C-Shapes
Matthew Fish








Eight years after a mysterious virus caused half of the population of the world to go mentally unstable, a man named Ethan chase signs up to become a “Sitter” or caretaker for two unstables. One of them, a “Mirror,” is a a girl who constantly believes that she is either leaving for Paris, or has just recently returned. She often mimics the words and actions of those around her. The other, a highly functioning “Amnesiac,” is a man named Noah who walks a fine line between lucidity and complete incoherence. As Ethan forges an unlikely friendship with his two cases, something that is looked down upon—he is swept up in events that cause him to rethink what normal means.






Matthew Fish

C-SHAPES







* * *


“Are you alright?” I ask as I cautiously enter the room of the old farmhouse. The floor creaks beneath each slow step I take. I see her there—the sun glowing against her shoulder length bleached blonde hair and her hazel eyes are illuminated like glowing gems. She is sitting motionless. Her eyes are fixed to the view of the window. She does not reply. She does not even acknowledge my presence.

There is a gun in her hand. The faint smell of smoke hangs in the air. Spent bullet casings line the hardwood floor around her. As I slowly enter the room, I spot a trail of blood that leads to a large, heavy set man. He is shirtless, wearing a pair of overalls. A large red axe with a wooden handle rests against the floor beside him. What remains of his head is a sight that I will never forget as very little of it is there, save for a mess of blood and scattered brain matter.

As I stand there, I reflect for a moment on how I got here. I do not know if I am still alive by luck, or because I have some purpose in the future… although, I highly doubt the latter. My name is Ethan Chase, and there is nothing remarkable about me. I do not have all the answers about what has happened. I will probably leave you with more questions than answers…. Regardless, this is the story of what I know I am—a survivor.







Part I: Enlightenment





1. Regarding V-Day


The date is September 29 2025; it has been a little over 8 years since a virus quickly swept across the world and rendered about half of the world’s population mentally ‘Unstable.’ No one knows where the virus originated. There are a lot of theories and government conspiracy ideas; however, most people are too busy dealing with the aftermath of the situation to spend time on its origin. Right now, the countries are more concerned with keeping it under control as best they can. Some countries were hit harder than we were… I remember the final reports, China’s 1.6 billion people had the largest ratio of loss with nearly sixty-five percent of its population rendered Unstable.

A little under two years after the virus hit, with the help of the government, a pharmaceutical research and treatment facility emerged in Virginia called C-Shapes. I know very little about them, other than the fact they are my employer and they employ a lot of people from all over the world… they have managed to mine the best and brightest of the survivors from every country as they are all desperately dependent on C-Shapes sole product. With the United States population of able and stable citizens cut down from four-hundred million down to a little over two-hundred million, there is no lack of employment. I worked for a few years doing menial jobs that needed to be done. I spent some time manning different gas stations; a long time stocking a grocery store… it took a rather long time for me to get into the C-Shapes program. I suppose, unless you are some kind of scientist, researcher, chemist, therapist, or someone of higher education, it probably amounts to a large number of waiting years for processing. However, the pay difference is well worth the wait.

There are a few different jobs available for those of us who do not really possess a specific talent, a few less for someone who barely graduated high school… myself specifically. Most of the people that were rendered Unstable were sent to C-Shapes offices to be evaluated, from there they go to Caseworkers, and then they are placed under the care of Sitters (A name I’m not particularly fond of.) There is also another section of C-Shapes called Hunters. They are basically government-sanctioned killers. Anyone with a gun and love for shooting things can usually apply—it’s a necessary evil for times when an Unstable goes Aggro. I have never been fond of shooting animals, and could not imagine the thought of shooting a human (although we’ve been trained to not think of them as human anymore). It is just not in my nature. So, naturally, I became a Sitter.

A Sitter’s job is not overly complicated. Even still, I had my reservations. You basically make sure your Unstable takes their dosage of C-Alysium, or Calm as it’s been affectionately nicknamed, and make sure that they are doing the basic functions necessary for living, keeping them company, helping with shopping, making sure they don’t go Aggro… I keep mentioning Aggro—it is probably a good time for an explanation. When the virus hit, to those susceptible, it affected people in different ways. At the low end there are the Catatonics, who just spend most of the day staring off at nothing at all or sleeping. They require the most work as they will often let themselves starve. Then there are the rare Mirrors, named for their behavior of sometimes mimicking the actions and words of people around them. Mirrors are often very capable and self sufficient, left to their own devices they will cook, dress themselves, do everything a normal person can do—they just sometimes do not act normal, they are most prone to anxiety attacks and often do not know where they are. Most, but not all, also often have severe memory issues. The next group they call the Amnesiacs—which are pretty high functioning, intelligent people who are lucid one moment but, completely incoherent the next. They can still work, usually under the supervision of someone familiar with dealing with Unstable. However, they sometimes forget to do important things and generally have a permanent memory loss of who they were before the virus hit. In what is considered the middle ground there are the Manics, they experience extreme mood swings and some lack inhibitions which leads to destructive behavior. They also share the same permanent memory loss as the Amnesiacs, and many do not function well with any type of interaction. On the high end, or what some consider the violent end, there are the Psychopaths. They were left in a constant state of anger and destruction, most of them cannot function under any kind of self sustaining condition and almost all of these Unstables are housed in mental care facilities. Finally, there is the last phase, what they’ve called the Aggro. These people are considered beyond hope. I’ve seen the first test footage they show during training…

There is a male, about 5’11, wearing a blue hospital gown slumped over in a wheelchair. He is clearly a Catatonic as he is staring blankly for hours at the ceiling, as the footage plays in fast forward. As the footage slows down, two men in white lab coats approach the Catatonic just as he snaps out of his state. He gets out of his wheelchair to the amazement of the men in the lab coats—however, a strange change happens. His face becomes flushed in crimson red like that of someone who has been drinking heavily. His muscles contract strangely and bulge, his face contorts oddly as though he can no longer control himself. He picks up the man closest to him and holds him by his neck into the air, his feel dangle off of the ground, as his companion attempts to subdue him with a stun gun. The stun gun has no effect and the Catatonic turned Aggro begins to violently eat away at the doctor’s face, all the while tearing away pieces of his flesh with his bare hands. It is a hauntingly terrible vision that still troubles me to this day. Armed guards enter the room moments later and it takes nearly eight gunshots to bring the Aggro down.

This footage is meant to scare you. Anyone who has been affected by the virus has the possibility to jump from any spectrum to Aggro at any moment. When I was in training, it was said that within the next ten years or so, even with the medication, all Unstables are eventually going to go Aggro at some point—unless a new cure can be manufactured. The C-Alysium slows down the rate at which an Unstable would go Aggro and breaks the chain of sending other nearby Unstables into an Aggro state (a domino effect that can cause entire groups of Unstables to go Aggro all at once), but even its effects are in no way a guarantee of safety. It at least buys the government and the C-Shapes organization some time by theoretically having to deal with only one Aggro encounter at a time, rather than a full mob. In the past, there have been times of military action against what used to be our own people, clashes between our military forces and mobs of Aggros… then again, it has been like that all around the world. It still happens in large numbers from time to time, even with the advances in the medication.

There was a time when people thought it would be in the best interests of public safety to simply eradicate all Unstables at once. However, fortunately, compassion and rationality prevailed when C-Shapes affirmed that this virus could no longer be transmitted from person to person, and that killing millions of people would be wrong when they are working on a cure. A lot of people still believe a cure is impossible. There have been times when rogue groups have taken matters into their own hands. It is like in the old days, only it is no longer a race issue—its mobs of different nationalities going around killing anyone they think pose a risk as an Unstable. It’s not often talked about, but in a lot of the poorer countries—they’ve done some terrible things to where there is only a very small population of Unstables left. I suppose, fear is a great motivator to commit what I still consider murder despite everything I’ve seen and been taught during my training.




2. Sitter


My first day was actually only about two weeks ago. After you’ve completed your three week training course, you’re handed a badge and a special cell phone. If you’re ever faced with the situation of your Unstable turning Aggro on you, you run. You do not attempt to engage, talk, think—you simply run. You press a special button on your cell and a red light at the top of it starts to blink, slowly at first… then it quickens its pace, as the Hunters are growing closer. It is kind of like a time limit, you know to get the fuck out and survive until it is fully lit and the cavalry has arrived.

I get dressed that first morning. An anxious feeling of sickness rests in the pit of my stomach. I comb my short light brown hair back and run some gel through it. I put on my running shoes, which contrasts sharply against my professional attire, but it comes highly recommended when engaging in any occupation that deals with Unstables. I grab my car keys and take one look around my huge apartment. It is a lot more extravagant than when I was younger… before the shit hit the fan—but housing these days is not exactly an issue anymore.

I climb into my car and leave to meet with the caseworker; I believe her name is Kathleen. My mind is running a million miles a second with the anticipation of starting my new job that I am not clear on that point. I drive a few miles to a small C-Shapes office. I enter the large golden trimmed double doors and walk across a smooth marble floor. I meet a nice looking secretary who asks me who I have an appointment with… I pause for a moment.

“Kathleen?” I say more as a question than a proper answer.

“Katharine?” The secretary replies in the same manner.

“That’s it,” I reply. “I’m new… first day and all that.”

The secretary laughs and shakes her head. “Don’t worry about it.”

I take a look around the entryway; tall trees grow from huge pots around the large windows that surround the building. The walls are lined with rough, rocklike surfaces with water pouring down them; bright lights shimmer from below illuminating the dancing flow of the water creating beautiful reflections against the adjacent wall. C-Shapes definitely does not cheap out, even on a simple field office… then again, they can definitely afford it. They probably have more money than any corporation, or country, in the world at the moment.

“Katharine will see you now,” the secretary says as she smiles and gestures towards a room at the far end. It’s 2B.

“Thanks,” I reply as I return the smile and head off.

“Mr. Chase,” A dark skinned woman with long hair says as she leads me into her office and has me sit across from her. “It is good to meet you.”

“You as well,” I say as I nod.

“So what made you want to become a Sitter?” She begins and then laughs as she thumbs through a file cabinet. “…other than the fact that we desperately need them?”

“I did the normal stuff for a while and I just wanted to be of some help. If I can help someone I feel that my life is somehow more productive than just… stocking shelves.”

“Well, even though I know you’ve had a long wait period and we’re always understaffed…” Katharine says as she nods and pulls up two files and places them on the desk, “It is not for everyone. A lot of people think they can handle it, but sometimes they get the fear that their Unstable is going to go Aggro on them.”

“I think I’m a fast runner,” I say as I shrug my shoulders.

“Let’s hope that confidence lasts,” Katharine says as she opens up the first one of the files and shows me a picture of a man that seems oddly familiar. He has very dark brown hair and blue eyes. He is smiling a big wide dopey grin in the picture. He seems happy. “This is Noah Williams, a 29 year old highly functioning Amnesiac. He does not work…”

“Noah Williams, I know him. He was in the same grade as me… used to work on the college newspaper and then was the youngest person to get on at the local paper in our town,” I say as I look at the picture once more. He looks so much older, different. “We used to be really good friends actually, well before he left for college and we lost contact… But I used to read his articles.”

“Well that’s a first,” Katharine says as she nods. “Anyway, I doubt that will be of any help to him… I mean, he has no memory of his life before that day, but who knows. He should be an easy first case. He is pretty capable, you should just have to make sure he takes his Calm—he is on a Monday, Wednesday, Friday Schedule. You might have to cook a few meals, sometimes he prefers to do it himself. He knows what a Sitter is, most of the time he will remember you as he gets to know you. So just keep him on task, he still likes to write… the last Sitter said it was mostly nonsense, but you know, whatever keeps him happy.”

“Got it,” I say as take the folder. “Same address… I used to live right across the street.”

“Yeah… his mother still lives in the residence; however, she had a stroke a few years back and hasn’t been able to take care of him… any of your parents make it?”

“No…” I reply. “They were staying up north in Wisconsin with friends, I meant to go and visit them but, before I could—they both went Aggro.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Katharine says as she shakes her head. “My mom went Aggro about two years ago. It’s best to not be there… I wasn’t. I’ve heard stories though and no one should have to see that.”

“Yeah,” I say, although, I do not know if I am agreeing or attempting to reassure myself of something I’d rather forget.

“Moving on,” Katharine adds as she takes a hard swallow as though a lump was forming in her throat. “We usually don’t pair up male Sitters with female Unstables… you know the rules though.”

“I know,” I add quickly. “Instantly lose your job, face jail time.”

“Like anyone would want to even mess with an Unstable anyway,” Katharine says as she lets out a short little laugh, for a second she sounds as though she is one of those types that does not really see them as people anymore. “Especially with the fact that they aren’t right in the head and could go Aggro on you at any moment… it shouldn’t even be a… thing.”

“Yeah, it would never be an issue with me.”

“Anyway,” Katharine says as she holds up a picture of a girl with very short brown hair and hazel eyes.

Unlike Noah, she looks sad. There is an instant quality to her face that makes me feel inexplicably sad. She has a slender face and her bangs are nearly covering up one of her eyes. It’s the eyes, I then realize—they look so sad.

“This girl here is surprisingly a Mirror,” Katharine says as she thumbs through the info on the file. “We rarely ever see those here.”

“I hear they’re a pretty rare outcome of the virus.”

“Cherie Derry,” Katharine says as she continues to read.

“Cherry Dairy…?” I ask, almost forcing myself to stifle a bit of laughter.

Katharine holds up the paper, over the top the real name has been crossed out and ‘Cherie Derry’ has been written over it. “It seems to be the only name she responds to… she won’t respond to her birth name.”

“What is her real name?”

“I guess it doesn’t matter,” Katharine says as she continues, “Someone crossed it out. I remember seeing her evaluation video. She is a twenty six year old, female; obsessed with Paris… she constantly thinks she is in Paris or going to Paris. She used to be an artist… not a very successful one. No living family.”

“Has she ever been to Paris?”

“Nope, she has a half finished painting of the Eiffel Tower in her apartment. So with her memory issues perhaps she thinks that she has been, or is going… anyway, she should be a pretty easy case as well. You’re familiar with a Mirror’s mannerisms, sometimes they will mimic you or repeat what you say, other times they will talk to just like any normal person would, but for the most part she is a very capable Unstable. She’s prone to sitting though for hours just staring out windows. When I first saw the video I thought she was a veg… sorry I mean a…”

“Catatonic…?”

“Yeah,” Katharine says as she shakes her head. “You get around a lot of people who like to use some of the more derogatory terms for these cases. Anyway, comes with the territory… Cherie will be your Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday schedule. She’ll do all her own cooking, just make sure she gets her groceries and try and get her out—you can even take her with you to visit Noah, some interaction might be nice as opposed to staring at the wall… it’s your call though.”

“Got it…” I say as I take the second file and begin to get up, and then realize I have a day unaccounted for. “Who takes care of them on Sundays?”

“That’s when the Calm levels in their blood are at their highest so they pretty much go into kind of like a cross between a coma and hibernation-like state. It helps keep them from going Aggro. Plus, you know… it gives us all a day off.”

“Alright,” I say as I get up, eager to get to work.

“One more thing,” Katharine says as she stops me. “Are you interested in the C-Shapes dating service?”

“What’s that?” I ask, just like the whole Sunday hibernation thing, it was not something covered during training. I know that it is considered very important for the normal people left to have children just in case we never find a cure for the Unstables in order to keep our population up. Also with the threat of large groups going Aggro again someday, who knows how many people will die before this all eventually ends.

“We set you up on dates with people around your age who are also Sitters… you get a profile sent to your phone and a meeting location. If you agree, you go and see how things work out.”

“Sure,” I say shortly. I never gave dating much thought with all the shit going on in the world, but it would be great to have a conversation over a nice dinner or something. “Let’s do that.”

“Got you in,” Katharine says as I walk out the door. “Good luck out there.”

“Thanks.”

I make the drive out of Chicago. It has been a while since I’ve driven so far away from the main part of the city. I can still remember the days when I came here to visit before the virus hit and the traffic was so unmanageable. Now it is just like driving anywhere these days. Not much traffic anywhere. I guess that is what happens when you take half the population off the roads. After a while, I end up in my old neighborhood. A few of the houses I remember have been burned down, leaving behind a crumbled, broken wreckage that through age and neglect look like abstract twisted sculptures. I spot my old house as I round a corner. Nature has reclaimed it. Large vines grow over the house covering the majority of the front. A few crafty vines have managed their way into the windows, slowing breaking through them over time. The grass is high and dragonflies fill the yard fleeting back and forth in their rhythmic dances.

I park my car outside one of the few houses that still look like they’ve been taken care of. A large lemon yellow two-story house with white shutters stands before me, just as I remember it. A set of playground equipment and a matching yellow tree house is visible in the backyard. It brings back a flood of memories, swinging on warm summer days. Chasing fireflies and catching them in jars at night. I remember being older, going on drives and trying to meet girls with my friend—just hanging out and talking. Being here really hits me in a way I did not expect. Why him, and not me? He was talented, he had something to offer—I’ve never been anything but a habitual fuckup. The realization does not give me much comfort that there is some greater meaning to life.

I ring the bell, after a few moments an older woman in a wheelchair answers.

“Mrs. Williams?”

“Are you the new Sitter?” She asks and then pauses. “Ethan Chase, is that you? You’ve grown up.”

“Time seems to have a way of doing that to people,” I say, more amused with myself than she is. “You look exactly the same.”

“Oh bullshit,” Mrs. Williams says as she gestures for me to enter into the house. “Don’t kid an old lady, I own a mirror.”

“How is he doing?”

“He has his good days,” she says pointing down the basement stairs. “He stays down there most of the time, we had a kitchen installed and it’s fully furnished. They say it was for my safety but I’m in this wheelchair… if he goes Aggro someday I’m dead anyway.”

“Well hopefully they’ll find a cure soon.”

“Cure,” she chortles which abruptly turns into painful sounding coughs. “You don’t buy into that cure bullshit do you?”

“Are you the same Mrs. Williams that used to scold us for saying fuck when we’d get angry at a video game?”

“Don’t say fuck, it’s not polite.”

“Got it,” I reply with a laugh. “I’ll just head down.”

“You’re the Sitter, you do what it is you people do,” Mrs. Williams says as I descend the staircase.

As I make my way through the basement hallway I can hear the faint sound of someone talking. I follow it and find Noah Williams sitting in a chair facing a blank television screen. I knock softly on the edge of the doorway to announce my presence.

“What’s that?” He says as he turns and gives me a slightly angry look as his face is squished into a contorted grimace. “You my new Sitter then?”

“Yeah, I’m…” I stammer. It has been so long. I half expected him to remember me somehow, even though I know how stupid that notion was. “I’m Ethan… Ethan Chase.”

“You’re late.”

“Sorry,” I reply, attempting to get back on his good side. “I had to meet with the caseworker and she held me up a bit. I will be here on time from now on. I promise.”

“The news says it is going to rain. Is it raining now?”

“It’s a sunny summer day,” I reply—unsure of how to reply.

“They’re always lying to me, this thing,” Noah says as he gets up and gives the old flat-screen TV a smack with the back of his hand.

“You know it’s not on right?” I say, slightly apprehensive of how he might take this. They always said in training to never argue with an Unstable, but it is hard for me because I know him… or at least I knew him.

“Of course I know, I’m not some dumb son of a bitch,” Noah says as he sits back down and turns his chair to face me. “I just turned it off.”

“I’m sorry,” I say as I nod repeatedly. “It is my first day.”

“Never been around an Unstable before then?”

“Only in passing, never… really for a long time,” I admit. We spent a short time with each variety besides the Psychopaths, Manics, and of course, the Aggros during training. However, it was in a more group orientated setting. It didn’t feel as personal or strange as actually being here does.

“I don’t like it.”

“Don’t like what?” I ask, confused.

“Don’t like being called an Unstable,” Noah says as he looks saddened all of a sudden.

“I won’t call you one then,” I say as I reach over and attempt to place a comforting hand upon his shoulder.

He quickly slaps my hand away. “I don’t like pity.”

“You never did.”

“What’s that mean?” Noah asks as he looks at me with his eyes furrowed.

“Well I know you don’t remember anything before the virus day, or V-Day, whatever people call what happened… but we went to the same school from about 4 grade on. You went away to college and I stayed behind so we kind of lost touch.”

“We knew each other?”

“We were friends.”

“Huh…” Noah says as he scratches his chin with his fingertips. “Don’t remember you.”

“I figured you wouldn’t,” I say as I nod. “How have you been feeling… any changes?”

“You don’t have to bother with that. I know anyone that goes Aggro just goes, there are no symptoms.”

“I know I’m just supposed to ask.”

“Yeah, last Sitter asked me all the time,” Noah says as he shrugs his shoulders and lets out a sigh. “Annoying fuck…”

“You know my next step is to watch you take your pill for the day then right?” I ask, continuing to follow procedure.

“Yeah,” Noah adds with that same annoyed tone in his voice. He pulls out a white and blue pill bottle from a drawer and takes a single nondescript white pill out. “Would you hand me a bottle of water over there?”

“Of course,” I say as I reach over and grab one from a sealed container that stands about as high as I am from the floor. I think to make a comment about the need for so many bottles of water, but then realize any attempts at humor would probably go unappreciated. Before I begin to turn, I feel a strange pain at the base of my neck—then a small strike hits me from behind.

“Spiders…” Noah says as he holds onto a rolled up magazine. “Did it get you?”

“I think so,” I say as I run my fingertips against a small raised lump.

“Don’t worry so much about it… there aren’t any poisonous ones down here… you ever seen one of these things?” Noah asks as he holds up small white pill in his hand.

“Not in person,” I say as I bend down to look at the smooth round white pill. It looks to me like nothing more than an aspirin. I keep playing with the small bump on my neck; I certainly hope there aren’t any poisonous ones… with most of the houses vacant these days a lot of the houses outside of Chicago are crawling with them.

“Not very impressive is it,” Noah adds as he pops it into his mouth and then consumes the entire bottle of water without pause. “…all these world issues over something so small…”

“I think China would still own most of our assets if it weren’t for it,” I say attempting to be relevant. To be honest I hardly keep up with politics. Whenever I would turn on the TV it would always be terrible, one group was always killing another group, no matter where it was in the world.

“Almost makes you wonder if the government didn’t invent the virus doesn’t it?”

“Now don’t tell me you’re one of those conspiracy nuts…”

“I think I’m just classified as nuts,” Noah says with a hearty laugh and then pauses drastically and looks sadly down to the floor. “Although I do love conspiracies…”

“I hear you’re doing well…” I say in an attempt to cheer him up.

“It never rains anymore.”

“It rained yesterday evening; had a bit of a storm… I’m a bit more north so…”

“When I was a kid it rained every day. I used to swim into the sky… and when night came I’d catch stars and put them in an old mason jar by my bed and they’d keep me up all night because they were so bright, but they were so beautiful I never minded. I always… stayed awake as long as I could to watch them. So long that I’d be… asleep till noon. Then you know what would happen overnight?”

“What would happen, Noah?” I say, remembering back to my training. Sometimes they will go off for a moment—especially with high functioning Amnesiacs. It is always best to let them just go and return on their own.

“They would all die,” Noah said as he buried his head into his hands and began to cry.

“I’m sorry, Noah,” I say as remember to not place my hand on his shoulder as this would annoy him. “You didn’t know that would happen.”

“Do you want to know why I’m going to hell?”

“I don’t believe you are—but why?”

“Because I always knew it would happen. I just did it anyway,” Noah continued between sobs of tears.

I find a box of tissues and hand it to him and he nods thankfully and wipes away his eyes. “You forgive me though, right?”

“Of course I do.”

“Sometimes I wish it would rain like it did when I was a kid again, so that I could go up and catch those stars… is that selfish of me?”

“Sometimes in life, if you want to be happy… you have to be a little selfish.”

“I just want to swim through the sky again.”

“I’d love to join you,” I say as I nod. Although he’s being very abstract, I get the idea. I’m surprised that he even slightly remembers the notion of catching fireflies as a kid. I thought that would have been something that was wiped away from his mind.

“So are we having lunch? I’d like a grilled cheese. Can you make that or should I make that?” Noah asks as his tears are gone and a smile is back on his kind face.

“I can definitely do a grilled cheese,” I say as I am slightly taken aback by the swiftness of his return to a degree of normalcy… then again, it should be something I expected. However, things were so much different in training. I mean it is one thing to learn and get the basic idea of how to do something than it is to actually be confronted with it in reality.

“And a beer,” Noah says as I head towards the kitchen.

“You know you’re not supposed to be drinking anything with alcohol on your med…”

“I was just testing the waters.”

“You still play chess?”

“How do you know I play chess?”

“I knew you before the incident…” I say as I nearly forget about the memory issues.

“Was I good back then?” Noah asks as he intently watches me prepare a simple grilled cheese sandwich.

“I’d say we were about even,” I say with a short laugh, “but I’d be lying, you’d usually beat me.”

“Well maybe you’ll win, I haven’t been playing that long—but I’m always up for playing a game… just as long as I can make it through.”

For a moment that statement makes me rather sad. “Yeah, go ahead and set one up, I’ll finish up here.”

“Don’t forget my beer,” Noah says as he laughs his way down the hall.

The day passes quickly. Just as Katharine said, Noah has his ups and downs and they come and go just as swiftly as passing breezes on a windy day. He manages to complete a game of chess with me, and to my disappointment, I win. I never used to win. I prepare him another grilled cheese for dinner. I attempt to tell him that he has had one for lunch but he insists that was yesterday. I do not argue, as I said before, it was in my training to not argue. Evening approaches and the end of my shift draws near.

I clean up the dinner dishes and place them onto a rack. I make my way down the hallway and Noah is sitting in front of the TV set, only this time it is on. More stories about Unstables going Aggro… more deaths.

“I’m heading out soon, do you need anything done?”

“I’m good I think.”

“Don’t forget to do some writing,” I say, remembering to keep him busy.

“I’ve got some here,” he says as he digs out a small pile of printed paper. “Read a little of it.”

I scan the first few lines:






There was a tree that grew so tall that it reached the sky. My mother does not believe me because she cannot see the tree. I am the tree. I am the tree. I am not the noises that I hear at night but I make noises that I hear at night. Therefore I am the noises that I hear at night. I am the tree.





“This is really good…” I say as I am once again overwhelmed with sadness.

“You don’t look like you think it is,” Noah says, catching me off guard.

“It is,” I immediately backpedal. “It has just been a really long first day—still getting used to all this. You were always great at writing. I always thought so.”

“How did you know I wrote?”

“Caseworker told me,” I say, taking the easy way out this time.

“Oh, right.”

“You’re a good Sitter.”

“It’s not much work really; I just kind of hang out and make you food… I’m glad though that you said that.”

It did mean a lot to me at the time. After all, I was so nervous that I was going to mess this up. I never really had good luck and always seemed to mess up at other jobs. I was a little surprised, honestly, that I did get accepted into the C-Shapes program… then again the caseworker said they were rather desperate. Although it makes me wonder, why even have me on a waiting list? Anyway, what he said that day made me feel more confident about being helpful.

“I’ll see you on Wednesday,” I say as I turn and begin to head up the staircase.

“Why C-Shapes…?” Noah asks.

“I’m sorry?” I reply as I stop at the third stair.

“The sea comes in many shapes… it’s never in one constant shape. It’s redundant. You can’t stop the sea and make it into one singular shape; you can’t control something so big.”

“I don’t think they mean the actual sea, Noah,” I say as I shrug my shoulders. “I’m not sure why they came up with the name. I think it’s more to do about the letter C and the shape of it, like one could look at it like a defensive shield or a place to take refuge in.”

“Either way it is redundant.”

“I can’t disagree.”

“Do you think it’ll rain tomorrow?”

“I hope so, Noah. I hope so.”

Exhausted, I begin the drive home. My heart weighs heavily in my chest. I find it to be some kind of cruel fate that I ended up being a Sitter for a childhood friend. I begin to hope that he never goes Aggro with me; I don’t think I could deal with seeing him being dealt with. I used to think so highly of his writing, and it was such a sad state to see how far things have deteriorated. Once I get back to my apartment, I take a long hot shower and think more upon the events. I know that I cannot let things like this get me down or else I’ll not be able to make it. After all, this was just my first day.

I receive a message on my phone, I pull it out and it is a message from C Shape Central. It simply asks, “How was your first day?” I write back “It went pretty good.” Seconds later I get another response asking me on a scale of one to ten how well I think I was trained for this. I realize that I am speaking to a computer and mindlessly numb my way through the answers I know that they’ll want to hear.

As it gets later I crawl into bed and turn on a machine that simulates the noises of a busy city, the sound of traffic and an indistinct sound of people talking. I find all the busyness of the sound soothing. It reminds me of being younger in the city… it reminds me of a time that has long since passed. I fall asleep wondering how the new case will go tomorrow. In the back of my mind I wonder myself… ‘will it rain tomorrow?’




3. The Girl from Paris


As I get ready that Tuesday morning, to my slight bemusement, it is raining pretty hard outside. I look out my large picture window and watch as the cascade of rain flows down like a waterfall against the glass. The morning sun is hidden behind the heavy clouds and a grey tone sets the mood for the day. I do not mind so much, I like the rain and am rather partial to the color grey. I wonder if Noah is pleased to know it is raining so hard, though probably not enough for him to swim in.

After a short drive I reach the apartment complex of the oddly named Cherie Derry. I walk up to the second floor and find apartment 7B. I give the door a rap with my knuckles and wait. I knock a second time, and I can faintly hear footsteps.

“You’re too early,” a soft voice speaks as the door opens a fraction of the way.

“I’m you’re new Sitter.”

“I haven’t unpacked yet.” The voice speaks.

“No, I’m… I’m your caretaker.”

“No, I’m your caretaker…” The girl repeats as she closes the door softly.

“Can I come in?” I ask in a raised tone.

I am answered back with silence for moments as though she is contemplating the idea of allowing me in or not. I have a key—while in training they said it was best if they just invited you inside. It would seem rude to just let myself in, but it is also in my training to do so if I am not allowed access… as long as it poses no danger to me.

“Please?” I add.

The door slowly swings open and Cherie greets me with a curtsey and a smile. Despite it being summertime, she is wearing a long flowing brown scarf and tan long sleeved shirt. Her legs are covered by tight fitting dark fabric and she has on a pleated brown skirt.

“I’m Ethan,” I say as I enter into the small apartment building. I am immediately drawn to the huge unfinished painting of the Eiffel Tower that stands nearly six feet tall against the far wall of the living room. “You’re Cherie right?”

“It’s Che-rie” she corrects my pronunciation.

“I’m sorry, of course, Cherie.”

“I’m sorry.” She replies.

“For what…?” I ask, as I cannot think of anything she should be apologizing for.

“For what…?” She mimics in reply.

‘I get it…’ I whisper to myself. I keep getting thrown off even though I know I should be more than prepared for this kind of thing. She’s a Mirror. She’s going to repeat some of the things I am doing or saying. I have to either let her break the chain or stop talking for a moment for her mind to reset itself. I give the conversation some time and begin to look around, there are a lot of pictures of Paris up on the walls, or I’d assume that is where they are—having never been myself, I’m at best… guessing. Tourism and travel are not really big these days. Mostly it is the diplomats or politicians doing all of the traveling to other countries.

“Can we go out today?” Cherie asks as she sits in a barstool chair and looks longingly out the window.

“We can do that, it is raining though—what did you have in mind?”

“Paris is always the most beautiful in the rain.”

“I’ve heard that before.” I say as I nod uncomfortably. I know that I am supposed to just let them run with it. However, this situation seems somehow a bit more difficult.

Cherie suddenly jumps from her chair and stands in front of me. Eagerly she looks at me as though she is studying me. I am a little uncomfortable; I suppose it is the lack of familiarity I felt when I was with Noah. This is an entirely new person who I know very little about.

“Can we go see the Eiffel Tower today, I’ve been here since Sunday and I still haven’t gotten a chance,” Cherie meekly asks as she looks at me with wide curious eyes.

“Sunday…?” I ask, and then remember that is the odd day they spend in that strange state from the medication. I begin to wonder if every Sunday she believes that she has just arrived to Paris. It seems like a rather cruel trick produced by the machinations of her mind.

“Yeah I know it has only been three days, but it is the main reason I’m here actually.”

I do not know how to answer. I feel like if I say yes I am lying, and if I say no—I am letting her down. I feel conflicted and much more unprepared than I did yesterday. Luckily, I take so much time deciding how to answer that she changes the subject.

“It’s really nice of them to send a Sitter for me while I’m here, you know?” Cherie says as she nods happily.

She has a kind smile that makes me feel better somehow, and her eyes squint in a way that is adorable. For the first time I have to remind myself, never get attached to an Unstable. Not even as I think they are kind of cute in a way—like a stray dog, you never know when or if they’ll turn on you.

“Or is it Caretaker here in Paris?” As she asks as she puffs up her cheeks and looks at me as though she is not getting enough answers.

“I’m your Sitter, I just thought… I like caretaker better,” I say as I attempt to make sense of my own thoughts. “I’m your caretaker.”

“I’m your caretaker,” Cherie repeats slowly.

“I’ll be your Sitter though from now on, even when… we get back.” I say the last part with a heavy amount of disappointment in myself, even though I know that she needs to know that I am her old sitter’s replacement.

“What happened to my first Sitter?”

“I don’t know,” I reply. We never know. Back in training they would always say that nine times out of ten we wouldn’t want to know because the answer would most likely be that one of their cases went Aggro. So new Sitters never know what happened to the old ones. Knowing would do neither of us any good.

“I don’t know.”

“Yep,” I reply shortly as I attempt not to think about the possibilities, although my mind is already full of them.

“Yep…”

I pause the conversation again as I look outside. The rain continues to fall pretty hard.

“So I have to ask, how are you feeling?” I ask, feeling that enough time has passed.

“No changes.” Cherie answers almost immediately as though she has grown used to it.

I realize that it must be hardest on the Mirror and Amnesiac types. Mirrors generally know that they are different but they don’t understand why. Amnesiacs know exactly what they are and what they can become and it causes them the fits of depression that they often get. The Catatonics… well, it’s believed are completely oblivious to the situation, and the Psychopaths are too self destructive to either care or notice. The Manics are believed to always be in a state of disbelief or too fixated on their highs and lows to know their fate. If I had to pick one, I’d probably be a Catatonic. Ignorance is bliss, after all.

“You know then that I have to watch you take your pill,” I say as I run through the drill.

Cherie nods compliantly as she fetches the familiar white and blue bottle from a painted white wooden dresser drawer. It is the only thing that is in there. She walks into the kitchen, pours herself a glass of water and places the pill on her tongue. She makes a special point to show me that the little white pill is on there, and then drinks the water and shows me that it is gone. “Good?”

“Is that what your last Sitter made you do?”

Cherie nods.

“You don’t…” I begin.

“She never trusted me,” Cherie says as she continues to smile happily despite the fact that her eyes look saddened. “I never did anything, maybe she was mad that I went to Paris without her.”

“I trust you, just take your pill, you don’t have to show me.”

“I trust you…” Cherie repeats as she nods once.

“This is only my second day,” I add, hoping it will make it an easier transition to a more comfortable rapport with Cherie. “I’m pretty new at this.”

“Are you hungry?”

“I could make something if you like,” I reply as I do feel like I could eat. “After all, I feel like I’m not really doing much.”

“I do the cooking.”

“Oh that’s right, that was in your file… I forgot,” I say as I shrugged my shoulders. I feel like this whole Sitting job is more of just me making sure they’re taking their pills and doing little else other than providing company. I suppose the company part is important though, I just never figured myself to really be good company.

“I forgot.” Cherie repeated as she shrugged her shoulders.

Without another word, for fear of sticking us into another conversation loop, I follow her into the kitchen. I watch as she gathers different bowls and utensils, all the while wondering what it is that she is planning on preparing. After a bit of silence, I ask.

“Can I help with anything?”

“Can you crack eggs?”

“Yeah,” I say pretty confidently. That sounds like a pretty easy task. I go to the fridge. “…how many?”

“Five.”

“I grab five eggs from a container and cautiously make my way to the marble countertop and set them down beside a bowl. I take a plastic bag from a nearby dispenser and ready an egg for cracking.

Cherie covers her ears with cupped hands and looks away.

“Are you alright?” I say loudly.

“I don’t like the noise,” Cherie loudly replies back, although she is the one with her ears covered and mine are not at all.

I nod in response. Despite the fact that her ears are covered she cringes as each egg cracks open against the bowl. Once finished she lowers her hands and lets out a sigh of relief.

“Is there anything else that bothers you… just so I know for future reference?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Well if there is just let me know in advance, like with the eggs.”

“I don’t like that I can’t leave the house without a Sitter.”

“I’m sorry about that,” I reply as I feel bad for things that are well beyond my control. The government says it is best for everyone. It is meant to stop the instances of Unstables going Aggro in public and killing. Also supposedly, it is for the protection of the Unstable from the groups that seek to harm them out of fear. Although if I saw Cherie on the streets walking, I would never suspect that she was an Unstable. She looks just like any other person. Besides, when an Unstable goes Aggro there is almost always some collateral damage to the public. I suppose some rules regarding the matter are just made to make people feel better and aren’t worth much else.

“People are afraid of people like me though. I don’t know why.”

“People are afraid of anything that is different.”

“Are you afraid of me?”

I look at her. I can see no harmful intent in those kind eyes. Even if I know better… I feel like I should know better. I should have a healthy amount of fear. However, for some reason, perhaps stupidity, I don’t. “I’m not… I’m your caregiver.”

“I’m your caregiver.”

“Right…” I say as I nod.

“Right…” Cherie nods.

I place the broken bag of eggshells into the waste bin and wash my hands in the sink. I look over as Cherie is firing up the stove.

“Go and sit please,” Cherie says as she gestures to the dark wooden table in the other room.

“You don’t need any more help?”

“Go and sit please.”

