got infected?" My hand automatically reaches to where I usually keep my weapon.


    The sister shakes her head: "No, no, nothing like that. She''s just sick. And if you ask me, she''s a bit sick in her head as well. She''s dangerous."


    Back in my room I let myself drop on my bed and look at Quiller: "Are you okay?" I ask, looking at his contemplating face. It looks like something is bothering him.


    He shakes his head: "I''m fine..."


    "You don''t look it."


    He doesn''t respond and just sits there.


    "Well anyway, I''m going to continue reading another chapter."


    Again Quiller doesn''t answer, just how deep in thought is he?

 Farren - Zombies

    ''Zombies'' a word often associated with the living dead in horror movies. Known mostly for their very slow movement and their brain eating or cannibalistic tendencies.


    Even though this genre, if you could call it that, has quite a long origin story, dating back far before movies. The furthest back records bring us to ancient Greece, where skeletons were found buried with an extra boulder on top to keep the dead from rising.


    In older stories, zombies of course weren''t created by a virus, but with the help of a voodoo master.


    These masters would give their targets something to drink in order to let them slowly ''die'' and then let them arise again when they are needed.


    Currently in video games one of the common classes is necromancer, meaning a wizard who could bring back the dead. something that was clearly inspired by ancient history.


    Nowadays zombies are mostly seen as fictitious and nothing but a scary story to make you fear big companies or quiet towns. To be afraid of strangers, acting, well strange, on the streets late at night or even during the day.


    Strangers are scary after all, so is being alone and human beings like the feeling of being afraid.


    To be afraid is to be alive.


    Or perhaps I''m completely wrong, perhaps I''m the only one thinking this way.


    Perhaps it is just a mirror into my own world.


    As you know it is quite a boring one.


    Some people like to say with such a life a disaster could only make something like it better.


    But would it really?


    What if it only makes everything more difficult, what if all of a sudden you are going to have to make a decision.


    A decision that might kill someone?


    Will you ever be able to forgive yourself for something like that?


    What if something like that forces you to take on an identity, causing you to stand out from the crowd.


    Then what if you stand out so much that no one wants to be around you anymore.


    That you stand out so much that you might be seen as a villain of some sort.


    That you, yeah you, will be suspected of being some sort of witch doctor, bringing those damned dead back to life. To be seen as the cause of the world ending.


    That you enjoy feeding them the living that might still have a little bit of hope left.


    Will you be in need of standing your own?


    Will you be all alone?


    Or will someone stand by your side?


    What if this is just one person, someone very precious to you. Won''t those who suspect, distrust them too?


    And will you be forced to take your stand alone?


    These are some of the dark thoughts I have many times, as well during night as during day.


    Even though at times I too am one of these people who wish for the worst.


    A storm that would wipe everything clean.


    A storm that would allow me to become another. To take on a role I never would otherwise.


    Well anyway, it doesn''t matter.


    I started talking about zombies and went on about something completely different.


    So I''ve got to go back there, because there was a point I was trying to make.


    Zombies, in a way, are already here, perhaps have always been here.


    There exists different types of drugs that can make someone act that way. These drugs often cause people to die soon after taking them.


    But again, that is not what I''m talking about.


    I''m talking about everyone being so stuck inside their own worlds, their own bubbles if you will, that they can''t see another. They consume whatever they believe to be edible or interesting.


    The people behind their devices, not paying attention to anything around them.


    There is a reason why it''s not allowed to take a phone out driving.


    Many accidents have happened that way.


    And now they want to make cars drive themselves.


    Well who am I to complain about things like that. Around the nineteenth century, many people would walk around with newspapers, totally engrossed in them. Almost all people walk around with their phones nowadays.


    They walk around, constantly reading, watching or listening to something. I wonder if it''s to forget the current reality, or if that''s just me again.


    Information goes fast nowadays, but I feel very under-learned and undertaught.


    I mean I wouldn''t be able to repair a car if it were to break, nor am I able to with my phone or anything else.


    If I''m without wifi at the wrong moment it might even become fatal.


    Then there are the moments in which I wonder ''why am I even alive''?


    To play this game? To watch this movie?


    I am like everyone else.


    I am like those I might call ''zombies''.


    I''m nothing but a faded out face inside a busy crowd.


    I''m nothing and so is everything else.


    Perhaps that is true zombification.


    I''m jealous of the people that still hold the believe in magic within their eyes and the people whom are still uncorrupted by depressing logic like me.


    When I look at pictures that have been posted online, I feel like it is always... fake. Showing just a fragment of another''s fantasy.


    I still have contact, if you can call it that, with many people from all the schools I''ve been to and jobs I''ve had.


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    To be honest this ''contact'' makes me feel more like some sort of stalker. They post so much and about much.


    I know them, I know each and every one of them and yet I don''t feel a connection.


    They''re just some people I used to know.


    And even though I might remember them perfectly, they have probably already forgotten all about me.


    So, yeah, I don''t really look at those parts of social media anymore. I only really look when someone contacts me. But mostly those are just newsletters that I''ve subscribed to being send to me possibly by an AI.


    I''m jealous of my child-self, me who believed that he would slay dragons when he would grow up.


    If I would meet that me, he would only be disappointed by what I had become.


    Would he cry?


    Would he lose all of his hopes and dreams?


    Or would he have enough strength to change it all.


    To become someone else entirely.


    If someone else took over my life as me, what would they change? What would they be able to change?


    Would he be like me, and be one of the zombies?


    One of the ghosts haunting this grey city?


    "Farren, could you get me one of those boxes?" The boss asks me, focused on the messages in his phone.


    "Yes sir." I nod and make my way out of the room.


    I don''t feel like taking the elevator, or well I feel like I should move more.


