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  I spotted a sign hung near a door. It showed a ‘forty-two’ etched in the plastic. This was going to be a long descent, one that I wasn’t going to make quickly. I got to my feet, and started limping down the stairs.

  ****

  It was ages before I finally reached the bottom. At least there were no other surprises, though that awkward sense of familiarity was still present, gnawing.

  The building must have been a hotel back in the day, I realized as I strolled into the ground floor lobby. There were several concierge desks around, and a few brochure stands still holding flyers. Curious enough, I walked over and grabbed one that detailed a city much cleaner and crisper then my current location.

  Dust blew loose as I unfolded the brochure, uncovering years of buildup. Reading through the pages wasn’t exactly possible, though, as it was still too dark to make out anything. Instead I put it back and looked around. Some potted plants that would have bloomed had died long ago were near the entrance, and a red carpet ran from where I stood to the doors outside. The windows were covered in grim, but the red light from the timer spilled dust-filtered shadows into the room.

  I moved towards the front, and pushed through the glass doors. The entrance of the hotel faced back towards the living part of this city, the barrier probably only a short distance away. Tables with burning candles and lanterns that flickered with life were still visible, but a decent distance away. No one appeared to be out and about. It was strangely satisfying, being on this side of the barrier, where no one had been unless they turned. Even those that did walk this path, they didn’t know what they were doing, or so I assumed.

  Motioning to the right, I couldn’t help but look deeper into what hadn’t been seen before. Lights from the living part of the city sort of spilled over here, giving a backdrop, but the rest of the center of this city was darkened beyond sight, like not wanted to be seen. The clouds above twisted, shadowing the rest. Straining, I gave an honest attempt to see, but there wasn’t a chance of it. I inhaled and turned around, aiming back towards where I’d come from.

  A scream, or what sounded like one, erupted in the distance. It came from behind, and from deep within the blackness of the city’s center. A wind picked up, carrying another distant scream. Then silence. For an exhausting moment there was nothing but pure, deathly stillness.

  I must be hearing things.

  I stood still and strained to hear anything else, yet nothing came. So I turned around and began walking back to the living.

  Another scream roared into existence, much closer this time, coming from somewhere off to my right, slightly angled back towards the center. I stood motionless, waiting, unable to move, my feet made of stone. Then another sounded from a different direction, but still coming from the black. It was a woman’s voice, high pitched, crying murder. Yet it sounded deeper somehow, uglier. More screams came, all sounding so different, nearly inhuman.

  The cold metal of my handgun felt snug against my waist. I had nearly forgotten about it, and it was unbelievable that I hadn’t lost it initially when I fell through that opening in the skyscraper. It demanded my attention, and I found myself holding it, aiming at the multiple locations from where I’d heard the screeching. But my hand failed to grip the handle effectively. The gun swayed, threatening to fall.

  More shrieks bellowed from my left and right, so much closer than the rest. Beads of sweat formed on my forehead as my legs trembled in this unnaturally cold environment.

  A scream shattered the world only ten feet in front of me. Something was running through the darkness, but it was only a shadow. It looked human, then again it didn’t. The blue radiance of the orb in my hand wasn’t enough to light it. I tried to squeeze the trigger, but the gun fumbled in my weak grip. The firearm tumbled to the ground.

  My ribs hollowed in protest as I turned back. Screams suddenly reverberated from all around, as if a mob had formed from nothing and were in chase. My legs failed to move, as a horde of figures broke through the shadows like nightmares unleashed onto the living. Vicious howls finally set my feet in motion, trying my best to run towards what I knew.

  I grasped my side and held the sphere close. I couldn’t let them get the sphere.

  A scream sounded in my right ear, only feet away. Something clawed at my shoulder, tearing the cloth of the sweatshirt. I didn’t mean to look, didn’t mean to slow down. But it was enough for something to catch up, crashing into my back and sending me crashing to the concrete, waiting for whatever it was to finish me off.