“Got it,” I reply, as I do as I am told. I make my way into a small dining room with only enough room for two chairs and a few decorations. Like much of the rest of the apartment they are all Paris themed. A vintage poster of a giant black cat adorned with some French writing rests upon the far wall. I’ve seen the image before, but I have a terrible time remembering names or artists, or even what style it is. I can smell that food is on its way as my stomach grumbles a bit.

“Thank you,” I say as she places a plate and sets up a napkin with a fork and knife on it. I haven’t had someone serve me in years, at least since my parents died, that wasn’t in a restaurant setting.

“I figured since we’re in Paris,” Cherie says as she places down her own plate. “We should have some French food.”

“It looks great,” I say as a try very hard to not laugh. Arranged on the plate is a stack of two pieces of French toast with a side of French fries. A pat of butter rests atop both, and a fancy swirl of syrup runs from the center of the French toast and covers the top of the French fries. I am a little bit surprised by this, but I realize at this point, nothing should surprise me.

“Thank you,” Cherie says as she smiles and her cheeks flush red like they would on a cold winter day. “I’ve been practicing.”

“It looks perfect,” I add as I smile and dig into the food. As strange as it is, I enjoy it. Then again, I have never been a picky eater.

“Last Sitter would never eat my food,” Cherie says as her eyes look saddened a bit, but she continues to wear that smile. I begin to wonder if she can’t properly show emotion. Or is just always a little bit happy, even when she’s a little bit sad… it seems like a contradiction, or a great way to look at life. I’m not sure which, but I think I’d like to go with the second part.

“It was their loss.”

“It was their loss…” Cherie says as she begins to eat.

After eating I ask if she would still like to go out. Secretly I hope that she does not want to see the Eiffel Tower. Luckily, she only wants to go for a drive. I’m a little hesitant as I think that she will realize that we’re not in Paris at all, but Chicago… however, I do not deny her the chance to get out.

“Is this your car?”

“Yes,” I say as we pull away from her apartment.

“It is very nice…” Cherie says as she runs her hand along the leather interior. “I had a nice car once… It’s raining so hard you can’t even make out the Eiffel Tower today.”

“Yeah, that’s unfortunate,” I say as I bite my lower lip nervously.

“You’re new; you just came from C Shape right?”

“That I did, I have a feeling I know the question before it is going to be asked. In training I was told that the ones that are capable of realization that they are different are always going to ask.

“How much longer until I can be normal…? How much longer do I have to be watched?”

“I think soon,” I say as I look over and attempt to smile reassuringly. I hate all of this lying shit that comes with this part of the job. I knew that sometimes I was going to have to tell little lies in order to comfort my cases, but I had no idea I would end up feeling so terrible about it. “Has to be soon…”

“Good,” Cherie says as she smiles. “How come you don’t have glasses?”

“I don’t need them?” I answer, confused once more.

“My last Sitter had them,” Cherie says as she lowers her voice to a whisper. “They had a display that could tell if you were different. I looked through them once when she was in the bathroom. She left them on my counter. When she came out she was blue and it said normal on the screen. I looked at my hand, it was orange and it said Unstable. What does Unstable mean?”

“It’s just another word for different.”

“It’s just another word for different.” Cherie repeated.

“I’ve heard of them,” I add. “It’s for people who are afraid.”

“People who are afraid…”

“I’m apparently not as afraid as others are. Which makes me feel a little better about myself,” I continue to see if she will keep mimicking my conversation or if this can eventually be broken without the need for silence.

“Feel better about myself…” Cherie says as she pulls her legs up to her chest and wraps her arms around them.

I let some time pass as I continue to drive. I look over to Cherie, and she looks terrified.

“Are you alright?” I ask.

“My chest hurts, I think I’m going to pass out,” she says as her eyes begin to water.

“You are alright,” I say reassuringly. I remember from training that Mirrors have anxiety issues. “I begin to instantly route my way back to her apartment. “It’s an anxiety attack, it will pass.”

I speed through the streets, careful to not cause any more anxiety. Cherie rocks back and forth in the seat and wipes away fresh tears with the back of her hand. “I think I’m going to die. I don’t want to die.”

“You are not going to die, I promise.”

I pull up to her apartment. “Let’s get you inside.”

“I can’t walk, I’ll pass out,” Cherie says as she begins to place a hand to her chest.

“You just stay there…” I say as I quickly round the car and pick up Cherie in my arms and carry her towards the apartment door.

“A little help,” I say as a man dressed in a business suit and carrying an umbrella passes by just in time.

Noticing my C Shape badge, which I have to wear when I’m with an Unstable, he ignores me and says, “It’s your nutcase; get it the fuck away from me.” He then makes it a point to walk across the street to be as far away as possible.

I manage to get the door open with a bit of a struggle and make my way up to Cherie’s apartment. I carry her into the living room and rest her upon the couch.

“Do you feel better now?” I ask, I find a box of tissues and hand them to her. Seems like that is at least one thing I’ve been good at these past two days—getting people tissues.

She nods quietly as she takes in a heavy breath. Then after a few moments of calmness she begins to cry once more.

“What’s wrong, what can I do?”

“That man… he hates you now because of me.”

I wipe away her tears and place a hand upon her shoulder. “I don’t care about that guy. He doesn’t mean a single thing to me. He is not even worth a single tear.”

“He is not even worth a single tear.”

“Exactly,” I say, even though I know she is repeating. However, it does seem rather fitting. I couldn’t give a single shit about some asshole that has no sense of compassion.

“Exactly…” Cherie says as she stops crying.

“I’ll get you some water,” I say as I get up and head towards the kitchen.

“Water…”

When I return, I hand the glass to Cherie’s hand, which is still shaking. I place my hand over hers to help her steady herself. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Tell me about yourself.”

“What would you like to know?”

“Just tell me something random from your life.”

“Well…” I say as I try and think of something interesting to tell her. “When I was probably around sixteen or so, I remember my parents were out of town—for work or something. They both worked jobs that took them away for weeks at a time. Well, I had just gotten my driver’s license a few months earlier, and I remember it was like a Monday and it was around two in the morning… despite the fact that I could have gotten in trouble, I got into my parent’s car and I just drove around the city at night. It was beautiful. It was so empty because everyone was asleep, but all the lights from the city were like it was awake… kind of like it was watching over all of us. While we slept, the city stayed awake and kept guard. It made me feel strange but in a good way. Like I realized the world was a much bigger place that day. I just explored for a few hours until I got tired and then I returned home. It was nothing huge—no big adventure. However, it was my first real taste of freedom. For the first time, I could go anywhere I wanted to. I could go and explore the roads that my parents would always pass by. It was a really good night. I mean it doesn’t seem so important these days, but it’s still in my memories.”

“That sounded nice,” Cherie said with a heavy yawn. “I’ll nap now.”

Without another word or warning, she closed her eyes and went to sleep. I have never been able to sleep so quickly or soundly. I searched around the apartment a bit until I found her bedroom and grabbed a small blanket that was folded at the foot of the bed. I covered her up and went to the kitchen to do the dishes. I finished cleaning up from earlier and took the trash out. A few hours went by and it got closer to dinner time. I figured after the hard day that Cherie had I would make her some dinner before heading home. I went through her fridge, it was fairly unusual. The contents were mainly just eggs, cheeses, bread, some French bread, some salad with a bottle of French dressing. I cut up some of the French bread and attempted to place it on the plates as neatly as possible. I cut up some variety of cheeses and made a small bowl of salad and arranged it on the plate with some French dressing. This seemed fitting.

After setting the table, I went to the living room and I gently placed my hand upon Cherie’s shoulder. “If you’d like to get up, I’ve made some dinner.”

“I usually do the cooking,” she said sleepily.

“You seemed like you had a rough day, I hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind,” Cherie said as she got to her feet and stretched her arms out wide and let out a long yawn. As she reached the table she got excited. “This is a perfect meal.”

“I had a feeling you’d like it.”

After dinner I cleaned up and put the dishes away. Cherie spent the time staring out the window. I looked around the room, noticing that she had no television. It seemed like such a cruel thing. Only Amnesiacs were allowed to watch TV. It was decided that the outside world was too much for all the other types. They were allowed music, books, just nothing current, and no television. Then again, if they saw how their kind was being treated, it would not make them happy. However, it did seem unfair to deny them the truth.

“Do you need anything? I’ll be heading off for the night.”

“Will you be back tomorrow?”

“I’m scheduled for Thursday… I have another un… person to visit tomorrow,” I say, I pause before saying person, I start seeing that Unstable does seem rather harsh—even if it is the accepted term. Then I remember the caseworker stating that I should try and get Cherie out a bit more. “Would you like to come and visit with me?”

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

“I’m their Sitter as well. Only I knew this person growing up. I knew him for like eight years… all the way up into high school. He’s a good guy.”

“He’s like me?”

“Yes.”

“If I can’t do it can I come home?”

“Of course,” I say as I nod.

Cherie nods in response.

“Is that a yes?” I ask, not sure if she is nodding in agreement or nodding because I just nodded.

“I think so.”

“It’ll be good to get out and meet someone new, he’s a little odd at times but I think you will be perfectly fine.”

“You will be perfectly fine.”

“Right,” I said with a short little laugh. I thought the idea of repetition would be a little annoying, but the truth is that I find it slightly charming in a way.

“Right…” Cherie replies as she laughed.

“Well I’m off,” I say as I begin to head for the door. “I will see you in the morning.”

“See you in the morning,” Cherie says as she quickly wraps her arms around me and hugs me tightly.

“Thanks,” I say as she releases me. I feel extremely uncomfortable with the situation, but I allow it because I feel that it makes her more comfortable.

“Thanks…” Cherie whispers as I exit her apartment.

Back home, I kick of my running shoes and after a shower, I relax on my bed. I turn on the television just to see what is going on, I know to expect nothing good. The news, which is mostly what is on these days… has been that way for years, is talking about Texas seceding from the United States and enforcing a program where they either evict or kill all of their Unstables. They cite a loss of faith in the government and the C-Shapes program. Alaska is also considering a program and a new rogue group of Hunters is systematically killing any Unstables they come across. Hawaii has quarantined their Unstables to Maui, leaving the normal population to live on Oahu and the Big Island—a ferry now takes Sitters and other workers back and forth, but Unstables are no longer able to leave Maui. It seems that fear, and more incidents of Unstables going Aggro, is causing people to make more rash decisions. A C-Shapes spokeswoman appears on TV and attempts to assure the people that a cure will be found, that these things just take time. Whether or not people will listen is something that remains to be seen.

Content that I have seen enough depressing news for one day, I turn off the TV and turn on my city noise machine. I feel accomplished having completed my second day with my other case. I feel much more sympathetic than I thought I would. I went into this thinking it would be just another job—however, maybe to my downfall, it is turning into something more. I already feel like these people could be my friends… that Noah could be my friend once again. However, that’s something that is looked down upon both heavily by society and my employer. I cannot let myself care about these people on an emotional level. It will end up costing me everything in the end. Maybe even my life. Still, I cannot see these people as anything other than human. As accomplished as I feel. I start to worry that I might not be cut out for this after all.




4. Edible Stars


As we drive out of town I look over every now and then to make sure that Cherie is doing alright with the trip outside of the city. She appears to be okay, whenever I ask she simply nods and smiles. Like the day before, she is dressed for cooler weather, so I have the air conditioning on so high that I regret not bringing a jacket. She seems to be much better today with her anxiety. Hopefully it remains that way.

“You’re on time today,” Noah says as Cherie and I stand outside of his basement room.

“Did you take your pill today,” Cherie says jokingly as she places her arms at her side.

“See you brought another Sitter with you,” Noah adds as he looks confused. “Ready for my pill—just waiting for you to get here.”

“She is not a sitter,” I say as I enter the room as Cherie follows right behind me.

“Not a sitter…” Cherie repeats.

“Holy shit, she the Mirror?” Noah asks as he grabs a bottle of water from the ridiculously large stack. He pulls out the pill bottle from the drawer and shows it to me, and then he pops it into his mouth and downs the bottle.

“Yeah, she’s a… Mirror.” I say quietly. It is common courtesy to not refer to any of the Unstables by their classification. They say that it is best they don’t know. Only the Amnesiacs know themselves by class.

“A… Mirror…” Cherie repeats with a slightly confused tone.

“Oh right, sorry,” Noah says as he begins to pace back and forth. “Name is Noah Williams, nice to meet you.”

“This is Cherie Derry,” I say as I step to one side so that Cherie is not hiding behind me.

“…Cherie Derry,” she repeats as she follows my step and hides behind me anyway.

I turn around to face Cherie, and I lead her to have a seat on a dusty grey couch. “Just sit here for a moment, alright?”

“…for a moment, alright…”

I whisper to Noah, “Can we talk somewhere real quick?”

Wordlessly Noah leads me out of the room and into an old storage room adjacent from his living quarters.

“No changes,” Noah says as though he knows the question is coming.

“No…” I object, “You don’t need to do that with me, I know it annoys you… it is not about that. She just needs time to reset. If we keep talking she is going to keep repeating things or mimic what we are doing.”

“You brought another case with you?”

“Yeah, I thought it’d be good for her to get out.”

“Not necessary for your job, what does it matter to you?”

“It isn’t just about the job. I just wanted to help. She had a rough time yesterday and then some asshole said something mean to her—she doesn’t understand why she can’t get out… so I just wanted to get her out. I hope it is alright with you.” I say as I try and explain the situation. I’m just glad I’ve caught Noah at an especially lucid moment.

“Yeah it’s alright.”

“So if she starts repeating, just take a break from the conversation and she’ll eventually be able to reset herself.” I say as I glance into the other room.

“You an odd one, you know?”

“Why?” I ask, confused.

“Never mind,” Noah says as he shakes his head. “They were wrong about the rain again.”

“It rained all day yesterday,” I say as I back away and head back towards Noah’s room. “Not here. It never rains here anymore.”

“One day it will rain.”

“You the same guy that came on Monday aren’t you?” Noah asks. He then turns his attention to Cherie. “Are you in training?”

“It’s me,” I say as I grow a little upset at the drastic turn. “Ethan Chase, Remember? This is… Cherie, she is a friend that I thought would like to meet you.”

“…a friend.” Cherie says as she looks down to the floor and bites nervously at her fingernails.

Noah looks away to the TV set that is turned off. He gives it a good strike for no good particular reason.

Cherie pulls her legs up to her body and wraps her arms around them.

“She doesn’t like certain noises,” I say as I start to think that this was all a bad idea.

“…doesn’t like certain noises.”

Noah reaches over and grabs a bottle of water and hands it to Cherie. She nods as she takes the bottle. He then looks over to me and winks. He then spends a while looking down at the floor.

My mind begins to change as I realize that I haven’t made a mistake. Noah is purposefully keeping quiet—he is more aware than I thought. After a short time he finally breaks the silence.

“Good to meet you, Cherie.”

“It’s good to meet you too, Noah.”

“So Ethan here, he’s a pretty good Sitter, right?”

“He’s much nicer than my last one.”

“Thanks,” I add. Despite the fact that they are talking about me like I am not there—I still appreciate the gesture that they both think I’m doing a good job.

“He carried me in during the rain when I couldn’t walk,” Cherie says as she continues to nervously pick at her fingernails.

“Not a lot of Sitters would do that for anyone,” Noah says as he looks to me with an odd look in his eyes. “Even if it is their job, most of them are too afraid, or just don’t like… people like us.”

“Not many do, not until we get cured.”

I expect Noah to make a comment about how there is not going to be a cure or a conspiracy. However, to my surprise, he does not. Instead, he looks sad and just mutters, “Yeah.”

Attempting to break the saddened mood, I clap my hands together and say, “Hey, how about some pizza—I’m buying of course… well C-Shape is.”

“They’ll make you meet them at the road,” Noah says as he continues to stare at the floor sadly. “The delivery driver makes my mother roll all the way out to the road to pick up the delivery.”

“I’m fine with that,” I say as I nod. Hearing that does make me feel rather bad for Mrs. Williams, it seems like such an unfair thing to do to anyone, let alone someone who has suffered a stroke. “I’ll meet them at the street.”

“They’re afraid.”

“They’re afraid…” Cherie repeats as she continues to fidget nervously on the couch.

I place the order on my cell, and after a while I meet the deliveryman on the side of the road, just as he instructed. I swipe my phone over his and the transaction has been completed. I take the boxes of pizza back into the house. Right as I enter I am stopped by Mrs. Williams who stares at me and shakes her head.

“It’s not right.”

“A lot of things aren’t right these days,” I say in reply. “People are afraid and they act out of fear.”

“What they’re doing to people like my son, everywhere… it’s not right,” She says as she begins to roll herself away without another word.

I bring the food downstairs and place it on small clean spot on Noah’s table. The rest of it is covered in old newspapers, blank sheets of computer paper and an assortment of old pens and pencils that are neatly arranged in an order that I don’t quite comprehend. I go to the kitchen area and grab three plates, when I return I notice that both Noah and Cherie are just staring vacantly down at the floor. For a moment I wonder what they are thinking about, if anything at all. Perhaps this is some kind of drug induced state that happens, either way; I find it a little creepy and a little too familiar.

“Hey,” I say, attempting to rouse the pair. “Let’s have some lunch.”

As Noah reaches for a piece of pizza and places it on his plate, he turns to me and asks, “Was it raining outside?”

“Not today, Noah,” I say as I shake my head. It appears that Noah might be going into an incoherent state.

“In the springtime, in Paris, it rains every day—that’s when it is most beautiful,” Cherie says as she pecks at a small piece of pizza.

“Are there stars in Paris?”

“Billions,” Cherie says. “…more than anywhere else in the world,” she adds as she stares up to the ceiling with a forlorn look in her eyes. “I’ve been there a few times… Paris. In fact, I just got back this morning.”

“How was it?” Noah asks as he reaches for a second piece.

“A little disappointing,” Cherie says as she sighs heavily, but then turns to me and smiles. “We didn’t get to see the Eiffel Tower because of the weather, but… I think I’ll head back there on Sunday—and I did get to meet my new Sitter. So next time we go I think it’ll be better. So all in all, not completely disappointing really.”

“Did you know that when we take our pills we are eating stars?” Noah says, as he pulls out his little white and blue bottle from the drawer. “Why do they call themselves C-Shapes, Ethan Chase?”

“I don’t know…” I reply, I recall already having this conversation and how I assumed it was based upon the shape of the C, but that was at best a weak theory and how Noah believed that it represented the sea itself and its constantly changing, uncontrollable shape.

“What kinds of shapes are in the sea?”

“Why do you always assume that they mean the sea?” I ask, in a cautious tone that does not seem like it would sound offensive.

“The bottle,” Noah says as he picks up his small container. It says Calm in the white here which represents the sky, and this little blue rolling design at the bottom are waves—sea waves. So, what kinds of shapes are in the sea?”

“Starfish,” Cherie answers as she nods. “Stars are a shape.”

“The pills are made from starfish,” Noah concludes.

“Is that your new theory?” I ask as I let out a short laugh. “I suppose it’s possible.”

“When is the last time you saw a starfish?” Noah asks as he places his bottle of Calm back into the drawer.

“We’re in Illinois. I don’t think I’ve seen a starfish since we went on that school fieldtrip to the Shedd Aquarium down by the lake.

“I’ve never seen any,” Noah says as he nods confidently and rubs his hands together. “Therefore I have proven my point.”

“I’m convinced,” Cherie says as she nods in the same manner and rubs her small hands together.

“Well,” I say as I pause for a moment to let that all sink in. “I’ve been outvoted, so I’ll just go with the majority rule.”

“…go with the majority rule.”

“Exactly,” I say as I smile.

“Exactly,” Cherie adds as she smiles at me.

Sometimes I have to laugh to myself at her timing when she mimics what I say. It almost seems deliberate, like she knows just when to mirror me at times in a way that almost makes perfect sense.

Noah looks pale for a moment as his plate slides down to the floor. I get to my feet and pick it up, giving it a once over to make sure it is not damaged—it is fine. Noah buries his face into his hands and begins to sob uncontrollably.

“Hey, Noah…” I say as I reach for the box of tissues and place them on his lap. “Everything is alright. There is no need to cry.”

“No need to cry,” Cherie says as she places her hand on Noah’s shoulder.

I nearly stop her from doing so—however, Noah does not push her away. Instead he continues to cry for a while. Then abruptly stops.

“Are we playing chess today?”

“Sure,” I say as with a reassuring smile, “I mean as long as Cherie doesn’t mind, let me just clean up.”

“I’ll clean up.” Cherie says as she begins to collect the plates. “You play your game.”

“That’s… kind of my job,” I say somewhat hesitantly. After all, I am the Sitter—aside from making sure they take their pills cleaning up is one of my only other real objectives.

“Kind of my job…” Cherie says as she disregards me and continues to clean.

As I sit across from Noah he waits for Cherie to leave and then begins to speak softly. “They don’t let her watch the news right?”

“No,” I say quietly in reply.

“You think that’s for the best?” He asks as he moves a pawn up two spaces.

“I don’t know, Noah,” I say as I give it a moment of thought. I mean, she is aware that she is different so it seems only right that she should get to know what is happening to people like her—however, that kind of information could be damaging. “That’s a hard question. I mean I feel like it’d be the right thing, to let someone know the truth—but sometimes when I get home and see what is going on… I don’t even want to know.”

“Not knowing doesn’t make it go away,” Noah says as he takes one of my pawns with his knight.

“Yeah,” I say let out a sigh. “I don’t know what the right answer is.”

Cherie walks into the room and sits beside me and fixates on the game board in front of us.

“Hey Ethan,” Noah says, changing the subject.

“Yeah…?”

“How many Amnesiacs does it take to plug in a light bulb?” He asks as he slaps himself in the knee as he loses another piece.

“How many, Noah…?” I say as I am once again disappointed that the game is going in my favor. It is a strange thing, to feel sad that you are winning—to actually want to lose because you know somehow that it will make you feel better.

“I forget,” Noah says as he begins to laugh heartily.

I shake my head and laugh, not to the extreme of Noah, but I humor his attempt. “That’s very nice, Noah.”

“I don’t get what is funny about that.” Cherie says as she shakes her head. “That sounds kind of sad.”

“I’m an Amnesiac,” Noah says as he turns to her and nods. “It’s self deprecating humor.”

“Is that why you are always sad?”

“Probably,” Noah says as he looks away and focuses back on the game. “Have you been around any others—like us?”

“Only a few times, I think.”

“You think?” Noah asks as he gives his next move a lot of thought. He attempts to move his king out of check.

“I think I can feel them near me, but it must not be real because I don’t feel anything now.”

“Strange,” Noah says as he loses the game.

Having won, I feel no sense of victory. However, I am happy that they are having a conversation that is much more normal than the previous one. This test seems to be going very well. I think that this friendship could be good for the both of them.

“I’ll win on Friday,” Noah says as he looks down for a moment and then lets out a short laugh. “You’ll see.”

“You’re getting better,” I say in an attempt to reassure him. I don’t know if this is true or not. It seems to be about the same as last time.

“I’m just out of practice,” Noah adds.

“Of course,” I say with a smile.

The rest of the day goes well. Noah slips into a few moments of incoherency but they pass like a breaking wave upon rock and swiftly recede just as soon as they appear. I leave early, Noah is content with the leftover pizza—after all, due to the delivery driver’s policy of not coming to the door—this is a special treat for him.

The drive back to Cherie’s apartment is uneventful. She looks out the window in silence as we make our way back into the city. Once we stop, I place my badge over my neck and walk her up to her apartment—as is procedure. I make sure that she gets into her apartment safely. “Do you need anything before I go?”

“I’m good,” Cherie says as she stretches her arms out wide. “I usually nap… I didn’t nap today—I think I’ll sleep extra well tonight. Maybe I’ll dream of Paris if I can’t be there.”

“Do you ever think of…?” I begin as I turn to face the large painting of the Eiffel Tower. “Do you ever plan on finishing this? It’s such a good piece…”

“I painted this…” Cherie whispers, almost as though she is informing herself of the fact.

“I just think you are really talented,” I add.

“It’s finished,” Cherie says as her eyes look saddened. “It’s as finished as it is going to be.”

“I’m sorry,” I say as I let out a heavy sigh. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“It’s incomplete though isn’t it… kind of like me.”

“I didn’t mean to imply any of that,” I say as I shake my head. I feel terrible. I should have followed my instincts and kept my mouth shut about it. Sometimes I forget that I’m dealing with someone with issues—I begin to realize that I am having a harder time making a distinction between Unstables and just normal people. “It’s perfectly fine the way it is… and you are too. Don’t think otherwise.”

“Don’t think otherwise…” Cherie says as she slowly nods her head and glances back once more to the unfinished painting. She yawns once more and a smile returns to her seemingly always happy face—it is only her eyes that betray how she really feels about things. I wonder if her last Sitter noticed that… or even cared to.

I linger in the doorway for a few moments.

“Groceries,” Cherie finally says, breaking out of her Mirror state. “Can we get groceries tomorrow—we just got back from Paris and we don’t have much for tomorrow. We don’t have to get much since we’re leaving on Sunday again.”

“Of course,” I say as I nod. “We can do that.”

“Goodnight then, Ethan.”

“Goodnight, Cherie, I reply, despite it only being about six o’clock in the evening.

I arrive back at my apartment and kick off my running shoes into their usual spot. I shower, shave, and relax in my bed. My phone chimes twice. I reach for it on the nightstand and two new messages are displayed. One is a profile of a girl, 31, also a Sitter. According to her profile she has been a Sitter for 6 years… must have been among one of the first groups. She is attractive, long flowing brown hair and azure blue eyes. A little message at the bottom has an address to meet up at and a red button says no, and a green one says yes. I figure what the hell… at least it’d be good to meet someone who has been doing this longer than three days—the fact that she’s pretty definitely doesn’t hurt. I click yes. The second message is a simple plain text file from Katharine, the caseworker, she asks me to come in before I head to see Cherie in the morning. Probably just a checkup… or at least I hope it is not because I am doing a terrible job.

I think to turn on the TV, however I know what will be there—hopelessness, sadness, more injustices, and grief. Instead I stare out the window of my view of the city at night. There aren’t so many lights anymore—there aren’t as many people around anymore. Maybe the city has abandoned us… then again, maybe we deserved it. I don’t know exactly what I’m thinking about. I just know that we’re hurting ourselves by our actions. I hope that things will get better, but I know that the truth is that things will probably get a lot worse before they do.




5. Bending the Rules


I step into the C-Shapes Field Office. The same secretary smiles as she recognizes me. “Here to see Kathleen, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” I laugh as I shake my head.

She presses a button on her console. “She’ll see you now… it’s 2B… just in case you forgot that too.”

“I remember.”

“Ethan,” Katharine says as she shakes my hand.

She seems happy to see me. I take that as a good sign. “Katharine…”

“I contacted your cases,” Katharine says as she pulls out a small notepad of paper. “Don’t worry now, this is just kind of like a follow up—just making sure you’re doing okay and being safe out there. You’re not in any kind of trouble or anything… just wanted to go over a few things with you.”

“Oh,” I say as I nod. “So how am I doing?”

“Generally great,” Katharine says as she looks over her small notes. “I mean you seem to be interacting well with your two Unstables. You’re making sure they’re taking their Calm, which is the most important thing, and you’re not pushing them or being argumentative with them—which we both know is a smart move.”

“Anything I’m doing wrong?”

“You carried Cherie from your car into the apartment.” Katharine says as she bites the end of her pen and looks somewhat displeased. “You know that that kind of contact put yourself at serious risk.”

“She had an anxiety attack and I needed to get her back into her apartment where she would feel safe.”

“Next time force her to walk,” Katharine says as she nods. “I understand, I mean you’re new at this, but next time… if it happens again—do not put yourself in that type of situation. Remember a hand to the shoulder for comfort is fine, but keep your guard up and always keep a safe distance. I know that to you she may appear just a small, skinny, fragile, and even beautiful woman… but know that without warning she could turn Aggro on you and in that kind of compromised position, you would certainly have lost your life.”

“I understand,” I say, despite the fact that I still feel no regret for doing what I did. However, I get what she is trying to say. Perhaps I lack a healthy amount of fear that I should have… then again, as she said—I am new to this. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

“I think you just forgot. Which is okay, we all make these types of mistakes in the beginning… because, well, we don’t fully understand what they really are or what they’re capable of.”

“Is there anything else I’m doing wrong?”

“Your old friend Noah,” Katharine says as she nods. “I know that it must be really difficult because you had a past. I know that circumstance has led you to basically face each other once more, but I want you to know for certainty that your old friend is not there anymore. He may seem like the same person at times, or you may want him to be—but he will never be who you remembered him as.”

“I’ve been realizing,” I say as I look away for a moment.

“I could see about reassigning you.”

“No…” I say as I shake my head. “I’m good. I admit that first day I kind of hoped he was still in there somewhere, but I know that he is a completely different person now. I’m working to separate the past from the present and I think everything will be fine.”

“Good,” Katharine says as she places the pad of paper back in the drawer. “Aside from just those two concerns… they both think you are a great Sitter, and you’re doing a great job. You’re Sitting with Cherie today, what are your plans?”

“Groceries, I’m… going to take her somewhere. She thinks we just returned from Paris and that is why the fridge is empty.”

“Be careful, with what happened in East Chicago yesterday people are a little on edge.”

“What happened?”

“You haven’t been watching TV?” Katharine asks as though she is asking if I’ve been forgetting to breathe properly.

“I saw the thing about Texas and Alaska seceding, and Hawaii quarantining their Unstables… but last night I was beat—I just didn’t…”

“Texas and Alaska are no longer a part of the United States, they have stopped all traffic of C-Alysium into their states and are systematically killing all of their Unstables. The military can’t, or will not step in at this moment as we need to keep our forces up in case of a massive Aggro case. Plus, as the government sees it right now, there is no point in us normals killing each other—the president figures that once we release a cure everything will be patched up.

“They’re just going to kill them all?” I say as I shake my head. “What if a cure is found soon—then that is just murder.”

“They’re even eradicating the vegetables, I guess a few too many Aggro incidents have pushed them over the edge—they were never really truly onboard with the C-Shapes plan to begin with. This is an unfortunate, but eventual thing that was going to happen. Alaska was lost days ago… the news is just slow to report on it. Then again, they were never really onboard with us either. Hawaii is doing the most humane thing they can think to do, given how afraid the population is… at least they’re still administering Calm, they’ve just relocated them all in case things take a turn for the worse… if you’re going to be a good Sitter—you really have to keep up on this.”

“Got it,” I say as I nod. I’ve never been a fan of news nor politics. It all starts to seem like a giant cluster-fuck in the end. “What happened in East Chicago?”

“An Amnesiac went Aggro in one of the most violent cases we’ve seen. He tore his sitter apart and killed about six other people before the hunters were able to take him down. They estimated they fired about twenty rounds before he was finally brought down. So people in the Chicago are a little on edge—just take that into consideration, for yourself and your Unstable.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” I say. “Is there anything else?”

“Good luck on your date on Sunday.”

I laugh for a moment as I get up. “Thanks… you guys really keep on an eye on us—don’t you?”

“I like to think I choose well. She’s pretty yeah?”

“Definitely,” I say as begin to walk away.

“One more thing,” Katharine says as I place my hand on the doorknob.

“Yeah?”

“What’s your date’s name?” Katharine asks.

I look back and she is folding her arms beneath her chest and a smirk is spread across her face. “Melissa Sydney.”

“Michelle Sydney…” Katharine says as she shakes her head.

“I’ve never been very good with first names,” I admit as I let out a sigh. “Sorry.”

“Just don’t forget on Sunday—memorize it,” Katharine says with the tone of a schoolteacher handing out an important assignment.

I reach Cherie’s apartment a little later than expected. I knock once and she immediately answers. She throws her arms around me and embraces me. I push her away as politely as I can.

“Are you upset?” She asks.

“No… no,” I say as I step away. She is already dressed for the day. A long pair of white jeans, brown boots with fur lined tops, a long white t-shirt with brown flowers and a matching brown scarf. I begin to wonder if she has any clothes that are not fall or spring appropriate. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“I was just worried, you were late,” Cherie says as she meekly steps away and begins to put her gloves on.

“It’s actually pretty warm outside,” I say as I attempt to stop her. “You probably don’t need the scarf either.”

“No scarf or gloves?”

“You’ll be more comfortable without them,” I say as I shrug my shoulders. “I mean look I’m wearing a short sleeved dress shirt and I thought it was pretty warm today.”

“Strange,” Cherie says as she looks at me for a while as though she is trying to gauge whether she should listen to my advice or not.

She eventually tosses the gloves upon the table and unfolds her long brown scarf. Although she is smiling the entire time, her eyes carry that familiar sense of sadness.

“I’m sorry I made you worry.” I feel terrible for pushing her away when she was trying to give me a simple hug—but I remember the danger that I’ve already put myself in. I cannot allow that to happen again… even if she seems like a perfectly normal, harmless person.

“It is okay, Ethan,” Cherie says, although continues to hold that saddened look in her eyes.

“Is there anything bothering you?” I ask attempting to fix the situation I know that I have caused.

“Is there anything bothering you?”

I wait for a moment as I look outside the window. It is a beautiful summer day. A tree outside the window fills the living room with a soft emerald light. It makes for the perfect shade so that it does not get too hot in the apartment… that must be why she’s always dressed like it is fall, then again, she does keep it rather cold inside here.

“It just…” Cherie says as she pauses and looks at me confused, “seems like there is something different about you today.”

“You were asking me?” I say embarrassed. I was sure she was mirroring me. I immediately feel terrible. “I thought you were… I thought you needed a moment.”

“You’re a good Sitter,” She adds as she looks down to the ground and nervously kicks one foot against the other. “My old one, she used to slap me in the face when I would repeat things—I could never help it though. You don’t do that. You’re patient.”

“I’m so sorry,” I say as I forget about my past thoughts. I embrace Cherie tightly in my arms. There is no fear. “I had no idea that was going on.”

“I thought you were afraid of me today,” Cherie says as she wipes her small red nose with a tissue from her pocket.

“No, it’s just that something happened recently and people are a little on edge—so when we go grocery shopping today, we just have to be a bit more careful. Don’t worry though I’ll take care of you.”

“I’ll take care of you.”

“Now you’re doing the thing right?” I ask, just to be sure. I do not want to come off as an ass again.

“…doing the thing right?”

“Got it,” I say as I nod and gesture towards the door. “Are you ready to go?”

“Got it… ready to go…?”

“Wait…” I say as I embarrassingly forget to do probably my only main duty as a Sitter. “You haven’t taken your pill.”

“Taken your pill…”

I go to the drawer and pull out the bottle and retrieve one of the white round pills. I hand it to Cherie, who attempts to hand me back something in her other hand; only it is empty. I smile and she returns the same in kind. I pour some water into a glass and hand it to her. I pretend to place the pill on my tongue and drink from a non-existent glass. She does the same and just like that, she has taken her Calm for the day. I take the glass from her and put it in the sink. I take a moment to pause at the window again. She sits beside me and looks out. It is a rather simple, but nice view—there is still great beauty to be found in a simple thing.

“I like the tree,” Cherie says, finally breaking out of her cycle. “I love the colors, all the different greens. I never knew there were so many different ways to be green.”

“It is a pretty view,” I say as I turn away. “Are you ready now?”

Cherie nods and follows me out the door. I pull my C-Shapes badge from my chest pocket and place it around my neck. I open the door for her and look around as a woman passing by on the other edge of the street gives us a dirty look, but keeps walking. I climb into the car.

“I used to have a nice car like this,” Cherie says. “I used to have a boat too… a big one.”

I nod silently. I take all this as memory issues—from her profile she was a poor artist. She was definitely a talented artist, but apparently not one with enough money to afford a nice car or a boat, unfortunately. Perhaps if she had a boat she could sail her way to Paris and actually be happy.

“Where do you normally go grocery shopping?”

“When I’m in Paris, I like to walk to the market—there’s no other place like it.”

“How about when we’re just in boring old Chicago…?”

“You probably know this area better than I do,” Cherie says as she runs her hand along the leather seat. “Anywhere is fine.”

“I used to work at a place not too far from here, stocking the shelves.”

“That sounds nice,” Cherie says as she turns her gaze to blankly stare out the window. “I’d like to see where you worked before.”

After a short drive, we arrive at a small place. I remember spending a few years here before I finally got recruited by C-Shapes, just kind of mindlessly stocking the shelves at night and occasionally covering for sick workers in the daytime. It wasn’t the greatest of jobs… but it kept me busy. Like I’ve said before, I never really had a talent, or higher calling to do anything meaningful. I’ve kind of meandered through life like one of those small creeks you see at parks, the kind with all the many twists and turns… the one that if you follow it—it will eventually lead nowhere. That is how I’ve felt about my life since V-Day… probably even before that day. Well, that’s not completely true, doing this… this makes me feel better.

“Are you alright?”

“Sorry,” I say as I notice I’ve been blankly staring off at the storefront for far too long. One might think we were both a pair of Catatonics hanging out in a car. That would be an odd practical joke to play on someone. “Just brings back memories.”

“Tell me about them later so I can nap?”

I laugh. I don’t know whether I should take this as I am boring, or comforting. Either way, it works for me on some level. I exit the car and Cherie follows close behind me. Almost as if I am some sort of shield for her against the outside world.

I hold the door open behind me so that she can shadow me into the building. I recognize my old boss behind the counter. It has been a while.

“Bobby Saito…” I say as I enter in. “I thought you hated working checkout.”

“Ethan?” The elderly Asian man says as he folds his arms and looks unhappy. “I wouldn’t have to if C-Shapes would stop stealing all of my employees!”

“I look down at my badge and nod. “Sorry about that.”

“It is fine,” Bobby says as he smiles and reaches his hand across the counter. “It’s good to see you doing well.”

“It’s good to see you again.”

Bobby turns to the girl hiding behind me. “Is she one of the…”

I nod in reply. “We’ll be in and out pretty quickly, if that’s alright with you.”

“Yeah…” Bobby says with a heavy sound of hesitation in his voice. “You can handle this right… I mean if… you know.”

“We will be fine,” I assure him.