    They do say that the more you move the happier you might feel.


    I want to run.


    Quietly I walk through the halls, my feet not really making a sound. Something I''ve secretly mastered and am stupidly proud of.


    Something that makes me rebel, even if it''s just a little bit.


    Something that makes me just a little bit different from the rest.


    Something that makes me a bit of a ghost or an invisible man, just a little more special.


    Perhaps I shouldn''t be proud of it at all.


    But still, no one has taken notice of it.


    Let''s keep it that way.


    I continue going down further and further.


    There are many stairs to go and I''m getting paid by the hour.


    For what he wanted me to get I have to go down to one of the basement floors.


    Finally, there is where it must be!


    My mind gets fatigued quickly so I''m glad to finally find what I need.


    The room where I need to get that box from.


    A familiar white door greats me.


    The white light above it is so bright it gives me a headache.


    Carefully I knock on the door.


    But unlike usual I don''t hear someone calling for me to enter.


    Maybe Larrance who usually sits here has decided to take a piss-break or something?


    Smoke break?


    Well I know him a bit, so if I just leave him a note that I took one of the boxes he should be okay with it.


    I mean, I''ve done so before.


    But why...?


    Carefully I open the door, but as I open it on the slightest crack.


    I notice something.


    Something is very wrong.


    Why do I feel so terrified...?


    I glance behind me towards the board showing the number of the floor.


    This is the one... It really is.


    But why is the room behind the door so different from what it had been before?


    It''s not supposed to be like this!


    Quickly I close the door and rush up the stairs again.


    Whatever was behind that door was not meant for my eyes.


    Completely out of breath I reach my floor.


    I try to hide it the best I can, even wiping the sweat from my forehead as I enter the room.


    "So you finally got it?" My boss asks without even glancing my way.


    "Well..." Crap I hadn''t even thought of an excuse yet. If he knows that I know, I''m dead. "Well I couldn''t find it." I blurt out the first thing that came to mind.


    Annoyed, he finally looks my way: "Do I have to do everything here by myself, kid?"


    He really ever only calls me ''kid'' when I do something wrong.


    "I''m sorry, I got lost."


    "Lost? Like going to the cafeteria lost?"


    I nod: "Yeah, the cafeteria for the higher ups. Why do they have it in the basement though?"


    Nice safe! I whisper to myself.


    This guy doesn''t believe in anyone and especially not me. So to believe for him that I went into the cafeteria during a time I had to work, is much easier than trying to convince him that I really couldn''t find it.


    Angry he gets up: "I''m going to tell them to get this out of your paycheck!"


    "Understood sir. Could you please tell me where I could find them."


    Red faced he takes a map from his desk.


    "Fifth basement, they replaced it recently."


    "Alright, I will go get it then."


    They must have discussed this when I was absent.


    The fifth basement is much higher up than where they usually kept it.


    I quickly rush down again.


    I don''t want to give him more to be angry about with me.


    I already know I will hear about this in my weekend.


    I now open the right white door and find the old concierge sitting at his desk.


    "Ah, Farren." He smiles at me.


    "Good afternoon mister Larrance."


    "Did you make the boss angry or what? Him sending you down again doesn''t show much good."


    I nod "Yeah I did."


    He laughs: "Always the honest one. You really made my day today, you know."


    I smile back at the old man: "Did something happen?"


    As I ask my question his old wrinkled face grows suddenly dark: "Yeah, those bastards took my fucking room. Forcing me to move everything. And this room is much smaller than the one before and there is no damn elevator on this floor.


    How am I going to take up or down all of my tools?"


    "I will probably be sent soon again to fetch something, do you need me to bring something up or down for you?"


    The darkness from his face starts to fade again: "Farren my boy, you are far too good for this world." He takes my hand in the way most grandparents do to their grandchildren: "Leave this place, there is nothing good about it. And since the new CEO... shit has really started to hit the fan."


    I slowly take my hand back: "You know I can''t do that."


    "Yeah, yeah I know. I signed that paper too. But still. You could just marry a rich woman. There are plenty of these days."


    I awkwardly laugh about his weird suggestion: "I''m not sure if you should say things like that.


    "Or marry a rich man, I ain''t judging."


    "Mister Larrance..."


    "Well here you go boy." He hands me one of the boxes and I thank him for it.


    We say our goodbyes and I leave to go back to my floor.


    "Did you chit-chat with the ol'' crazy man again?! The higher-ups will hear from this!!" My boss is angry at me for the time it took to get the thing he wanted.


    "I understand." Is the only thing I answer as I return to my desk.


    Finally I can continue on with my work, still I don''t regret chatting with the concierge, he''s a little weird, but very kind.


    "Hey Farren, did you really talk to mister Larrance?" My cousin suddenly pops up, looking over one of the walls of his cubicle.


    I nod: "Yeah."


    "But he''s weird, right? He has all these strange theories. I heard he believes in aliens and bigfoot."


    "Yeah, yeah." I repeat: "But that doesn''t decide one''s entire personality. He has a good heart."


    "Intern, not you too. Get down!" The boss calls and we both sit down in our respective places. The big idiot seems to see himself so high and mighty, he clearly doesn''t want to acknowledge Kathan as a human being.


    As everyone leaves for lunch the boss enters my cubicle, stopping me from leaving: "No break for you now, you know."


    "Yes sir." I answer almost robotically. I know I have all the right to it, but I don''t want to fight him today.


    "I don''t like it that you don''t respect the rules of this company. You should appreciate what has been given to you more."


    "Yes sir, I understand. I will do better now."


    "You say that all the time, but we both know that it''s bullshit. If it wasn''t for the higher-ups you would be on the streets right now." Crap he must have noticed the slight sarcasm in my voice.