  Chapter 12: Late Enough

  The sphere’s blue light, cradled in my right hand, winked out as I rolled end over end, over the threshold and back into “Downtown”. I looked back. Whatever had been making those sounds was gone, along with any notion that they ever existed.

  There was no one around; not a noise escaped into the evening air. I got up and took a seat at the closest table, placing the sphere in the middle of the surface. It remained dead, no light emitting from its etched surface. I wanted to doubt it would light again, like my imagination had created this magical device and the steam ran out of this strange dream.

  Maybe I drank too much. Maybe I didn’t even climb that damn tower. But the sphere remained, my eyes fixed on it. This was no dream or alcohol-fueled hallucination.

  My head slammed into the table. It hurt to not understand any of this. Slowly, my face twisted so my cheek rested on the tabletop, my eyelids shut. I could almost fall asleep right there, but waking up in the morning to an angry human mob wasn’t really a thing I wanted to do.

  Sighing, my eyelids fluttered open. There was only one place that was still ablaze with light at this hour. I wondered if dawn was coming soon, but I thought I still had some night left. I stood up and stuffed the palm-sized orb into the sweatshirt’s front pocket. I didn’t know why it was so luring, or what was calling for me as I ambled over for a look. A bar loomed through the large glass window out front, and nobody stirred inside. This was, long ago, the only place left with a large supply of spirits. It’d been awhile since I’d been here, at Sierra’s bar. Lifting up on my hood, I covered my face and entered.

  The door dinged with a new customer as I walked through. The place was virtually empty except for a few stragglers at the back table. They had fallen asleep on the top of the table and around the ground. There was another group at the counter, somehow still at it, even this late. But I doubted they could do anything but lift another shot glass to their mouths. They didn’t even notice the bell ding, nor my entrance. The lights were low enough, as the lanterns were scattered about, and flames were low.

  I didn’t know why I was there, didn’t know why I risked being seen. I thought that I probably couldn’t make the trip back home just yet. I’d most likely would faint, I was so tired. I didn’t need a drink that was for sure. But being off the street was that much better, hiding in plain sight once. I thought back to the girl that cried thief as I looked down at the sweatshirt. Something as simple as this nearly got me dismembered.

  The bar itself was rustic and old. Not terrible, just different when compared to the rest of this city’s broken architecture. Most everything was wood, from the bar to the stools to the floor and ceiling. There was a massive mirror behind the bar showcasing the surroundings, though pieces were broken off and missing.

  The person who discovered this place had found a cellar full of fine wines, bottles of liquor, and boxes of beer. I remembered trying beer when we’d first tested it, but it apparently hadn’t aged well compared to the rest. It didn’t get us drunk like shots of vodka and glasses of red wine.

  The floor was sticky with whatever substance was left over from this night’s party. I took a seat at a round table. There was standing water or alcohol coating the surface. I wiped the excess free with my sleeve, spilling it over the side. Placing my hand back down on the wood, I drummed my fingers, trying to ease my mind.

  “What ya have?” an enchanting young voice came from nearby. I looked over and sa
w a pretty girl tossing her hair and chewing on the end of her finger. It was far too late for anyone to be working. I played along, though. It’d been a rather tough night, and she was pretty enough to take my mind off things.

  “Huh?” I asked.

  She was younger than me, but not by much. She had fitted herself into a white silk, form-fitting dress cut a little too short, and a bit see-through. In this low light though it was hard to make out much detail. Teasing me with her smile and those blond curls, she bit the lower half of her lip. She squeezed in low enough and rested her elbows on the table, not worrying about the sticky surface. The lantern that still burned in the middle of the table circled something devilish in those eyes.

  “O honey, it’s been a hell of a night,” she said, flipping a curl away from her lips as she looked over at the bar. The others weren’t paying attention, passing out cold for the night. She turned her smile back to me. “You here for a drink or what?”

  She halfcocked a smile and winked. Her shape was perfection. Her hips twisted as if hearing music, and those legs…

  I swallowed hard, thinking of what to say. “And what’s your name, love?” I tried to ask seductively, but my voice cracked.