“You’re trained for this,” He says as he nods and finally concedes. “I trust you, I’m alright with this.”

“Thank you,” I say as I nod and grab a small shopping cart.

“So what do you feel like having,” I ask as I look behind me and see Cherie meekly following behind me, looking around like a terrified squirrel attempting to cross a busy street.

“We don’t need much. Remember we’re leaving for Paris on Sunday,” Cherie whispers as we continue down the aisles.

“How about I just pull the cart behind me and you just toss in whatever you want,” I say as I begin to drag the cart rather than push it.

I hear a few items fall into the cart, and to my surprise—so far they are not French fries, or French bread or French toast. Instead she has put some cans of soup, cereal, and potato chips. We reach the bread aisle and a mother and son who are shopping spot us. The boy, about eleven if I had to guess, points towards Cherie and yells freak and runs to his mother’s side. They give us a look as though we are the scum of the earth and continue onto the next aisle.

“Why did he do that?”

“It’s my badge,” I say as I shake my head and force myself to look about as sad as I actually feel on the inside. “It isn’t very fashionable and you know kids these days… they’re all about fashion. You know, the blue and white badge doesn’t go well with my grey shirt.”

“I thought it looked fine,” Cherie says as she pats me on the back. “Kids are so rude these days.”

When we reach the frozen foods section, she does end up getting French fries. About four bags worth. I begin to wonder what shopping light actually means, or if this is just an impulse purchase. She gets eggs and bread; I surmise it is also for French toast. However she has purchased enough regular food that I will not object.

“You got everything you need?”

Cherie gives the cart a once over and nods. It is full of food, a lot more than just for a few days… I think very little of it as C-Shapes is paying the bill anyway.

“So how has business been?” I ask Bobby as he begins to scan the items and place them into paper bags.

“How has business been?” Cherie repeats from behind me.

“I can’t complain—well I could but you heard enough of it for years,” he says with a laugh. “No, honestly, things have been good. I remarried, just last week, you remember that girl I had that off and on thing with… and although we both lost someone on V-Day, we’re making it work.”

“V… Day. We’re making it work.” Cherie adds.

“That’s good, that’s great even,” I say as I nod.

“Is she—what are they called again…? You don’t really see many like her.”

“Don’t see many like her…”

“A Mirror…” I whisper as I lean in.

“A Mirror,” Cherie whispers as she leans in.

I shake my head at my failed attempt to be sneaky.

“I heard that only like eight percent of all the Unstables ended up as Mirrors.” Bobby says as curiosity overcomes his previous hesitations.

“…ended up as Mirrors,” Cherie says as she looks at the man and nods for no particular reason that I can tell.

“It’s good to meet you miss,” Bobby says as he extends a hand across the counter. “My name is Bobby Saito. Your Sitter used to work for me.”

“Good to meet you miss…” Cherie says as she shakes the man’s hand. “Name is Bobby Saito… used to work for me.”

“Her name is Cherie,” I say as I uncomfortably laugh at the odd exchange. “She’s quite capable of having a completely normal conversation—she just gets caught up in these loops sometimes. If we stop talking for a while, she’ll kind of reset herself—if that makes any sense.”

“…gets caught up in these loops sometimes—if that makes any sense.”

Bobby nods as he continues to work in silence and bags up the groceries. He carries them and places the bags into my cart. I slide my phone over the scanner on the counter to complete the transaction. When Cherie does not mimic this action, I figure that enough time has passed.

“So yeah,” I say as I turn to Cherie. “This is my old boss.”

“It’s good to meet you Bobby Saito,” Cherie says as she smiles.

“You recall what happens during your loops?” He asks out of genuine curiosity.

“Usually yes,” Cherie says as she pauses for a moment. “Sometimes not… it depends I think. I’m not really sure how I work—or don’t work.”

“So what do you think of your Sitter here, he’s a pretty stand up guy, right?” Bobby says as he jabs me playfully against my work badge.

“He is a great Sitter,” Cherie says as she nods emphatically. “We’re leaving for Paris on Sunday.”

“Is that so?” He asks. “I’m sure you two will have a great time. I’ve never been personally, but I heard it is a wonderful place to visit.”

I’m sure he knows that this is impossible as there is no way anyone travels these days, I don’t even think they allow Unstables to board airplanes… I know they already ban them from buses and movie theaters, even with Sitters. However, I appreciate him humoring the idea.

“We’ll stop back in when we return,” Cherie says as she nods and smiles as we make our way out. I open up the door for Cherie, and after popping open the trunk I turn on the air conditioning. It is far too hot for her to be sitting in the passenger seat in her outfit.

As I am loading the groceries, Bobby runs out from the building and catches me and helps me put in a few of the bags.

“I got it handled,” I say as I smile at the older man.

“I just wanted to say that it was good to see you again,” he adds as he places an arm around me. “I didn’t know they could be like that—the TV makes them all out like they are monsters. I just wanted to thank you for showing me that they all aren’t. Lately it seems like everything is just gloom and doom, end of the world type of stuff. It’s nice to be shown another side.”

“I really appreciate that Bobby,” I say as I give the man a quick hug. “I think we both needed to have some kindness pointed our way… it hasn’t been easy.”

As we begin to head home, I notice a local restaurant that I used to eat at all the time after work—used to love their omelets. I pull into the parking lot and immediately notice a sign that hangs in the window that says ‘no Unstables.’ I do not remember it being there—I wonder if it was always that way and I just hadn’t noticed. I suddenly get an idea. It is not a terribly great one, but for me… it’s a good one.

I remove my badge and take my cell out of my pocket and place them into the glove box. I turn to Cherie and pause for a moment. I know what I am doing is wrong… possibly even illegal and grounds for termination. However, after having such a good day she deserves something more than just… grocery shopping. She deserves something that has some amount of dignity. However, in the back of my mind the idea that if anything goes wrong it will be the end of my career, possibly even my life.

“Can you do me a really big favor?” I ask as I turn to Cherie who is eyeing the Black Skillet Restaurant ahead of us.

“Of course,” Cherie says as she turns to me and looks confused.

“Do you know what a mute is?”

“Someone who cannot talk at all,” Cherie says as she nods.

“Can you pretend to be mute from when we leave the car until we get back into the car?” I ask as I gesture towards the restaurant ahead.

“I think so,” Cherie says as smiles. “Are we being sneaky?”

“We are…”

“I can do it,” Cherie says confidently.

I get out the car as casually as possible. I probably look slightly stupid, but I’m living in the moment. I open the door for Cherie and reach for her hand. We walk hand in hand into the restaurant and we are seated at a window seat in the far back. There are a few people who give us passing glances, but not the glaring looks that we’ve been getting lately.

When the waitress approaches, she if she can get us something to drink.

“I’d just like a coffee…”

“And for you, miss?” The waitress asks.

Cherie makes a gesture like something is wrong with her throat.

“I’m sorry about that, my girlfriend is mute… and I always mean to bring it up but forget. Just point at what you want. Would that be alright?”

“Of course,” the waitress says, as she nods. She turns over Cherie’s menu and points to the drink selection. “What do you want dear?”

Cherie points to a strawberry milkshake.

“Strawberry milkshake…?” The waitress asks.

Cherie gives her a thumbs up sign.

“Got it dear,” the waitress says as she flips open the menu. “Now what would you like to eat?”

Cherie points to a stack of French toast with bacon and some eggs.

I almost face-palm as there is everything we need to make it at home in the car… but I keep my silence. At least she is getting to eat out for once.

“Got it,” the waitress says and turns to me. “…and for you, sir?”

“I’ll have the vegetable omelet with extra cheese and hash browns,” I say as I do not even need to look through the menu. For years it was my after work meal.

“I’ll get that right away for you, shouldn’t be too long—we’re not very busy today.”

“Thank you.”

We eat our meal in silence. However, whenever I look into Cherie’s eyes, they are smiling back at me. I know I have done something wrong. However, it makes me feel better than any of the right things that I’ve been doing. Once we get back into the car she begins to laugh uncontrollably.

“Did you enjoy that?”

“I did, thank you so much,” Cherie says as she reaches over and hugs me tightly.

“Not a word about that though,” I say in a serious tone. “…our secret.”

“Got it,” Cherie says as she continues to laugh and smile happily.

Making sure that no one from indoors can see me; I retrieve my phone from the glove box and slide it back into my pocket. I place my badge back around my neck and pull away. I walk Cherie up to her apartment with my hands full of groceries. She opens up the door and I set them on the table.

“Can you put these away, I’ll get the rest.” I ask, knowing it will be safer if she stays indoors.

Cherie nods once in reply.

I make a few trips until the car is empty. Once back in I help Cherie put away all of the food that we purchased.

“It seems like we bought too much, given that we’re leaving on Sunday,” Cherie admits as she looks at her stocked cabinets and fridge. “I guess we won’t be gone that long though. Last time we were only in Paris for three days because we had to get back to visit your friend.”

“Yeah,” I say as I nod. I would love to tell her the truth. I wonder if it would hurt her more, or help in some way. Would it be the right thing to do? It is one of those impossible questions that I cannot seem to come up with the right answer to.

“What would you like to do now?” I ask as afternoon approaches.

She stretches out her arms almost comically and does her customary yawn.

“It’s naptime then?”

“It’s naptime then.”

I lead her to the couch and she lies down and curls up into a ball. I walk into the bedroom and get her blanket and cover her up.

“About the store…” Cherie says quietly.

“Right…” I say as I remember that she wanted to know about me working there before I became a Sitter. “There isn’t really much to say, unfortunately. I mean… I lost both of my parents on well, that day that everything changed.”

“The day people like me became… different,” Cherie adds softly.

“Yeah,” I reply as I sit down on the carpeted floor and continue. “I lost both of them at the same time. So I was kind of lost. I suppose a lot of people were at the time. So I just did what I could. I worked, at a gas station first. It was a bad time for that kind of thing. People were constantly stealing gas, and we were always getting robbed. It was a very difficult time. So I got out of that pretty quickly. Things are so much better about that now, but back then it was chaos. So anyway, I worked some odd jobs here and there. I spent some time alone… probably a bit too much time alone. I ended up working for Bobby probably three years ago I’d guess. I worked midnights, pretty much always by myself… I mean, sometimes Bobby would stay and talk to me. He lost his wife, so I think that sometimes he just came up with excuses to stay so that he didn’t have to go home and be alone. Anyway, I had applied for the C-Shapes Program and it took a while, but I worked there up until a year before I got accepted. I just couldn’t do it anymore… I wanted to do something different, be around people… not sleep all day anymore. I guess, that’s about it… I’m sorry it’s not more exciting.”

I laugh as I look over and see her fast asleep. I wonder how much of that she was actually awake for. Finding myself of little use, I begin to wander around the house. There is a room that is always shut. Out of curiosity, I open it up. I do not mean to be intrusive or rude. I just often find myself curious—to my surprise the room is filled with about twenty finished paintings. The subjects are all different. One is of a girl lying on the beach. Another one is a boat docked as a brilliant red sunset looms on the horizon, casting beautiful colors against the ocean. A lot of them are landscapes, maybe places she has been to. They are all amazing. None of them seem to be people or places outside of the United States; it makes me wonder why she chose to do a single Eiffel Tower painting. It must have been what she was working on when V-Day hit. Such a shame, I think to myself. Why people like her? Or Noah… Why not me? Not that I would want such a fate for myself—however, it just didn’t seem to make sense. Why spare the talentless?

I quietly close the door to the room and make my way to a chair across from Cherie who is still fast asleep. I lean back in the chair and rest my eyes. I was more tired than I realized. I fall asleep.

I awake to a gentle hand against my face. “Ethan…” A voice whispers.

I groggily wake up and try and regain my bearings. For a moment I feel panicked as I do not remember where I am, or what I was doing. As my mind slowly clears, the smell of food fills the air. I see Cherie standing above me. She reaches a hand out and I take it without hesitation.

“I let you sleep,” Cherie said as she leads me to the dinner table.

“What time is it?”

“Dinnertime,” Cherie answers with a smile as she sits me down.

I check my phone, it is a little past five. “I’m sorry about that. That doesn’t normally ever happen to me. I usually can never nap… even when I used to try. I’d just lay there.”

I look at the plate in front of me, I am surprised to see spaghetti and garlic bread. I was sure it was going to be something French related. I spin the noodles with my fork and begin to eat. Cherie mimics my actions and smiles.

“This is great, thank you,” I say as I nod.

“Thank you…” Cherie says as she nods.

I want to ask if she’s mirroring me, but I can tell by the way that she is eating in the exact same manner as I am that she is. I decide to keep quiet and just eat—to simply just enjoy the moment. Sometimes silence in the company of others isn’t really silence at all.

After dinner, Cherie begins to gather the plates. I stop her.

“Please let me, it’s my job.”

Cherie nods once and follows me into the kitchen. She watches intently as I wash the dishes and put them away. Once finished, I realize that it is time to leave.

“I’m going to visit Noah tomorrow, would you like to come?”

“Rest day,” Cherie simply replies. “Noah is… nice, but too busy, too up and down, and noisy… Rest day.”

“Right,” I say as I nod. “Well I should be going.”

“We pack on Saturday,” Cherie says as she hugs me goodbye. “Don’t forget.”

“I won’t…” I say as I begin to leave. “I promise. You have a good night.”

“Good night, Ethan,” Cherie says. As I begin to walk down the stairs I look up and notice that she is watching me from a tiny opening from behind her door. Her eyes are sad.

“Is everything okay?” I ask.

Without a word she slowly shuts the door. I think about going back, but I know it would be considered improper. I am sure that she will be fine after all.

As I relax in bed that night. I laugh to myself at all of the rules I’ve managed to break on the very same day that I’ve been told not to break them. I let her get close enough to harm me—I showed a complete lack of protocol by leaving my cell, my only lifeline in case of an emergency, in the glove box of my car while I snuck an Unstable into a restaurant where people could have been injured… but somehow, I do not care. It all seems so trivial. It was good to see Bobby again, good to know that he was doing well, even if it had only been a little over a few months since we last talked.

Deciding to at least not break one rule that the caseworker set out, I turn on the TV. I am not tired anyway. A spokeswoman from C-Shapes is on television. She is talking about how upset the company is about the loss of Texas and Alaska, and how she and the President of the United States both desperately hope that no other states decide to follow such a destructive path. She announces a new pill; one that will be implemented next month that will greatly reduce the number of Unstables who go Aggro. She also promises that a cure is on the way and will be ready for distribution in less than one year. This new cure will not fix the damage already done to the mind of Unstables, however it will completely prevent them from going Aggro.

The news then flashes to some riots going on in Los Angeles. An Aggro killed another Sitter… however, as the Hunters and the local police force gunned him down, they accidentally killed a four year old girl riding her bicycle in the area. This prompted angry citizens to take to the streets and fight back against the police, throwing rocks through cop car windows and a video is shown of one of the offending Hunters being strung up by his neck with a belt upon a stop light, a warning to other Hunters that the civilians are demanding retribution. On the calmer side of the issue, a candle-light vigil is held where the girl was gunned down. Pictures of her and gifts are piled alongside a telephone pole. It is reported that over a hundred and twenty five rounds were fired between both the hunters and the local police. For once, Unstables weren’t being blamed. However, it was quite a tragedy none-the-less.

The quarantine project in Hawaii is going well. Although there are some reports of Unstables going missing and possibly heading off into the mountains, possibly gone Aggro. Hunters have been dispatched to the area. However, the situation could be very dangerous. They return each night on the ferry with the Sitters and other personnel without a trace of these missing Unstables.

Japan is adopting a similar policy, until a cure is found, by transferring its Unstables to Sapporo to keep them away from the rest of the population. Preparations are currently being made to transport them by a huge converted cargo ship.

I prefer this option much more than the one adopted by Texas and Alaska, and some of the other countries, of simply killing off their Unstables. Either way, to me, none of it seems quite right. My mind wanders back to something that Katharine said… it was almost like they knew Texas and Alaska were going to go—that it was somehow an acceptable loss. I tend to not think about conspiracies or put much stock in all these wild rumors going around—however, it did sound like it was more of a money issue. What did she mean by “not really onboard?” I will never understand—Perhaps, I’m not smart enough. I eventually let it go.

I see a short video about Europe and how they are dealing with the situation the same way we are, I see someone holding up a sign that says ‘Keep hope alive.’ It seems like a good way to end my time of forcing myself to watch the news. I turn of the TV and turn on my city sounds generator.

“Keep hope alive…” I whisper to myself.




6. The Message


“How are you doing today, Noah?” I ask as I enter the basement room.

“No changes,” he says as he looks at me and nods.

“I’m not asking like that…”

“You should, you know… you should be asking—it is protocol after all. You don’t want to get fired from your job, do you?”

“No, I don’t. I just don’t see why it is necessary to be formal all the time,” I say as I lean against the doorway.

“Where is Cherie?”

“Resting today, we had a pretty busy day—we did some shopping, we even—“

“Don’t want to hear about it.”

“Right sorry,” I say, feeling slightly confused and a little hurt. “Do you want to go anywhere?”

“Not today,” Noah says as he turns his attention away from me and begins to type away on an old computer.

“You’re still writing, that’s great,” I say as I approach.

“Make me a grilled cheese sandwich,” Noah says as he turns once more and gives me a look that makes me stop in my tracks. “Please…”

“Hey,” I say attempting to diffuse the strange tension in the room. “If this is about the phone call from the caseworker, don’t worry—they were just checking up on me. Thanks for the good comments by the way.”

“What?” Noah says as he continues to look at me blankly. “Didn’t get a phone call from anyone…”

“Katharine, she gave me you as a case.”

“Oh,” Noah says as he shakes his head. “Of course, I got that. No problem. I have to get some work done here.”

“Right,” I say as I walk away and head towards the kitchen area. I begin the simple process of preparing a grilled cheese sandwich. I take a little more time than I normally would so that I allow Noah some time to cool off. I can’t quite place what has gotten him so upset. Perhaps, he is just having a bad day. We all have those.

I stall as long as I can and return with a plate with a grilled cheese and a bag of potato chips. I hand it over to Noah. He has stopped typing, but still is sitting next to his computer. He looks concerned.

“Sorry, I forget to get you that beer.”

For a moment Noah laughs, but it fades just as quickly as it comes. “Where is Cherie again?”

“She wanted to rest today—we need to pack on Saturday,” I say with a heavy heart as I let out a sigh and sit down upon the old dusty grey couch. I rest my head against the back of my hands.

“You couldn’t do it?”

“Nah,” I say, disappointed in myself. “I can’t take away someone’s dream like that. I can’t just be like, you think we’re in Paris, that we travelled here on Sunday… when in reality, we haven’t gone anywhere. Oh, and things are really shitty right now for people like you.”

“You don’t agree with what is going on?”

“It’s senseless… I mean I understand fear. But, you, Cherie… you’re all still just people. I don’t see a difference between you and anyone else. I go places and I see signs that say no Unstables… I take Cherie out to get groceries and she gets called a freak, and people stare. The only thing that separates the normals from the Unstables is luck… really, blind stinking luck. It should be me, you know, not you. I know you don’t remember who you were… but you were talented. Cherie was talented. I saw her paintings, they were all amazing. There is nothing amazing about me. It should have been me rather than either of you two. Anyway, you probably heard they’re releasing a better Calm next month and they say a cure is less than a year away. So I think things are going to get better.”

“Most people think we’re not even human anymore,” Noah says as he looks to me and nods. “I was right about you, you’re a good Sitter.”

“Yeah well, I do appreciate that.”

“Did you see that Hunter get strung up.”

“Yeah I did,” I say as I try and shake the terrible image in my head. I dislike seeing violence, especially if I know that it is real… I remember all those action movies before V-Day, I used to have no problem watching someone explode a bad guys head with an assault gun… but, now it all just sticks with me and weighs me down.

“I laughed.”

“I figured you might,” I say as I shake my head. “I guess someone had to pay for what happened.”

“Let’s play a game of chess,” Noah says as he gets up and walks over to the board. “Before I get all stupid again and incoherent.”

“Alright,” I say as I get up and sit across from him. “You’re going to win this time, right?”

“I am, and after this I want you to leave for the day.”

“Did I do something wrong?” I ask. There is something strange going on with Noah today. I hope this is not a sign that something bad might happen—then again they say there are no signs per se. If he was going to go Aggro it would just happen.

“Just not feeling well,” Noah says as he shakes his head and wipes his tired eyes. He looks like he hasn’t slept at all. “The closer it gets to Sunday, the more tired we get. Don’t be surprised if your Mirror wants to sleep most of the day tomorrow.”

“I understand.”

The game begins, I make the first move.

“Take your pill, by the way,” I say as I watch as he scans the board.

“You almost forgot,” Noah says as he gets up and goes over to the drawer and pulls out the bottle and takes out one of the pills. He tosses the bottle back into the drawer and swallows it without any water. “Not a good sign.”

“Second day in a row,” I admit, regrettably.

“Maybe there’s a reason for it,” Noah says as he shrugs. “It being your first week and all that nonsense.”

“Probably,” I reply as I move my castle to the middle of the board.

“I’m sure you’ll catch on to everything soon,” Noah says reassuringly as he makes another move.

A few moves later, I find myself losing pieces. In mere minutes, the game is completely over—just as he predicted, Noah has won.

“You beat me,” I say in a bit of a state of shock. I am not displeased in the least. I’m actually happy for Noah. It is almost just like old times. I never thought I’d be so happy to lose again.

“Now you should go,” Noah says as he gets up and escorts me out. “Call into the caseworkers office, just tell them it’s too close to Sunday and I’m getting exhausted and irritable… it happens.”

“Are you sure you don’t need anything?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course,” I say as I nod.

“We used to be friends, for a long time right? I remember you said that… anyway, if I went Aggro and you had a gun, could you shoot me? Could you do what it takes to put me down if I were coming for you… if I were going to kill you?”

“No,” I answer without hesitation. “I couldn’t do it to her…”

“You shouldn’t say things like that. You’re new though. You’ll learn how to get a tougher skin.”

“Right…” I say, more confused than before.

“I wrote something, thought you might like to read it. It’s probably babble, but—you said you liked my writing,” Noah says as he retrieves a crumpled up piece of paper and hands it to me, he squeezes his hand over mine. “Read it when you get to the car. I don’t want to know how incoherent I can be. Now get out of here.”

I nod, “I hope you feel better.”

Noah doesn’t reply. He simply walks back into his room and shuts the door behind him. I make my way up the stairs and exit the house. I sit in the car for a few moments, unsure of what to do. I feel a strange sense of rejection. I pick up my phone.

“C-Shapes Office, Katharine…” I say aloud.

“After a few moments she picks up.

“Ethan, do you need anything?” She asks as I can hear her busy typing away in the background.

“I’m out here at Noah William’s residence; he was really irritable today—said that it was getting too close to Sunday and that he was tired. He wanted me to leave for the day, he was pretty adamant about it, actually.”

“That’s fine Ethan, enjoy the rest of your day off,” Katharine replies.

“Thanks,” I say as I pause for a moment. “Is there anything else I need to do?”

“Don’t forget your date on Sunday—if it’s not a love connection you’ll at least pick up a lot of useful tips from a seasoned veteran like her… who goes by…”

“Michelle Sydney.”

“The boy can be taught,” Katharine says with a short laugh. “Anyway, take it easy—get caught up on your sleep. Let me know if it’s like that with Cherie tomorrow. Sometimes these things do happen when it gets close to their hibernation periods.”

“Will do…”

“Thanks, Ethan. Bye.”

I place the phone back into the pocket of my black slacks. I remember the crumpled piece of paper and carefully unfold it. It bears a single message upon its surface, and it is not nonsensical at all. ‘Come back early on Monday, leave your C-Shapes badge in the car… bring the girl. This is very important—Noah.’

Confused I crumple the note back into my pocket. Could this be why he was acting so strangely? I chalk it up to another one of his conspiracy theories and drive away. On my way back I think about checking in on Cherie. However, I know that it is not a good idea. I decide to just head home.

I order some delivery from a local Chinese restaurant. I spend most of the day reading an old favorite book, ‘Watership Down.’ I do not do anything productive. When evening comes I do not even watch the news. I know this is only my fifth day of actual work… however, with the extensive time training and so many new experiences this week, it is nice to relax and do very little for once. Although it reminds me of a time when it was just about all I did… times I’d rather not remember at the moment. After all, I have a trip to Paris to pack for tomorrow.




7. Packing for Paris


“Are you excited?” Cherie says as she opens the door. She is as giddy a child the night before any given Christmas morning.

“I am definitely excited,” I say as enthusiastically as I can. I do not feel good about myself in the least bit. I wondered how her old Sitter was able to do this… what did she do in these situations? Then again, her old Sitter didn’t seem like she even cared that much—so maybe she just allowed this cycle to happen… just like I am. “I’m glad to see you so happy.”

“We’re going to see it this time, I know it,” Cherie says as she hurries around living room. I had half expected to see her tired like Noah. “This time for sure.”

“How can I help?” I ask as I rub my hands together. If I’m going to do this, I might as well go all in.

“Can you get my luggage from the top shelf of the closet?” She asks as she runs to her bedroom and returns with a pile of fall clothing. “I always need the step stool to reach it but you’re much taller than I am.”

“No problem,” I say as I pull down the small wheeled suitcase.

“Now what to pack,” she says as she digs through her clothing. “It’s going to be cool, so I should dress warm, right?”

“I’d imagine so,” I say as I smile. I do not see what the difference would be as she dresses for fall every day.

“Do you like this black sweater? “

“I think it’s nice,” I say as I nod.

“I should try it on, yeah?”

“If you like,” I say as I shrug my shoulders.

“I’ll try it on and you tell me if it looks good, and then we’ll try something else—I only need like three outfits right? But I need the perfect ones; I mean I want to be dressed perfectly when I get my picture taken in front of the Eiffel Tower…” She says in a quick pace as she runs to the bedroom and slams the door behind her. I have never seen her so frantic.

She emerges moments later in a tight fitting sweater top with a low cut front with white flower trimming. A shiny abalone shell button rests at the top, a stark contrast to the black and white of the sweater.

“I think it looks amazing,” I say. I do think she is rather attractive and as much as people make her out to be monster of some kind, I do not see anything but a beautiful young woman—I know that this is wrong. It is constantly in the back of my mind telling me to be cruel… for both our sakes. Don’t let her get attached… don’t get attached. Be cruel to be kind. However, I just can’t. I cannot bring myself to do it. I thought I could. I feel like I should be able to, but I am lost.

“I’ll definitely bring this one then,” She says as she runs off once more.

After a few times of back and forth she decides on four outfits that will be perfect. I think her asking—her dressing up in different outfits and making me decide, forces me to see her in a different way. A way I have been attempting to avoid this entire time. When she is like this, she seems so normal. Even when she’s being a mirror… I’m not annoyed by it. I’m not even afraid of the death aspect. This last notion begins to worry me. I remind myself I have a date with a normal. Maybe that will clear my head tomorrow. Perhaps, I just haven’t been around the opposite sex enough… working midnights and the odd jobs I’ve been doing for all these years doesn’t exactly lead to many opportunities.

“Thank you,” she says as she begins to pack up the four outfits into her suitcase. “I was up all day yesterday trying to figure out what to wear.”

“No problem at all,” I say as I nod. “Would you like me to make something for lunch?”

“Oh!” Cherie exclaims as she rushes to the fridge. I made some egg salad sandwiches. I hope you like them, I know not everyone does… I also have some potato chips. “

“You made this for us?”

“Yeah,” Cherie says as she smiles happily as she un-wraps two sandwiches and places them on a plate. She rips open the bag of chips and pours a generous pile next to her already cut sandwiches. She proudly places them on the table.

“Thank you,” I say as I smile. “You really didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to,” she says as she returns the smile as she sits down at the table and begins to eat.

“Are you afraid of flying at all?” I ask. I had been on a plane once; it was before V-Day of course. I couldn’t have been more than twelve and we were on our way to visit relatives in California. I was terrified the whole time. I was convinced that we were going to fall right out of the sky. It was just that we were up so high.

“Nope…!” Cherie says quickly as she hides a laugh with the back of her hand so that no stray particles of food may escape. “I fly all the time. I’ve flown in small planes… I’ve flown on big planes… I’ve driven nice cars and been on boats. I even know how to sail a little, my dad taught me.”

“I’m a little afraid of flying…” I begin to say but I notice that Cherie has stopped eating. Instead she just looks down blankly at her plate.

“Are you alright?” I ask, not knowing what exactly changed. She has been nothing but happy all day long. She hasn’t even mirrored at all.

“I don’t know what happened to my parents…” Cherie admits as tears begin to stream down from her eyes.

I rush over and take my unused napkin and wipe away the tears from her face. “I’m sorry…”

“They were with me, and now they’re not,” Cherie says as she continues to cry. “Did they abandon me?”

“No…” I say as I place my hand on her shoulder and continue to keep the heavy flow of tears at bay. “Of course they didn’t.”

“Are they like me?”

“I don’t know,” I say. I wish I did. I wish I could offer her some comfort. However, there was nothing in her file about parents.

“Look at me, crying the night before the big day…” Cherie says as she shakes her head. She reaches over and places her hand over mind. “And after all, you lost both of your parents. You seem to be alright. I should be alright too. I should be strong.”

I immediately want to withdraw, however I know that this will only upset her. “You don’t always have to be strong. It is alright to cry, it is fine to be weak at times. You just have to continue on. I had a hard time, and I cried. Everything bad you go through in life needs time to heal—and eventually you will heal.”

“You’re a good friend.”

I want to say that I’m not a friend. I’m not supposed to be. Just like before, I can’t say it. I am a weak person. Given the chance to do what is right, I buckle under the pressure. “Thank you…”

“I know that day, at the grocery store—when the kid said freak, he meant me.”

“I know, you’re smart… I just wanted you to have a good day,” I say as I let out a heavy sigh.

“I had a great day,” Cherie says as she squeezes my hand tightly. “You didn’t have to do that. Anyone else would have faced up to the truth that I am a freak.”

“You’re not a freak.”

“Not a freak…”

“We were doing so well today…” I say as I laugh.

“So well today,” Cherie repeats as she laughs.

She then, reflexively, yawns and stretches her arms out wide. Her obvious tell that she is exhausted. I look at my phone, it’s only about one p.m. Pretty early for her naps… Then again Sunday is almost here.

I take the plates to the kitchen as Cherie rests her head against the kitchen table. I wash the dishes and the return. “Are you tired?”

“I wasn’t… but now all of a sudden I am.”

“Want me to get you ready for your nap?” I say as I help her up from the chair. She seems rather unsteady on her feet.

“Take me to the bedroom please, Ethan.” She says as slowly lead the way.

“Do you want me to stay,” I ask as she sits down at the edge of her bed and looks at me groggily. “I can make diner.”

“I think I’m going to get plenty of sleep for tomorrow.”

“Alright, well then I will go if that’s what you want.”

“I can’t sleep in this,” Cherie says as she gets to her feet. “Turn around.”

I face the wall as I hear her rustling through her drawers. I can hear the faint sound of fabric against skin as she changes. For a moment I am strangely tempted to glance over. I know how wrong it is… Just even the thought of it can get me terminated. Acting on any kind of impulse can land me in jail… I need to face reality. There is no future here. This is, a woman, yes—but one who is may die soon. One who is going to kill me if I let my guard down and I have already let my guard down so easily. I feel like such a fool. Still, I cannot help but feel something. I bury it far away; after all, she is an Unstable.

“I’m ready,” She says as she crawls into bed. She has changed to a thin short red night gown. I find myself more attracted, but know that I have to keep my wits about me.

I help her cover up beneath three layers of blankets… after all, as I stated before, she likes to keep it cold. “I’m going to head out.”

“Sit with me until I fall asleep.”

I do as I am asked. I sit beside her. I rest my head against the wooden headboard. She places her hand in mine. I know I should reject it, but once again, I do not.

“You’ll be here in the morning?”

“I will,” I say. I feel guilty again. I know that tomorrow she will go to sleep and believe that she has flown to Paris, that her mind will force her to believe that she is there despite the fact that she will awake to the same apartment—the same city. The very thought of the cycle depresses me.

“Why do you look so sad?”

“Suppose it’s not everything you want it to be?”

“You’ll be there,” She says as she rises up from the bed and gently kisses me on the cheek. “I don’t think I need much more.”

As she collapses back into bed, I am left dumbstruck. I have allowed this to go way too far. I hate myself for it. “What if you don’t get to see the Eiffel Tower after all?”

“Don’t be so negative,” She says as she squeezes my hand.

Without another word she falls asleep. I want so much to wake her up and tell the truth—that I won’t be here tomorrow… that she won’t even be awake at all tomorrow; however, I feel that opportunity has long passed. I have done the wrong thing and it is far too late to make it right.

I slip my hand out of hers and head for the door. Sadly, I look down and see the suitcase by the door… her brown boots all set out. I look over the painting of the Eiffel Tower and think; if only there was some way I could make that dream come true for her… I would. Before V-Day, it could have been a possibility… in another life perhaps this could have worked out. A tear runs down from my face as I choke back a sadness that I’ve long held within myself. A lot of things aren’t they way they should be… I know that, and I can’t change it. As frustrated as it all makes me, in the end I cannot do anything about any of it.

I wipe away the tears upon my white button up dress shirt as I make my way to the car. I call up the office, Katharine answers after a few moments.

“Cherie out for the day already as well…?” Katharine asks.

“Yeah, she was real high energy then just crashed,” I say as I attempt to keep a steady and confident tone. I do not want her to know that I am upset in any way. “Is it always like this towards the end of the week?”

“It can be,” Katharine answers. “Sometimes they’ll make it all day. Most often though you’ll get an early jump on your time off.”

“Got it,” I say as I nod to myself.

“So tomorrow night, dinner at the Argent. It’s a nice place.”

“With Michelle,” I say with a short laugh. More like a forced one. “I’m excited. It has been a long time since I’ve been on a date.”

“You know you get a five percent pay increase if you marry inside of C-Shapes… just throwing that out there,” Katharine says with a catty attitude.

“I haven’t even met the girl yet—are you working on commission here?”

“I just enjoy my job. It goes up to ten percent for both of you if you have a child…”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say as I laugh.

“Have a good time tomorrow night, you’ve earned it.”

“Thanks, Katharine.”

“Bye, Ethan.”

I arrive home, feeling just as terrible as I did when I left Cherie. I know that I have screwed things up. However, this is how things have to be—this is like a repeating thing for her. A part of her has to be used to it by now… otherwise, she would have never made it this long with the other Sitters. I think the truth is more that, I am a terrible Sitter—despite what Cherie and Noah think of me. I look into the mirror. I shave my face completely smooth with an electric razor and give myself a once over. My hair is getting a bit long. Perhaps, soon, I should get it cut.

I go through my closet attempting to pick out the nicest outfit I have. I know nothing about the Argent… other than the fact that it has been programmed into my car. I have a good idea though that it must be pretty upscale. I pick out the nicest dress shoes I have and go for an all black ensemble with a grey undershirt. I’ve always been partial to the color grey… I’ve probably mentioned that before.

Going through clothes reminds me of Cherie’s excitement, which saddens me once more. I feel no excitement at all. I know I should. After all, she is a successful, pretty woman. Maybe once I get to know her I’ll feel differently.

I turn on the TV to see if there is anything relevant I should be aware of.

With the promise of a new pill next month, and a cure within the next year an uprising in New Mexico to terminate their Unstables has been quelled. Texas and Alaska still remain independent despite the talk of this new cure—their newly appointed leaders calling it just that… talk, and nothing more.

Fires have been started by rioting civilians in Los Angeles. The governor has declared a state of emergency. However, the government cannot spare them any help. Volunteer hunters are on the way as Sitters have abandoned their jobs to join in the outrage. With one of the largest populations of Unstables in the state, there is a lot of worry that neither this new pill nor new cure will come in time to stop Los Angeles from becoming the next war zone. As it stands now, the police are attempting to fight against the civilians, while rumors spread that Aggros are on the loose.

Japan is moving ahead on its plan to move Unstables to Sapporo. A short video clip shows them all being lined up to board a giant ship that will carry them the short distance.

Egypt, one of C-Shapes main supporters and customers, has proclaimed that if a cure is not made available in the promised timeframe, that they will start to kill their Unstables as well. It is rumored that their neighboring countries support this decision as well.

The islands of Fiji have declared that they have destroyed every single Unstable. A feat they are very proud of, although I do not feel they should be so proud. I wonder if they will feel any amount of remorse when the cure is made available.

I have seen enough for one day, at least enough to have something to talk about. I imagine that this is what Sitters talk about when they get together… the fate of their cases. Then again, I’ve never met another Sitter.

I spend the rest of the day reading. I begin to miss the old days when there were entertaining things to distract you from the terrible aspects of life on TV. Now it’s just all breaking news, all the time. If you watch an hour worth of TV, then you have seen everything they’re going to repeat for the entire day. I suppose I could always go back and watch something old, or even see one of the older popular films in theater… there hasn’t been a new movie made in eight years—the industry has faded away. It is considered now a luxury that we, as a country, just can’t afford.

Instead, I decide to read. For a while, no one really read that much—that is one thing that has made a rather swift comeback. Good old fashioned paperbacks. I think it is a comfort thing. They remind people of a better time. Just the same way that antiques are becoming more and more popular. Sometimes I miss video games. You can still play some of the old stuff if you track down the antique systems. Just, no one has the time really. A lot of the old technology has been repurposed or just no longer works. If you want an old blu-ray player or video game system, then you’d better have a pretty good salary to back it up. I figure one day—I’ll probably have something from the better days—especially if I keep up my job with C-Shapes.




8. The Date


I arrive at the Argent a little after five p.m. I feel confident in my black suit. I am wearing my father’s old watch. It is one of the only things I have left to remind myself of him. As an antique, I could sell it for a fair price—but I never will.

As I step out of the car, I realize that the Argent is not just a restaurant… it is entire skyscraper. A silver sign hangs above tinted glass doors. The sign reads, ‘The Argent’ and in small print it says a C-Shapes Facility. It then, at that moment, all begins to make sense.