    I nod: "I know." While being unable to look him in the eye.


    He closes in on me as I try to continue my work: "I don''t get the feeling that ''you know''."


    I breathe in, sighing audibly. I can''t keep it in anymore and you know what? It''s his problem, not mine: "You know you can just send them a report about it right? Then they will talk to me about it and punish me accordingly." I''ve had enough of his attitude.


    ''The boss'' seems shocked, but then he seems to have accepted defeat and gives me a little more room to breathe: "When I am CEO of this company, I will make sure you will be forced onto the streets with no chance of ever working anywhere anymore. Forced to beg for change and always think back about those horrible mistakes you made."


    I can hear the hate dripping from the words leaving his mouth soaked in it.


    The boss is a man that loves to hate.


    He hates everything.


    I wonder if there is something he loves more.


    Even though those words came out scary, I know the higher-ups better than that.


    My work is not bad, I''ve had conversations with them before.


    Conversations like these of course and I''ve always been able to get an outcome in my favour.


    They know him too and made him boss for his bossing around skill. Something that doesn''t work on me and a few others anymore.


    He is all bark and no bite.


    Yes, he''s a complete jerk, but if he was a dog, he would have been a chihuahua. Barking at the wrongdoers than hiding behind the leg of its owner.


    Before he gets the role of CEO, we will have flying cars in public.


    I''ve read about them being too dangerous and useless to ever be put to good use.


    "Psst, Farren..." My cousin whispers from the other side when the chihuahua has left.


    "What is it, Kathan?" I smile to see him, he should have gone on break, but stayed to listen.


    "You''re pretty brave you know, not starting to cry before the boss."


    "Kathan I''ve been working here for a while now, I''ve just gotten used to it. You should hurry up to the cantine. There might not be an empty seat left after all."


    He nods, I read in his face an expression of pity. He must feel bad for me that I''m not allowed to take a break.


    Then he reaches for his backpack, looks around and then quickly hands me something in secret.


    "What''s this?"


    "Food, mom said that she thought you had gotten too thin and pale. She wants you to eat more and... healthy at that."


    I take it: "Give her my thanks."


    "I will, but promise me you will visit us again soon."


    "I will. Now get to the cantine, I will send you a message when I have time."


    Victoriously he smiles, it''s because he got me so far as to come visit them. I''ve been so busy lately I just haven''t had the time.


    Kathan hurries away to some of his newfound friends, giving me a short wave before he leaves.


    I see the boss glancing my way again and quickly sit down readying myself to continue to work.


    Secretly eating something from time to time, because we actually aren''t allowed to and if the boss catches me in the act, I will certainly be in trouble.


    It''s difficult to resist though, my aunt usually makes the most delicious food. She enjoys making it for other people.


    As the first few people enter the room again, I hide the many leftovers within my back. Those will go greatly for dinner later in the day.


    Late at night I''m unable to sleep, the flashes of what I had seen behind the door still fresh in my head.


    The only sleep I''m able to get is with stress-filled nightmares, constantly wondering ''what if what if''


    At some point I hear something just outside my apartment and sit up scared just to then notice that it''s only the neighbours coming home late.

 Chapter 9 - Ancient aid

    "Are you sure that it''s okay to just leave them like that?" Quiller asks me as I get ready to enter one of the abandoned buildings a bit further from the church.


    The morning sun is shining coldly onto the bricks of the lost city, from which we are on the edge.


    "I left a note, they should know just fine." I answer calmly, without looking his way.


    "But it might still be dangerous."


    I shake my head: "Doesn''t matter, everything is dangerous and I''m used to it."


    "Still you could have asked someone to go with you."


    I laugh slightly annoyed: "Well if you''re so scared, I have you with me."


    Quiller laughs a bit awkwardly, he clearly doesn''t completely agree with me, but that doesn''t matter.


    I open my coat and take out a mask from one of the hidden pockets.


    I''m quite fond of my coat, it was made specially for me and I''ve been able to keep whatever I needed or wanted inside of it.


    And above all, my teacher made it for me. Though lately I''ve noticed it getting in a worse and worse state. I''m worried I might have to get rid of it one day.


    "What are you doing?" Quiller asks curiously.


    "I was taught that some old places have things known as ''black mold'', it''s something poisonous and can kill you over time."


    My companion nods: "Oh right, so that''s how such a special mask looks like."


    "Never worn one?"


    "Well I did actually, but it was a lot different, since it was for a virus."


    "Isn''t that just the same as this?"


    Did he live in such a world before too?


    But he shakes his head: "No, it was very different."


    I step over the rubble and take the lead entering the dark building.


    Like usual I stand still for a bit, to get used to the dark is way better than to use my precious batteries or lucifers.


    Though Quiller is quite useful in places like these as well, since he glows just a little bit.


    I wonder if he knows what he looks like. In the past people had things like mirrors in which they would be able to stare at their own faces, nowadays finding one is like a needle in a haystack. Most of them have been shattered or have gone completely dirty.


    Honestly I don''t really know what I even look like, but then again it doesn''t interest me. It''s not important for survival.


    My eyes have finally gotten used to the dark and I spot a bunch of chairs.


    "This must have been a waiting room." Quiller says.


    "Waiting room? Why would they make a room for something as boring as that?"


    "Well, this obviously has been a hospital in the past, so people that went here waited until they could be helped from their pain."


    "What if they almost died?"


    "Then they would usually get priority, unless there were more dying."


    I nod, still finding the past humans strange creatures.


    I decide to search the room.


    Somewhere I find a couple of old pieces of paper that are stuck to one another, like a book, but without a leathery cover like mine. This would be a great Firestarter.


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    "It''s an old newspaper, do you need it?"


    "It would be great for a fire."