  “Eve,” she said, smiling at the lame attempt. She wasn’t anyone I remembered, but that was becoming a theme for the night. I couldn’t say if she actually worked for Sierra, but I didn’t mind if she did or not. She was, after all, with her smooth skin and full lips, making advances and I wasn’t too keen to question her position. I had a powerful need for comfort, and this Eve was accomplishing some form of that.

  “Something strong, Eve,” I finally answered. A drink would help, I supposed. Definitely relieve this stress. Maybe kill the nerves and possibly help me find sleep at some point.

  “Sure thing, honey. Top notch for the gentleman.” Eve gave another wink before departing. She made sure to shake her hips as she walked away, and even dared a look back to make sure I was watching. She strolled behind the bar, ignoring the drunkards hanging off the bar stools. She grabbed a bottle from underneath the counter and waved the glass in the air as she smiled. “You like vodka?”

  I shrugged, the one shoulder still aching from my earlier fall, but it was enough for her. She grabbed two glasses and sauntered back, taking the seat opposite me. It was hard not to stare, but I tried to keep my hooded face down, keeping my appearance hidden. She didn’t seem to mind, though I didn’t exactly know why. She placed a glass in front of me and poured the cruel liquor. We held our glasses up, cheered, and downed the fire. The first splash of vodka hurt and I coughed at how harsh it was. Eve laughed as she tossed back hers, and poured another.

  “Where have you been all night, darling?” she said with a smile. In a city of a few hundred, she treated me like a stranger, which I was after all. I was too afraid to show my face, even though there was no activity around us. She didn’t try to yank my hood down, or shuffle around to try and get a glimpse. She was okay with not knowing, or played off the idea that I was some stranger who came from outside the city.

  “Well…” I wanted to tell her something, anything. Tell her the truth that no one else really knew. About this city, about what I saw just a little while back. “Can I tell you something?”

  She smiled and nodded.

  “I… I…,” I stumbled. “I don’t really have that much… longer, you know. It’s strange, now that it’s closer, really, it feels like it could happen tomorrow. I know it won’t, but… that’s beside the point. I’m feeling so… so… divided, like not whole. I just want to stay right here. Stay with the people I know. ”

  Truthfully, I thought about it all the time, and even though I had a few friends and my little girl Olivia, every day I felt more alone. I turned my head, looking through the bar’s front window. The area glowed red outside, but no other soul was awake to hear my story.

  Eve nodded, frowning a bit, but her eyes remained fixed on mine. “Sad boy,” she said and twirled in her seat, inching the chair closer to mine. “Tell me more.”

  “Uhhh, well…,” she caught me off guard. I took another shot, ignoring the taste. She neglected to refill the glass. Instead she sipped from the bottle and slid it across the table.

  “Here’s to not knowing I suppose,” I said and tipped the bottle back, draining a little more. “What do you think happens?”

  Eve shook her head. She traced an outline on the table and flicked a curl away from her eyes, managing to keep that halfcocked smile.

  “Not that it really matters, I guess.” I sighed. “It would seem that we lose ourselves, or, become something different, what am I trying to say?” I giggled, the liquor was taking over and I started feeling lucid. Numbness traveled to my legs and they finally relaxed. Putting a hand inside the sweatshirt pocket, I gently caressed the sphere, believing that I was making some sense.

  “I need to understand it. If I just, was given more time, and could survive this… this… turning, I just know I could figure it out. Maybe even change things, divert our paths.” I unexpectedly pondered if the sphere had a lifespan. Maybe if it was cut off from the other side it would eventually not recover, like some life form too far removed from its environment.

  “Why?” Eve asked.

  “Why what?” I replied.

  “Why worry so much about it? The turning, it can’t be stopped, never does stop. Everyone goes away.” Eve smiled, patting the top of my hand, but leaving it there after she was done.