I walk into an opulent black marble hallway that ends with a rather large black man wearing a suit and a gun. He eyes me as I walk down the red carpeted marble hallway.

“Your badge, sir,” he says as he reaches out a large hand.

I quickly reach into my pockets and hand my C-Shapes badge over as instructed.

He runs it over the raised glass display in front of him and it scans my name into the system. “Ethan Chase, take the elevator on the left. Have the attendant take you up to the 34 floor,” he says as he reads off the info from the screen and then hands me back my badge.

“Thank you,” I say as I place it back in the front pocket of my pants.

“Good luck with your date,” He says with a single nod.

I stand before the silver elevator, its rounded door etched with the C-Shapes logo on the front. Now that I look at it, the bottom half of the design does kind of resemble some kind of wave. As the door swings open, I shake my head free of the thought of all of Noah’s crazy conspiracies.

“Which floor, sir?” The attendant asks.

“34, I say with a nod as I realize that the reverse side of the elevator is made of glass. “Thanks…”

“As we rise up into the sky a garden appears in between the set of four connected skyscrapers. I watch in terror as I rise thirty four stories up. My knees feel a bit weak and my hands begin to shake.

“Not comfortable with heights?”

“It’s beautiful,” I say as I attempt to gain my composure. “But… yeah.”

“Here we are then, sir,” the well dressed attendant says as he gestures ahead. “The Argent Restaurant is just to right of this hall.”

I step out of the elevator, thankful to be out… slightly dreading the knowledge that I will have to take it back down. I know that they are safe—it’s just, I never feel very safe in them.

I round the hallway and find myself in large crimson red, circular room. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling en masse. Everything sparkles and refracts in the light of so many different facets. It reminds me of being in some kind of lit cavern full of diamonds… not that I’ve ever been in that kind of situation… it is the only thing that comes to mind.

I am immediately greeted by a tall man with dark hair and eyes. “Your name, sir…?”

“Ethan Chase,” I say. I have never been surrounded by so much awkward beauty. It is a little too much to take in all at once. As I follow behind him, I see that all the tables are lit with glass pyramid shaped lights that sit atop golden tables. C shaped booths encircle the tables cloaked in red velvet fabric with golden imprints of vines. I am taken to a dimly lit booth in the far corner of the restaurant. My date is already seated and nursing a small glass of wine.

“Ethan,” She says with a deep red smile and reaches her hand out.

I take her hand in my own and nod. “Michelle.”

“Sorry I got here a little early,” Michelle says as I sit down against the soft red velvet. “I hope you don’t mind I ordered us a bottle of white.

“White…?”

“The wine,” Michelle says with a wry laugh.

“Oh, of course,” I say as I take the glass in hand and take a sip. I’ve never really been much of a drinker—always seemed to give me to worst headaches the next day. “It’s good, it is an excellent choice.”

“So I hear you are new…” Michelle says as she leans forward as though she is studying me. “How new exactly are you?”

“One week…” I say in a rather embarrassed tone.

“One week?” She says as she laughs.

She has a nice smile and pretty blue eyes. Her light brown hair is curled and she is wearing a very form fitting red dress that compliments the current setting rather well. She smells faintly of lavender and vanilla.

“One week…” I repeat, almost feeling kind of Mirrorish.

“You know how long I’ve been a Sitter?”

“Six years?”

“You actually read the profile,” Michelle says as she leans back in her seat. “I’m impressed, most guys they just look at the pictures.”

“I thought it would be the polite thing to do.”

“I like that,” Michelle says as she smiles. “So what kind of basket cases did they start you out on?”

“Oh…” I reply, taken a little bit aback by the terminology. I suppose it was just like Katharine said—people who have been at this kind of thing for years tend to have become a bit desensitized to being politically correct… or polite about it. “I have a Mirror and a highly functioning Amnesiac.”

“No shit?” She says as she leans in. “Who did you have to sleep with to get that kind of first gig?”

“I assure you, I’m not shitting you,” I say, not really knowing how to respond. “That’s just what I was handed.”

“My first cases were a god damned vegetable and a Manic,” Michelle says as she takes another drink from her crystal glass of wine.

A waiter brings food, a plate of lobster, some chicken and an assortment of red potatoes. A long piece of asparagus rests over the top, sprinkled with some kind of black salt.

“Did we order?” I ask, slightly confused, but finding that this is a pretty usual state for me.

“You don’t order here…” Michelle whispers. “They have the finest chefs prepare basically whatever they feel like giving you.”

“Oh,” I say as I nod. “Makes sense… Anyway, do you have any tips for me? I mean… half the time I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing or not.”

“Just make sure they take their Calm,” Michelle says as she shrugs. “You can pretty much do whatever you want—especially with your types. Read a book, take a nap.”

“Shouldn’t you try and engage them though…”

Michelle laughs. “What is the point? They’re screwed no matter what. I mean sure there is a chance now that they won’t go Aggro, either way even with a cure it’s not like we can fix their issues. No matter what happens, you can’t really help them. Most of them are a menace.”

“That’s unfortunate…” I say, I don’t really like what I am hearing. It is rather unexpected.

“I mean let me tell you about my first two… the vegetable, she just sat there and stared out the window for the entire time I was there. I just had to shove a pill down her throat and make sure that she drank her nutritional shakes and that was it…”

“Sounds like a pretty easy job,” I say. I dislike the way she is talking about her case, but I bite my tongue.

“Now the other girl, a fucking Manic, she was a handful. Let’s say that I dreaded those days. She would not leave me alone for a single moment. She was always either upset, or trying to get me to sleep with her. I guess they figured if they paired her up with another girl that she’d back off a bit, but I had to literally beat her away at times. I mean, seriously, it is a good thing that the Calm makes them infertile while they are on it—could you imagine what kinds of kids those nut jobs would have?”

“Calm makes them unable to reproduce?”

“Yeah,” Michelle says as she scoffs. “You didn’t know that? It was a big deal when it first came out. A lot of human rights groups, or what was left of them at the time, were talking about how immoral it was. But, yeah, in males it decreases their sex drive and makes them unable to reproduce. In the females it makes them completely infertile. Just as long as Calm is in their system, you never have to worry about having messed up kids running around. It’s important, after all, that we normals regain control of the population.”

“So you never became friendly with any of your cases?” I ask, very disappointed.

“I wouldn’t have lasted six years if I did. You can’t be in this business and make friends with the Unstables. You ever hear about that guy back in the 90’s… he tried to integrate himself in with grizzly bears. Believed that he was their friends and could become one of them—you know how that ended?”

“They killed him.”

“They tore him apart. It is an important thing to learn. Sure they’ll accept you, and you’ll think that they are almost human—but in the end you have to remember what you’re dealing with are basically grizzly bears and if you get to complacent around them… then you will get torn apart. If there is one thing you take from this conversation as a newbie, it’s that you can never trust them.”

“I’ll remember that…” I say. I do not like any of this conversation. I begin to severely doubt my capacity to really be a Sitter. I have already made friends with my cases in my first week. I can’t just turn that part of myself off and turn into… Michelle. To me she seems more monstrous to me than they do, and that thought begins to concern me even more about myself and my future. “Have you ever had one go Aggro on you?”

“Go eggroll,” Michelle says as she laughs. “That’s a bit of Sitter humor. Yeah. My fifth case was an Amnesiac. She worked on crossword puzzles all the time, so I didn’t really need to do much. She cooked, mostly cleaned up after herself. Anyway, yeah she was your typical Amnesiac—and one day she’s doing a puzzle and she just breaks her pen… just snaps it into pieces. I see her face growing red. That’s when I knew to get the hell out of there. I fumbled with my phone and got that stupid safety off and hit the button for the hunters… they were there in about five minutes. I was hiding up on a nearby hill and I watched them put her down. Took about 4 shots… she just charged at them.”

“That sounds terrible,” I say as I shake my head.

“It happens, honestly,” Michelle says as she nods. “You have your cell on you?”

“Yeah, I say as I hand it over.

She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a pocket knife and breaks a piece of plastic off of the side of the device. She then fidgets with it for a moment before handing it back to me. “There, now you can flip it open, and don’t worry… it won’t go off accidentally. But it saves you a few seconds, but it counts.”

“Thanks…” I say as I return the phone to my pocket. To be honest, I hadn’t even given it a proper look over since receiving it. I know it has a bright red light on the top that lets you know help is on the way, and how to use to as a cell, but I never game much thought to the emergency button on the side. “I hope I never have to use it… So say in a year they come up with a cure, what happens then. What do you do?”

“While I’m sure that a Sitter’s job will be a lot easier… and they’ll still need a good number of them. I’ll probably become a therapist through C-Shapes. It’s kind of funny, we have this huge issue with the virus, that we’ve forgotten there’s still about three million people out there suffering from everything from post traumatic stress disorder, to general anxiety disorder—I suppose we’ll go back to caring about those people rather than just having them suck it up because right now the country is messed up. I suppose, the Hunters will be offered jobs repairing the infrastructure, I mean we have broken roads, and crumbling bridges… although I’m sure they’ll be upset that they don’t get paid to merely drink beer and shoot people for a living. What about you? What are your plans if the cure works?”

“I haven’t thought about it. I suppose if I am not needed anymore as a Sitter I could help rebuild somehow.”

“I’m sure C-Shapes will take care of you either way. I mean someone has to still take care of all the Unstables, it’s not like the cure isn’t going to magically make them better—they just won’t go Aggro anymore. World’s largest corporation, after all… they pretty much run the country if you think about it.”

“I have a friend who has theories on that,” I say, realizing that if she knew I was talking about one of my cases she’d probably lose her shit.

“Anyway, that’s a year from now and who knows if it’ll even work… Just worry about now and worry about getting by. That’s how I feel about it.”

“Have you ever felt bad about having to hurt an Unstables feelings?” I ask, although I’m pretty sure I already know the answer. At that moment my mind begins to wander back to Cherie, and how disappointed she would be if she really knew how her life worked.

“You can’t think like that, remember… you’re dealing with grizzly bears—they just look human. If you have to hurt them in order to keep them in order… that’s what you have to do,” Michelle answers as she folds her arms and cocks her head to one side. “Otherwise you won’t make it. Think of it as a soldier, or a police officer—when they have to fire their guns to kill someone, they can’t feel bad about it. Otherwise they would have no career.”

“I understand,” I say, although I dislike the analogy. As I mentioned before I dislike violence of any kind.

“You’ve seen the video, where the guy goes all eggroll on the lab techs…”

“I’ve seen it.”

“You don’t forget that video,” Michelle says as she nods and then points to her head. “You always keep that video up here—every time you are around one of them.”

“It’s pretty hard to forget,” I say as it flashes in my mind at the mere mention of it. I can still hear the noises, the screams—fresh in my mind as though I had watched it only yesterday.

“The food is probably cold now,” Michelle says as she looks down to the plate that she has barely touched. “I think the chef tonight sucks… usually the food is a lot better than this.”

“I’ve never been a fan of lobster,” I say as I look down to my own plate. “Or really chicken that is still attached to the bone.”

“Is that like a vegetarian thing?”

“No, I just don’t really like my food to look like it did when it was still alive,” I say as I shrug.

Michelle laughs. “That’s one of the strangest things I’ve ever heard. Well, I get it though. When I was younger we took my sister out to a dairy farm… she was probably ten—but whatever, after she saw the cows and realized that was where her hamburgers came from, she refused to eat them.”

“Did she make it through V-Day?”

“She became one of them,” Michelle says as she takes larger drink from her glass. “A fourteen year old Psychotic… after losing my mother when she went Aggro my father insisted on trying to care for her—it didn’t take long for him to realize that she needed to be placed in a facility.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. It seems like a terrible first date thing to bring up.

“Don’t be,” Michelle says as she wraps her arms around her chest and looks out a window. She then pulls up the sleeve of her dress and shows me a long dark scar that runs from her elbow nearly all the way down to her wrist. “A little reminder she left me. Had she made it a bit further, I wouldn’t be here. How about you… any family left?”

“All dead,” I say as I nod.

“Sometimes I think that’d be a comfort,” Michelle says as she pours herself more wine and continues to drink. “Sorry to be such a downer.”

“I kind of brought it up…”

“You’re new,” Michelle says as she gets up. “You need to know these kinds of things.”

I get up as well; I suppose the date is over. Then again, I suppose I was not the best company. I should really figure out how to be more social and less work obsessed in the future.

“Would you like to come back to my apartment?” Michelle asks as she locks eyes with me.

I pause for a moment, caught off guard. Of course a part of me would love to, at the end of the day I am a guy and I know that this is a promise of sex… with someone who is rather attractive. However, there is something in the back of my mind that just does not find her as appealing as I feel I should. Perhaps there is something wrong with me. As I think about it, Cherie’s face keeps coming to mind, her constant smile—her kindness. There seems to be a rather cold and callous personality to Michelle that I cannot look past. Also, I know deep down that this is not about attraction as it is about keeping the population of normals up. “I think I would love to, but I’m… I, I’m a little overwhelmed with this being my first week.”

“I understand. I had a hard time my first week… all the Sitters do,” Michelle says with a single nod. She reaches out her hand.

I accept the hand as she squeezes my hand tightly and pauses for a few seconds. My cell in my pocket chimes and announces that a new contact has been added.

“Whenever you’re feeling more up to it, give me a call if you like.”

“I will,” I say, although I know that once again, I’m lying.

“It was good to meet you, Ethan,” Michelle says as she turns and walks off.

I feel a bit of regret at not taking her up on her offer. After all, it has been a while—longer than I would like to admit. I suppose this makes me not shallow… that or incredibly stupid. I’m not sure which. I suppose, in the end, we are just too different.

I’m not as afraid as I make my way down the elevator. My mind is elsewhere.

When I get home, I begin to set out clothes for the next day. I go with just a white button up shirt and pants. I take out the crumpled note from Noah and reread it. I wonder if it is a good idea—then again, I suppose I did the same thing with Cherie and nothing bad happened. I could leave my badge in the car… I do not see the harm in that. I would just have to go and pick up Cherie beforehand.

As I get ready for bed I turn on the TV. A male reporter is talking about the outrage going on in Japan. The Prime Minister approaches a podium, he looks deeply saddened. He faces the camera and a translator explains what he is saying. He is outraged over the sinking of the Kawasaki Kisen Kaisha just a few miles off shore. An unnamed terrorist group has claimed responsibility. Over ninety thousand Mirror, Amnesiacs, and Manic type Unstables were killed when a bomb went off on the massive cargo ship completely destroying it. Approximately eight thousand C-Shape Sitters and staff, and a hundred and thirty crew members were also killed in the explosion. There are reported to be no survivors. Despite the heavy setback, a new cargo ship will be retrofitted to make the journey back and forth and the plan will go as continued under severely heightened security.

I bury my face in my hands. I do not understand it. Why can’t we stop killing each other?

I turn off the TV just as the reporter begins to talk about the continuing chaos in Los Angeles.

With a heavy heart I fall asleep—I know there is nothing I can do to change the world, so I should at least get plenty of rest so I can continue to do my job.




9. The Truth and the Changes


I arrive at Cherie’s apartment early that day. Although I do not want to admit it to myself, I am excited to see her. However, at the same time I feel saddened that she will probably believe that we are in Paris—that she will have to come to grips with it in some way when we leave to see Noah.

I knock on her door. She does not answer.

After knocking a second time I begin to pace outside of her door. I pull out my keys and I slide it into the lock. I hesitate. I am not even supposed to be here today—it feels wrong to just barge in when I am not expected.

I knock once more, louder. I hear the faint sound of crying. Without any further hesitation I open the door and run into the room. I find Cherie balled up on the couch in tears. Her luggage is sitting beside her.

“What’s wrong, Cherie?” I say as I kneel down beside her.

“I waited…” She says in a barely audible whisper. Her lips are cracked and dry.

I go to the kitchen and pour her a glass of water. She sits up and takes it from me and drinks its entire contents all at once.

“Have you eaten anything?” I say, she looks weak. Her cheeks are red and her eyes are bloodshot and dark circles rest beneath her hazel eyes.

“I waited,” Cherie whispers once more.

I sit down next to her, deeply confused as to what she is referring to. “Please tell me what is wrong.”

Her face turns red with anger. I nervously reach for my phone out of instinct. ‘Please no… not you.’ I think to myself.

With one open hand she slaps me hard across my cheek. She then collapses against my chest and begins to hit me over and over, tears stain my white shirt as she is sobbing uncontrollably.

“Where where you…?” Cherie asks as she stops striking me and instead grabs my shirt and balls it up in her fist. “I waited for you all day… we missed our flight. You promised you would be here. I waited all day—all night… you never came, why?”

“I am so sorry,” I say, confused. My mind suddenly flashes back to Saturday. In all the excitement I had forgotten to have her take her pill—she must not have slept because of my mistake. I only have one major responsibility and I could not even do that properly. “I had a work thing, I…”

“Did you not want to go?” Cherie sobs. “You… you could have just told me. I thought you cared.”

“I do care, I promise.”

“You promised that you would be there…” Cherie says as she gets to her feet. “I thought you were different.”

I nod. I do not know what to say. I realize that what I have done is not something that I can easily fix… if I can ever fix it or be forgiven for it. “I promise from now on… I’ll never do that. I will always be here when I am supposed to be.”

“…when I’m supposed to be,” Cherie says as she stands there dressed for travel.

“Please forgive me,” I say as I bury my face in my hands. “Give me a second chance…”

“…a second chance,” Cherie mirrors as she begins to pace back and forth frustrated.

She leaves down the hall shuts herself in her bedroom. It is probably for the best at the moment. She is upset, and although I know she wants to express it, all she can do is repeat what I am saying… I cannot even imagine how difficult that must be for her. I get up from the couch and stand just outside of the doorway of the apartment. I pick up my cell and say “Katharine, C-Shapes Field Office.”

“Ethan,” Katharine says as she answers the call. “Can I help you with something today?”

“I messed up… really badly,” I admit.

“Are you alright?” Katherine says, her voice becomes deadly serious. “What happened?”

“I forgot to make sure Cherie took her pill on Saturday—she was so excited and then she crashed… I screwed up the one thing I was supposed to do.”

“Is that all?” Katharine says as she sounds relieved. “It’s a rookie mistake, it happens. Just don’t forget—you’ll get docked. What state is she in?”

“Just very upset,” I say with a fleeting feeling of relief. I figured that such a mistake would be grounds for immediate termination. However, I was ready to take the punishment for causing Cherie so much pain

“Just make sure she eats, and… she is on a Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday dosage right?”

“Right…”

“Yeah,” Katharine says as she continues, “You will have to force her to take her pill tomorrow—she will probably fight you on it… but you have to do it. It is not going to be a fun experience. At least it will remind you in the future to not forget.”

“Understood,” I say sadly.

“How was your date by the way?”

“It was extremely informative,” I say feeling rather awkward about the whole thing. “I learned a lot—she’s really been through the whole thing for a while.”

“But… not a connection.”

“Probably a little too intimidating for my tastes…” I reply, hoping that I don’t come off as offensive.

“I’ll put you back in the pool—don’t worry she won’t know.”

“Thanks,” I say as I do not really look forward to any future dates. “Thanks for the help here as well—I was sure I really messed things up.”

“You’re fine, and that is what I am here for. Be careful and have a good day Ethan,” Katharine adds as she disconnects the call.

I step back into the room and go into the kitchen. I find of the egg salad sandwiches and put it on a plate with some potato chips. I pour another glass of water and balance it on the plate as I make my way down the hall and knock on the door.

“It’s unlocked.”

I open the door; Cherie is curled up in a ball in bed. Tears are still fresh in her deeply sad eyes.

“Eat something,” I say as I place the plate beside her on the bed.

She slowly gets up and pushes around the food with her fingertip. “Is that an order?”

“It’s a… please eat something. I’m really sorry.”

Cherie reaches into my pocket and pulls out my C-Shapes badge. She eyes it as she turns it over and over between her fingers. She tosses it across the room. “I hate your job—it makes you break promises.”

“Sometimes I do to,” I say as I look away. “I’m so sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” Cherie says as she begins to eat slowly. “I’m sorry that I slapped you.”

“I deserved it,” I say as I place a hand to my cheek. It is rather sore. I imagine I’ll probably grow a pretty nice bruise.

“I deserved it…” Cherie repeats.

I allow her to eat in silence as I sit and watch her. I am at least glad that she is eating. As she finishes he water and places the glass upon the plate I reach for it. She stops me and pushes my hand away.

“Just leave it,” Cherie says as she looks into my eyes.

When faced with those beautiful, sad, hazel eyes I find myself helpless—like someone adrift at sea. I have to look away.

“Would you come with me to visit Noah today? He has something of an emergency; I don’t know what is going on. I know it’s not a trip to Paris, and it is okay if you say no. I just… you’re supposed to come. He said so.”

“Do you care about me?”

“Of course I do,” I say as I nod.

“Why can’t you look at me?” Cherie asks as she reaches over and gently places her hand upon my face and pulls my vision up so that our eyes meet.

“I do not like to see you sad,” I say quietly. “I know that I did this to you, and I… I do not like to see it. It makes me feel like I am a terrible person.”

“You’re not,” Cherie says as she keeps her hand against my face. “I’ll go with you.”

“Thank you…”

“I was going to ask… in front of the Eiffel Tower—because I wanted it to be special. If you still do care… If I am important to you, I think here is just as fine. Would you kiss me?”

I pause. For a moment my heart feels as though it will stop beating. I know how wrong this is. I know the implications it could have on my career… on my future. However, I have fucked things up enough with Cherie that I simply nod. As she pulls me in our lips meet. Although dry and cracked, there is softness… wetness; a gentle calm comes—like being outdoors and relaxing on a summer day. An overwhelming feeling that this is right washes over me. It threatens to steal me away like grains of sand against the oncoming ocean tide. All once I realize… I have lost the internal struggle to keep my feelings for her boxed away. I have lost the battle between what I thought was right and wrong.

“Thank you,” Cherie whispers as she releases me. “It did not need to happen there… I guess it just needed to happen.”

“I will find a way to make this work,” I say she take her hand into mine.

“I’m different though—it’s not… allowed.”

“I don’t care.” I say as I nod and squeeze her hand reassuringly. “We have to go though… I was supposed to meet with Noah early.”

“Is this work related?” Cherie asks as she nods and gets to her feet.

“I think this is just Noah related. He has something important to tell me, it’s probably nothing… but I don’t want to let anyone else down.”

“Let’s go,” Cherie says as a smile crosses her face. As we leave the room I retrieve my badge from behind the dresser and shove it in my shirt pocket.

Cherie begins to roll her suitcase along with her.

“We’re just going out of town…” I say as I stop her.

“You helped me pack it—it seems right,” Cherie says as she continues to roll the suitcase out the door.

“I’ll get that,” I say as I pick it up and rush down the stairs. I start the car and begin to head out of town.

“You’re late…” Noah says as I enter his room.

“You said that to me the first time we met,” I say with a laugh.

“Is she with you?” Noah asks just as Cherie enters behind me, rolling her small suitcase.

“Yeah,” I add, stating the obvious. “We missed our flight to Paris after all.”

“Your badge…?”

“In the glove box of my car,” I say as I pat my pocket down. “What is this all about Noah?”

“Cherie, could you wait outside in the hallway for a bit,” Noah asks as he brings me to the corner of his room. “We need to have an important discussion and some of it you can’t know about yet—it’s secret stuff.”

“Secret stuff…” Cherie says as she looks at me and nods.

Noah shuts the door behind her and begins to pull up a section of the carpeting in the far corner of the room. “Can I trust you?”

“I believe so,” I say as I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t know what you mean, but I…”

“How do you feel about the girl? What do you think of her as—is she human enough? Are you afraid of her?”

“I kissed her…”

“That is a bit more than I expected,” Noah says as he laughs. “But, then again you were always a good guy in high school—I had hoped that you hadn’t changed. I’m sorry for the act—but it was necessary. I needed someone that I could trust.”

“Act…?” I ask as I watch as he pulls open a hatch from beneath the carpet. “What do you mean someone you could trust? You don’t remember me from high school.”

“Where to even begin,” Noah says as he beckons me to follow him down into the exposed ladder.

I peer down as he pulls a string and a light comes on. I cautiously make my way down the ladder. A large room exists beneath the floor. All around me are printed stories taped to the concrete wall, pieces of different colored threads tie them together—photos of places, people, and things I don’t recognize fill the wall, each color coded with a different colored piece of tape.

“This is the reason you are here.”

A computer sits at the far wall. It is much newer than the one upstairs. A maze of wires run from it and up into the ceiling. A large chest rests against the far wall, I spot a few boxes of bullets on a metal shelf full of computer parts and other various items—more bottles of water line another corner. “What is this?”

“The truth,” Noah says as he begins to point at a piece of printed computer paper taped to the wall. This is the day the virus hit. A number of different colored lines stretch out from that central point and fill the entire wall. “This here is where it begins, and it spreads out to the truth, and the terrible ending that C-Shapes is planning.”

“Is this more of your conspiracy theories?”

“Look here,” Noah says as he points to a picture of an older man with his wife and four adult children. “This is Thomas Manning—one of the founders of C-Shapes. This is a current photo of his family… those look like pretty good odds, how many people do you know that lost someone on V-Day? Seems a little more than luck doesn’t it?”

“The President and the First Lady lost their son…”

“I’m not saying for sure that the government is in on it—but C-Shapes definitely either knew about it, or they are hiding something relevant to how it works… that’s not the important part anyway. Maybe it is luck—or maybe they have a real cure. I don’t know.”

“Are you saying that you faked your own… becoming Unstable?”

“I had to,” Noah says as he pauses for a moment. “I know that we lost contact—so you probably don’t know that I had a wife, and a son. I lost both of them. The depression is real… the incoherency is an act. I’m sorry I deceived you, but it was a necessity. You know how they found me?”

“How…?”

“I was barbequing my neighbor’s flowers on a grill in my front yard… naked,” Noah says as he continues to point at another piece of paper, it has a list of names, next to each name is their position… chemist, tech, researcher, and evaluator… All of the names sound foreign. “These are my contacts on the inside—a lot of them aren’t happy with what is going on because they know the truth.

“You were a local paper writer, you covered new movies and local events… you don’t have contacts.”

“Just hear me out,” Noah says as he shakes his head. “I went through evaluation, I was there for a month—I figured out who I could trust and I asked the right questions. At great risk, I had to get the story.”

“So why now, why today…?”

“I was contacted by one of my chemist contacts—this new pill next month is not any better. The cure promised by the end of the year is not a cure at all, it will kill every single one of the Unstables over the course of a few months.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” I say as I shake my head. This is all too much for me—I already dislike getting involved in theories and politics… this is all way over my head.

“C-Alysium does not cure Aggro, or even put it off… early C-Shapes researchers found out that all of the Unstables are linked—through the virus or something. They found a way to trigger them to go Aggro on purpose.”

“Why?”

“Fear… of course,” Noah says as he points to a few articles he has printed off from the internet. “Some of the cases go Aggro on their own… it is just a sad fact of the virus—however, look at where most of the newer Aggro cases take place—it is never in high end places, where the rich live. It is never close to the C-Shapes area or the Capital a few miles away. They trigger attacks at certain times to keep people afraid, they do it all over the country so that the states and the governments continue to pay up out of fear of a full on attack. Those first few years where people in specific areas would all go Aggro at once, that was all orchestrated so that when C-Alysium was introduced it would be embraced. For over six years C-Shapes has milked the entire world, letting itself become the richest company in the world. It’s no longer about oil, or gold, it’s about C-Alysium… which does basically nothing but make them worse off, it effects their memory, worsens their symptoms, and causes them to sleep all day on Sundays.”

“If it is all about money then why are they planning on killing them?”

“Because countries are getting tired of paying—tired of caring for their Unstables. C-Shapes thought they could get at least ten more years out of it—however, with states seceding and countries starting to kill them on their own… C-Shapes is beginning to realize that it is losing its grip. It is losing power. The C-Alysium next month is the same pill as always. Just they are going to lower the instances that they trigger Aggro events. Then in less than a year they will release this cure and everyone will buy in one last time… all the Unstables will die, and it will just called a bad reaction—governments aren’t going to care, their problems will be solved. From there C-Shapes can start to rebuild America the way it wants to. They may not have started the virus—but they are profiting from discovering a way to control it.”

“This is too much for me, Noah,” I say as I place my hand upon my forehead and let out a heavy sigh. “I know you think that this is all real, but you… this could all be in your head.”

“You know they are the ones that destroyed the Kawasaki Kisen Kaisha…”

“If there are so many people on the inside from countries that are being affected then why haven’t they stopped this?” I ask, growing more frustrated.

“I had to gather all the info—all my contacts know now. That was what I was working on Friday… that is why I made you leave.”

“What if they use this info for the wrong reason?”

“Wrong reason…?”

“If they can hit a switch and make people go Aggro, then why hasn’t a South Korean scientist triggered a North Korean mass Aggro event around Pyongyang…?”

“Because that would be inhumane,” Noah says as though the thought never even crossed his mind. “These are just scientists and chemists… they didn’t realize the terrible things they were working on—until now, they thought they were working for the greater good.”

“I’m just trying to get you to see that you might be wrong,” I say as I collapse against a wall and shake my head. “I know you think you’re lucid…”

“I got you into the program,” Noah interrupts. “I know that you lied to attempt to get in… hell, they even know that you lied on your application—I got you paired up with Cherie, and myself. Think about it Ethan, a wait list? When they need and take pretty much anyone that applies.

“Why Cherie…?” I ask. I feel suddenly ill. How could he possibly know that I lied in order to get into the C-Shapes program? Maybe… somehow, he knows something. I just can’t bring myself to believe that all this pain and suffering is over money.

“When I was going through possible matches for you, I noticed she was a mirror—I thought you’d feel most sympathetic when you realized that they aren’t much different than we are. Plus, she is important—or rather her father used to be.”

“Who was her father?”

Noah points to another picture of a man and woman, I recognize a younger Cherie standing between the couple. This man used to be the head of Pfizer… he was the only one in his family spared—his company was working on a cure at the same time that C-Shapes was formed. He refused to join, stating that more progress could be made if they worked separately, different perspectives and all that. Well, one week after he rejects his wife suddenly goes Aggro and kills him. Cherie escapes—but they set her up in a new city, new place, leaving only her paintings… kind of like a cruel reminder. Remember, C-Shapes is a corporation, they do not want competition—they want power and money. They label Unstables as monsters when they are the ones doing unspeakable evil.”

“So there is no cure?”

“There is no need for a cure—not everyone who is Unstable is going to go Aggro. The best way to have solved this problem from the beginning was to do nothing at all.”

“So how do I help her?”

“Have her stop taking the C-Alysium. I’ve been taking common aspirin for six years… Also, your badge is a microphone and C Shape Sniffers sit at computers and monitor things—I don’t know if you’ll already be in trouble for kissing her…”

“She threw my badge and it landed behind a dresser.”

“That is a stroke of luck then…”

“So she will get better? She won’t go Aggro…”

“There’s never a hundred percent certainty that she will never go Aggro in her lifetime, but if you keep her on C-Alysium, she will for certain.”

“And her condition…?”

“Some things will improve. This thing about Paris will get sorted out—in time without her pill, she’ll become more aware, her memories will return… but she’ll always be a mirror, she’ll always be prone to anxiety… she will always be an Unstable. But then again, if you like her for who she is now, it is something you have to deal with.”

“I understand…” I say as I take another heavy breath of the air in.

“Here,” Noah says as he tosses me a pair of glasses. “People think that these things detect Unstables, well I suppose it does—but when it shows someone as an Unstable it is really picking up the C-Alysium in their system. It might come in handy… test it out now if you like. Then again… I already admitted I haven’t been on my pills in years.”

I nod as I place the glasses in my front pocket. Noah then hands me a metal case.

“Just in case no one on the inside comes through… get this metal case to anyone who will listen,” Noah adds. “Keep it safe, do not open it until you know that there is no chance of you losing any of the info inside—or when you are able to get it to someone.”

“Why me…?” I ask. I know for certainty that I am no one special. None of this makes any sense.

“You were lost and you wanted to make a difference, you wanted to help people—I needed someone else on the outside just in case.”

“I didn’t want this much responsibility.”

“You can handle it,” Noah says as he suddenly looks down to my pocket. “What the hell…”

I look down and see that the red light on my phone is slowly flashing. I pull it from my pocket and look at it, deeply confused. I didn’t hit the button… that could only mean that…. “Hunters?”

“Fuck,” Noah says as he grabs my phone and looks at it. “Has anyone messed with your phone?”

I think for a second and I remember my date, Michelle, messing with it for a brief moment. “I had a C Shape date—she took a pocket knife and did something with the release.”

Noah smashes the phone against the concrete floor,” and shakes his head. “They didn’t trust you—they had her bug your phone… at some point the Sniffers have been listening in.”

“We need to get out of here,” I say, panicked.

“We have about twenty-five minutes. “ Noah says as he rummages through a metal chest. “I did the research… plus it is what I used to scare of my last Sitter. One of the perks of living rural…”

Noah hands me a handgun and two boxes of bullets.

“I’m not a hunter… I don’t know how to use this.”

“It’s pretty straightforward—you point at what you want to kill and you pull the trigger… it’s not rocket science.”

Noah places a second handgun into his pocket. “Give me your car keys… it will throw them off, I’ll get as far away as I can and ditch the car and steal another one.”

“What about me and Cherie?” I ask, as I grow more panicked. I feel like I’m about to hyperventilate.

Noah tosses me a set of keys. “In the garage there is a car that I have not registered—they don’t know it even exists. Get in, tell the GPS to take you ‘home’ and tell it to avoid all major roads.”

“What is home?”

“We don’t have time to be down here talking,” Noah says as he quickly begins to ascend the ladder. “My parents had a place in rural Missouri, like a vacation home. Every Sunday I go down and stock it up with supplies—it’s my second hideout.”

Noah bursts through the door, scaring Cherie and nearly knocking her to the ground. “Fuck, sorry—“

“I I shove the handgun into my pocket, cram the metal case beneath my arm, and take Cherie’s suitcase in one hand and reach for her hand with the other. We start rushing up the stairs.

“Where are we going?” Cherie asks as she is being pulled along.

“We have to leave, it’s not safe for you here,” I say as I round the top of the stairs and begin to head down the hall. I look back and see Noah at the front door. He is talking to his mother.

“I need you to come with me,” Noah says as he attempts to get her up from her chair. “The Hunters are coming for me.”

“Do you need help?” I ask as I stop.

“Just go, remember anyone who will listen…” Noah adds. I look back once more and see that she is refusing to leave. I watch as he bends down and kisses his mother on the forehead.

I enter the garage. I pause for a moment and curiously look at the vehicle—I have not seen one of these in forever… back in the day these were top of the line vehicles. The slim, red, intimidating vehicle sits there like a beast ready to be released from its cage. I open the back seat and place Cherie’s suitcase into the back. I open up her door for her and she crawls into the red Mazda XIII. I fumble with the keys and get the car running. “Open garage door,” I say and the door quickly begins to open.

“GPS take me home—avoid all interstates and highways.”

“Understood,” A female voice answers back, I begin to drive in the direction of transparent display on my windshield. I see a glimpse of my old car heading in the opposite direction. I hope that Noah knows what he is doing. I speed off and into the country.

As I reach a good distance, I lower my speed. I do not want to seem overly suspicious. Then again, on these old roads I have not seen another car since I’ve left Noah’s residence. The road ahead is difficult to discern at times, high grass has grown through large cracks. In some places I have to dodge entire pieces of the road that has been washed away altogether.

“I’m scared…” Cherie whispers. I realize that she hasn’t said anything for nearly an hour. I hope that she is not having any anxiety.

“I know,” I say as reach an open hand and place it on her knee. She places her small hand inside of mine and I squeeze it tightly. “We are going to be alright.”

“Are we going on a trip?”

“Yeah,” I say as I nod. “Kind of like an adventure.”

“You look worried…”

Before I can answer, the dashboard comes to life and displays an emergency broadcast. A man is standing in front of Noah’s house. He begins to speak.

“A city-wide manhunt is underway for a Chicago Sitter for failing to report an Aggro—The Aggro named Noah Williams, 29, was found armed with a handgun and the Sitter’s badge. Hunters did manage to take him down… however, they were unable to stop the Aggro from killing his wheelchair bound mother, fortunately though, no one else was injured. The Sitter, Ethan Chase…”

“That’s you…” Cherie says as she points to the image on the dashboard.

“…had fled the scene with and is believed to have abducted his other Unstable, a 26 year old female named Claire Derry. A picture of Cherie comes up and then the transmission ends.”

I pull the car over to the side of the road and into the tall grass. I punch the steering wheel.

Having no wheel Cherie holds her hand out and punches it.

I rest my head against the steering wheel. I do not know what to do. This is way beyond anything I am capable of. Cherie rests her head beside mine. Why did Noah have to get me involved in this? It didn’t make any sense. He thought he knew what he was doing recruiting me, for whatever purpose it was—but in the end it cost him his life, and probably his cause. Who am I supposed to give this information to? The media will not listen—they work for C-Shapes. Surely Noah must have known that, for all his realizations and plans—in the end I fear they are going to amount to nothing. So here I am… me and my Unstable miles away from everything we both know. I can never return home. Although I take a bit of comfort in knowing that they probably expect me to try—after all, no one feels safe outside of the big cities these days. So for now I know we are somewhat safe. That makes me feel slightly better… but not much, not really.

“Are you in trouble because of me?” Cherie asks as she rests her head upon mine.

“No,” I say as I reach over and place my hand on her knee. “We just… can’t go home. I’m sorry. We have to head it some remote place in Missouri. At least there we’ll be safe. This is more of Noah getting us into trouble—although he didn’t mean it.”

“Is Noah gone?”

“Yeah…” I say as I continue to keep my head buried into the steering wheel.

“Are you sad…?”