    A slightly surprised expression crosses his face, but he quickly changes it back into his normal one: "Right..."


    "If you want me to read this one too, we can. But it''s better to burn this than your book, right?"


    "Why do you still want to burn that book?"


    I laugh in a mischievous manner: "Maybe."


    "You''re evil." Quiller answers, but he probably knows that I''m just kidding anyway... or at least I hope he does. From the information the reverent gave me, if I burn it, it might kill him after all and that is something I don''t want.


    I really wouldn''t want that to happen, his face just gets funny when I say that I will or signal to it.


    I look at the stairs leading down.


    Quiller shakes his head: "No Don, we''re not going down there!"


    "Why not?"


    "Don..." Quiller signals towards something on the wall.


    I look behind me and read the words aloud: "Mortuary? That doesn''t sound that bad... Do you think they have food there?"


    "No!"


    I look at him not understanding what he means at all.


    "Let''s just go to the kitchen or something, they might have something left if it''s about food you want."


    I shrug: "I still don''t get it... but fine."


    As we enter the room that''s called ''cafeteria'' like in the book, I see a big almost circular hole in the roof, showing the cloudy sky.


    Water is slowly dripping down, by rusted up pipes and dark green plants growing down, from the edges of the hole.


    The light that''s shining in, makes the parts not lighted a lot darker.


    "What could have made such a big hole?" Quiller asks, looking up questioningly.


    I shake my head: "I don''t know, I''m going to look around for supplies."


    Carefully, minding every little noise I can hear. I start looking around.


    Under broken tables, in ancient closets.


    I open and search everything.


    When I open one of the small doors, the feeling of joy greets me warmly, there are some parts that I could use to experiment with my bombs!


    "I think we should look upstairs." I say: "The stairs look sturdy enough to carry us."


    Quiller nods in agreement and follows closely behind me.


    We enter a room that looks a lot messier than the others.


    "I really don''t want to think of what might have transpired here." Quiller mumbles more to himself than to me.


    I look up at him: "Then just don''t think about it."


    "But I just can''t, I can''t stop myself from wondering. It seems so terribly clear."


    I know what he''s hinting towards. The dark brown stains on the walls and floor tell the story and the wind blowing through the broken glass whispers it to us.


    I don''t get it, I''ve long left that behind. It''s just impossible to start thinking about what might have happened somewhere if you are in need of a place to sleep. A place safe from the rain and cold.


    I remember that in the past I found it difficult, but now it''s normal.


    It''s very difficult after all, knowing or even guessing something that might have been a scene where many people got hurt or even died.


    I''ve long since learned that wanting doesn''t matter. In this world the place where you spend the night can''t simply be chosen. Sometimes you''re lucky, sometimes you really aren''t.


    Just make sure that it''s safe from those zombies out there, don''t remember that they were people too once and if somewhere a triple murder had taken place, just don''t think about it. As long as there isn''t a body to prove it...


    I''ve long lost the care about it. The zombies are just monsters. A place in which I can safely spend the night is just that. And yet Quiller is making me remember those things, making me think again.


    "Just don''t think about it." I repeat aloud from my thoughts, but this time the words are more meant for me than for him.


    I notice that he isn''t listening.


    He''s staring at a corner of the room, standing there almost frozen in place.


    "Something wrong?" I ask, while tapping through his shoulder to get his attention.


    He quickly turns to me, almost shocked: "N-no... I''m fine."


    He clearly isn''t, but at least he seems better than yesterday.


    "Hey Don..." Quiller hesitates: "Are you planning on staying at the church?"


    I shrug: "I found Mae. That was the goal. We had planned this, but no one else that I know is there."


    "You''re thinking of continuing to travel?"


    So annoying, all those questions. Speaking so much makes my throat hurt.


    "I don''t know. But I don''t want to wear the same clothes as them."


    Quiller tries to hide a smile, but I already noticed.


    I leave the building proudly with quite some supplies.


    "You could give some of them to the church." Quiller thinks aloud.


    "Nah, but I would trade them for something good."


    "Good? Like what, one of those black dresses?" Quiller teases.


    I laugh: "I''ve got clothes that fit me fine! Hmm... maybe I will give them something for letting me stay there."


    Quiller smiles: "That would be very polite."


    Just before sundown we finally reach the church.


    I see Mae waiting outside for me on a bench, as she spots me she immediately starts to run my way.


    "Don! Where the hell have you been?!" Her face is puffed red with anger.


    "Just getting some supplies." I shrug.


    "Supplies?! We got enough of those here. You could have died!"


    "I can die every day, don''t worry, I know how to stand my own."


    "Still." She looks at me worried.


    I''m sorry Mae, I say in my mind, not having the courage to really do so.


    Sister Pauline comes our way: "Ah I see our guest has returned."


    Her face doesn''t change expression at all, making me feel like I''m looking at a statue.


    I hand one of the batteries over to her.


    "It''s a thank you for letting me stay here."


    She nods ever so slightly a movement of a very contained yet positive surprise.


    "I will make sure it will go to the head."


    "Don! Is that why you left? To get US batteries?! You could''ve died." My friend is still not happy with the fact that I went looking around a little.


    I shrug: "Again, I can die every moment of every day. I would rather die not huddled or hidden away in some dusty old room."


    She looks sad.


    "Don, I don''t think that''s the problem." Quiller tells me.


    I give him a side-eye, why is she so worried? We''ve been apart for so long.


    Though, I might understand. She was part of the reason why I''m still alive and kicking.


    I hate to admit it, so I won''t say it aloud.


    When it''s time for dinner, she finally seems to have calmed down a little and doesn''t talk about it anymore. Tough deep down I get the feeling that she''s still angry at me.

 Farren - Memories

    Memories.