  “Why does it have to be changed? Why do you have to be the one who changes it?” she asked. She began stroking my hand, turning it upside down, tracing a line about my palm, touching each fingertip as she went.

  “Can’t tell you that, I suppose. Always felt that way, like, somehow it’s my fault,” I said, opening up. I hadn’t done this in so long, but it felt right. Even if Eve was a complete stranger, she was what I needed her to be in this precise moment. As if she could heal the wound that rifled through me, stitching together the past as if it would suddenly come rip-roaring back. Though, all she would ever be was a pretty face listening to me ramble.

  She laughed innocently. “Your fault?” she asked. “It’s no one’s fault. Not yours, not mine, not even Jackson’s, wherever that poor boy is now. Suppose you saw all that earlier?” She must have been meaning when they chased me into the tower.

  “Not even he has anything to do with this. Don’t tell anyone I told you that though,” she laughed. “Don’t need those cowards coming after me too. Anyway, if we’re meant to walk into the shadows, then we do just that. If you’re meant to stop it, then try you must. But don’t ever blame yourself, honey. Fate is a tricky mistress, and she is damn good at what she does.”

  Eve leaned over the table, coming just inches away. “More,” she whispered.

  “Hmmmm?” I couldn’t even form words.

  “Tell me more.” She pulled her chair to my side, now resting a hand on my thigh.

  “Well, can I tell you a secret?” I asked. I waited for her to nod before continuing. “I’ve been having memories.”

  “That’s not really a secret, darling. We all have ‘em.” Eve smiled.

  “Not just from the last two years. From, before The Forgetting.”

  “Again.” Eve waved her hand around as if dismissing the comment.

  “Not just snippets or flashes. Whole memories. Like, okay, there’s this one, it happened just a couple days ago. I was sitting on my couch and it hit me like, like thunder. I was within the memory, reliving it, and could remember it clear as day. It was back when I was just a kid. When I was really young, I had gotten our first puppy, and it was Christmas. There were lights, music, television, family, cookies, eggnog, snowmen, turkey, ham, stuffing, cranberries, mashed potatoes, uh and the gravy. I see faces, but can’t remember the names. This lasted for hours, until I fell asleep that night still within that dream, waiting for Santa.”

  The stream of memory flowed, moving swiftly from thought to mouth. I didn’t worry about who
was listening, and hoped that maybe Eve could understand.

  “That’s odd,” she said with a frown. “I’ve never had anything like that before. Hell, sugar, that’s about the craziest thing I ever heard.” She grabbed the bottle and chugged a few more gulps, managing to empty the rest. Dropping the bottle back down, she pushed the glass away as if she no longer wanted to look at it.

  “What about you?” I asked.

  “Oh you want a story now, huh? I can respect that. Though I may need another drink…” she showed me her shot glass and flipped it upside down onto the table.

  “You have quite a tolerance,” I said. My head was spinning, and Eve drank far more than I did.

  “More vodka?” I asked, looking back towards the bar.

  “No. For my story, I’m going to need something a little sweeter. I think we need to go to the cellar,” Eve said.

  I pushed back in my seat, stood, and grabbed the lantern in the middle of the table. “Shall we?” I held out a hand, my good hand, to lift Eve up.

  “My gentleman,” she said and gathered to her feet, pulling at her dress to make sure she was still decent. She motioned towards a door that led to a stairwell that spiraled downwards.

  I led, holding the lantern out, guiding us on. Eve clung to my arm. I wasn’t sure if she was more drunk than she looked, or was just trying to get closer.

  “How do you know Sierra?” Eve asked suddenly.

  “What do you mean?” I questioned back.

  “Well, certain people come looking for something late at night. We only go to places we are familiar with in those moments. And you find yourself in her bar, virtually by yourself, sitting alone at a table. So, why?” She found her grip around the back on my neck, slowly caressing, circling.

  “Hey, I thought I was getting a story,” I said, trying to turn the attention back on her.

  “Not until I get my drink, lovely boy.” She poked a finger into my side.