“I am,” I say as I feel an overwhelming sense of frustration and anger mixed in with that copious amount of sadness. They didn’t have to kill his mother—I suppose he really was onto something. I begin to feel bad for doubting him. I still want to doubt him. I just don’t understand how he could know so much—he wasn’t a researcher… I read his things back in the day; it was all public interest pieces… none of that makes any sense. However, it must have made sense to someone. Some of it must have been true.

“I am too,” Cherie adds as she places her arm around me. “I know he was your friend.”

“We will be alright though,” I say as I turn my head and look to Cherie… or should I call her Claire… I suppose I should wait until she accepts her old name—if she ever does. “I’ll take care of you.”

“You’re my Sitter?”

“Not anymore…” I say as I continue to look into those beautiful eyes. “I guess I’m your caretaker.”

“I’m your caretaker.”

“Fair enough…” I say as I smile.

“Fair enough…”

I take a deep breath in. I have to be strong—at least for her sake. I wait a few minutes as I look at the map at the corner of my windshield. It looks like it will take be an estimated 28 driving hours to get there… if not longer on these roads. We might have to stop somewhere for two days. The idea of not knowing where I am going to sleep fills me with a bit of anxiety. I’ve never slept anywhere other than my own bed. I’m sure it is the same for Cherie.

“I’m thirsty…” Cherie interrupts my train of thought. It does not matter for it was not really headed anywhere important.

I begin to search the car. I open up the glove box and find a large silver envelope. I open it up and find a stack of thousand dollar bills and some few rolls of two and five dollar coins. “Paper and coin currency…” I say aloud. I haven’t dealt with this since back in my early gas station days… I imagine it still spends the same, especially out in the remote towns. I find a small emergency blanket, a flashlight, and a box full of emergency meals. However, I do not find any water. “Shit…”

I check the center compartment. A large bottle of water rests in a round compartment. It is already cool. I pull it up from its confines and hand it to Cherie. As she unscrews the cap another bottle pops up in its place, scaring her and causing her to drop the cap onto the floor. She then starts to laugh.

“I forgot all these pre-V-Day vehicles were pretty nice…”

“What is V-Day?” Cherie asks.

“That’s what we call the day that people changed…”

“That’s when I became different?”

“Yeah… a lot of people did that day,” I say as I look once more at the map.

“We have to go back though…” Cherie says with a bit of anxiety in her soft tone. “I’m sorry, I forgot my Calm.”

“You don’t have to take that anymore,” I say as I turn to face her. In the bright summer light her hair blows against the soft flow of the air conditioner. She constantly struggles to keep it out of her hazel eyes; every now and then they catch the sunlight and glow brilliantly. She is smiling… despite everything that is going on she is smiling. Her cheeks are always a natural slight red. Her nose reminds me of a small button—she has such a cute, but at the same time beautifully innocent face. I suppose, now that I no longer look at her as a threat in the least, I can see what Katharine warned me about. She seems fragile, but I know that there is strength there—after all… my cheek still stings from this morning.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

“I could never tell you when I was your Sitter that you were beautiful,” I say, being flat out honest. I figured, what is there left to lose at this point?

She looks away and laughs. “I always thought you were handsome.”

“Yeah…?”

“I had forgiven you before I made you kiss me.”

“You’re a sneaky one,” I say as I laugh. “I still feel terrible about what happened.”

“You had a job to do, and you did it,” Cherie says as she leans over and kisses me on the cheek. “I don’t really hate your job—it brought you to me. I’m sorry that you don’t have it anymore, I’m sure it meant a lot to you.”

“I have more important things in my life now,” I say, meaning both her and the impossible task that Noah has left me with. “Let’s check to see what we have in the trunk…”

“I hope it’s my painting…”

I let out a sad sigh. I think about all that artwork just left in the apartment. It seems like such a waste. I get out of the car and Cherie follows behind me. Even when no one is around she still seems comfortable to be my shadow. I slide my key against a silver bar and the trunk opens up. Inside we find a backpack, couple of hiking poles, a small hand axe, a tent, some basic camping gear, more meals in boxes, and the large container that supplies us with water. “At least we are well prepared…”

“No painting though, but good stuff.”

“Sorry.”

“When will we be able to go home?”

“I don’t think that we will be ever going home…”

“So everything I… everything I left I won’t see again?”

“I’m sorry, Cherie,” I say as I nod and place an arm around her. “This is what we have now. I promise though, we’ll find a place and we’ll get things for it that you like—it’ll feel like home, it will just be different.”

Cherie wraps her arm around me and holds onto me tightly. “Just be different…”




Part 2: Exile





10. The Trip


As we stop for lunch I watch as hundreds of small solar panels rotate to face the sun from twin black stripes along hood of the car. I’m glad that we aren’t reliant on gas… with us still close to Chicago a trip to gas station would be a risky undertaking.

I munch on a granola bar and some beef jerky with Cherie as we sit in the car. The high grass around us acts as a shield—although I still have not seen a single car on the road. Birds soar overhead and land alongside the road. Cherie delights in watching the sparrows hop around before taking flight once more.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” I answer as I crumple up the metallic wrapper and place it in a small waste bin on my driver’s side door.

“Why are people afraid of the ones that are different?”

“Hasn’t anyone told you?” I ask, as I look away uncomfortably out the window.

“I don’t know…” Cherie says as she shrugs her shoulders and places a hand upon my shoulder to get my attention. “I feel like sometimes I don’t remember things right. Today though, I feel a little clearer.”

“It was the pill,” I say as I nod. I didn’t know that the effects would release their hold so quickly. I suppose that was one of the reasons that Katharine said that I might have to force Cherie to start taking her pill once more. Perhaps a day off of it provides enough clarity to realize that it is doing something to your head… something that you don’t like.

“Are you going to tell me?” Cherie asks as she squeezes my shoulder gently. “I want you to tell me things—I know that when you were my Sitter you couldn’t. You’re not my Sitter though so you can tell me things.”

I nod as I pause and attempt to come up with the right answer. I am done with going along with lies, or coming up with inaccuracies. The only way that I can really make things right with her is to be honest from this point on, even if it doesn’t feel right. “Well… The day that a lot of people turned… different…”

“V-Day,” Cherie adds.

“That’s right,” I say as I turn to face her. I find it much easier to do so when I am delivering the truth. “Not everyone ended up different in the same way. Some people, they can’t remember their past.”

“I remember pieces sometimes…” Cherie says as she looks saddened for a moment. “Sorry, go on.”

“Other people went into a state where they just sit there and stare off blankly all the time, and they don’t do anything—they don’t feed themselves or anything. Others can’t control their actions at times and become a danger to themselves or others, and there is this one other group that is very destructive—so they have to be kept in places that they can be taken care of so they don’t hurt themselves. A lot of them, that first few months, hurt themselves and hurt others. It was really bad. Well… not too long after all these groups appeared, some of them… at random times started becoming very angry, and violent. So angry that they became very dangerous and strong, that they do not even know what they are doing—and they don’t feel pain so they continue just attacking people. They turn that way and they could be your best friend, and they wouldn’t remember you. They would only want to kill you.”

“Which one of those am I?”

“You’re in a different group. They call people like you Mirrors. You are the most like everyone else—just sometimes you get stuck in the loops and mimic actions. Sometimes you have anxiety problems. You’re actually part of a rare group.”

“I can be like the angry people though… the ones that get so angry that they can’t calm down. That is why people were always afraid of me, right?”

“It’s a small possibility, the pill actually made it worse… but, yeah that was why people were often afraid.” I say as I wipe away a single tear that escapes her eyes with my fingertips.

“I can still be like that though… one day?” Cherie asks with a very worried tone in her voice.

“You could,” I answer honestly.

“How can you be with me?” She asks quietly as she looks down to the ground sadly. “I don’t ever want to forget who you are… I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

“I would rather be with you, and face the possibility of that happening, than not have you in my life at all,” I say as I place my arms around her.

“I don’t feel very good,” Cherie whispers as she exits the car and begins to throw up.

I quickly get out and place a hand on her back. I brush her hair away from her face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah…” She manages after a few short coughs.

I hand her a bottle of water and she drinks almost the entire thing at once. I take her suitcase from the backseat and place it in the trunk of the car. I open up the back door and help her climb in.

“I want to stay up with you…” She says groggily.

“You haven’t been sleeping well,” I say as I help her in. She curls up into a ball and I get the emergency blanket from the glove box and cover her up. “You get some rest.”

“You get some rest…” she murmurs.

I climb back into the driver’s seat and glance behind me. She is fast asleep. I take a look at the map on my left and put the car back into drive. The tiny solar panels lower against the hood appearing as two black stripes against the speckled red paint. As I begin to navigate the old road, I speak to the car.

“Dashboard, news… low volume…”

“Local or national?” the female voice asks.

“Local first…”

“A small translucent image appears near the map, a man is standing outside of my apartment. It seems I’m still news… Ethan Chase is considered to be somewhere in the city, the public is advised to report him and contact the police—do not attempt to engage him in any way as his considered to be armed and extremely dangerous. A cache of bullets and a weapon was found at the Aggro’s residence. The Unstable that he is currently with is also considered extremely dangerous as she is reported to be off of her Calm due to neglect on the former Sitter’s part. It is believed that he will attempt to return. A C-Shapes Field Office representative named Katharine Young encourages him to return to the apartment unarmed so that they may work out a peaceful ending to this already tragic situation…”

“National…” I whisper, having heard enough.

“Today the President called out for an end to the riots in Los Angeles, stating that we just need to be patient as a cure is less than a year away, that we need to put aside our differences and realize that mistakes can be made. Currently it is rumored that numerous Aggros are on the loose and both the police and Hunters are too busy fending off attacks from angry armed citizens to engage and put down the Aggro threat. The President threatens that if the conflict cannot be reached peacefully that in due time military action will be enacted.”

“In Belize, the government is demanding that the next round of medication and the cure be provided for free or else they will allow their militia to start executing Unstables until their demands are met…”

“That’s enough…” I say as I shake my head. The world is going to hell and I’m somehow supposed to help. I can barely take care of myself and Cherie.

“Music…?”

“What mood?” The female asks.

“Hopefully optimistic…”

“Playing all songs about hopefully optimistic,” the car replies as music begins to softly play from the speakers inside of the circular headrest. I relax my head into its memory foam confines and begin the long drive.

It is evening when I reach the Illinois-Missouri border. An old brown sign reads ‘Welcome to Missouri.’ However, someone has cleverly spray painted over the white lettering in black and it reads ‘Welcome to Misery.”

After driving a short distance I take an off road and down a wooded path. The road here is in even worse condition as I have to dodge broken pieces of the surrounding bluffs. I find a small clearing and pull the car into the opening. I exit the car, armed with my flashlight, and get two bagged meals from the trunk. I peel the top open and find that it already comes with a spoon already sealed in the metal packaging. I leave the flashlight on as I reach into the backseat and give Cherie a gentle shake.

“Where are we…?”

“Missouri,” I say as I hand her the bag of food.

“What is it?” She asks as she curiously peers into the bag.

I peel my bag open and retrieve the plastic fork. I poke at the contents and retrieve a long square noodle covered in white sauce. “Some kind of pasta…”

“I’ve never had dinner in a bag,” Cherie says as she places her for into the meal. She places a noodle in her mouth and chews it slowly. “It’s warm…”

“Yeah,” I say as I feel the bottom of the bag which feels almost hot to the touch. “It must be some kind of reaction that happens when you open it.”

“Have you been driving all day?” Cherie asks as she hands me her empty bag.

I place both of our bags into the waste bin and they disappear. I imagine that they are getting sucked into the trunk and placed into a bag from the whooshing sound I hear. That or it’s getting shot into the road… however, that doesn’t sound very environment friendly. “Yeah, longest I’ve driven in… as long as I can remember.”

“Can I come back up front?”

“Sure…”

Cherie climbs over the center console and crawls into the passenger seat. I turn off the flashlight and our eyes slowly adjust to the darkness.

“Seats back,” Cherie says as both the passenger and driver seats lower back into a resting position. “Ceiling view,” she adds as the black roof slowly fades away showing the tall trees overhead. Some stars are peeking through as the wind slowly drifts through.

“How did you know to do that?” I ask, I barely remember the basic commands.

“I used to have a nice car,” Cherie says as she looks up to the sky. “There are a lot of stars here… I bet Noah would be happy.”

“I’m sure he would be,” I say as I turn to Cherie. In the faint darkness I can make out that she is smiling. I thought it would be difficult for me to have to break it to her that we’d have to stay the night here—but she seems perfectly content.

“Headrests flat… seats closer.” Cherie says as the circular headrests flatten out. The seats move back, and once clear of the console, they come together. Cherie pulls the blanket from the back and covers us both up. She cuddles up next to me as we spend some time looking up at the stars. “This is better than Paris.”

“You think so?” I ask as I place an arm around her.

“A little bit better…” She whispers as she laughs softly.

I stare up sat the swaying braches. As I catch glimpses of the stars overhead, I realize that I have not seen the stars like this since I was younger… since before V-Day. Then again, I haven’t been in this kind of situation since I was a kid camping out in my backyard. Even though I know those innocent days are long gone now, it is a comfort to me that these kinds of moments are still possible… the virus might have taken a lot away from us, but it couldn’t take everything… it couldn’t taint moments like this one. I look over at Cherie, whose warmth I can feel against me, she is not looking at the stars. Instead, her eyes are fixed on me. She looks a little worried; her eyes show that familiar hint of sadness.

“Are you alright?” I ask.

She nods once and smiles.

Her eyes still look sad, however I nod in return. She turns to face me and places her lips against mine. She kisses me once more and then pauses, “This is allowed right? You’re not working?”

Of course this is not technically allowed—I know for certainty that it is illegal. However, I am a man on the run, so I suppose that ultimately… it does not really matter. I like her. What else matters? “This is allowed…”

She places her hands against my face and begins to kiss me more passionately. I wrap my arms around her and hold her tightly against me. There is not a single amount of fear within me. This is the only thing that feels right anymore. Her, us—this moment… this situation is unavoidable. She begins run her hand across my chest, unbuttoning each button until her warm hand is against my chest. Our breathing intensifies as we slowly undress each other beneath then thin emergency blanket. Soon our naked bodies are against each other, the heat and need within me for us to be together is becoming unbearable. She pivots so that I am atop her. I take in a nervous breath as I feel myself slide into her. She bites her lip and whimpers softly. She pulls my face close to meet hers and we begin to kiss feverishly as we rhythmically move our bodies against each other. I am the sea to her shoreline; each movement is like a wave, an ebb and flow, until with one final push the largest wave crashes. Like a surge I am spent and retreat back from the warmth of her shore.

I continue to hold onto her through the night. I know what we did is considered wrong by society’s standards. I, however, cannot bring myself to feel the slightest bit of regret for allowing it to happen.

“I want you to know,” Cherie says sleepily. “You mean a lot to me… more than Paris.”

“You mean a lot to me as well,” I say as I squeeze her hand comfortingly.

“I’m happy that it ends like this,” Cherie whispers.

“This isn’t the ending,” I say as I kiss the back of her neck. “This is just the beginning.”

Cherie does not answer, she is fast asleep. I often wonder how someone can just fall comfortably into sleep so easily. It always takes me a while—I realize that this will be my first night without my city noise machine… as I attempt to relax I take comfort in the gentle sound of her breathing against me. Between the exhaustion of the drive, and my first time being intimate with Cherie, I eventually drift off into that strange abyss called sleep.

I awake to the sounds of birds chirping. The sky is a soft red, it still must be early. The roof above me is black once more—I reach over for Cherie, but she is not there. In a panic I get up, hitting my head against the ceiling of the car. I look over and find a small piece of paper. I reach for it and quickly unfold it; it simply reads ‘I do not want to hurt you Ethan.’

“Fuck!” I shout as I toss the blanket to the back of the car and attempt to dress myself as swiftly as I can. How did she leave without me knowing or waking up? I knew that something was off last night—I should have pushed more… how could I have been so stupid? As I button up my shirt I take out the glasses… the Hunters use these, they must have some kind of other functions rather than just acknowledging who is an Unstable or a normal… “What time did the passenger leave?”

“The passenger door was opened two hours, fifty three minutes, and twenty-one seconds ago. The trunk was accessed four minutes later,” the female voice answers in reply. “Seats up,” I say as I try and reach for the door—with Cherie being much shorter this must have been much easier for her.

“Seats must be separated first, should I separate the seats?”

“Yes,” I say with a healthy tone of frustration. I wait impatiently as the seats separate apart and slide back into their former positions. I pull out the handgun from my pocket, I tinker with it for a moment until I figure out how to release the clip—it is loaded. I slide the clip back into the gun and head out the door. I place the black rimmed glasses on and attempt to locate some kind of on switch. I find a tiny strip of metal along the right side. As I run my finger down it, it changes to ‘Identify mode.’ I give it another slide and a ‘news mode’ pops up with a window over my left eye—finding myself getting nowhere I give it one more slide, hoping that it has a more useful function. I thank Noah’s spirit when ‘tracking’ comes up. As I look into the woods everything is slowly gridded off into tiny white squares. A red marker indicates a spot on the ground and the word ‘indentation’ pops up. I begin to follow. I look ahead and see a series of red markers running off into the distance. I begin to run, following the path as each footstep begins to light up. I make it a short distance further, the display switches to ‘identify’ mode as it spots someone in the area—as I walk up to a tall oak tree, an image of someone behind it begins to flash. At first it is blue and reads ‘normal,’ then flashes orange and reads ‘Unstable.’ It is almost as though the glasses are going haywire in an attempt to identify the subject. I slide them once, turning them off. I place them back in my pocket as I quietly round the massive trunk of the tall oak. Sitting there, crying—I find Cherie.

“I couldn’t make it very far,” Cherie says as she rocks back and forth. “I tried.”

“What are you doing out here?” I ask as I reach down and place my hand against her cheek. She feels cold to the touch. It is a chilly morning. “Why did you leave?”

“I’m dangerous,” Cherie says as she continues to rock back and forth with her legs pressed against her chest. “I might hurt you one day—I might kill you.”

“I don’t… I don’t care about that.” I say as I attempt to get her up.

“I care about you!” Cherie says loudly as she pushes me away.

“Nobody knows for certain about what our fates will be, nobody knows,” I say as I kneel down beside her. “Anything is possible, we just have to try—and whatever happens… well it happens. I’d rather die trying to protect you, or being with you, than being without you. I need you with me.”

“You need me?”

“I have no purpose without you… I’m your caretaker.”

“I’m your caretaker…”

“You’re having an anxiety attack—I’m going to carry you back to the car. What did you take from the trunk?” I say as I take her into my arms.

“Anxiety attack…” Cherie repeats as she points down to the ground. A single, empty bottle of water sits against the side of the tree.

“How did you plan on surviving out here with just that…” I begin to ask. Then I realize the sad truth—she didn’t plan on surviving. “Let’s get you back.”

“Let’s get you back…”

As we get back into the car I help her into the passenger seat. “Are you alright up front—or do you want to be in the back?”

“I want to be by you,” Cherie says as she looks down to the ground.

“Alright,” I say as I shut the door and enter the driver’s side.

“I am sorry I cause you so much trouble…” Cherie says as she continues to keep her gaze down to the floor

“You aren’t any trouble at all,” I say as I place my hand on her shoulder. I lean over and kiss her on the cheek. I reach in the back and grab the blanket and cover her up with it. She has been out in the cold for far too long. “Just promise me that you won’t do anything like that again—I do really need you. I can’t do any of this without you.”

“I promise,” Cherie says as she looks to me and nods. Some of the sadness has washed away from her face as she curls up in the seat and covers herself up in the blanket. “I just… I don’t want you to die.”

“I don’t want you to die either, running off in the woods like that. If we go, we go together. That’s just how it is going to be, alright?”

“Will we be together afterwards?”

“Yeah…” I say. I’ve never been very religious. Most people aren’t after V-Day… not after everything they have seen or been through. There are still some who believe that we haven’t been abandoned, but they are very few. “I’m sure we will.”

I place the keys into the ignition. “Map up… resume route.”

I get the car back onto the road and begin our trek once more. The terrain here is rougher; however it gives me a greater feeling of safety. There are no wide open spaces, instead large rolling hills surrounded by trees. As I reach a long stretch of straight road, I spot a truck on the road. I do no decrease my speed or do anything that might seem suspicious; instead I reach for my gun with one hand. I’m forced to slow down as I near the old blue truck as we pass each other. My hand is trembling against the steering wheel.

“Are we not safe?” Cherie asks as she notices the vehicle.

“I don’t think it’s anything to worry about,” I say, although I am not sure exactly which of us I am attempting to reassure.

As we pass an old man in a brown hat wearing a white shirt and overalls gives me a glance. I nod at him, and he tips his hat at me and is on his way. I notice that the back of his truck is full of farm equipment.

“Just a farmer…” I say with a contented sigh as I slide the handgun back into my pocket.

“Just a farmer…”

I continue to follow the map until it reaches a little past noon. I pull the car into a small opening that overlooks a large cornfield besieged on all sides by tall hills and trees. I put the car in park and take out the keys. I watch as the solar panels seek out the sun like a field of hundreds of sunflowers. I take out some food from the glove box and attempt to hand it to Cherie.

“I’m not hungry,” Cherie says as she pushes away the food. “Just thirsty…”

I reach for a bottle of water and hand it to her; she drinks it all at once. “Are you alright?”

“You have to keep up the sea inside… or everything will dry up—all the starfish will die,” Cherie says, completely out of character.

I reach over and place the back of my head against her forehead. She is burning up. “You’ve got a fever.”

“You’ve got a fever,” Cherie says in a sarcastic tone.

I pull her blanket away, much to her dismay, and turn on the air conditioning.

“Too cold, you’ll freeze the surface.”

I go to the back of the car and pull out the backpack. I search its contents and find a bottle of Ibuprofen. I take two pills out and return to my seat. “Take these,” I say as I pull another bottle of water from the container.

“You said no pills… no more stars.”

“These are for your fever,” I say as I place the bottle of water in her hand.

She places the pills on her tongue and takes a drink of the water, she then opens up her mouth and extends her tongue out. “Good?”

“Get some rest…” I say as I shake my head. I need to get her to a place where she can rest for a while—being stuck in this car probably isn’t doing her any good. “GPS, how many hours do we have left?”

“You currently have approximately fourteen hours of driving time on our current route.”

“Fuck…” I mutter. That will not do at all.

“Are there any alternate routes?”

“If we take 24 West we can reach our destination in six hours,” the female voice answers back.

“The traffic…?”

“Very minimal…”

“Route it,” I say as I let out a heavy sigh. I look over and see Cherie shivering as the slight noise of her teeth chattering can be heard.

I follow the country roads until I hit 24 West… as I pause at the stop sign, I take a deep breath in to calm myself and begin to speed down the small highway.

“You are exceeding the speed limit,” the computer warns as I reach speeds near ninety miles per hour. “Disregard it; however, warn me if another car approaches.”

“Understood…”

It is early evening when the GPS tells me to exit off of 24 West and head north on 11. I feel much more comfortable being back on the country roads. It seems as though my speeding has gained us time. We passed very few cars, mostly farm vehicles. I reached for my gun every time, however I know that it was a necessary evil. I follow 11 north for twenty miles and pull off on Country Road 220. I follow the road for a bit until I reach a driveway that is obscured by tall bushes and overgrown fields of high grass. Had it not been for the map, I would have easily passed it over. I begin to drive down the rough rock road.

“Too much…” Cherie whispers in her sleep.

“We’ll be safe soon,” I say, although I do not know if she is coherent enough to recognize what I am saying.

After rounding a corner, I bring the car to a stop. I strike my fists against the steering wheel. In the orange glow of the fading sun I can make out the burnt remains of a building.

“What’s… what’s wrong?”

“Stay in the car, Cherie,” I say as I put on the glasses and step out of the car, gun in hand. I begin to walk to what remains of the building. The smell of smoke and burnt wood hangs heavy in the air. A layer of smoke, like a fog, hangs low against the evening grass. I’m no expert, but by guessing I would imagine that this happened recently… perhaps, even earlier today.

Before I can investigate any further a low rumble fills the air, quieting the loud drone of the crickets. A car emerges from the tree line and begins to head my way. I begin to run back to the car. A man in a black suit steps out, he holds a gun in hand, but does not aim it at me.

“Ethan Chase!” He shouts as he commands me to stop. “I just want to talk. My weapon is pointed down!”

I turn around to see that this is true. “What do you want from me!?”

“It is time you went home! All of this can be worked out!”

I am a short distance away from the car. I know that this man is a Hunter—I also know that they are not always known for their honesty. “How do I know that you will take us home safely?”

“Only you can return—the girl is too much of threat. She hasn’t been on her meds. Surrender the girl and I promise you can home. Aren’t you tired of running? Don’t you want to get back to your comfortable life—your apartment!?”

“Alright…!” I shout across the field as I prepare myself to do something stupid.

“I knew you’d see reason!” The man shouts back as he begins to approach.

I point my gun at him and fire two shots as I begin to run back to the car. Unfortunately, both the distance and my aim cause my bullets to fire off harmlessly into the dirt causing tiny wisps of dust to fly into the air.

I reach the car as the man begins to fire his weapon.

“Windows down,” I say as begin firing my gun.

“I don’t like this noise,” Cherie says as she plugs her ears and curls up into the seat—at least she is out of range of the gunfire.

Since I lack the accuracy to hit the man, I start aiming at his car. I fire a few bullets until I manage to take out his front tires. He pauses and looks back—he knows that I have just stranded him for a while and that he cannot give chase. He begins to run towards the car, gun firing off rounds. A few hit the door but bounce of harmlessly. I start to wonder exactly where Noah got this magnificent piece of machinery. I put the car into reverse and begin to back away, I take aim at the man one last time and fire—I hit him and he takes a bullet to the knee. A spray of red shoots forth as he falls to the ground… I think to finish the job, but the grass he has collapsed into is too tall. I figure, regardless, C-Shapes now knows that I was here—whether he lives or not. However, he will not be chasing us down any time soon.

I begin to speed down the road—although I do not have a destination. I look over to Cherie briefly, she has completely passed out.

“GPS… I need a town sparsely populated—close by.”

“Routing to Lawson Missouri, arrival time forty-five minutes at this current speed.”

“Any cars on the road…?”

“No cars are currently near out destination.”

As I close the distance, I keep looking back into the mirror. The terrain has turned back into farm land—large open straight roads. I am so worried that at any moment more Hunters will appear on the road despite what the GPS says. I did not expect them—I do not know how they found out about Noah’s hideout. It only strengthens my belief that there must really be some important information in that metal case he gave me… that or he tipped off the wrong person at the C-Shapes Research Facility… either way, from my end, all I can see is that whatever plan he had is quickly unraveling and it puts Cherie and I in even more danger now.

Before reaching town, I take West 196 Street. It seems like more comfortable territory to me. The roads have been pretty much abandoned. Large vines spread across the road making it difficult to figure out exactly where it is at times. I hit a large pothole and the car warns me that the road I am on might be Unstable. I spot a cluster of tall trees in the distance over the high prairie grass. I take a chance and drive down what I think is a driveway. I feel better once I hear the sounds of rock and gravel strike against the bottom of the car. If the driveway is in such a state, then hopefully the house is vacant. I need to get Cherie somewhere safe so she can rest.

I put on my glasses and pull my gun out as I reach for the door. The house looks abandoned from the outside—the paint has peeled and sections of wood are visible beyond the siding. However, it looks structurally sound. The roof is still in good shape. I try the front door, however it is locked. I think of attempting to kick it down. However, I realize that I might need that lock in the future. I make my way to the back of the house, all the windows seem to be intact—another good sign. I find a rusty old cellar door. I pull it up with a little interference from some vines that would rather it stay closed. I set my glasses to ‘identify’ and begin to make my way down the stone steps. I stumble around for a bit in the dark until I find a pull string for a light. I close my eyes and wish for the best as I give it a pull—thankfully, the basement is bathed in a pale white glow. I find cans of food stacked up to the ceiling on wooden shelves. I quickly pass by row after row of bottled water. Perhaps things are going to be alright after all. I make my way up the stairs and into the main room of the house. I turn on the lights—so far my glasses do not detect any signs of life. The living room looks like a normal rural farmhouse… kind of like the one my grandfather had when I was a kid. The house is old, full of cobwebs and dingy white paint and hardwood floors that look rather neglected. An old TV sits in the center of the room next to a fireplace, a plastic covered couch sits in the center. I search the small kitchen, the refrigerator still works. It looks like whoever lived here simply left… perhaps they went Aggro. I search the dining room; a large table with a crocheted stained white cover sits alongside a row of windows. I carefully make my way up the creaky stairs. I find three rooms, all empty. The main bedroom has a large bed in the corner and a chair that faces the window. One of the two smaller bedrooms looks like it was some kind of office, the other, a child’s room. I find a bathroom, complete with a claw footed white bathtub. I give the knob a turn and hot water pours from the faucet. Not only is the house clear—but it seems to be in perfect shape. I place the gun back in my pocket and make my way to the front door.

I rush out to the car and carry Cherie inside of the house. I lock the door behind me as I carry her up the old stairs.

“Did we make it?” She mutters.

“You’ll be safe here,” as I sit her in a chair and attend to the bed. I pull the sheets and give them a shake. A flume of dust fills the air. I do not know if I’ve really made things any better or worse as she begins to cough.

“Be… safe… here.” Cherie says as she slumps over in the chair. “Nap…”

I carry her into the bed and take out two more pills from the Ibuprofen bottle. I hand them to her as she pushes me away. “Take these and I promise you can sleep.”

She places the pills in her mouth and swallows them before I can get her any water. I shake my head as I place my gun atop the dresser beside the bed. I need to get into town—to get a few things. I figure it would be best if I didn’t go in armed… although I’m not sure if that is the right decision or not. This type of situation has never exactly been in my daily routine.

“I’ll be right back,” I whisper to Cherie, but she is fast asleep.

I take the car and drive into Lawson. It looks mostly like a ghost town. I see a few houses with their lights on. I see a child playing in the yard with a flashlight. Something I haven’t seen in quite a while. As I enter the center of the small town, I find a grocery store. I get into the glove box and pull out some of the paper and coin currency.

I carefully enter the building, noting a little metal sign that says ‘no Unstables.’ I would expect no less.

“Good evening,” I say as I pass an older man with a long beard. He is wearing flannel shirt and has a rifle strapped to his back.

“Evening…” He says as he eyes me.

“You take paper and coin currency?” I ask as I grab a shopping cart.

“That’s about all I take, other than barter—you don’t look familiar. What business you got in Lawson?”

“I had family that used to live in the area… my grandfather. I said as I stop what I am doing and engage in conversation—I have a feeling that there will be trouble otherwise. “I’m originally from St. Louis, but with things getting so bad out there I thought I’d bring my girlfriend and move into my grandfather’s old house. You get much trouble from your Unstables out here?”

“We handle it if we do, we don’t need no Hunters,” the man says as he nods. “We’re pretty remote here so you should be safe. You have any interest in joining the militia? We could use more young blood.”

“Yeah, I could do that,” I say, obviously I have no intention—but sometimes it is best to just go along with it. “I don’t have a weapon though… You get many Aggros?”

“Rifles are in the back,” the man says as he points the far wall. “We get about one every two or three months or so… only about six hundred of us left in the area.”

“I’ll take that over the shit that has been going on in St. Louis any day.”

“I don’t blame ya,” the man says as he nods. He then reaches his hand out. “Elliot James, folks around here call me Eli though.”

“Good to meet you,” I say as I shake the man’s wrinkled, tough hand. “Benjamin McCormack.”

“I’ll let you get to your shopping Benjamin—was planning on closing down within the next hour.”

“Thank you, sir,” I say as I nod. “I’ll be quick.”

I make my way through the medicine aisle and pick up more Ibuprofen and different things I might need such as bandages, and any other type of meds they currently have available. I find a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, and slip it into the cart with a bottle of shampoo. I find some black hair dye and a pair of sunglasses. I pick up some a few pairs of jeans and some plain colored shirts that I believe are in Cherie’s size. I grab A few flannel shirts and some jeans and overalls for myself. I figure if we’re going to fit in, we should at least dress the part. I pick up a camouflaged jacket and a rifle with a few boxes of ammunition.

I grab some milk, fresh eggs, and a bag of potato chips. I figure from what I saw in the basement we should be able to survive for months—but these are things I know that Cherie likes.

As the man checks me out he stops as he comes to the rifle. “This is a good one… my cousin Jack—he took down 3 Aggros with this rifle. He died a few months back… a drunk driving accident of all things. Even with all this shit going on in the country, we’re still managing to kill ourselves doing dumb shit.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I say as I nod. “I’ll make sure it gets some good use.”

“It’ll serve you well—just don’t do anything dumb,” the man says as he releases the gun and hands it to me. I place it over my shoulder. He finishes checking me out and I hand him a large sum of paper currency.

“We meet at the town hall in two days, it’s about two blocks down—can’t miss it. There’s a sign. There’s only about fifty of us, but we can handle things.”

“Got it,” I said as I begin to pick up the paper bags. “I’ll be there.”

“We appreciate it,” Eli says as I head out the door. I shove the items into the trunk and head back to the farmhouse. All the while I have the GPS make sure that I am not being followed—‘she’ informs me that there are no cars active anywhere in the vicinity.

I place the eggs and milk into the fridge and rush up to the bedroom. Cherie is asleep, although she is still shaking. A small pool of vomit is on the floor next to the bed. I go to the bathroom and grab a towel and clean up the mess. I hope that nothing is seriously wrong with her.

I place an arm on her shoulder and she shudders. “Cherie…”

“I couldn’t keep the sea inside…”

“You should eat something,” I say as I rub my hand up and down her shoulder. She feels cold.

“Just water please…”

I take one of the gallon jugs and begin to pour her a cup; she instead—takes the entire gallon and starts to drink from it. She almost manages to finish the whole thing off before she hands it back to me.

“What can I do?” I ask, frustrated. I need her to be better.

“What can I do,” she whispers.

“Just get better…”

She does not answer. She has fallen asleep again.

I go into the bathroom and open up the bottle of black hair dye. I follow the instructions, but to my dismay, when I get out the shower I do not look much different than my picture from the warning broadcast. The old man did not seem to recognize me, so maybe they aren’t broadcasting the info this far out. Maybe, for some reason, they want people to believe that I’m still loose in Chicago with a nearly Aggro Unstable. I remember—fear is a great way to control people. Still, I can’t afford to take chances. I notice that I have a small bit of stubble growing. Perhaps, I should just let it grow.

I pull the car around to the back. Leaving it out front and exposed seems way too risky. I grab a few items from the car, the flashlight, the metal case, the few boxes of the handgun ammo and Cherie’s suitcase. I cover the car up with tarp that I find in the basement. I place heavy bricks around it. I press the alarm button on the key ring. I figure keeping it safe will be my best bet if we ever need to get the fuck out. I then remember to solar panels and cut two strips down with a knife from the kitchen. I am glad I remembered—it would be shame to try and escape in a car that would not run.

As nighttime comes, fireflies emerge from along the high grass… thousands of them. I wish that Cherie were able to see them—maybe tomorrow. If all goes well, hopefully we should be able to stay here for a while. It isn’t so bad here. The stars are bright and beautiful. The house is in better shape than I could have asked for. We have provisions. I just need her to get better—and I think after that, everything will be right on track. At least for our purposes… Noah’s situation will have to wait, unfortunately—especially if he is right.

I lock up the house and make sure it is secure. I bring the rifle into the bedroom and place it beside an old antique dresser with crystal knobs and elaborate carvings of deer. I climb into bed behind Cherie; I place my arms around her. She begins to shake and shudder violently. I try and hold her closer, thinking that she is cold—she feels cold.

“I’m being shocked…” Cherie says as she squeezes my hand tightly—almost too tightly.

It then dawns on me… I feel foolish for not noticing it earlier, she is going through withdrawals. Of course… anything that messes with your mental state is going to have withdrawals. I remember from back when I was on Clonazepam… after my parents died. I was only on the medication for a few months and I thought I was going to die, if I hadn’t tapered off slowly there was a chance I could have.

“You’re going through withdrawals,” I whisper as I hold onto her tightly. There is nothing more that I can think to do. “We’ll make it through this though.”

“Make it through this… though.”




11. Withdrawals


The next day I force her to eat some soup. She has a difficult time. After she manages to keep it down, I pour out a couple of Ibuprofen from the bottle and she takes them with a large amount of water. All I can think is—this would have been a good thing for Noah to warn me about. Then again I suppose he had to cram as much information as he possibly could—especially once we had to run.

“Well, you’re fever has gone down,” I say, although I know it doesn’t make her feel much better. She still looks absolutely miserable.

“What have you done to your hair?”

“I don’t want people to be able to recognize us,” I reply, I guess it is a bit more noticeable than I had thought.

“How do you feel today?”

“I feel…” Cherie pauses. “I feel sick… but I feel clearer. My mind is clearer.”

“That’s at least good, I mean that’s something.”

“It doesn’t make me very happy though,” Cherie says as she looks out the window. “The view… it reminds me of my apartment—with the tree right outside the window. That’s strange.”

“Yeah,” I say as I nod. “I noticed that.”

“Is it early?”

“It is actually late afternoon,” I say as I sit beside her. “You’ve slept for nearly twenty hours.”

“Is this where we are supposed to be?”

“That…” I say as I shake my head and put my arm around her. Her arm still feels cool to the touch. “That didn’t work out. The place Noah wanted us to be—well the people who are after us found it first and burned it down.”

“I’m sorry,” Cherie says as she rests her head against my shoulder.

“We’re alright here thought,” I say as I kiss her cheek. “For now, we’re safe here.”

“Did you buy me new clothes?’

“You had a fever, I had to get you into something simple,” I say. As strange as it seems I miss her unique fall outfits, she was much happier then. She didn’t have to carry so many worries or have to go through such terrible pain. “Plus, it will help us fit in if people start poking around.”