    Memories are what makes us, us.


    If I were to have memories of another, I wouldn''t be me anymore, would I?


    Memories can be good, bad or in between.


    Losing memories is something a lot of people fear.


    If you were to lose yours, would you still be you?


    Though I also believe that everyone has their fair share of memories they would rather forget. Embarrassing ones or sad ones for example.


    Some people truly treasure their memories, others not so much.


    Some people like to take souvenirs from wherever they went to, to help remember every time they look at it and again others don''t.


    I''m not sure if I belong to either of these groups, then again maybe no one belongs to these groups. There are many things I don''t care about, but I never want to forget that I''m me and who the people are that are closest to me.


    It''s said that most people can remember back to when they were about four years old, honestly pretty interesting. It''s called infantile amnesia, the reason why this occurs is still a mystery to mankind. One theory suggests that it''s because the brain is still too young to form memories, unable to put the pieces together, still unable to really, truly learn.


    Then there is the fact that people can start losing memories due to age, alzheimer or even accidents in which certain parts of the brain is damaged. Something most people know thanks to the media, amnesia.


    I still feel tired from being unable to sleep last night, it''s causing me to feel rather cranky today. It was supposed to be my free day, but I have an appointment with the new CEO, thanks to the chihuahua.


    "Good day Farren." The man before me speaks, welcoming me into his office. It has changed so much since he came... well everything has.


    From the atmosphere around the cubicles to how and where everything is placed.


    I give him a polite nod in response to his greeting.


    "I heard from Joseph that you were causing trouble."


    This is the first time me and this CEO are having an actual conversation, I used to have plenty with the former one. Thinking about it makes me miss him a little bit. He was kind and seemed to understand my struggles.


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    I don''t know anything about this guy.


    "I have." I answer deadpan.


    The man before me leans back in his chair.


    "It''s a pity really. You''ve never been a very sociable person, always in the corner doing your own thing. Not showing off your true talents to anyone."


    For some reason his words make the hairs in my neck stand up.


    "I''m sorry, but what are you talking about?"


    He smiles at me in a sad manner: "I guess it''s true. You have forgotten all about me."


    I remain quiet, unsure of what to say.


    Do I know this guy? Or is this some kind of thread?


    Crap... does he know?!


    He finally breaks the silence and continues, never taking his eyes off me: "We went to school together."


    ...


    Oh.


    That''s... it?


    I feel the tension in the room evaporate.


    "Sorry, I went to too many. And it''s all quite long ago now."


    "Still, it''s unfortunate. I really looked up to you. Always quiet, yet never afraid to stand your or another''s ground. Just what happened to you?"


    I look away and shrug, slightly annoyed: "Time does such things to people, we change."


    "I remember you smiling from time to time back then, but now I don''t believe I''ve ever seen you do so."


    I return my gaze to him: "I do still smile from time to time."


    He looks at me like I''m telling another lie.


    I don''t care though.


    "Do you still enjoy working here?" He asks a question I''m not surprised about.


    "Well I got sent here for misbehaving, but it''s okay. And- " I continue: "It''s not like I can just end the contract."


    I''m not scared of him.


    I''m not going to sugarcoat the truth.


    Not today.


    Not even three mugs of hot coffee will let me do so.


    The man before me nods: "Don''t you regret starting here?"


    I shake my head: "No, I still believe that I''m doing the right thing working here and I will do so until either the contract ends or I don''t feel like coming anymore."


    "I see Ed really got through to you."


    "He''s a great guy."


    "You look up to him?"


    "Yeah."


    Suddenly he leans closer towards me, bringing back the old tension.


    "By the way, I know that you''re lying."


    "What do you mean?!"


    "Confessing to cause trouble, you didn''t."


    I feel like someone has just punched me in my gut.


    Does he know?


    Does he know what I saw?


    Is this a warning? Or is that something I''ve already received?


    "Joseph is being too hard on you." He finally seems to conclude, finally giving me space to breathe again.


    "So which school did you go to?" I ask trying desperately to change the conversation.


    The CEO looks at me: "You really don''t remember me? I''m Oliver, remember? You should at least remember my name."


    I give him an awkward smile.


    "You forgot..."


    "Sorry, I''m bad with names."


    Oliver sighs: "Well, you''re dismissed. I''ll tell Joseph that you got your punishment. I''m really sorry you have to deal with such an arse like him."


    I shrug: "It''s okay, I''m used to him now."


    The CEO signals to me that I can leave.


    I turn my back to him and walk out of the room, I close the door behind me.


    Suddenly, like a flash of lightning I remember.


    Right! Oliver... we were friends in primary school!


    Part of me wants to go back inside and talk about it, but the other wants me to go home and go back to bed.


    Damnit.


    I have another appointment to go to before I can.

 Farren - The bystander effect

    Ever heard of the phenomenon known as the bystander effect?


    It often happens when something bad happens to someone in public and others bear witness to it. This phenomenon is when those people are just walking by without doing anything at all. Pretending it never happened in the first place.


    Whenever something bad, frightening and/or unexpected happens people have a couple of different ways of responding.


    Fight or flight are usually the two that are discussed the most.


    Like for example when you''re being attacked, you might take a stand and fight or just flee from the attacker.


    Then there''s also freeze, one often forgotten. In this case the person freezes up, becoming unable to move. In a way it''s pretending to be dead, like many creatures that walk this earth, something our early ancestors must have learned somewhere. It''s an instinct that has been passed down so far, even to some of us in the 21st century.


    I''m going off track here, so let''s get back to the bystander effect.


    As the name suggests this is about the reactions of bystanders that witness the situation unfold. It''s a bit different from fight or flight, since as a person watching you don''t have to be in immediate danger. Perhaps it might just be safer to remain someone passing by.