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Cherie says as she begins to rock back and forth in the bed. She begins to cry. “Where… am I?”

“You just need to rest,” I say as I help her back into a flat position. She curls up and goes through a few shivers. She looks at me with those sad eyes that tend to leave me feeling heartbroken. She doesn’t deserve this.

“Tell me something about your past…”

“Of course,” I say as I nod and lay down behind her. I try and think of something interesting. My mind is filled with sad thoughts so it is difficult. “Before everything changed, the night before everything changed actually… I was doing something really stupid. My life wasn’t going very well and I had been drinking. I decided to go out—so I took my parents car while they were asleep. I ended up driving it into a lake… pretty far from the house. I remember sitting in the car—being half aware of what was going on. I just started laughing. I’m not sure why really. I think that I was just going to go down with it…”

“What stopped you?” Cherie asks as she squeezes both of my hands and inches closer against me.

“I thought about my life—I didn’t have many friends at the time. They had all gone off to do things, while I was doing absolutely nothing. I had no motivation, no talents… anyway, I saw a glimpse of my own funeral and I realized that hardly anyone would be there. No one would really care if I died that night—and I thought that would have made me want to leave more… but instead it didn’t. I felt this feeling like, just hold on a little longer and things will be different. So I broke out the window and I swam my way up. I walked home and arrived home that morning. All those hours I spent walking, I just went over and over in my head about how I didn’t know what I was going to say to my parents—that I had basically sent their car to the bottom of a lake… that I as drunk. When I got home though, they were both… just gone.”

“I’m glad you didn’t die…”

“It was hard, because I just had that moment where it was like… something was telling me to hold on and wait—but I waited, and waited… nothing good happened for years. I quit drinking completely, but I… I just lived half asleep like I did before that night. It was a lot of waiting until I actually felt really important or really alive again—which was when I met you and Noah. Sorry that’s not a happier story. I probably should have come up with something happier… next time, I promise.”

“No that…” Cherie begins as she rests her head against my chest. “…that actually makes me feel better. Although I’m sorry I made you wait so long. I’m sure if Noah was still with us—he’d be sorry too.”

“That’s not even anything that you should be sorry for,” I say as I laugh. “That’s why I was so worried when you took off yesterday morning. Without you, my life would go back to me just… barely getting by, barely living. I’d be alone again and I’d be back in that dark place.”

“I thought it was best,” Cherie says she yawns. “I’m sorry, Ethan.”

“Not your fault,” I say as I kiss her forehead. “Things have sure changed in the past week and a half…”

Cherie is asleep. I think of getting up—it has been an entire day without checking the news… however she is resting against me so comfortably I cannot bring myself to leave. Although I am not tired in the least, and feel that I should be doing something productive—I stay. I watch her sleep for a while. Every now and then she shudders, but then it passes. She smiles every now and then. I hope that she is at least having good dreams. I stare off at the window. The view does bear a striking resemblance to her apartment window. Once again I am left with the thought—why me? I just cannot wrap my mind why Noah would ultimately risk his plan by bringing me in. I am glad for it; I would have never met Cherie had he not gotten me in. I just do not understand his purpose. He had people on the inside, he had a network that he was in contact with… he had to have been working with someone… I mean the car, and the money, all the technology and the guns. It just doesn’t add up because I was the downfall—I was his mistake. Maybe he trusted me because I was a friend—but then again, I never got proof that he remembered me… sure he knew I lied when I applied for the C-Shapes Program, but he probably found that out from sneaking around their system when he got me approved… maybe he wasn’t normal. Just, very lucid and off his medication for years… the thought of it all starts to give me a headache. The more I try and figure out an answer—the more questions I come up with. The more I try and figure out my role… the more I realize I really don’t think I have one. Maybe going through his paperwork will bring me some much needed answers… or just pile on more questions. Even though I am not tired, I eventually allow myself to nap.




12. Recovery


Two more days pass by, nothing important happens and I take that as a rather good sign. Most of the days Cherie spends sleeping, she can only seem to stay awake for a few hours. She still has the shakes every now and again, and moments of incoherency. Whenever she is awake I tell her stories about when I was younger—I find happier moments, like going sledding in winter, and the time I broke my arm playing in a tree house… nothing really of any importance, nothing in my life has been that terribly interesting. Aside from that I make her something to eat, and make sure she gets plenty of water. While she sleeps, I explore the old house. I find old picture albums of the family that used to live here—they seem like a nice old couple who got to live pretty full lives. I see pictures of them when they are younger, they at all different places across the country. I stop at one where they are the Grand Canyon—they stand together, smiling. I suppose they never had any kids, as I do not find pictures of any. Not much else of the couple remains in the house—I know one of them was a fan of old western novels. I find a few handmade blankets. Other than that it is all stuff, the things we leave behind, I suppose.

On the third day I wake up early. Cherie is still heavily asleep. I begin to crawl out of bed; however she stirs, and turns to me. “Are you leaving?”

“I was just going to check on a few things,” I say as I look out the window, it looks like a beautiful day outside—perhaps a bit warm, mornings in this old house are usually much cooler. “How are you doing today?”

Cherie’s eyes look sad as she turns to face me and rests her head against my stomach. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus… at the same time I feel clearer—clearer than I have in forever, but sad as well.”

“Why sad, Cherie…?”

“You don’t… I know my name is Claire. I remember. I am sad because I know that I’ll never get to Paris.”

“Why not… and why Paris…?” I ask as I begin to rub her shoulder. She is feeling warmer. I am glad to see that she is out of the worst of it. Just as Noah said, this Paris thing is slowly starting to clear up as her memory improves.

“…and why Paris…?”

“Yeah, why did you always want to go to Paris?”

“…want to go to Paris…?”

I nod once as Claire nods as well. I realize that, also, just as Noah had said—even if she improves, she will always be a mirror. I spend a few moments looking out the window. I watch as a robin lands in the tree, it hops from branch to branch; its head constantly changing direction, the bird almost seems robotic in the way it moves.

“It hurts my head…” Claire finally says after moments of silence.

“You don’t have to tell me—don’t push yourself too hard.”

“I remember though,” Claire says as she closes her eyes. Her voice is heavy and sad. “My dad used to… travel I think. I feel like he was gone a lot. I get flashes of him and my… mother? She was usually at home. She was nice although we didn’t always get along, not important—I have this memory… I think it is accurate. One day my father came home and he had one of these tiny silver Eiffel Tower souvenirs. I used to carry it around for luck. I don’t know when I lost it. I know I lost it though… not important. He said when I turned eighteen that I could go to Paris. I wanted to see the lights—I wanted to see something new. I suppose, most importantly I wanted to see the Eiffel Tower.”

“You turned 18 the same year as V-Day… didn’t you?”

“I was packed,” Claire says as she nods once. “I was ready to go. I thought I was still going. I suppose… for eight years I’ve been thinking I’ve been going… going and always coming back—never getting to see it.”

“I’m so sorry,” I say as I remember back to the time that I helped her pack. She was so excited—I hated lying to her playing along.

Claire opens her eyes and places a hand to her forehead. “That is why you looked sad that day when we packed.”

“I feel so guilty about it—it’s just that they told me to let you do it. I wanted to tell you the truth. I just… I wasn’t strong enough.”

“I’d been doing it for eight years… you were just being kind. You just didn’t want to hurt me.”

“It still doesn’t feel like the right thing to do.”

“I forgive you,” Claire says as she reaches her hand up and places it upon the place where she slapped me earlier. “I’m still not going to be normal though, am I?”

“Normal is overrated,” I say as I place my hand over hers. “I like you the way you are.”

“…the way you are.”

I climb out of bed and get dressed. I put on a pair of blue jeans and a plain white t-shirt. I pick up the rifle from the side of the dresser.

“Are you… the way you are…” Claire stutters as she attempts to correct herself. “Are you, going outside?”

“I’ve been checking the area every morning,” I say as I nod. “Just in case of Hunters… or people curious us about us being here.”

“Can I come, I would like to go outside,” Claire asks as she gets out of bed. She puts on a pair of jeans resting on her night stand and brings up her blue shirt and smells it. “I smell sweaty.”

“I put all of your clothes in the closet,” I say as nod. “You don’t have to ask, you can come with me—you can do whatever you want. Just, try and stay near me for now until we are safe.”

To my amusement, she digs through the drawers and pulls out her brown flower printed long sleeve shirt. She rolls up the sleeves and walks back into the room. As she passes a mirror she attempts to fix her hair, it is getting a bit longer and she has a bit more difficulty getting it to co-operate.

As we leave the house and begin to walk around the property, Claire spends most of the time exploring the new surroundings. Aside from the tall grass, it is pretty nice here—there is a small pond that a few ducks have claimed. An old rusted tractor sits covered in vines.

“You’ve stopped shaving,” Claire points out as we begin to walk towards the road.

“Do you not like it?” I ask as I run my hand through the short growth of hair.

“You just look a little different… that’s all.”

As we reach the road I look both ways. The view afforded to us allows us to see for miles. Everything seems clear. We head back to the house and I show Claire the storage room past the red cellar door. She places her hand upon a few of the canned goods. There is a lot of different soups, she pauses and laughs as she holds up a can of French onion soup.

“Lunch..?” I ask as I laugh.

“Is it strange if I say that I want French toast?”

“I bought the stuff to make it,” I say as shrug my shoulders. “You like what you like…”

After a French toast lunch, I show her around the house—I tell her about the pictures that I found, that the people who lived here seemed happy. As I show her the bathroom, with its claw foot tub—she spots the bottle of shampoo.

“I could really use a bath…”

“I actually got some peroxide,” I say as I hold up the bottle. “When I was in high school I had a friend whose parents would not let her dye her hair, so I remembered that one time she mixed peroxide and shampoo and kept it I her hair for I think she said like half an hour—and it turned blonde.”

“So we look different?”

“That’s the general idea…” I say as I nod. “I don’t know how good it is. I dyed mine black and attempted to grow this beard—but I suppose if we were ever spotted, I mean we can’t do much about our how tall we are or the fact that… well—it’s a pretty shitty idea for a disguise.”

“Will you help me?” Claire asks as she pulls her shirt up and off.

“I’ll do my best,” I say as I watch her undress. Her small, waifish, beautiful form is illuminated by the light from a tinted window. I swallow hard as I have not seen her in the light. I find myself growing rather aroused at the sight of her nude form. She lies in the bathtub as I prepare a mixture in a bowl from the kitchen—it smells rather terrible. I lather it into her light brown hair and I run a little warm water so that she is not naked and cold in the tub.

“Are you looking at me…?” Claire says as she peeks over behind me and smiles.

“I’m finding it pretty impossible to not.”

“This burns,” she says as she begins to sound as though she is getting a little upset.

“I’m sorry… Claire.” I find it strange to use her real name, but I know that it will help her.

She draws her legs up and places them against her and begins to rock back and forth. I place my hand against her bare back and gently rub my hand along her spine.

“Not much longer…” I whisper.

“Not much longer…”

I check my father’s old watch, mentally counting down the minutes.

“Did I ever tell you about the time that I got in trouble when I was on a school fieldtrip?”

“On a school fieldtrip…”

“Well we were staying at this fancy hotel, I don’t even remember which one it was now—it doesn’t matter. But we were doing this whole thing where we were seeing the art museum and the history museums, it was a lot of museum visiting… stuff you don’t really care as much about when you’re in high school. Anyway, on this trip we were staying at this really nice hotel—and right before we got there we stopped at this grocery store to stock up on snacks, like cookies and chips and things. I saw this vending machine that had a bunch of those tiny little rubbing bouncy balls for fifty cents. I got change from the guy at the counter and I bought like ten of them. At the hotel, we get all checked in and they start breaking us into groups because we can’t fall fit into these all glass elevators… back then, I wasn’t afraid of them—now they terrify me, kind of strange yeah?”

“Kind of strange yeah…?”

“I suppose some fears you grow into… anyway, I’m in this group of six other people. I take a handful of the rubber balls from my pocket and I throw them against the window as hard as I can, they go whizzing around like crazy, bouncing against the wall, the ceiling, it is just madness—the other fix students with me are yelling, jumping around trying to dodge and not get hit—a few of them do… even myself. Those things were a lot harder than I thought they would be. The teacher who has volunteered to escort us sees the entire thing and I get sent home that same day. I never got to stay in the hotel. My parents were angry, but even they think that she overreacted. After all, it is not like I broke anything or really hurt anyone.”

Claire laughs as she continues to rock back and forth.

“It’s time,” I say as I reach down and pull out the stopper and allow some water to drain. I lean her head back beneath the faucet and wash out the mixture; I keep a hand over her eyes careful that none of it gets into her eyes or reaches her face. I run a towel through her hair, and to my relief it does not all fall out. It is definitely a very light blonde.

Claire takes the towel from me and dries off. She then rushes to the bed and lies down, covering herself up with the sheets.

“I’m sorry,” I say as I shake my head. “It was probably a bad idea.”

“I’m just… I know that I go somewhere else sometimes—It takes a lot out of me. I need to nap again.”

“I might run into town and check in with a guy I met… see if anything is going on. Do you want anything?”

“Get more eggs and bread?” Claire asks quietly. “I like to stock up…”

“Of course,” I say as I laugh.

“Mayonnaise,” she adds. “Egg salad sandwiches…”

“Got it,” I say as I pull up on the sheets and make sure she is properly tucked in.

I take the tarp off of the car and put it into drive. I pause at the edge of the driveway. “Any vehicles on the road…?”

“Currently no vehicles are active.”

I drive into Lawson; my rifle is seated beside me in the passenger seat. I make my way to the grocery store. I sling the firearm over my shoulder and enter the building.

The old man instantly recognizes me, despite my black hair and meager beard. I suppose though, last time it was nearly dark outside.

“Benjamin…”

“Eli,” I say as I nod. “Just came in to pick up some bread and eggs—anything going on in town?”

“We missed you at the militia meeting.”

“My girlfriend has had the stomach flu—picked it up from the drive over I suppose,” I say as I realize that I had completely forgotten. “I’ll make sure I make the next one.”

Eli nods. He then gestures over to an old hotel. About four of them C-Shapes Hunters have set themselves up in the hotel there—it is makin’ a lot of people nervous. They won’t say what their business is, which only makes them more suspicious.”

“Have you had any Unstables go Aggro?”

“Nah,” Eli says as he shakes his head. “However they seem to be real interested in checking in on our small population of them.”

“How many do you have here?”

“We got about fifty or so—we’re pretty lucky there as we got a population of around six hundred spread out in the area. So there is no good reason for Hunters to even be here—like I said we take care of our own. You wouldn’t know nothing about this would you?”

“Me?” I ask as I shake my head. “I came out here to get away from this shit.”

I pick up a few things. I grab a whole bunch of bottled water—the same kind that fits in the car. In the back of my mind I start to realize that we might have to start travelling again. At least Claire is feeling a little better.

As I return to the checkout a man wearing a camouflaged hat and leather jacket, despite the heat, is talking to Eli. A half smoked cigarette hangs from his mouth as ash carelessly falls down to the floor. He is carrying a handgun.

I place the items on the counter.

“This is Benjamin,” Eli says as he introduces to the man. “He and his girlfriend came out here from St. Louis to get away from all the trouble there.”

“Tom,” the man says as he extends a hand.

“Good to meet you, Tom,” I say as I shake the man’s hand.

“There’s one of the bastards now,” Tom says as he rubs his scruffy chin with his thumb. “You in the militia Benjamin…?”

“I’m joining.”

“Good,” Tom says as he keeps his eyes fixed upon the man dressed in the black suit. “Aggros might not be the only trouble we’ve got here.”

I watch as the man lingers around the front of the hotel. He sits upon a bench. I know that I have to go out there—I know stalling will only make me look more suspicious, right now these two are on my side and I have to keep it that way if I have any chance of making it out of here alive.

I pay Eli and head out the door. Tom puts his hand against my shoulder as I leave. “Be careful with that guy.”

“Thanks,” I say as I nod.

I open up the trunk and start to slide the water bottles into the large container. I place the eggs and bread, safely wrapped up in a blanket, in a vacant corner so they will travel safely.

“Nice car you got there—haven’t seen one of those in forever… Mazda XIII, isn’t it?” A voice speaks from beside the car.

“Yeah,” I say as I bring my rifle out and point it at the man in the black suit. “That it is…”

“Calm down there chief…” The man says as he raises his arms. You don’t look like you are from around here, thought I might have an actual civilized chat.”

“Sorry,” I say, but I refuse to lower my gun. “I came out here from St. Louis. I felt it was getting too dangerous to stay.”

“Understood,” the man speaks as he nods and continues to keep his hands away from his gun. “I hear they’ve been getting an unusually high amount of Aggro attacks on the east side—you passing through or are you staying?”

“Depends on how safe I am here.”

“Just between us,” the man says quietly. “Not very…”

I slide my finger against the trigger. I know that there are three more in the hotel—however; I also know that there aren’t exactly many ways to get out of this situation. “What’s wrong with this place?”

“The mayor says this is the last month he’s buying Calm,” the man says as he folds his arms across his chest. “We’re here to talk some sense into him—although he isn’t talking to us. Plus they’ve got all these crazy militia types hanging about—which we won’t deal with. Rumors are we might lose this state… we’re just trying to be diplomatic.”

“Trouble out here…?” Eli says as he points his rifle at the man from the open door.

Tom makes his way down the stairs and takes aim as he takes cover behind a tree.

“We’re just having a discussion,” the man says loudly, then turns his voice to a low whisper. “Isn’t that right… Ethan?”

“What do you want,” I say as I keep the rifle trained on my target. “You’re not getting her…”

“We want you to turn yourself in… both of you.” The man whispers—or we’ll turn this town into a ghost town. It’s your choice.”

“Why aren’t you talking to us?” Tom asks as he peeks around from the tree.

“Because your mayor isn’t talking to us,” the Hunter says as he continues to keep his arms folded. “I thought maybe an educated person could talk some sense into him before this town ends up in some real trouble.”

“We ain’t stupid!” Eli shouts. “Our business is our business.”

“So what’s it going to be,” the Hunter says softly. “You think you can even kill with that thing? Last hunter you ran into is doing just fine—you couldn’t kill him, could you? We know you were a Sitter for a reason, not everyone has the balls to kill.”

“What’s going on there Ben?” Tom asks as he keeps his handgun fixed on the man.

I know that I do not have the fortitude myself to kill… but I will not let them harm Claire—not anymore than they already have. There is no surrender. I have to survive. Claire and I have to keep on surviving… “These hunters are here to destroy the town if the mayor continues with his plan to stop paying for Calm.”

“You stupid sun of a bitch,” the Hunter says as he reaches for his gun.

I pull the trigger a second later, managing to blast him at short range right in the arm. It nearly explodes from the close impact. He falls to the ground.

Another man in a black suit rushes out of the hotel and Tom takes him out with a single shot to the head. The Hunter collapses against the ground in a jumbled heap.

“Get behind the car!” I shout as I gesture for Eli and Tom to come over. They begin to run over, taking cover.

“The car is bullet proof,” I say—a statement which is made quite clear as a few shots are fired from the hotel window and bounce off the far side of the red Mazda. “St Louis streets were pretty rough…”

“I’d guess so,” Tom says as he fires a shot blindly into the window.

At least the odds are in our favor. A shot comes from beneath the car and bounces off one of the tires. Despite the shock, I’m a little in awe that they are also bulletproof.

“Fucker’s still alive,” Eli says as he drops to the ground and fires a single shot from his rifle into the man’s side. The blood sprays across the bottom of the car as the Hunter violently begins to shake for a few moments and then dies.

“Now we just have to deal with them assholes in the building,” Tom says as he shakes his head and reaches into his leather jacket. “Hate to do this, I always loved that hotel… lot of good hour long memories there…”

“Just blow the damn thing up,” Eli says as he takes cover as another barrage of shots is fired from the hotel.

“Cover me….”

Both Eli and I fire into the windows. As Tom pulls the pin he tosses the grenade and manages to get it right into one of the broken windows.

“I’d say that’s a three-pointer,” Tom says as we all duck behind the car. A large explosion fills the air, for a moment all I can hear is a loud ringing in my ears. I peer up and from all the dust and debris I can make out pieces of a body. Another man, covered in blood and seriously injured begins to stagger from the remains of the front of the hotel.

“You are all going to die now,” the man shouts as he attempts to limp across the street. “Every last one of you…”

“Well,” Eli says as he takes aim and fires a shot into the man’s head. “…you first then, asshole…”

Tom and Eli get up and survey the area.

“That should be all of them,” Tom says as he reaches a hand down and helps me up. I’m a little bit shaken, but I am rather grateful for still being alive.

“Looks like ya picked the wrong town to get away from your troubles,” Eli says as he dusts off his trousers. “So our mayor is refusing to pay for Calm… so they sent them out here to make sure he would—or else?”

“That’s the general idea,” I say. I know it is somewhat a lie. They were here for me. “He told me I had picked the wrong town, that I should either help them or keep moving on.”

“Instead you helped us,” Tom says as he smacks me on the back. “Wasn’t your business, I appreciate it.”

“I don’t know how much help that was,” I say as I shake my head. It feels wrong to accept any kind of gratitude… if I could be honest, it should be the other way around.

“Why’s that?” Tom asks.

“They may send more,” I reply. Or worse… I think to myself, dreading the thoughts that fill my mind.

“I reckon they will,” Eli says as he shoulders his rifle. “I’ll let the militia know.”

“Quite a racket they have going on,” I say as though this is the first time I’m hearing of it. “Pay for the Calm, or else they’ll come and muscle you into doing it.”

“Not like they’d need the money either…” Tom says as he shakes his head. “Then again, the whole country is going to hell.”

“I have to get home, check on my girlfriend—she’s been sick,” I say as I shake both Tom and Eli’s hand.

“You hanging around, are you with us?” Eli asks before I begin to leave.

“Yeah, I’m with you,” I say as I get into the car. “I’m in the last farmhouse on West 196 Street—if you need anything come and find me.”

“We’ll have a meeting in town tomorrow, can you make it? People will be interested in hearing from you,” Tom asks as he places a hand on my door.

“I’ll be there,” I say as I nod.

“See you then,” He says as he shuts the door for me. I put the car into drive and make my way back to the farmhouse. I feel terrible, once again, because I know that I have lied. Things have become much worse… there is no way that Claire and I can remain here. I am thankful for their kindness, and will never be able to repay their help.

As I reach the house, I pull around to the back. I glance over to the back door and notice that it has been broken down. I rush out the car. “Claire!” I shout as I run into the kitchen. The house has been trashed. I make my way up the stairs. My heart is pounding in my chest. I round the top.

To my relief I spot Claire sitting.

“Are you alright?” I ask as I cautiously enter the room of the old farmhouse. The floor creaks beneath each slow step I take. I see her there—the sun glowing against her shoulder length bleached blonde hair and her hazel eyes are illuminated like glowing gems. She is sitting motionless. Her eyes are fixed to the view of the window. She does not reply. She does not even acknowledge my presence.

There is a gun in her hand. The faint smell of smoke hangs in the air. Spent bullet casings line the hardwood floor around her. As I slowly enter the room, I spot a trail of blood that leads to a large, heavy set man. He is shirtless, wearing a pair of overalls. A large red axe with a wooden handle rests against the floor beside him. What remains of his head is a sight that I will never forget as very little of it is there, save for a mess of blood and scattered brain matter.

This is when I realize that things are actually getting a lot worse than I could have ever expected. Every moment, everything I have gone through—does not compare to this. I am in no way prepared for this. It is out of pure necessity and care for Claire that I can even continue. It all seems so pointless, however I am so relieved to see that she is still alive—after all, I would not have made it this far, nor would I make it any further, without her.

“Claire…” I whisper as approach her.

She continues to stare vacantly out of the window. I take the handgun from her. Her hands begin to tremble. Tears stream down from her eyes.

“Claire…” I say softly as I wipe away her tears. “Are you alright?”

Claire finally snaps out if it, as though she was trapped in some kind of terrible nightmare. She begins to cry once more. “He was… so angry.”

“Are you hurt in any way,” I say as I check her arms for any kind of cuts.

“He was just… uncontrollably angry. He knew I was here… I knew he was coming. I could feel it. We’re all kind of… connected. He wouldn’t calm down.”

“He was in that state of mind, the one I told you about,” I say as I place my arms tightly around her. “Thank god you’re still alive. You could have been killed.”

“He was after you,” Claire says as she runs her hands through my hair. “He wanted to kill you. He was so angry with you for no reason at all—he would not even listen to me when I said that you were not here.”

“How do you know he was after me?”

“I could feel it,” Claire says. “I don’t think he was going to hurt me… but I couldn’t let him hurt you.”

“Thank you, Claire,” I say as I hold onto her tightly and bury my head against her shoulder.

“…I’m… your caregiver.”

“That’s pretty accurate,” I say as I place the gun into my pocket. “Are more around?”

“I don’t feel any around,” Claire says as she looks out the window once more.

“We need to leave,” I say as I begin to grab a few things from the dresser. The metal case, some of the things I’ve brought in from the car—I open up one of the boxes of ammo and refill the clip. “We’re not safe here anymore.”

“Where will we go?”

“I don’t know,” I say as I shake my head. “I guess we should just keep heading west.”

“I used to live… west,” Claire says as she takes a moment to pause. “California? That’s a place?”

“That it is,” I say.

“We used to have a mansion—very safe,” Claire adds. “Only we could get in… they used me to get my… parents out…”

“Don’t think right now, Claire,” I say as I notice she is becoming deeply saddened once more. “I need you with me. We’ll head to California—I need you to concentrate for now though. I need you present.”

“Right,” Claire says as she wipes away a tear from her eye. “You aren’t safe here.”

We load up the car as evening approaches. I take a lot of the canned goods from the basement. I plan on staying in any vacant houses we can find along the way—but who knows if we will ever find a place that is even remotely as well stockpiled.

As Claire and I are making one last run through of the house, I hear an urgent knock upon the door. Claire backs away and heads into the bedroom. Another loud knock sends her to the floor as she begins to rock back and forth. “I don’t like that noise…”

“Stay here,” I say as I ready my rifle and head down the stairs. I open the door just as one of the larger men is about to attempt to break through. He rushes in and falls to the floor.

“Dammit William,” Eli says as he steps over the large man and enters into the living room. “I told you to give it a few more minutes.”

“Well we don’t exactly got a few more minutes do we?” The large man named William says as he slowly gets up from the floor.

“S’pose not,” Eli says as he reaches over and grabs my shoulder. “Benjamin, the town… we’ve lost the town.”

“What happened?” I ask as I look at the small group of seven men. I recognize Tom from earlier. The others are all dressed in army style jackets and are heavily armed.

“These men… are all that remains of the militia,” Eli says as he points to the others—this is John, other Tom, Nicholas…”

“We don’t really have time for this,” Tom from earlier says as he pushes his way into the living room. “Almost all of the Unstables went Aggro—all at once. Didn’t even know that was possible… We managed to take about half of them down, but they’re still out there. We tried to run, but they seem like they’re following our tracks.”

“They’re on their way here?” I ask, “Is this because of earlier?”

“Seems like it… to both questions,” Tom answers as he nods. “You and your girlfriend should both get out of here—they can’t be more than half an hour behind us.”

“I say we make a stand,” Eli says as he nervously eyes the view of the driveway from the door.

“Don’t be a fool, old man,” Tom says as he shakes his head. “We run.”

“William,” Eli says as he pats the large man on the back. “You got all your construction shit in the back of your truck?”

“Yeah…” William says as he shrugs his large shoulders.

“Go get as many boards, nails, and hammers as you can—we’ll lock this place up tight and take them out one at a time if they try and break through,” Eli says as he nods. “The problem we had in town is that we were fighting out in the open. Here we’ll have the advantage.”

“I’m in,” John says as he checks the clip on his assault rifle.

“We take care of our own…” Another man says.

“Fuck,” Tom says as he kicks at the ground. “Get your shit William, other Tom, give his fat ass a hand.”

I help them put up the back door, William and John nail it down with as many two by fours as it can accommodate. I go down into the basement and lock up the cellar door. I begin to place a board up on the door to the basement, however Tom stops me.

“It might make a good trap. Get a few down there and toss a grenade down—will save us on ammo. “

I nod and place the board back down. I watch as they board up the front door. Then we go around systematically covering all the windows as swiftly as we can.

“Alright…” Tom says—content that we have done enough in twenty minutes. “William and John—you take the living room. You have short range assault rifles, so make your shots count… aim for the head, don’t let any through. Nicholas and Eric, you guys watch the back door… same deal, assault weapons when necessary. If you hear noises in the basement—blow those fuckers up, but don’t do it too many times, we don’t want the foundation collapsing on us. Eli, myself, Benjamin and other Tom, will cover upstairs with our rifles and guns. We’ll try and snipe them off before they reach the house… we’ll each take a different window.”

Everyone nods. The plan is in place. All we have to do is survive.

“Your girlfriend handy with a gun…?” Tom asks as we ascend the staircase.

“Sometimes,” I answer honestly. “She took one out all by herself while I was in town.”

As we all enter the bedroom. Claire is continuing to rock band and forth in one spot.

“What the hell is wrong with her?” Other Tom asks as he raises his gun.

“No!” I shout as I get in front of his pistol. “She’s my girlfriend. “

“She’s different,” other Tom continues.

“Just let her be,” Eli says.

“She could be one of them…” other Tom says as he tries to push past me. “She’s doing that thing.”

“She’s not like them. She’s different.” I say as push back.

“We can’t waste time fighting amongst each other…” Tom says as he goes and takes a position in one of the other bedrooms.

“Look,” I say in a whisper. “She saw her whole family die, she is not an Unstable though—she just has problems sometimes. I pull my glasses out and hand them to other Tom.

“Are these?”

“Yeah,” I say as I watch as Eli leaves and takes his position in the office.

“How’d you get these,” other Tom asks as he places them over his face.

“Personal protection back in St. Louis…”

“He looks at himself, and then looks at me and says, “…normal.” He then looks past me at Claire.

I begin to feel a little scared. If Noah is wrong this could mean a lot of trouble. It is bad enough that Aggros are coming here and the odds aren’t so great—having to deal with a scared normal seems like it would just be the worst possible situation.

“Normal…” Other Tom says as he tosses the glasses back to me. “I’m sorry man.”

“It is alright,” I say as I nod. “These are difficult times.”

“If you two ladies are done in there we have windows we need covered!” Tom shouts from the other bedroom.

“There is a window in the bathroom, it is the only one that faces west from up here. I say as I point the way. “It is a small one—just break through it.”

“Got it,” other Tom says as he nods.

I enter the bedroom. I pull Claire up from the floor. “I know you’re scared… I know you are having anxiety attacks now. Things are bad though.”

“They’re coming…” Claire whispers.

“Take this,” I say as I hand Claire the handgun. “We’ll stay in this room—but we have to help the others.”

I open up the window, and pull my rifle from my shoulder. I take the two boxes of rifle ammo from the surface of the nightstand, thankful that I hadn’t already packed it away. I place them beside me as I scan the area for any signs of activity.

Claire sits beside me. The handgun pointed down to the floor. “We’re in trouble…”

“We’ll be alright,” I say as I turn to Claire attempt to smile reassuringly. “We have help.”

“I can tell that you’re scared…”

“I am,” I admit.

“That man wanted to hurt me—what did you say to stop him?”

“I just… I told him you were my girlfriend… that you weren’t like them, that you were different.” I say as I think I see some movement in the field, as I steel myself to fire—deer dart out of the high grass.

“Just some deer…!” Eli shouts from the other bedroom.

“That’s good eating!” other Tom jokes from the other room. “…should have taken the shot!”

“You saved me from him though, thank you.”

“Anything for you Claire…” I whisper as I reach down and hold her hand. “Anything…”

I spot more movement in the high grass. A large group of what look like large people begin to spread out and into the yard.

“Plug your ears Claire,” I whisper as I release her hand. “It’s going to get very loud.”

“They’re here!” Eli shouts.

“I see them.” Tom Shouts.

Gunfire erupts from the top floor. I take aim at one and fire a few shots with my rifle. I am not sure if I am actually doing any damage though. I keep firing, for a moment I see one of them stumble—but they get right back up again.

“Keep on them!” Eli shouts.

I hear another round of gunfire as one of the Aggros finally goes down. I take aim and fire off some carefully aimed shots. I manage to at least disable one of them as they fall to the ground. More gunfire comes and the Aggro is put down. The yard is empty, save for the two corpses. They are now beyond our line of sight.

“Other Tom, get downstairs!” Tom shouts as he leaves his position and heads towards the stairs, followed by Eli. Tom stops Eli at the top of the staircase. “You stay up here—stay with Benjamin and his girl. If they get this far you last three are the last line.”

“Stay here,” I say to Claire as I run to the staircase.

 I stand beside Eli. Our rifles are pointed down to the first floor. I can hear sounds of chaos below—the sound of both gunfire and the breaking of wooden boards. I hear an explosion that rocks the entire house. It seems that they were trying to get through the basement after all. I hear a few screams—although they are barely audible over the terrible guttural screaming of the Aggros. From our small view above, all I can make out is blood and flashes of gunfire. I hear shouting, but I cannot make anything out.

“God help us,” Eli says as he looks to me and shakes his head.

“Thank you, Eli,” I say as I keep my gun fixed to the first floor. “I would have been dead already if you hadn’t come to warn me.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Eli says as he has a grim look on his face. “I think you’ll be dead soon enough—me too, I guess we’ll have to buy each other drinks in hell.”

“I suppose so,” I say as I shake my head.

After what seems like an eternity of gunfire, another explosion rocks the house nearly causing me to fall down to the floor. I watch as Eli is thrown forward. He lands a few steps down.

“Are you alright!?” I shout.

Eli shakes his head and gets back up to his feet.

There is an eerie silence in the air.

“Tom!” Eli shouts down the stairs. “William! Anyone still alive down there…?”

There is no response—only an unsettling stillness, like the calm right before a storm. A form starts to climb up from the bottom of the stairs. A bloodied woman, her face is contorted and all of her exposed muscles are contracted and disproportioned. She lets out a terrible scream that nearly drives me to the floor.

“Eli!” I shout as I attempt to aim my rifle.

Eli manages to get a few shots off before the woman picks him up and tosses him against the wall as a sickening cracking noise of his body breaking fills the air. He cries out in agony as he raises his gun and fires a few more shots. The Aggro falls down and collapses down the stairs in a crescendo of terrible screams.

The silence comes once more.

I rush over to Eli. He is bleeding very badly and his legs are all twisted in unnatural ways. “What can I do?”

“Ain’t nothing that can be done, Benjamin… they’ve gone and broken my back and I’m all a mess.”

I begin to cry, because deep down inside—I know that this is partially my fault… all of this.

“You’re young, don’t cry for the old,” Eli says as he picks up his rifle and allows it to slide down to his chin. “Looks like I’ll see you in hell after all.”

I look away as I hear a booming shot, and the sound of disgusting wet splatter. “Eli…”

As I get back up to my feet. I come face to face with a large man riddled with bullet holes. I begin to back way and into the bedroom. I fire a few shots, but they appear to do no damage. The man strikes out and sends me flying into the wall next to Claire. I look over to her—she is rocking back and forth. She stops and stares at me, her eyes are wide.

“Claire…”

I look for my rifle, but it is across the room. I attempt to move, but my back pierces in agony. I am not badly injured; at least I don’t feel like it. There is simply no fight left within me—not against such an enemy.

Claire looks to the gun in her hand and gets to her feet. She points it at the man. “Calm down…”

The man approaches, he ignores her and makes his way to me. He grabs me by the foot and hangs me up in the air.

“Put him down…” Claire says as she continues to keep the gun fixed at the man’s head. “Please… leave us be.”

The Aggro screams loudly—Claire, however, does not back down from the sound. She drops her gun, my heart begins to beat loudly—now we have no chance.

“This is… my girlfriend,” Claire shouts at the man as she holds her hand out in front of her. “She is different… she is not like the others. I am… caretaker.”

The Aggro releases me as I collapse to the floor. Claire rushes over and places her arms around me. I watch in awe as the bullet riddled man lumbers away, almost as though he understood, and has decided to leave. There seems to be a strange calmness about him. He is no longer breathing as heavy. He reaches the top of the staircase, and collapses atop of Eli’s remains. After a few heavy, labored breaths, he dies.

“Claire…” I whisper. “How…?”

“I made him see that you were of no harm,” Claire says as she hugs me tightly.

I cry out in pain as she puts pressure on my arm. “I think I’m… damaged.”

She looks at my arm, and pulls off my shirt. I have a lot of cuts, some bright red marks. “Damaged but not broken…”

“We should go,” I say as I get to my feet with Claire’s help.

I get into the dresser—A few shirts that I meant to leave are still there. Not wanting to look like I’ve just been through a battle, which in a way I suppose I have, I use my old shirt to wipe away the blood stains from my body. I put one of the old shirts on and we head down the stairs cautiously. We step over a few dead Aggros. I think I see an arm and a leg. I’m not sure if it was… I don’t want to think about it. The living room in an impassable mess of dead bodies… so we head to the back door. It looks like the front of the house took the brunt of the assault—although a few Aggros seemed to manage their way through the back. We duck our way through and enter into the night. The fireflies greet us in the tall grass.

“Beautiful…” Claire says as I rest a moment against the hood of the car.

I watch for a few moments as she chases after the glowing creatures, as enthralled as a child. I imagine that she has not seen them in a long time. With all the horror that I’ve just witnessed, it is nice to see something so wonderful—so innocent. She catches one in her hands and brings it to me. As she opens her hands it glows a brilliant green three times and then flies away into the night joining the thousands of others.

I stop watching and look down to the earth. Once again I’m left wondering why I have survived when others have not. Those were all good people… they just wanted to help. Eli… I didn’t get a chance to know him well, but he trusted me—him and Tom… I wouldn’t have made it out alive of Lawson if it were not for them.

Claire brings me another firefly. She looks at me and then looks at the glowing green light. “Are you sad because your friends are gone?”

“I am,” I say with a single nod.

“I wish I would have gotten to meet them, before they left.”

“Me too…” I say as I place my arms around her and draw her close to me. “I’m just glad that you are safe.”

“We should be leaving soon… I suppose.”

“We should. I have to get that stupid metal case to someone… we need to get somewhere safe.”

“My home…?”

“Do you remember the way?” I ask as I open the door for Claire.

I get into the driver’s seat and place the keys into the car. “Map…”

“Mo…” Claire pauses as she closes her eyes. She strains for a moment and begins to gently tap her fingers against her forehead. “Mo… Morro Bay… address is not listed—but I’ll… I’ll remember the way I promise.”

“Breaking news,” the female voice speaks as the dashboard comes to life.

For a moment I fear that it will be about us—what happened in Lawson.

“A news reporter I have never seen before is standing far from what appears to be a huge fire—the footage looks strange. It does not appear to be the typical C-Shapes footage. He begins to speak—“Thousands of Aggros have descended upon the C-Shapes headquarters earlier today, the largest activated chain since V-Day. Military forces had to withdraw as the largest Research facility in the world was taken down—the main factory of C-Shapes has been completely destroyed. The mass group of Aggros is currently on their way to converge with another group that is assaulting our nation’s capital. The flames behind me are all that is left of the massive complex—a fire that will likely be allowed to burn as there are no emergency responders left to handle the massive inferno.”

“Looks like they have more important things to worry about than hunt us down…” I say as I watch flames dance high into the air. A small explosion follows; however, the reporter pauses and then continues as though nothing happened.

“Around the world people have gone into hiding, fearing a similar reaction. Distribution centers are still open around the world but it appears that there will be no cure after all—also the amount of pills left will cover the world’s demand for only about two months… leaving government leaders of all nations with some very difficult decisions. However, no such mass Aggro attacks have been reported anywhere else in the world—it seems completely contained to the United States…”

“This is just… coming in now—the Pentagon building has fallen, and so has the White House. The President and First Lady are safe, and are in an undisclosed but secure location. Military forces are trying to do everything they can to secure the nation’s capital, but it appears that the damage has already been done. Riots have broken out all over the country, C-Shapes offices are being targeted everywhere. Hunters are being murdered and their bodies are being strung up on telephone poles in major cities in the U.S. I urge everyone to stay indoors and stay safe. If you are in the area of the C-Shapes Research Facility try and evacuate if possible—if not, stay indoors… I will try and report as much as I can—the entire C-Shapes Network has been taken down completely. We will try and get as many outside news organizations up and running… will get new info in whenever we can.”

The display disappears back to black.

“We definitely have to get out of here…” I say as I shake my head. I still remember the look on Noah’s face when I hypothetically asked if the Aggros could all be activated at once, what was to keep someone from another country discovering the truth and using it as a weapon—I just didn’t figure it would be used against us… I still remember his answer ‘it would be inhumane…’ well apparently someone on the inside that he revealed the truth did not share his view.

“No more C-Shapes?”

“It looks that way…”

“What does that mean? What happens now—can we go home?”

“It is not safe anywhere—at least not anywhere near a major city.”

“Did we live in a major city?” Claire asks as she pouts.

“Yeah,” I say as I rub her shoulder. “We need to get whatever info Noah left for me in that metal case to someone who will listen—otherwise a lot of people who are… different are going to get killed for no reason.

“We can do something from my house,” Claire says as she closes her eyes and attempts to concentrate. “Lot of technology… my father was… important?”

“That’s where we’ll head.”

“That’s where… we’ll head,” Claire repeats.

“GPS, Morro Bay—avoid all major cities. Avoid all cities as best as possible… in the quickest time.”

“Calculating…”

The entire window fills with the display a huge map; a red route is marked across the United States. It zigzags its way and looks rather intimidating. “Is this route acceptable?”

“Travel time?”

“31 hours of driving time. At a recommended 8 hours a day it should you should arrive at your destination on the fourth day.”

“Is this the fastest route?”

“Avoiding Texas, which is no longer a part of my system—and all Major and minor cities, yes,” the female voice replies.

“Route it,” I say as the map shrinks down to the side of the window. I know taking the interstates will be quite a risk—but right now time makes it worth it.

We head off into the night. As I pass Lawson, from distance, I notice a fire has consumed the small town. I wonder if there is anyone left alive. I know that my being there caused it and I am heartbroken for it. Hopefully I can make things right… somehow.




13. California Bound


It has been six hours since we left the farmhouse and all the terrible things that happened there. So far there has been no traffic on the major interstate. Every now and then I ask the GPS to confirm if there are any cars—she constantly states that there are not. I wonder if people are too busy hiding. I would think more people would vacate their cities and seek refuge in the country—then again, as I said once before, people who live in the major cities never really leave. For some reason, perhaps it has been engrained into their mentality, they believe that they are somehow safer—safety in numbers, I suppose. However, they could not be further from the truth.

I look over to Claire, she is curled up in the seat beside me—the blanket tightly wrapped around her. The clock reads a little past four a.m. I am exhausted; however I am still running off of adrenaline and the need to put as much distance away between myself and everything that happened in back in Lawson. I speed through the entire state of Kansas—taking detours to make sure I steer clear of Wichita, and other few larger cities along the way. The detours are annoying, but I know it is the safest course of action.

The sun begins to rise and I see the drastic, desolate scenery around me. I can look for miles and miles and not even spot a single tree—I know soon that this will slowly turn to hills, then to mountains and trees—I am glad that I made the trip through Kansas at night. The flatness and endless stretches of it all leaves me feeling strange, empty in a way. I watch as the bright sun climbs into the sky. I can make off heavy smoke from what must be nearly fifty miles away. I pull off just before reaching Lamar and head north—I need to rest.

I manage through a series of rough, overgrown, country roads. Just the kind I feel most safe around. The dashboard comes to life without warning, startling me in my exhausted state.

A woman in plain clothes is reporting from a location I do not recognize. All I see is smoke in the background.

“As you can see, or… can’t see at this point—the incursion between the Aggros and the U.S. Military forces has come to an end. With a heavy toll to our military… I am hearing rumors that we are down to nearly a third of what we were at before the fighting started… this is all unconfirmed at the moment. What I do know is that the smell of dead Aggros fills the air and the fires make it almost un-breathable. Ash falls down from the sky at a constant rate, I’m not sure if this is human remains, or from the fires. Around the country riots continue as most of the blame for all of the incidents has fallen upon C-Shapes. The President has warned that drastic, and terrible, action will be taken if the riots do not stop. However, this threat goes ignored as the majority of the population believes that he has no power at this point to do anything. Between the rioting, looting, and Aggros, people are encouraged to stay indoors—to barricade themselves in for as long as possible until peace regains. From what I have seen so far, I do not know if we even have a capacity to do so,” the woman says as she looks around at the devastation that surrounds her. These newscasts are so much different than the C-Shapes ones, they almost seem… surreal, in a way. The lack a certain formality, but it doesn’t make it any less real—or in the moment.

The dashboard fades back to normal as I continue along the rough road.

“Where are we?” Claire asks groggily as she eyes the desolate landscape.

“Just got into Colorado,” I say as I look over and smile. “Did you sleep well?”

“All I do is sleep…” Claire says as she stretches out her arms and accidentally pushes against my face. “Sorry…”

I laugh in response. I find a nice remote spot next to the largest of a series of bodies of water that the map identifies as the Neenoshe Reservoir.

“Have you been driving all night?” Claire asks as she watches me rest my head against the circular headrest. “You must be exhausted.”

“Yeah,” I say as I nod. Although I do not know how I am going to sleep with it being so damn bright outside. “I just need a few hours, and then I’ll be ready to hit travel again… If I can sleep. It’s awful bright today.”

“Darken windows,” Claire commands. Moments later the windows slowly begin to darken. “Chairs back and together…”

“You never cease to amaze me,” I say as I smile. I can still make out her kind face in the dim light. Her beautiful smiling hazel eyes shine back at me in the filtered glow of the windows.

“I had a nice car,” Claire adds as she playfully pushes against my shoulder. “Rest…”

I lay on my back, staring up at the black ceiling. I am so tired, but my mind is still so awake—perhaps even a little traumatized. I don’t know. I look over to Claire; she looks back up at me, she looks sad. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” Claire says as she bites her lip. “You should rest.”

“You look sad,” I say as I pull her close to me and wrap my arms around her. “I can’t sleep when you’re sad… at least, not after what happened last time.”

“Do you think any differently of me?”

“What do you mean?” I ask, genuinely confused.

“I shot that man… and I didn’t feel bad about it,” Claire says as she grasps onto my hand and holds it tightly. “Then I… I brought trouble. They know when I’m around. Your friends are gone because they knew I was in that house—we’re connected.”

“None of that was your fault…” I begin.

“I look different too…” Claire adds as she runs her fingers through her hair. “I’m different. I’ll always be different…”

“All those things that you think make you so different… that make you think any less of yourself—I love. I wouldn’t want you to be normal. I love you just the way you are,” I say as I keep my gaze fixed upon her eyes. I realize that this is the first time that I have told someone that I loved them. I did not do it intentionally—it just happened. I suppose I’ve felt this way for some time now. I just never realized that she might need to hear it.

“You love me?”

“I do,” I say as I nod. “Unconditionally… no matter what happens to us or what you do.”

“It’s just that you haven’t…”

“I haven’t?”

“You know, we haven’t been together—I thought maybe you… felt differently.” Claire says as she looks away.

“I umm,” I begin, as I think back to the past few days. I can’t think of many opportunities that have arisen as to where we would have found time. “I thought you needed to get better—it’s not like I haven’t thought about it. That day in the bathtub…”

“I kind of ruined that though.”

“It’s okay,” I say as I reach down and kiss her lips.

“I do to,” Claire says as she begins to undress. “I love you… although you probably know.”

“It’s good to hear you say it,” I say as I toss my clothing into the backseat. “I didn’t want to just assume.”

Even though I am exhausted, we make love in the dimly lit car. We do not hide ourselves beneath blankets. We are bare to each other—we are open… freed. Each soft exhale of pleasure that passes through her lips makes me feel as though nothing in the world really matters—not even with everything that is going on. There is no world outside of the car—we might as well be floating in space, lost… forever. It would matter not a bit to me. Only this, us—joined and together, two pieces that make something beautiful and whole… this is all that matters.

“Rest now…” Claire whispers as her naked body lies against mine.

“No running off this time…” I say with a short, tired laugh.

“I promise,” Claire says as she squeezes both of my hands tightly into hers.

That day I dream of falling into the ocean, endlessly. I begin to struggle but I find myself unable to pull my head above the waves. Finally my arms give up—there is no strength left within me. I, strangely, do not drown. I float down to the bottom. There I see Noah, naked… not a completely pleasant sight. He is eating a starfish from the ocean floor. As he feels my presence, he turns to me and attempts to speak. Large bubbles escape from his mouth and float off into the surface. I shake my head—I cannot understand him. I suddenly hear his voice in my head. He simply says, “Deliver my message… save them.”

I jolt awake, startling Claire. I let out a heavy breath as my body is covered in sweat.

“Nightmares…?”

“Yeah…” I say as I reach for a half full bottle of water from the backseat of the car.

“I get them too,” Claire says as she nods. “Sometimes… I can’t remember them though—what was yours about?”

“It was a reminder for me to not fail…” I say as I look at the metal case in the backseat. I reach for the case. I examine it for a moment; however there seems to be no latch or way to open it. I flip it over a few times in my hands and see nothing outstanding that would help me reveal its contents. It would have been nice of Noah to at least tell me how to get it open. I slide my finger across the top and a display appears at the top. In red letters it flashes ‘not yet’ over and over.

“Not yet…” Claire whispers as she places her arm against my back.

“I wonder what that means…”

“…what that means…”

I figure that it must have some kind of GPS built in to know when it is somewhere safe, but how would it know any better? This could be a safe place—I could be giving it to someone important here… a remote location like this seems like it would be the safest place to open this. Part of me really wants to know what is inside—however, I know I must first get it to someone… the truth will come in time, right now my priority is figuring out how to get it to someone who will listen… maybe one of these new journalists? They do not seem to be under C-Shapes influence… after all, I imagine at this point C-Shapes all but completely gone. Once I get Claire safely back at her old home, I am sure that I can figure something out.

“Can we sleep in a house tonight?” Claire asks after a short time.

“Yeah, I can see what we can do about that,” I say with a nod. I take a look at the map and make it larger—I figure with it being around noon now… “We should be able to stop… well looks like there is an unpopulated area called Eagle’s Nest in New Mexico. Should be about five hours…”

“Good,” Claire says as she smiles. “We kind of smell bad, it’s like a fart box in here.”

I shake my head and laugh. “Clear windows?”

As commanded the tint slowly fades away. My eyes slowly adjust to the bright light of the noonday sun as I begin to drive once more. The hours pass by and the scenery dramatically changes. The desolate open plains turn into beautiful forests and rivers, large stones and tall mountains fill the view which in turn changes gradually into rock and dessert with large buttes in every direction. A tint of red fills the air as the dust flows heavily in the strong wind.

“This is pretty…” Claire says as she stares out the window.

The closer we get to Flagstaff, the more dramatically the scenery changes once more. We begin to ascend tall mountains. It is much colder here. I never imagined that the country should change so quickly… so dramatically and beautifully. There is a certain grace to the way that the forests give way to deserts which flow into tall mountains. I definitely feel a world away from Chicago—most of the area around where I grew up was just plain flat—sure there was the occasional rolling hill or forest, but nothing so spectacular, nothing on this scale.

After we take a few country roads that keep us well north of Flagstaff, we reach a small area called Eagle’s Nest. Against the striking view of the mountains I find an old log cabin. I pull into the empty driveway and head towards the back of the house—It seems empty from the outside… a good indication so far. I put the car into park and take a look around the area… it looks abandoned. I see no signs of any kind of life. It is much colder here… I return to the trunk of the car and retrieve my camouflaged jacket and the backpack full of supplies. Claire hops out, she rushes over beside me and pulls out her suitcase. She grabs a yellow sweater with a white collar and pulls it over her white t-shirt. For once I cannot make a single mental comment about her brining fall clothes along.

“We must be pretty high up,” I say as I sling the rifle against my back. I let out a sharp cry as it hits a sore spot where I hit the wall from my encounter with that Aggro that Claire managed to subdue.

“You alright…?”

“Yeah… damaged, just not broken,” I say as I grab a grocery bag full of soup cans and self heating meals. I don’t know if this place will have power or any kind of provisions.

Claire and I make our way to the back of the house. An old yellow door with heavy dog scratches on the bottom stands before us. I lead the way and give the knob a turn—it is unlocked. I am not sure if I count this as lucky or not. As we entered the large cabin, I begin to walk through the kitchen—it leads to a larger room with a loft.

I hear the metallic click of a gun being cocked.

“If you come here to rob me, well there isn’t anything to take,” A man with a deep voice says from the corner of the room. “If you come for trouble, I got plenty of that to give.”

“We are just travelers, looking for a place to stay,” I say as I raise my hands.

“We’re looking for a shower…” Claire adds softly from behind me.

“You have any food?” The man asks as he lowers his weapon. I look over to the man who sits in a rocking chair. He has a pistol in his lap and is wearing brown and black military fatigues. He has an assault rifle sitting beside him like an obedient dog. He looks older, I would guess in his late fifties. He has a bald, clean shaven head and dark skin.

“Yeah,” I say carefully make my way to the man and hand him the bag of groceries. It is no loss to give it to him—we have more than enough to last us for weeks in the car. “Are you in the military?”

“Was…” The man says as he rummages through the bag. “Honorably Discharged from the war in Iraq… post traumatic stress disorder, depression, general anxiety disorder… I’m not one of those Unstables—but I’m just like them in a way… came up here to escape the hell that has become Flagstaff. Figured the uniform and this assault rifle I picked up here from a dead serviceman might keep me safe. Or at least, keep people intimidated.”

“It definitely it intimidating…” I say as I nod.

“Definitely intimidating…” Cherie says as she nods.

“I can have some of this?” The man asks as he looks to me with a strangely stern look upon his face.

“Can have some of this…”

“You can take the whole bag if you like,” I say as I nod.

“Whole bag if you like…”

I take Claire’s hand into mine and squeeze it. Now is not exactly a good time to do this—I know that she has no control over it… however, the timing sucks.

In return, she squeezes my hand just as hard. I suppose I deserved it.

“Why is she doing that?”

“Doing that?”

“She’s one of those… Mirrors isn’t she?” The man says as he continues to go through the different items of food.

“One… of those… Mirrors isn’t she?”

He does not seem very interested as he picks up one of the self heating meals. “Been a long time since I had anything decent… I brought some food up with me, thought I could do some hunting but haven’t been able to catch anything.”

“Haven’t been able to catch… anything…”

“She’ll stop if we don’t talk for a while,” I say as I allow Claire to hide behind me.

“Talk for a while…” She whispers as she places her arms around me.

“I’ll just eat then,” the man says as he nods. “…if you don’t mind?”

“Don’t mind…?” Cherie whispers.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

The man takes opens up the bag and finds the spoon. He places the pasta into his mouth and a smile spreads across his face as he quietly eats. He quickly finishes that one off and tears into another one—he seems elated. I begin to wonder how long he has been without a meal.

“I don’t mind,” the man says as he looks past me. “You don’t have to hide.”

“We’re just not used to… people being very understanding of our situation… exactly,” I say as I still remain a little apprehensive.

“Hell,” the man says he shakes his head. “I’m probably more messed up than she is. I spent years hiding in my house—sometimes I’d hear loud noises at night and I’d hide under my bed with my pistol in hand. Sometimes you go through some shit and it sticks with you—and this was all before V-day. I’m a bit more capable now. I guess my mind has switched back into soldier mode… keeping alive, survival. It keeps the mind busy, sharpened.”

“I’m Claire,” she whispers as she reaches from behind me and extends her hand to the rather intimidating man. “I repeat things… I get stuck in loops and my memory hurts.”

“It’s nice to meet you Claire,” the man says as he shakes her hand. “Robert Lemon.”

“Like the fruit?”

“Yeah,” The man adds with a short laugh. “I suppose so. Or maybe the fruit is like me—all bitter and a little yellow.”

“But you’re black,” Claire says.

I shake my head as I introduce myself, “Ethan…”

“Robert,” the man repeats as he shakes my hand firmly. “You’re a normal right?”

“I suppose so,” I say as I nod. “I used to be her Sitter.” I figure there is no point in attempting to hide who we are anymore—after all, I’m sure the Hunters and what, if anything, left of C-Shapes have much more pressing matters. “Now I’m…”

“We’re in love,” Claire adds as she smiles happily.

“Well that’s a first,” Robert Lemon says as he shrugs. “Whatever you’re into man… I once dated this chick when I got back, crazy as shit. Great in bed, but… couldn’t keep that up. Thought she’d knife me in my sleep or something…”

“She’s a lot more normal than…”

“I know, Mirrors…” Robert says he laughs. “I’m just fucking with ya. But what an interesting pair you two make. Where are you headed?”

“Somewhere safe,” Claire adds.

“Don’t know if there’s anywhere like that anymore,” Robert says as he shakes his head and places his pistol back into his holster. “What is your plan?”

“Claire has a secure house—only her family can enter and she’s the last of her family. Should be stocked up and it should be a place where I can take care of her.”

“And take care of our mission,” Claire adds.

I squeeze Claire’s hand. I feel as though I’ve given away too much already. We do not know if we can trust this man—he might be doing all this as an act.

“What’s your mission?”

“I had a friend,” I begin, despite my trepidations. “He said that C-Shapes was causing Unstables to go Aggro on purpose—to keep the population in fear so they’d keep buying Calm. Of course there would be the random Aggro, sometimes they just go… but anyway, he had this conspiracy idea that this cure—was eventually going to kill all the Unstables because everyone was getting tired of paying.”

“Sounds like more than just a theory…” Robert says as he takes a moment to take it all in. “You saw what they did to the White House? It’s gone… I hear the president is trapped beneath the rubble in some kind of shelter and he’s going slowly insane himself. C-Shapes, that place is gone as well. Someone made them all go Aggro at once on purpose—it seemed like a pretty surgical strike to me.”

“Yeah,” I say as I remember back to the footage. “So I guess my mission now is to get this info into the media’s hands or someone that can do something so people will stop killing the Unstables out of fear. It is the Calm that makes them worse—that will most likely cause them to go Aggro. With C-Shapes gone, and the supplies running low a lot of people are going to get very scared.”

“It’s already happening man,” Robert says as he shakes his head. “In Flagstaff you have people with guns running around killing Unstables, the Hunters… anyone affiliated with C-Shapes. Some people out there just killing other people… you got guys out there with signs that say it’s the end of the world, and fuck all if most people don’t believe it. It’s looting, constant fires…”

“I had no idea it was so widespread,” I say as I begin to wonder if I am on a fool’s errand. “I heard about Los Angeles…”

“It’s spread to Chicago… St. Louis, New York, Miami, New Orleans, Denver, and Las Vegas. I hear very few cities are still normal… I think Seattle is fine. Some of the northern states are being more rational. A lot of places are locking up their Unstables… it’s cruel but—it’s more humane than death.”

“I don’t even know what I’m doing…” I whisper as I realize that things are far worse than I thought.

“Well at least you’re doing something,” Robert says as he punches me in the shoulder. Although it isn’t very hard—my body has not exactly been treated very well lately. “Most people are hiding… present company included.”

“Yeah, but I have no idea how to get the info out there… I have a metal case I don’t know how to open—I’m suppose to give it to someone important—I don’t know who to trust,” I begin to list off all of the obstacles In my path. The more I talk about them the more impossible it sounds. “I got it from an Unstable, or a man pretending to be an Unstable… either way, I don’t even know who will listen.”

“You feel like you got yourself into something you have no idea how to handle, or how it will work out?”

“Pretty much,” I say with a nod.

“Every day I was deployed—that is how I felt, I didn’t know what my purpose was. I didn’t even know why I was there half the time. I knew I made a mistake in joining up—but I stuck in there. That’s what you do; you stick in there until it makes sense.”

“Did it eventually make sense to you?”

“Fuck no,” the man says with another hearty laugh. “But I survived, I was a mess when I got back—but… A lot of friends man… they didn’t get to come back. So was there a point? I don’t know… I feel like I would have been better off dead then live to see days like this.”

“That’s just about my plan these days… to survive, keep her safe…”

“I’m his caretaker…” Claire whispers. She has been silent the whole time.

“Well, she keeps me safe. Probably more than I have kept her safe.”

“You are definitely welcome to stay,” the man says as he rocks back and forth in his chair. “There is a shower on the loft up there—you guys can have the bed. I’ll take the couch down here.”

“Thank you,” I say as I begin to head up the stairs. “Do you need anything? We have some stuff—I don’t know if any of it will be helpful.”

“You have any meds?” He asks. “I get terrible headaches.”

“I dig into my backpack and toss the man a bottle of Ibuprofen. “I got an extra bottle you can keep that one.”

“Thank you, both of you—I’m glad you came around… sorry if I scared you.”

“These are scary times…”

“Scary times,” Claire repeats as she follows me up the staircase.

I toss the backpack onto the bed and follow her into the shower. We undress each other and toss our dirty clothes onto the floor. We spend a long time in the warmth. She begins to kiss me as the warm water falls against our naked skin—I want her so badly, however, the situation isn’t exactly ideal. Especially when the warm water runs out and turns cold…

“I really wanted you,” I whisper as I unpack some fresh clothes from the bag.

“I know,” Claire says as she laughs. “I could tell.”

As we finish dressing we leave the bathroom. I look down from the loft and see Robert sitting in his rocking chair. He is holding a small television set and is listening intently.

“Any good news…?” I ask.

“Might be a good idea to only stay one night,” Robert says as he gestures for me to come down. I descend the staircase and stand beside him looking into the small monitor. I see the same woman from earlier, she is reporting from the ruins of the White House.”

“Who are these people?”

“Just normal people who have picked up cameras and decided to be reporters I guess,” Robert says as he shrugs his shoulders. “People have to know what’s going on. I don’t think I could do it.”

“What’s going on?”

“The President is warning that action will be taken tomorrow at noon on major cities if the riots do not end by morning…”

“That’s just… empty threats though right?”

“Never know… we don’t know what his mental state is—the people in charge, they could all be going nuts, I mean the government is basically declaring war on its own people. It might not have much of a military left after the fight with the Aggros, but they still have jets—bombs… I don’t think they’d ever bomb one of our own cities… but then again I don’t know much these days.”

“We’ll head west in the morning,” I say as I nod. I walk out to the car and grab a few meals for me and Claire. I grab an extra bagged meal for Robert—he seems to rather enjoy them, perhaps a little too much.

As I walk in I toss the meal to Robert who smiles happily as he tears into the bag. “Do you mind if I use the stove.”

“It ain’t even mine,” Robert says with a laugh.

“I warm up two giant bowls of soup and head upstairs and hand one to Claire. We eat in silence. I am still trying to figure things out in my head. There is so much going on—I still can’t quite get a grasp of things. I am so terrible at this.

As it gets later Robert turns off the downstairs light.

“No fucking up there now!” He shouts as he crawls into the couch, laughing hysterically.

“Goodnight Robert,” Claire shouts down.

“Goodnight, both of you…” Robert quietly answers back.

We wrap the warm covers around us as we cuddle close together.

“You looked troubled at dinner…”

“I don’t know what to do with the information Noah gave me,” I admit. Although I’m sure she already well knows at this point.

“Well…” Claire says watch her close her eyes and attempt to concentrate.

“Don’t strain yourself…” I say as I place my hand and run it gently through her hair and rest it upon her shoulder. “It even gives me a headache.”

“Why did you… trust Noah in the first place?” Claire finally asks. “Why didn’t… didn’t you just—think that he was not right?”

“I guess, a lot of the stuff he was saying was making sense—a lot of it came true.”

“But… at the time… time… I was in the hall so I don’t… you didn’t have to believe him, none of this had happened yet?”

“He said something that really hit home… he said that he got me into the C-Shapes program, and that he knew that I had lied on my application. That I was never going to get in because even C-Shapes knew that I had lied.”

“What did you lie about?”

“I told them I never had any mental issues in the past.”

“And… and you did?”

“Yeah,” I whisper as I remember that terrible time. “I told you about how I wrecked my parents’ car—well put it in a lake.”

“I almost lost you then,” Claire whispers as she squeezes me tightly. “Even if we didn’t know each other I’d be sad? I guess I wouldn’t know any better… but… I remember the story.”

“Well when I got back, my parents were sitting at the kitchen table. Just… doing nothing at all, they had both gone Catatonic. The spent years like that, just sitting in one place and doing absolutely nothing at all. I took care of them, cleaned them up—fed them. Finally the Sitter program came around and I got help. I stayed in the house, always waiting for them to just snap out of it one day. I heard rumors that it was permanent—that there was violence going on, and that terrible things were happening all over the world, my mind just shut it all out. I was just waiting… I’ve spent my whole life waiting, I guess you could say. Anyway, when giving my parents their dose one day, the Sitter notices a change. My parents both get up and start throwing furniture—they become so… different that they don’t even look like my parents, but some kind of monsters.”

“They got really angry and couldn’t calm down.”

“Yeah,” I say as I continue. “They both went at the same time. I remember having to run and dodge things flying all around me—chairs, dishes… anything they can get a hold of. Hunters arrive after what seems like forever… The Sitter has pulled me out of the house and into the yard. My parents, finished basically destroying the inside of the house, come charging out. I try and run to them… I don’t want to lose them. One of the hunters grabs my by the back of my shirt. I watch as both of my parents are gunned down. There is so much blood.

“I’m so sorry, Ethan,” Claire whispers as she wipes away a tear from my eye and softly kisses my cheek.

“I move to the city and start working… I don’t do well. I’m always sick—I always feel like I’m going to die.”

“Anxiety attacks…”

“Exactly, and they started to happen all the time—so I was put on Clonazepam. I got better, I worked, and I went through terrible withdrawals when I had to get off of them… thought I was going to die for sure then as well. I guess though, it was always on my record. I didn’t figure that with everything going on they kept records. The doctor that gave me the Clonazepam wasn’t even a psychologist… they couldn’t spare any. So when I applied and interviewed the very first time, I said that I had never had any mental issues, and that they were away in Wisconsin when they died. I suppose they knew the real truth—that’s why I had to wait years until Noah got me in. That’s when what he said made sense to me. I suppose, he had a plan for me. Whatever it was, I don’t think he intended things to end up this way.”

“He couldn’t know everything that was going to happen,” Claire says as she brushes closer against me.

“That’s true,” I say as I place my hand on her leg. “He thought I’d just… feel compassion for you, sympathy because you’d be like me… he never knew that I’d fall in love with you.”

“I can be very quiet if you can be,” Claire whispers as she lifts up her nightshirt and slides my hand between her legs.

“I think I can manage that,” I whisper as I begin to kiss the back of her neck. She raises her leg and I position myself behind her and gently slide myself upward and inside of her. In hushed breathes we work ourselves into a quiet motion—a mere rustling of the bed sheets. We make love slowly, quietly. The slow movement heightens my anticipation as I have to nearly bury my head into the pillow as I come. As she turns to face me I can see indentations in her bottom lip from where she had to bite down hard. We begin to kiss and I taste the slight salty iron flavor of blood.

“I had a hard time…” Claire whispers as she stifles a giggle.

“I did too…”

“We’re not so different… I think,” Claire whispers as she continues to kiss me.

“Not really at all… I don’t think we ever were.”

We rest in each other’s arms. It is times like these that make me forget all about the grander scheme—I do not know if that is for better or worse. After all, so much is at stake—but I imagine that I am allowed some comfort, some love, no matter how dire the situation. If we have love, no matter how we found it—we should be afforded the opportunity to enjoy it. I fall asleep comforted, in her arms. After all, she is my caretaker.




14. Evil


Robert wakes us up early. “Sorry guys—you should really get out of here. Lot of strange chatter going on,” he adds as he holds up his radio band-TV. “The riots, of course, haven’t stopped and I think shit is about to hit the fan.

Claire and I get out of bed. It is a cold morning. We get dressed and gather our gear. As we make our way down the staircase Robert is cooking up some soup.

“Thank you for letting us stay,” I say as I shake Robert’s hand.

“Thank you…” Claire repeats.

“You have a purpose—get it done, even if you don’t understand it.”

We begin to walk away… and then I pause. This doesn’t feel right. “Robert?”

“Yeah…?” He says as he turns to face me. He is still dressed in his military uniform.

“Come with us,” I ask. “We have food, more than enough food. We could use someone like you in case we run into any problems.” I add. I want him to feel as though he is needed and will not be a burden. Leaving him here with such little food and such little hope just seems wrong.

“I’m like the cowardly lion,” Robert says as he shrugs. “I don’t know how much use I’ll be…”

“Cowardly lion…?” Claire repeats.

“Before your time…” Robert says as he thinks for a moment. “A soldier has to have a mission, right?”

“Right,” I say confidently. “Besides you have a bad ass uniform and an assault rifle, and you’re huge—who is going to mess with us when you’re with us?”

Robert begins to nod as a wide grin spreads across his face. “Fuck yeah. Can I bring my soup?”

“Sure…”

Robert hurries off and picks up his large assault rifle. He grabs his small TV and a backpack and pours his soup into a large cup.

We walk out to the car—the air is crisp and cool. Everything seems calm. Claire climbs into the passenger seat. I pull back the chair and Robert squeezes into the back. There is plenty of room—however he is rather tall and large. He places his gun upon the floorboard and happily starts to drink his soup.

“This is a nice car,” Robert says between sips of warm soup.

“Saved my life more than a few times,” I add as I put it into drive and begin my way further west.

After navigating a maze of country roads, I meet back up with interstate 40 West. We make it exactly 83.3 miles… according to the GPS, when we hear a terrible roar—almost like a freight train. A flash of blinding white light fills my view forcing me off the road completely. The flash is gone just as quickly as it appeared.

“What the fuck was that,” Robert says as he looks behind us.

A shockwave follows that causes the car to rumble against the ground. It almost feels like an earthquake. Trees shake all around us and rocks rattle against the road.

“Estimated drive… dri… 129 hours at… this… 12 hours,” The female computer stutters.

Once things quiet down, I look over to Claire—she has her hands over hear ears. She looks terrified. I cautiously step out of the car; Robert quickly pushes the seat forward and emerges from the back.

“They did it…” Robert whispers as he falls to his knees. Tears begin to stream down his dark brown eyes. “They actually fucking did it.”

A large mushroom cloud looms upon the horizon. Up high on the mountain, smoke fills the air in huge clouds of dirty brown ash. We watch in awe, in terror, at the evil that has been unleashed by the government on its own people.

“It’s all gone,” Robert says as I attempt to get him back to his feet.

“We’ve got to keep going,” I say as I try and pull him up.

“They’ve killed everyone—just like that…”

“Get up soldier!” I shout, although I do not know where it comes from—perhaps a book I once read.

Robert slowly gets up to his feet as I lead him back into the car. I help into the back and climb in. I place the car into drive and fly as fast as I possibly can. The map is gone—the computer is unresponsive.

 Frustrated, I try one more time. “GPS…”

“Rebooting…”

Finally, everything comes back online.

“You are going a hundred and twenty miles per hour, it is suggested that you slow down to lower your chance of getting pulled over in this area.”

“For fuck sakes,” I whisper… mostly out of relief. I’d be lost without the map.

I slow down a little, just to be safe—I don’t want to wreck. I figure I’ve cleared quite a distance. I look back and see that Robert cannot take his eyes away from the cloud that is slowly disappearing into the distance.

“Robert…”

“What did you see?” Claire asks, her ands still covering her ears.

“Something terrible…” I say as I nod to Claire. “You can uncover your ears… we’re safe now.”

“Nowhere is safe… not if they are launching nuclear strikes on our own people…”

“Robert, calm down… please,” I add as I let out a sigh. I know things cannot get much worse—but dealing with two people in a state of anxiety would not exactly improve the situation at all. “We’ll fix this—we’ll… we have to make sure our story gets heard.”

“My home, everything I knew—just gone. Just like that. I planned on returning when things had settled down.”

“We don’t have a home either,” Claire says as she reaches over the seat and holds onto Robert’s large hand. “We can never go back. You’re like us now and that’s not so bad. It seems like it at first… but it’s not so bad.”

Robert looks back once more and slowly begins to nod. “I’d be dead. Thank you.”

“We’d all be dead if you hadn’t been listening in on the radio,” I say as I attempt to keep him calm and collected. “Because of you, the mission goes on.”

“To the end,” he adds with a touch of confidence in his voice. “We don’t know what it is, but we follow it to the end.”

“To the end…” Claire repeats.

I check the map. I notice that we could be there in less than 7 hours… especially given the speeds I’ve been travelling—however I notice that it takes us way too close to Los Angeles. Therefore the route detours high and up into parts of Yosemite National Park. I contemplate attempting to make the drive straight through—to arrive there in one day. However, my mind tells me that going anywhere near Los Angeles is a bad idea. Our route already is going to take us to cities I would rather avoid, but to get to Morro bay it is a necessity—there is no other way. We will eventually run into areas with possible populations.

An emergency broadcast pops up on the dashboards as I cross over the border and enter California. A man wearing plain clothes is standing in front of a camera. He is surrounded by rolling green hills; he points down to the road and begins to speak.

“It is believed that American submarines, under the orders of the government have launched nuclear strikes against targets—so far what I’ve heard is that… New York, Chicago, Miami, Flagstaff, and Kansas City have been hit. As you can see here…” The camera pans over to show the view of a mushroom cloud rising into the air. “This is what remains of New York City. Moments after the president issued a warning that in the next few days, if Calm is not restored to the country that more strikes will happen… never in history has the United States detonated a nuclear bomb over one of its own populated cities… Today, from this day—I am disgraced to call myself an American. Countries around the world are on high alert as they fear that our President may strike out against them… why he is even still in power—perhaps he is not. It is not certain what is going on. We may never know. All I can add at the end of it all is… I never thought it would come to this.”

“Making peace in a glass house with a sledgehammer…” Robert whispers.

“What was that?” Claire asks as she looks to me.

“A nuclear bomb or missile… either way,” I say as I shake my head. “We don’t just have to get to safety… we have to get out of this country.”

“I…” Claire begins as she struggles. “I have a boat… I mean we had a boat.”

“Do you think it is still there?”

“Still there…?”

“Shit…” I say as I rest my head back against the cushioned seat.

“Shit…”

“We’ll just have to take our chances and see—we have to get whatever info you have out of the country—this place has gone mad,” Robert says as he looks nervously off into the distance. There is nothing there, nothing but some clouds. We have made enough distance that it is no longer visible—but I feel that he still expects to see it somehow.

I drive for seven hours straight—we eat our meals in the car. We only stop for minutes to use the restroom… which amounts to squatting by the car or in a bush. We reach Yosemite National Park just as the sun is starting to go down. We make camp beneath the shadows of Wheeler Peak and Patterson Mountain.

“Are we sleeping in the car?” Robert asks as I grab a blanket and hand it to Claire.

“Yeah,” I say. “Is that a problem?”

“I’m not so good with small spaces… you got a tent?”

“There’s one in the trunk,” I say as I get out of the car and help unload some of the camping gear.

“Isn’t… a tent a small space?” Claire asks as she steps out into the cool air.

Robert looks confused at Claire for a moment and then laughs and continues to set up the rather small tent.

“It is pretty here,” Claire says as she watches the sunset glow a brilliant orange against the mountain peaks. “I’d like to come back here someday.”

“It’s magnificent,” I say as I look at all the towering mountains that surround us. “If we didn’t have the case… maybe we could have stayed here for a while.”

“To the end though?”

“Yeah…” I say as I let out heavy sigh. “I suppose that’s… it. There could be another way though. I mean, it might be too late—what we’re doing. It could all be for nothing. Maybe we should stay here for a while,” I say, searching or some kind of answer to all of this. I know it seems wrong to think this way, but after everything we have been through—would it be too much to ask to not have to endure any further grief? I know it is selfish. I know it is giving up. Haven’t we done enough already? Is there even anything left to do? Is there even an end to follow through? “We’re heading into places that could be dangerous. We might not make it, and for… nothing.”