    Fight, flight or freeze can in some ways be of significance here too. Though different of course.


    Some people might try to help the person being attacked, others flee the scene, getting themselves to safety and others remain unmoving and just stand there watching as the scene unfolds.


    Though having many theories, this phenomenon still has yet to gain a true explanation, a true cause and reason to answer.


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    Personally the bystander effect scares me a little, I mean, what if I were to become a victim and I would just be ignored by the people around me. That would make me feel truly invisible.


    But perhaps it''s worse if you happen to have someone watching you taking pictures or filming for enjoyment.


    I ring the doorbell before me and the door soon opens.


    "Come in Farren." My cousin greets me with a smile on his face, letting me come inside.


    After that conversation with Oliver I decided to visit my cousin and aunt as I had promised.


    "Good day aunt Tilly."


    "It''s been far too long, Farren!" She calls to me in a worried tone I''ve gotten used to: "Kathan! Why couldn''t you have told me about this?!" She yells at her son.


    He seems rather confused: "About what, ma?"


    Our moms are sisters and thus look very alike. They''ve been very close ever since childhood, something that luckily never went away. So my cousin and I have basically been raised together as well. As kids we used to have sleepovers all the time and on vacations we always went together as one big family.


    "Your cousin has gotten so thin he almost looks like a dried up mummy!"


    Is it really that bad?


    Kathan glances my way: "He looks alright to me."


    My aunt turns back to me: "Farren, I know you''re often busy, but it is your own responsibility too. Don''t forget to eat!"


    I laugh awkwardly: "Yes aunt Tilly, I will, I will."


    She looks right through me and my lies: "You''re going to keep forgetting, aren''t you?" Like my own mother, she almost feels all knowing.


    "Really I''m fine!" I almost panic, waving around my hands.


    It takes a couple of minutes to finally get my aunt to talk about something else, after she has prepared a bag filled with a month''s worth of vegetables and other things to make my own food with.


    She grows them in her own garden, always having too much, but always ready to share it with everyone even remotely close to her. Even with her neighbours she has a close bond.


    We eat dinner together, with my aunt trying to feed me more than I can possibly have. All the while talking about work, Kathan''s school and life in general.


    I''m worrying her.


    I know that.


    Even if I don''t want to.


    I feel so damn guilty for doing so.


    Do I really matter that much to her?


    Well, I guess I do.


    As her nephew, her family, I do.


    Am I worrying everyone around me?


    Oliver seemed to worry a little as well...


    And mister Larrance...


    Damnit!


    I guess, they might not be simple bystanders as I believed them to be...


    The bystander like I believe myself to be.


    Perhaps the scariest thing of all, is that they might even get themselves in danger in order to help me...

 Chapter 10 - Secrets & confessions

    "I see you''re becoming quicker at reading, or are you enjoying it more?"


    "It was short." I answer, but then start to wonder about what I just read: "The bystander effect, huh?"


    "Something you probably won''t ever experience." Quiller laughs.


    "No, actually I have... yesterday."


    He looks surprised.


    "There was a sick girl."


    "Sick... like in...?" He probably means the zombies.


    I shake my head: "They said it was in her head. They took her further down I believe."


    My friend looks rather perplexed: "They... have a floor underneath the ground one?"


    I nod: "I think so. I saw stairs going down"


    I believe that he might be thinking the same as me.


    This place definitely has its secrets and I''m not too sure if those are good or bad.


    I look out the window, it''s still light outside.


    "I''m going to visit Mae."


    Quiller nods: "I think that''s a good idea, she seems worried about you."


    Walking downstairs I look around for her.


    Sister Aileen finds me.


    "Ah Don, are you looking for Mae?"


    I nod.


    "I just saw her go to the graveyard." She points at one of the doors leading outside.


    I thank her and walk outside.


    As told, immediately spot her.


    She''s alone, her back is turned towards me, but by her manner of walking I know that it''s her.


    Around her there are strange chest-looking things, I believe are meant to be graves. There are also ones with crosses or just stones, imbedded with text I can''t read.


    Quickly I rush up to her: "Mae!"


    Shocked, she turns around: "Don? You haven''t left for bed yet?"


    I shake my head: "It''s still light out... and I was reading."


    A sad smile crosses her lips: "Reading? That''s good. Is it a book from here?"


    "There are books here?" I am surprised, I haven''t seen any around.


    "Plenty, though I guess I can understand you''ve never seen them. They''re religious books."


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    "Rali-jus?" I''m having trouble just saying the word.


    I can see the sun reflected in her eyes: "You know, stories about Gods and humanity. About creation and destruction. History and predictions..."


    "Is it an interesting story?" I ask, unsure if it''s a good question to ask.


    She turns her gaze at the sinking sun: "I think so, yes. What kind of book are you reading?"


    "About a sad guy."


    "Well that doesn''t sound really happy." Mae laughs: "And what happens to this guy?"


    "He has a job."


    Mae shakes her head: "You never really were the person to properly explain something, though somehow I believe you''re having more difficulty with it than you used to."


    I look down, I don''t want her to know. I know it would break her heart.


    "What about the re- ri... your book?" I quickly ask.


    "It''s about the creation of the world."


    "Creation?"


    Mae nods: "Yes, how we believe the world came to be and who made it."


    "Someone made it?"


    "We- or well most of the sisters here believe that the world- and humanity was created by the Goddess of blood."


    "Do you believe that?"


    Mae shakes her head again: "Although I am a sister of this church. I don''t believe in something like that. You of all people should know that."


    I laugh awkwardly: "Well... you know... people change..."


    Mae gives a sad smile and a gentle gust of wind makes her long hair dance: "From the two of us, you have changed the most. Or at least that''s what I feel like..."


    Just as the words land I can feel my heart grow heavier with guilt.


    Why can''t I still be the person I was?


    The look in her eyes... It''s one of grief.


    She believed that I had passed and yet I''m still here.


    Was her grief for nothing? Or is her grief for the person I used to be?


    Is there a way that I can help her feel less sad about it?


    I feel like a liar.


    Mae turns her gaze to the garden filled with plants both dead and alive.


    Reaching for her shoulder I gently tap it, but unable to look her in the eye I confess.


    "Mae... I forgot."


    "What do you mean?" She sounds surprised.


    Damnit, do I really have to explain it?


    "I forgot it all... I don''t remember... what the world was like before..."


    My throat hurts, I want to scream, but I don''t want to upset my friend any further.


    It''s quiet for a bit.


    Did the truth make her even more sad? That the past is forever lost to me?


    "Don..." She begins to speak: "I''m sorry."


    Why is she apologising?


    "I didn''t know it was that bad..."


    "Bad?" Is the only word able to leave my mouth.


    "The things that happened to you... just before and at the start of all this... was nothing short of a horrible nightmare."


    Gently she wraps her arms around me.


    "I''m sorry." She whispers this time: "I''m sorry I couldn''t protect you from it all."


    My head hurts.


    I don''t want to remember.


    Is it because it''s like she says...?


    That it''s all too horrible?


    I wish I knew. Yet I also wish that I will never know again.


    "What... happened...?" I quietly ask, staring at the sun that''s now almost completely down and the dark clouds coming closer into view.


    Rain.


    "Don, the people you were with, your family and all those around you were slaughtered."


    Slaughtered?


    As in ripped-apart?


    Eaten?


    I almost feel the need to gag.


    I do remember flashes.


    I remember the sound of flesh torn from bone.


    "Don, I believe that your mind might be suppressing your memories."


    Luckily Mae''s words take me back to the real world just in time.


    "Why?" I ask, feeling rather sickly.


    "It''s a way your mind protects itself. You''ve been through a lot, your mind is on survival-mode."


    "Then what about you?"


    "I''m lucky... or perhaps unlucky. I still remember it all, but I didn''t see the things you saw. Both times I was quickly rescued, while you were left to wander around and search for help."


    This is not the first time I wandered around?


    "Don, if I may be so bold." She suddenly whispers warningly: "I don''t recommend that you stay here."


    "What do you mean?" I ask, almost panicking. The sudden shift in her tone has taken me off guard.


    "I can''t tell you."


    "Why?"


    "Promise me you''ll leave." She almost hisses at me.


    "Mae, come with us."


    Mae looks surprised: "We?"


    Oh right, I forgot to tell her about Quiller. I guess the other sisters haven''t told her about it either.


    I shake my head: "Another friend of mine... you can''t see him though..."


    "An imaginary friend?"


    "Something like that... a ghost."


    Mae laughs and the conversation turns light hearted again.


    "I guess with some things you''ll always remain the same..."


    "Huh?"


    "You should probably think about shortening your hair again, though. It almost looks like a bird''s nest."


    "It''s that bad?" I ask rather shocked.


    Mae crosses her arms and nods: "Even when we stayed at the camp it looked better. Well our teacher there used to be a hairdresser so he cut everyone''s hair once in a while."


    Mae continues for a bit to tease me about my hair, after that we talk some more about more casual things. Like food or books.


    As the sun is nowhere to be seen anymore and air starts to get colder we wish each other goodnight and return to our rooms.

 Quiller - Chapter 3

    Don enters the room, mumbling something unintelligible and then drops onto the bed unconscious. They must be really tired.


    I''m not judging, I would be too if I had been walking around for an entire day. Or at least I think I would.


    Earlier in the hospital I had seen something strange.


    When we entered the room that looked like a massacre had taken place, it felt strangely familiar.


    Like someone familiar was there, waiting for me.


    But there wasn''t anyone at all, besides me and Don of course.


    It might have only been a memory.


    But I think I might have been there before.


    A person in a white lab coat appeared before me, invisible to Don, a woman with glasses that my mind called ''sister'' for some reason. Not as in sister of the church, but as in sibling.


    Could it be that like the reverent had said, that I was in fact a ghost, a soul who was still wandering around bound by that book?


    Did I have a sister who used to work at that hospital?


    I remember her smile, one showing both intellect and warmth, though her face is still a mystery to me.


    Her long hair tied back in a ponytail.


    I remember her smile at me, looking down.


    I must have been much smaller back then.


    How much older is or was she?


    I don''t know.


    There''s so much I don''t know.


    I wish I knew, but my head hurts the more I try to think about it.


    It''s strange for me to start hallucinating when I''m awake.


    I mean, have you ever heard of a ghost hallucinating?


    Because I certainly haven''t?


    Ghost stuck in the past or a place in the past, yes certainly. But hallucinating is going a bit far.


    Well it doesn''t matter now anymore, I''m not going back there again.


    There is something else to do right now.


    Something much more important.


    I''ve been trying to hide it from Don.


    But I don''t really trust our keepers.


    Something about them seems suspicious.


    Yet I can''t lay my finger on it. They just are.


    I look at my companion who''s lying in bed.


    I smile at their laziness, something that normally wouldn''t bring anyone joy.


    But they''ve really earned it.


    Traveling alone for so long.


    It must have been difficult...


    "Don, do you mind if I look around for a bit?"


    "No." Don''s answer is short and they turn away from me to continue sleeping, I don''t believe they will remember me ever asking.


    I know that it might be mean to look around this place without anyone else approving of it, but there are some things I really want to check out.


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    Something about this place just feels too good to be true for Don and I can''t forget what they told me earlier. About there possibly being a basement.


    I take back my hand as it automatically reaches for the doorknob.


    Damn, why do I still keep forgetting?


    I phase through the old wall, something I''m somehow a little bit embarrassed about even though there is no one that can see me.


    On my way down I don''t find any of the nuns, they must have gone of to bed as well. I mean I hope so...


    I look towards a small door in the big hallway.


    Don told me that they saw the girl being dragged away while walking back from the dining hall, so this must be it.


    Carefully I walk through it and am greeted by complete darkness.


    I can only see things when I hold my arms or legs close enough to them, thanks to the little bit of glow coming from my body.


    Before me there seems to be a long staircase going down, going in circles.


    For a moment I hesitate, but then make my decision. I need to know the truth.


    I walk down the spiralling staircase, slowly further and further.


    I wonder if I can fall and hurt myself, because I''m pretty scared I will.


    Though I guess the weak light coming from my hands is the bare minimum, causing me to see at least some things.


    I really hope no one is able to see me, it would cause Don needless trouble.


    When I finally reach the bottom I find another door, one looking in a rather bad condition.


    I walk through it and find the girl who had been told to be ''sick''.


    I''m shocked when I see the state of the girl.


    She''s been chained up and her mouth is covered with a dirty piece of cloth.


    Is she being held captive here? Because it sure as hell looks like it.


    The cold floor has seemingly turned her skin grey, making her seem almost as if she''s a statue instead of a human. Her nails have turned blue due to the cold.


    Only one small candle close to her flickers, but the light of it is a cold and detestable one.


    Seeming only to be there to taunt her.


    Silently she sits on the floor, kneeling before the door.


    Jeez, who would do something like that to someone?


    As I look closer, I find out that she seems to be hurt as well.


    "Who did this to you?" I ask, expecting her to not hear me at all.


    Suddenly she moves her head, just a little. But it''s enough to startle me.


    Her body twitches in a strange manner and she turns her head upwards in a way that causes her gag to slowly slide down.


    I can see an ice cold tear glide slowly down her pale cheek.


    "Hello...?" She asks, shivering, as I can see little clouds coming out of her mouth.


    She must be really cold.


    I look behind me, but there is nothing.


    "Can you see me?" I ask.


    The girl shakes her head slowly.


    "Then you can hear me, right?"


    "Yes...?"


    "What''s your name?"


    "My name is Sara."


    "Okay, why are you here?"


    "Are you their God?" The manner in which she asks sounds almost as if she''s spitting in anger.


    I shake my head: "No, absolutely not."


    "Good, then I won''t tell you to go fuck yourself."


    I sigh, I guess Don is not the only foul mouthed survivor.


    "Thanks..."


    "So, you''re asking me why I''m here?"


    "Yes."


    "They fucking attacked! They locked me up for some strange reason."


    "Strange reason?"


    The girl spits: "Well, give me your name first. And what the hell you are. Then I will give you more information, or get me out of here."


    "My name is Quiller, I''m... somewhat of a ghost."


    "So you can''t get me out of here?"


    "Well, I can at least try."


    "I was traveling around when they caught me, I was in need of a place to sleep." she starts telling me as I try my hardest to unfasten the chains.


    The memory seems to have been one rather frightening.


    "Their damn religion..."


    "What about their religion?"


    "Who gives a damn, get me out of here first."


    I sigh again, do I really need to be ordered to do something again and again?


    Still part of me feels for this person, she''s hurt badly, cold and in need of help.


    "Ghost! Are you still going to do something or not?"


    I feel annoyed at the way she calls me out.


    "Fine." I sneer back at her.


    For some reason she giggles: "I guess for a ghost you have quite a lot of emotions. Tell me, are you the ghost of a human or one of those freaks?"


    "I''m..." I hesitate and then decide to tell her a lie, it''s easier then telling the truth after all: "A human."


    "So, how did you die?"


    "Isn''t there a rule against asking a ghost that question in particular?"


    She laughs softly: "Dude, you''re way too chill to be some normal sheet."


    "Let''s just... try to get you out of here..." I mumble feeling slightly angry, but trying to suppress it.


    As we get out I try to guide her to take a save route, but instead she starts running towards the first nun we encounter. The head-sister at that, the one we spoke to. I forgot her name.


    Why do they walk around so late at night though?


    To protect this place?


    Unarmed?


    I thought they had all gone to bed...


    "You goddamn bitch!!!" Sara yells.


    "Sara! Don''t yell, you''ll wake everyone up. All of them at that." I whisper-scream to her, but my words don''t reach her ears.


    She attacks the sister like a wild animal.


    I feel a sense of guilt for helping her escape.


    I try to get her away from the sister, but I phase through like I normally do. Unable to move her in the slightest.


    "I''m going to kill you all!!"


    More sisters appear.


    They''ve come so silently, I didn''t even hear the steps they normally make.


    Almost like ghosts themselves they seem to have come here.


    Then I notice that they''re all here.


    I look around, but don''t see Don.


    Thank god! I think to myself.


    Then I notice all the nuns moving strangely as well.


    "Hey, ghost! I told you they were fake!" Sara calls out to me as she rips the head of one of the sisters with bare hands.


    The sister''s face looks terrified as it hangs down.


    Something drips from the neck down to the floor, I can see small threads hanging out of the neck, some of them making small sparks.


    The fluid dripping on the floor isn''t human blood. I wonder where she got the strenght to do that from. I don''t believe Don would be able to.


    "They''re fucking machines! Fucking zombies! Every. Last. One. Of. Them!"


    "Shit..." I can hear myself say.


    I need to warn Don! And I need to go now!


    I turn around and start running.


    Sara calls out behind me, though I''m not sure if it''s to me or spitting insults at the sisters.