“You don’t mean that,” Claire says as she strikes against my chest with her fists. “Take that back…!”

“I’m sorry,” I say as I pull her close and she begins to cry. “I just don’t want to lose what we have. We’ve lost everything else.”

“If you give up… everything we’ve been through… all your friends that you have lost. It’s for nothing. You’ve come this far, you can’t do this—I’ll go. I’ll take it myself if you give up. Then you’ll have to follow me—you promised. I love you, Ethan—you can’t give up. I won’t let you.”

“What if we die? I love you. I don’t want this to end,” I say as I allow the fear of the end of the journey to consume me. When it comes down to it—it is the fear of uncertainty. The knowledge that tomorrow we will reach our destination. The knowledge that we will not know what we will encounter there.

“You said it didn’t matter, as long as we die together.”

“Well I’d prefer to not die at all.”

“Who is dyin’?’ Robert asks as he returns to the car—he has finally completed his tent.

“I just… had some doubts,” I admit. “I thought maybe we should stay here for a while…. I was wrong.”

“Can’t put it off,” Robert says as he shrugs. “We can’t live out here forever. Got to face what you fear someday—so why not tomorrow?”

“I know,” I say as I hug Claire tightly in my arms. “I just had a moment of weakness.”

“Stay strong soldier,” Robert says as he pats me on the back. “I’m getting some sleep. Apparently we have somewhere to be tomorrow.”

“Goodnight Robert,” Claire says as she hugs the man.

“Goodnight guys,” Robert says as he head off into the night.

Claire and I climb into the car and recline the seats back. She reaches over and holds my hand tightly.

“I’m sorry I got upset with you…

“I’m sorry I lost faith for a moment,” I say, feeling even worse than she must. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

“I know you were just scared—but I rely on you to be strong.”

“I just hope I never let you down,” I say as I smile briefly.

“You haven’t yet.”

“We should get some rest,” I say as I hold onto her hand. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Ethan,” Claire replies as she squeezes my hand.

That night I dream of the ocean again. I am on a boat. It is nighttime—the ocean is wide and spread out far before me. The moon is full and reflects against the surface of the water. It dances in the gentle lulling waves. I am in awe of the view ahead of me. I never realized how big, how vast it all was. I suppose it makes sense—most of the world is covered in water. I just never had it put into perspective until now. I look down to my hand, I don’t know why I have not noticed it before, but the metal case is dangling from my right hand. I place it up upon the side of the ship and side my finger across it. It flashes in green letters ‘ready.’ I take a deep breath in and open up the case. Millions of pieces of paper fly out like birds into the night sky. They fill the air in blinding flashes of white in the glow of their ambit. As they disappear, each piece of paper turns into beautiful, shimmering star.

“I returned them all,” Noah’s voice comes from beside me.

I take a few steps back, startled. “You’re here.”

“And you are here…” Noah adds with a laugh. “Now that we’ve established that—would you look at those stars?”

“What does it all mean?” I ask as I look to the shimmering sky above. It is more beautiful than anything in nature I’ve seen in my life. “I don’t understand, what was all that about shapes, and stars—was that all just an act?”

“I suppose,” Noah says as he shrugs his shoulders and laughs. He places his hands against the side of the boat and looks up. “You know, you get caught up in things sometimes that you miss details—or you see what you want to see. If you look hard enough at something, you’ll start seeing shapes and patterns and all kinds of strange stuff.”

“Is that what happened to you?”

“Sure,” Noah says as he pats me on the back. “It’s your interpretation.”

“Is it the right one?”

“Does it matter?”

“Why did you choose me?” I say as I look to Noah. “…seriously, why me out of… everyone…?”

“You’ve been asking yourself that a lot lately.”

“Well, it’s pretty relevant. “

“You know what you should be asking yourself instead,” Noah says as he lets out another laugh.

“What?”

“Why not you…?”

“I’ve failed though, you know,” I say as I hang my head down. “Whatever plan you had for me, I’ve failed. You died for nothing.”

“Plans fail,” Noah says as he smiles. “I’m not god.”

“But I don’t even know how to complete what you had me set out to do,” I say as I shake my head.

“You know how can start, Ethan?”

“How…?”

“You should wake up, Ethan.”

“Ethan, wake up,” Claire whispers. “Please get up.”

“What’s wrong?” I ask as jolt awake.

“They’re coming,” Claire says as she panics. “Seats up.”

“How…? I mean we’re out so far,” I say as I look around, confused. “What are they doing out here?”

“I don’t know—they’re drawn to me. I guess… there were some in the area… I don’t know. They’re so angry. I don’t… I don’t think I can calm them down.” Claire says as she looks around in the darkness. “Robert…”

“I’ll get him,” I say as I step out the car.

“Hurry,” Claire says as her eyes are wide.

“Robert!” I shout as I make my way to his tent. I give it a sharp kick with the side of my foot to stir him. I know it is rather rude, but now is no time for good manners. “Robert! Get up!”

“Christ,” Robert mutters as he unzips the tent. “What is it?”

“Get dressed quickly,” I say as I place my black glasses on and scan the area. I do not see any sign of life out there… yet. “You have to get in the car.”

“I don’t like small spaces…”

“Just get to the fucking car,” I say as I continue to look around. “Aggros are coming.”

“Out here?” Robert asks as he puts his suit back on. “How did they get all the way out here?”

“Don’t know,” I say as I begin to run with Robert back to the car. “Claire can tell though—she knows when they are getting close.”

As I climb into the car, I get an idea. “Claire can you get into the back and hand that gun of Robert’s up?”

“Yeah,” Claire says as she squeezes through the center console and hands the assault rifle to Robert who climbs into the passenger seat.

I lock the doors—I know the car is bullet proof. I have no idea if it is Aggro proof. I see a few flashes of orange between the trees. I turn on the car and begin to drive along the dirt road. I come to a dead stop as an Aggro woman lets out a loud scream; she is carrying a large long, dragging it behind her as she stumbles her way towards us.

“Should I roll down the window?” Robert asks as he looks to me.

I throw caution to the wind and floor it, I knock the Aggro to the ground and with a few rather uncomfortable bumps we drive over her.

“You’ll have to back up…” Claire says as she looks behind us. The red tail lights of the Mazda illuminate the woman as she attempts to get back up.

“Damn it,” I mutter as I throw the car into reverse and hit the gas. Two more bumps shake the car as I roll over the body. I stop, and throw it into drive—once again I repeat the process. I look behind me and see a bloody mess.

“Yeah, you’re good now,” Claire says matter-of-factly as though this is no big deal.

I navigate the roads and come across a group of three more. They are all unarmed, however they are large males. I doubt that the car can take on three at a time. I start to reverse as I pull the handgun from my pocket. “Windows down.”

Robert Climbs halfway out the window and begins to spray at the three men approaching. They take a few hits but keep on coming. I help by firing a few shots off a well. He sprays one more time into the group and they fall like trees.

“This ain’t so bad,” Robert says as he laughs and reloads his weapon.

“Don’t jinx us,” I moan as we another corner and come face to face with a mob of about ten of them.

“They’re coming from behind as well,” Claire says as she looks behind the car. “Two of them… one male one female… pretty average size.”

“They’re charging at us…” Robert says as he places the nozzle of his rifle and aims ahead.

“Save your ammo,” I say as I put the car into reverse.

Robert reaches for the door handle. “I’ll buy you guys some time—try and make a hole. You bust through and make it to that boat of yours, just finish… finish what you’ve started.”

I shake my head as I lock the doors. “Just stay in the car, Robert.”

“Stay in the car…” Claire whispers from behind me.

“I’m taking us back—there’s no going ahead,” I say as I rev the engine and keep my other foot on the brake.

“Let me be brave…” Robert says as he messes with the door. “You can keep going.”

“There’s a difference between being brave and being suicidal,” I say as I press the pedal down to the floor. A loud thump causes the car to buffet wildly as the rear bumper sends the Aggros flying back. I keep my foot down. A few more bumps rock the car as we make our way over the two Aggros. I quickly do a turnabout and head back the way I came. I know that this means we will be very close to a few unavoidable highly populated cities… there is just no helping it at this point. I drive as fast as I can, always weary for any signs of movement from my black glasses.

“We’re losing them,” Claire whispers as she stares out the back window.

Robert takes his assault rifle from the window and places it between his knees. “I could have made a path. Now we’re in trouble, right?”

“It’s a possibility,” I say as command for the windows to roll back up. “Enough people have died needlessly. If we can find another way, we should do that. We still need your help—we may need it even more when we reach our destination.”

“Out of the frying pan and into the fire I guess,” Robert says as he lets out a sigh and rests his head in the seat.

“GPS… fastest route,” I say, as I begin to head off into the darkness.

The map lights up a red-lined route. It is not as bad as I thought. It appears that the only major city we have to worry about is Fresno. It appears that I have gone north enough that we will bypass the outlying cities of Los Angeles after all. It is good that Robert did not do anything stupid—especially when there was another way.

“Population of Fresno…?”

“Fresno California has an estimated population of three-hundred thousand people.”

“Arrival time to Fresno?” I ask as I shake my head. Perhaps we should find a way around it, if there is one… Then again, making this trip and avoiding contact with densely populated areas was going to turn impossible eventually. Then there is the risk of another nuclear strike. I’d like to not be around anywhere very large if that were to happen again.

“Four hours at this current speed and on the major roads.”

“Four hours,” Robert says as he rubs his hands together. “That’s not much time man.”

“Are we almost safe?” Claire asks.

“Things might get a little… rough,” I answer. “Soon though, we are almost there.”

I continue on into the night. My stomach feels sick once more—that uneasy nervous feeling that something terrible looms just beyond the next hill. I try and calm myself. I think of better times, I try and reassure myself that everything is going to be alright—even if I cannot get myself to completely, or even remotely, believe it. As the travel time begins to tick away. The sun begins to rise giving a golden glow to the air around us. I begin to see cars scattered along the highway, abandoned, burned, and some even have long dead bodies in them. I do not know why. I begin to worry.

As we pass through a series of large golden hills, we descend into a thick smoke. The smoke is so heavy that I can only see about a mile ahead of me. I rely on the map to guide me.

“Switching to recycling inside air… outside air quality is very poor,” the female computer announces.

“It’s from the fires,” Robert says looks out the window ahead. “This whole area has been burning—people have been starting fires and no one is around to put them out.”

“Fires…” Claire whispers.

“This doesn’t make me feel much better,” I say as the GPS routes us off of the main highway just outside of Fresno.

“Why are we leaving the interstate?”

“The road ahead is impassible,” the female voice answers.

“Distance to Morro Bay?”

“Two hours,” the car answers back.

We approach buildings. They have all been broken down—looted. A raging fire lies ahead of us as we navigate the streets. A woman carrying a baseball bat runs out and begins to strike against the windshield. Robert backs away as he is startled.

“Too loud…” Claire whispers.

“She’s normal…” I say as I glance over and the display on my glasses shows her as blue. “I… guess.”

“What the fuck then?” Robert says he places a hand over his chest.

We keep moving. She strikes the trunk as we pass her by. She does no damage. We navigate a maze of what I can only describe as pure madness. I make left and right turns to avoid vehicles in the road, overturned cop cars… there are bodies everywhere. People roam the streets; some of them bang on our window and ask for help, others just throw things at us. I feel bad that I am not able to stop and help. However, I know that I cannot trust anyone here. I just can’t afford to.

As we make our way down another long street lined with large office buildings. I see an orange glow from the smoke filled road. A few men armed with guns approach the Aggro as I near. They fire a few shots at him and he runs after them, screaming. I am just glad that he is not after us. As I grow closer, a severed arm crashes against the window—spraying bright red blood across my view.

“He’s angry…” Claire whispers.

“Let’s move a bit faster,” Robert says as the windshield wipers automatically turn on.

The spray of blood smears across the window a few times as a spray of water attempts to clean it. My view is obscured. A large strike comes from my side as the car is literally pushed a few feet to the left.

“Really…” Robert says as he places his pistol in his hand. “Let’s move a bit faster….”

My heart is beating heavily in my chest. This is the worst situation I’ve seen yet. Once the windows finally clear up I begin to move. I see the Aggro in my mirror. He does not chase as.

“I want to go home…” Claire whispers. I look in the rear view mirror and see her rocking back and forth.

“We’ll be out of this soon,” I say. There is not much I can do to make her feel better. I reach for a bottle of water and hand it back to Claire.

“Be… out of this soon.”

“I can’t take much more of this,” Robert says as he buries his head into his hands.

There is so much death everywhere. A body hangs from a pawn shop sign as we drive down another road. I take another bottle of water and begin to hand it to Robert as a spray of bullets bounce against the car. He takes cover; he looks to be on the verge of tears. I cannot blame him.

“Did I mention the car was bullet proof?” I ask, not remembering.

“Doesn’t make it any better…” Robert whispers.

“Any better…” Claire repeats.

My head begins to hurt as I realize I have kept my teeth clenched tightly as we make our way through the carnage. It feels as though I have been holding my breath. The tension and fear of the unknown is nearly enough to cause me to want to into the same states as Robert and Claire. I do not know how I am even managing to keep a modicum of calm within myself. I just know that we have to get through this—with as little incident as possible. Although I’d consider being hit with a baseball bat, having shit thrown at us, being shot at, and pushed by an Aggro pretty massively incidental.

The map keeps changing; I head down a small road that is piled with corpses on each side. All of them burned, charred. The heavy smoke makes every single turn another surprise of horror. We drive by a female Aggro feasting upon the body of a dead man in a black suit. I wonder if he was a Hunter.

I rush my way through the streets. We pass by fires, more gunshots. As I reach the edge of town a shirtless man blocks our path. He holds out a handgun and commands for us to stop. I shake my head. My glasses tell me he is normal. He must just want to steal the car.

He slams an open hand down upon the windshield as he points the gun at my head through the glass.

“Too loud…”

“Get the fuck out of the car,” I can faintly hear the man say. “I’ll kill you.”

I shake my head and the man begins to fire at me. The bullets bounce off harmlessly. This only seems to make him angrier. He begins to strike the window with the butt of his gun.

“Window down,” Robert says as he quickly places his pistol out the window and fires a single shot into the man’s chest. He falls back as he stumbles away from us. “Window up…”

He holds onto his wound as we drive on by. I can’t help but feel that situation could have been avoided somehow. I know Robert did what he felt he had to so that we could keep moving—perhaps he knew I wouldn’t run the man down. I look back… I’m not sure why I do. Moments later I see the man collapse to the ground, dead.

“We can’t afford to stop,” Robert says as he continues to hold onto his weapon. “Not until we are out of this hell.”

“I know,” I say as I nod.

I glance into the back seat and Claire is either fast asleep—or has passed out. I can relate as I kind of feel like doing the latter. Once we pass Stratford the road opens up and we find ourselves in a flat plain. The buildings and subdivisions are now behind us, to my great relief. I begin to drive as fast as I can. I do not want to go through anything like that again.

“Next populated area?”

“Paso Robles… Estimated population around fifteen thousand survivors. Current population Unknown… Multiple routes found that bypass the major areas—would you like to route away from the city. It will add an estimated fifteen minutes to your current drive time.”

“Fuck yes,” Robert answers back.

“Rerouting…”

The flat plains eventually turn into mountains as we snake our way through the tall peaks and follow a river as we complete the final leg of our journey. The smoke clears as we make our way out of the mountains. Ahead, I can see the ocean. It is so brilliantly blue that I almost cannot tell the difference between it and the sky.

We continue on Morro road. We reach a small subdivision that resides by Cabrillo Highway. Things seem much calmer here. Although a little vacant, which makes me feel almost just as uneasy.

“I… I think I know where I am,” Claire whispers as she taps me excitedly on the shoulder. “Go… probably… yeah. Go Straight.”

“I nod as I reach my hand back and place it over hers.

We pass a sign that says Lisa Keiser Park. I notice, through the trees, a baseball field and some playground equipment.”

“We are… really close,” Claire says as she points to continue on. “I used to… my parents use to take me there. I would… I would play baseball?”

“You’re doing great Claire,” I say as I squeeze her hand.

We round a corner and the ocean is right beside us. I let out a sigh of relief. We’ve made it to the edge of the country. We follow the path and reach a sign an orange and white barricade that says ‘END’ in large letters upon a yellow sign. A giant, soot black, rock formation juts out of the water as waves break upon it to the right.

“Go… around the sign, follow the sand road,” Claire says as she points to the right. We follow a series of rough roads as Claire directs the way. At the end of one of the roads we come across a gate. Beyond the gate sits a huge house—concrete in structure with tinted dark windows. It is a huge mansion. It seems rather out of place here. I suppose though, that is what makes it the perfect place if you want some security. I look down to the water and spot a large boat. It turns out that Claire was right all along—from as far back as that first week. She did have a boat and it appears to be a very sleek, advanced one. Then again, I would imagine no less from the former president of a leading pharmaceutical company.

“We get out here…” Claire whispers as she nervously begins to tap me on the back.

Robert and I exit the car Claire nearly stumbles as she rushes out. I get into the trunk of the car and get the backpack. I toss the rifle around my shoulder. Robert runs over, assault rifle on his back and hands me the metal case.

“Forget something in the back seat?”

I almost laugh as I shake my head. “You know it’s me forgetting things that got me in trouble with Claire once.”

“I slapped him…”

“You’d think he’d learn then?” Robert says as he pats me on the back and grabs a large bag full of food. Claire rolls out her suitcase and begins to head towards the gate.

I follow as I admire the dramatic landscape. It is so beautiful here. I watch as the waves come in against the sandy shore. Outcroppings of lush green plants line the road. Seagulls fly high in the air and circle around us. I cannot believe that we have made it. I know I have doubted so many times that we would—but here we are. The last step… what we do next, that’s a bit more of a leap to figure out. However, at least I know we are safe.

As we stand by the large gate, it’s metal bars rising high into the air and adorned with spear tip like flourishes, Claire places her hand upon the a strip of metal. “Welcome home… Claire Derry.”

With a short clank, the gate opens up. She happily continues on as Robert follows behind her. I pause for a moment and look back to the sleek red Mazda XIII, I feel sad in a way—despite it just being a car. Then again, it wasn’t just a car. It saved our lives more times than I could count. We would not be here without it. “Goodbye,” I whisper as I feel a strange sense of sadness overcome me. I guess I had grown rather attached.

Claire notices me and rushes over. “I’ll miss it as well, you know?”

“Yeah,” I say as I place my arm around her and we begin to walk towards the house. The door shuts behind us.

Claire runs her hand down a strip of metal upon a large arched door that slowly creaks open. The door is massive and has about twenty tiny windows of red glass that paint the large hallway in brilliant shades of crimson and ember. We descend a large staircase and enter a huge open room with white marble floors… Claire looks around, she begins to smile—however, just as soon as the smile spreads across her face, it is gone… just gone. I rush over, dropping my belongings, as she collapses to the floor. I see some dried blood by a black table.

“Claire…” I whisper as her eyes dart back and forth, her breathing is heavy.

“This is… where it happened?” Claire speaks as she closes her eyes. She places a hand to her forehead. “My parents didn’t abandon me… my father… he never abandoned us. Back then… no—he stayed with us. He was so sure that he could cure us. Mother was… different… like me but not the same way. Just different like me, he wouldn’t let them evaluate us. He stayed and took care of us. One day though, after a few years… I don’t know, mom changed. She got angry and I couldn’t calm her down. She… kill… killed my father. I remember running as she came… she was so angry with me. I don’t know… I didn’t know why. I made it out of the gates and the men… in the black suits with the C-Shapes badges and their guns. They came and shot her. They took me. They made me… open up the house so that they could get his body… nobody ever called for help. Dad… he didn’t have time. They were just all there already… all those people from C-Shapes. They… took me away, I don’t know where, and eventually? I forgot?”

“It was the calm,” I whisper. “It made you forget—they wanted you to forget.”

“They… didn’t abandon me.”

“They never did,” I say as I hug her tightly.

“Those C-Shapes were some serious assholes,” Robert says as he shakes his head. “What did they want with her father anyway?”

“He was working on an alternate cure—they wanted his company,” I say as I help Claire back to her feet. “They didn’t want competition… he wouldn’t co-operate… probably didn’t trust them.”

“Typical greed bullshit,” Robert says as he places a hand on Claire’s shoulder. “At least you know the truth. That’s important.”

Claire nods as she wipes away the tears from her eyes. “I’m sad, but… they didn’t abandon me after all—he tried so hard. He didn’t give up on me. Just like you, Ethan. You never gave up on me.”

“That’s what you do for those you love,” I say as I nod. I bring her close to me and kiss her forehead.

At the far edge of the large room, a pair of glass doors leads to a dock. I stand in front of the view knowing that is my future—to be at sea. I just hope Noah doesn’t come and visit me like in my dreams. I already know I have an important message to deliver. Although… I still do not know who will listen.

“So you know how to operate that ship… right?” Robert asks Claire as he pats her on the back. “We’re in a bit of a shit pickle if you aren’t.”

“It’s… I think,” Claire responds as she pauses to think. “It’s like the car—it’s all automated. You just tell it where you want to go. I remember my dad used to teach me… I suppose there’s not much to be taught it is just like the car—memorizing commands.”

“That’s the best news I’ve heard all day,” Robert says.

“Let’s load up what we have here and then come back to the house and search for more supplies,” I say as I open up the door.

We make our way down to the pier. It is a bit of a distance, and quite a few stairs. Claire places her hand along the door at the back of the sleek, strangely shaped boat—it looks like the boats I remember, but much aerodynamic. It is painted all black, save for the silver railing. The deck has a lot of open space. I figure that Robert will probably like this, after all he doesn’t seem to like confined spaces… unless it’s a tent. Perhaps we can set him up a tent up here.

Claire runs her finger down a silver strip and the door slides open. The large control room is revealed. It is very luxurious, soft blue carpet lines the floor and sparkles, mimicking the flecks of sunlight against the ocean. A single seat rests at the far end in front one huge window. A row of monitors line the dashboard. Couches lines one wall, a wooden table sits next to it. A fridge, stove, and sink line the other wall. Paintings of old huge wooden ships fill the empty spaces on the wooden walls. Two sets of spiraling staircases lead downward. I follow Claire down to a hall that leads a storeroom. It seems to be pretty well stocked with a lot of the stuff like bagged meals and canned goods and water.

“We might not need… to stock,” Claire says as she nods. This should be good.

She leads the way to two bedrooms. “Robert pick one, they’re pretty much the same. Ethan and I will take the other.”

She leads us to the very end where a full shower and bathroom reside. Another door leads to the engine room—I’m fairly certain we won’t have to use it, or at least hope so.

Robert chooses the left side, and we take the right bedroom. We toss our stuff onto the bed and head back towards the house. Robert comes back out carrying his assault rifle on his back.

“We’re quite safe, I’m sure…” I say as I think about getting my rifle. I suppose you can never be too safe.

“You never know… killer whales and all that shit…” Robert says as he shrugs and then pats me on the back rather roughly. “Where are we headed anyway?”

“Hawaii,” I say. I’d been giving it a bit of thought. After all, they weren’t killing their Unstables—they had merely quarantined them. Plus, that should be far enough that it should be safe… at least, at this moment it seems like a good idea. “I think, Claire?”

“We’ve… I think… we’ve done that before in this,” Claire adds. “Hawaii is… a good idea.”

“You’ve done really well today, Claire,” I say as I hug her tightly. I know that it is very hard for her when she is struggling with her words. I know how difficult it must be for her. However, despite the pauses—she is doing so well.

“Well let’s go then?”

“We need… the wheel,” Claire says as she shakes her head.

“The wheel…? Like the one to steer the ship?” I ask. “I thought it was all automated?”

“It’s just shaped… shaped like it,” Claire answers. “It’s like a key, it activates everything. Kind of like turning the car on… that way you know, my different mother or I could not wander off to sea.”

“Do you know where it is?” I ask. I knew that things were a little too easy.

“My father’s room, dresser drawer…”

“Well let’s not wait around for a nuke to hit near us,” Robert says as he begins to climb up the stairs.

We walk back into the house in a rather rushed pace. Robert pulls open the door and we file in.

“Strange…” Claire says as she looks back to the large glass doors. “Shouldn’t… just open?”

“But we’re already inside, that’s why… right?” Robert says with a very worried tone as though he has just done something terribly wrong. “We’re you supposed to open it?”

“It shouldn’t… I don’t remember.”

“Well let’s get the key and go,” I say as I begin to head off to the row of doors at the far side of the large room. “Which one is it?”

“The far left one,” Claire says we begin to turn our walk into a brisk run.

Claire opens up the door to the huge bedroom. “They’re… no… someone is close.”

A strange, terrible smell fills the air. A piece of white fabric hangs across one side of the room—almost like a shower curtain partition. A loud beeping begins to chirp as a red light flashes from behind the curtain—its light appears ghostly, filtered through the thin fabric.

“What the hell is that a bomb or something?” Robert asks as he instinctively pulls his assault rifle from his shoulder and readies it in his hands.

Claire pulls back the curtain. Sitting in wheelchairs, all lined up in a row and hooked up to wires and tubes, sits twelve Catatonics—all large, tall men. “No… Claire whispers.”

“The key…” I say as I reach for Claire and attempt to pull her back. She pushes my hand away and keeps her attention upon the Catatonics.

I begin to search through the dresser—I don’t find anything that fits the description. Robert keeps his gun on the group of Catatonics as the beeping quickens its pace.

I search through another set of drawers and find a silver object; it appears to be a captain’s wheel and has a red LED on the top. “This it…?”

“Calm down…” Claire pleads. “Please…”

“Robert…” I say as I begin to pull Claire back. “I think we have it, let’s go….”

“You think?” Shouldn’t we be sure?”

“Claire,” I whisper as I hold up the wheel—making sure I’m not holding onto some silly souvenir. “This is it, right?”

“Please… they aren’t going to hurt you…” Claire says as she holds her hands out. The Catatonics begin to stir. One of them rises from their wheelchairs and pulls away violently at I.V.s stuck into their bodies. The man is covered in his own filth. It appears that C-Shapes had arranged for one last little surprise if by chance we decided to seek refuge here.

“Claire!” I shout as I begin to pull her away.

“No!” She shouts back as I place my arm around her and begin to lead her out of the room. “I was trying to keep them calm.”

“They’re not going to listen—there are too many. We have to go…” I say as we begin to run. A loud crashing noise quickly follows behind us. “Is this the key?”

Claire nods as she turns to look behind us. All twelve of the Catatonics have gone full Aggro. Robert begins to fire into the crowd—he does some damage and manages to take out one, however they are quickly upon us. We rush through the door and navigate our way back to the boat. Robert continues to fire into the crowd, buying us enough time to not get rushed by the group. We reach the dock. Claire slides her hand over the door and opens it, she then flips a switch on the wall and it remains open. I toss her the key and she runs over to the console and places it into the center. A red glow appears as the boat comes to life. Robert stands on the pier. He takes careful aim and attempts to take down as many of the Aggros as he can.

“Get on the boat,” I say as I run out and begin to pull him away from the group that is quickly closing in upon us.

“You go,” Robert says he shakes me away. “This time… This is my time.”

“Get on the boat,” I say once again as I grab the man by the back of his uniform and begin to pull him. “You can still fire your gun from the boat.”

“This is my duty,” Robert says as he takes aim on an incoming Aggro and takes him down with three well aimed shots to the head. The head explodes into a bloody mess and the remains fall into the ocean. Another one is quick on his heels.

“Robert… Get on the fucking boat,” I say as I grow frustrated and drag him with all of my strength until he is physically on the boat. “There now… keep them off of us.”

I run into the control room. “Claire, can we go…”

“Everything… I think… looks ready,” Claire whispers as she goes over the monitors. “Disembark.”

“We don’t have much time here!” Robert says as he shouts. “Running out of ammo….”

“Disembark…” Claire repeats more forcefully.

“Welcome Claire Derry—please state desired destination?”

“Hawaii…” Claire says as she once again commands. “Disembark.”

“We’re about to be really fucked here guys!”

“Coordinates?” The male voice asks.

“Just leave,” I shout.

“Coordinates?” The voice repeats.

“Lat…” Claire stutters as the sound of gunfire from the rear of the ship is causing her to panic. She shakes her head to clear the terrible sounds away. Lat… latitude 21.31… Longitude -157.8… Disembark!”

The engines rumble to life and the boat pulls away. I rush back to the stern of the vessel and find Robert sitting against the wall. He gives me a thumbs up. He releases the clip from his assault rifle… it is empty. I watch the dock as we speed away. The remaining Aggros scream out in frustration. I suppose they are not very strong swimmers—to our benefit.

“You did great,” I say as I help him up.

“You had five more seconds or so… what was the rush?” Robert says as he lets out an exhausted laugh and collapses upon the couch. “Fuck…”

“Robert…” I say as I get into the fridge and toss him a bottle of water.

“Yeah man?”

“Will you stop trying to martyr yourself?” I ask as I shake my head and let out a sigh of relief. “From here on out—just stop. You’ve more than proved you are brave. You do not have to die trying to prove it any further. Alright…?”

“I hear you—loud and clear,” He says as he downs the bottle of water.

I walk over to the console and stand beside Claire. I reach down and kiss her on her cheek. She is busy going over a map on the monitor. She looks to me and smiles.

“You did great, you really did—I don’t know how you pulled it off, but you saved us.”

“You saved us…”

“I hardly did anything… other than pull Robert onboard… I think I was the most useless one of us…”

“I think… I was the most useless one of us.”

“Got it,” I say with a short laugh. “That’s good timing though.”

“Good timing… though….”

I walk to the back of the door and I’m about to hit the switch and a flash of light fills the air far south of us. Robert gets up and stands beside me. Off into the distance, far away—a mushroom cloud fills the air.

“And so Los Angeles has fallen as well…” Robert says as he reaches into the side pouch of his uniform and pulls out the small TV.

A man on the small screen is standing alongside the wreckage of what appears to be pieces of black metal that has washed up along the shore. “I am standing by what appears to be what remains of a submarine that has washed up upon the shores of Georgia. From what I’ve gathered a rogue group of subs has declared war against those launching missiles upon the United States—so for now, hopefully, it appears that the threat of more cities being wiped off the map has passed. Reports have also been coming in regarding a cruise ship off the coast of Virginia firing guiding rockets, or what they call ‘bunker busters’ into the underground command room of the White House—whether this has been an effective measure still remains to be seen, as supposedly the command center is impervious to even a nuclear strike. However, it is now clear at this point that what remains of our military forces are no longer following the orders of the government…”

“Thank god,” Robert says as he places a hand upon his bald forehead and wipes away a heavy sheen of sweat.

“A resistance group….” With that, the TV fizzles out. Robert messes with it for a few moments—however, it remains unresponsive. “Fuck it,” he mutters as he tosses it into the ocean.

We enter the control room, I flip the switch and the door shuts behind us. Robert takes his place back on the couch as Claire gets up from her seat. “We’re good—we just have to pass the time…”

“How long…?”

Claire pauses apprehensively… and bites her lip. “Fourteen days.”

“That’s a long time,” I say as I let out a sigh. “I hope that we still have time to fix things.”

“I hope so…” Claire says as she wraps her arms around me. “Finally though, we’re safe. You kept your promise. At least… feel okay about that?”

“I do,” I say as I hold her tightly against me. “I’m so proud of you. We’re safe because of you.”

“You helped,” Claire says as she smiles up at me and laughs. “You got us here. You saved me… you saved Robert. I’d say you did something good.”

“Now just to save the world,” I say as I laugh uncomfortably. “Should be a piece of cake after what we’ve been through, right?”

Claire nods as she kisses me.

After we eat, we head down into the bedrooms.

“Goodnight Robert,” Claire says as she hugs the large man.

“Goodnight Claire, Ethan…” Robert says as he smiles.

“Hey Robert…” I say as he pauses and raises an eyebrow.

“No jerking off in there now…” I say as I laugh.

Robert laughs heartily as he shakes his head and shuts the door behind him.

As I enter the bedroom with Claire I hear soft beeping noise. I make my way to the case that rests upon the bed. There is a green light that reads ‘ready’ upon the case. I quickly pick it up and make my way out of the room—Claire follows me. I knock on Robert’s door.

“I’m not jerking off,” Robert says as I can hear the bed creak as he gets up. He opens the door and looks down at the metal case.

“It’s time to figure some things out,” I say as I lead us to the control room. We all sit down upon the couch as I place the metal case on the table. I anxiously hold my breath as I run my finger across the metal strip on the top. The case pops open revealing a huge stack of papers. I pick up the first one. It simply reads ‘YOU ARE THE MESSAGE.’

“What does it mean?” Claire asks as I pick up the second paper.

“You are the message?” I say aloud as I read it. I quickly pick up a stack and go through them. They all say the same thing… ‘YOU ARE THE MESSAGE.’

“I don’t understand,” Robert says as he fingers through the remains of the pile. There’s nothing here—it just says the same thing over and over again.

“Maybe… it is a code?” Claire asks as she holds up the paper to the light.

“It’s just the same computer paper over and over,” I say as I thumb through my pile once more. “It’s just… the same thing.”

“Don’t be upset,” Claire says as she notices the frustration upon my face.

“Maybe he means for you to tell the story…” Robert says as he places a hand upon my shoulder.

“This was supposed to be proof—this was supposed to be what I was to give to someone important… instead this is… nothing. It really was all for nothing. No one will listen to me without real, concrete evidence.” I say as I toss the papers back into the case. I get up and walk out of the command room.

“Ethan…”

“He just needs a moment,” I hear Robert say as I head out onto deck. I walk to the bow of the ship and see the ocean spread out before me. It is dark—it reminds me of that dream I had. I watch as the waves stir and the sea is in a constant state of movement. It reminds me of something Noah said once… I think, the first day that I met him. “The sea comes in many shapes… it’s never in one constant shape… you can’t stop the sea and make it into one singular shape; you can’t control something so big.”

I suppose that is true in many ways. C-Shapes tried to control the virus, which was just as uncontrollable and widespread as the sea itself—it failed, it was too big to control, and even with their vast numbers of people and research… it just… couldn’t. Just like Noah’s plans. He was standing up against something so big… that he might as well had been trying to stand up to the sea itself—the sea will always prevail. No matter how strong you think you are, or how strong you feel, it will always survive. I guess, ultimately, my goal was just as futile. Perhaps, even Noah knew that. Perhaps he truly was mad. Too much information—it had caused him to break. Maybe he wasn’t an Unstable, but that didn’t mean he was invincible.

I feel a hand upon my back. I turn and see Claire.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” I say as I nod. “I just thought… I could do something.”

“Well we’re safe now,” Claire says as she hugs me tightly. “Who knows what the future will bring. Let’s go back to bed, alright?”

“Alright,” I say as I take her hand. I look once more to the ocean, although I’m sure I’ll be seeing a lot of it, it won’t be the same—it will never be just as it is now. I find that both a little comforting, and sad for some reason.

As we make our way back into the command room. Robert is attempting to bring up some news. “TV… News…?”

“Must be some kind of interference,” I say. “…maybe from the nuclear explosions… or something.”

“Going to be a boring fourteen days…”

“We can play cards and board games,” Claire says as she shrugs.

We head back to our respective bedrooms.

I wrap my arms tightly around Claire. “If there is anything that I am happy for… it is you—I do love you. So I’m disappointed in Noah, but… at least I have you.”

“I love you too,” She says pulls me close. “I’m not disappointed about anything.”

As I allow myself to sleep. I dream of Noah one last time. We are back in his house. He is sitting in his dusty old grey couch.

“Ethan…” Noah says he smiles.

“Noah,” I say with a nod.

“We’re not at sea?” I ask, noting the change of scenery. I rather preferred the ocean dreams.

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh, it’s just that the last few dreams I’ve had where you’ve appeared we’ve been at sea,” I say as I sit down in a chair at the chess table.

“This is the last time that you will see me,” Noah says.

“Well you’ve been dead; I figured you’d stop hanging around eventually…” I say as I shrug my shoulders.

“Dead…? I’d had hoped not. I guess it’s possible,” Noah says as he looks down. “Yeah, this is more of an apology—to you.”

“For what, Noah…?” I ask as I get up. “For sending me on some quest that has no resolution…? Or for making me carry around a case with a bunch of nonsense.”

“For all of it,” Noah says as he begins to flicker strangely.

“Whatever,” I say as I give up on being angry. There is no point anymore.

“Thought I’d have a bit more time…” Noah says as he strangely flickers out of existence. The room slowly fades away and everything turns to black.

I rouse from my slumber for a few moments, my eyes are heavy and I am exhausted. I fall instantly back asleep.




Part 3: Return





15: Hawai’i


It has been 14 days. The big island of Hawaii is visible from the windows of the command room. The trip has been uneventful. Almost relaxing—especially after all we had been through. We played cards, we ate, we laughed, and we made love. Well… Claire and I did, I’m not sure what Robert did at night—perhaps I don’t want to know.

We exit the command room and stand on the bow of the ship. The boat is set to automatically dock at the harbor ahead. A low rumble groans in the air as two white and red helicopters escort us… I’m not sure what to make of it—they are carrying cameras instead of guns. That gives me a bit of comfort.

“What do they want?” Robert says loudly.

“I don’t know… I guess they’re curious who we are. I imagine they don’t get many visitors.” I say as I try to keep my volume louder than the roar of the blades.

“…don’t get many visitors…” Claire repeats as she covers her ears.

As we approach the dock I see thousands of people waiting at the harbor. I begin to feel a little uneasy. “Robert… will you get the weapons.”

“Yeah,” Robert calmly says as he shakes his head and begins to into the command room. As we near the dock he returns with my rifle and handgun. I toss the rifle over my shoulder and place the gun in my pocket. Robert tosses his Assault Rifle across his back.

We dock, and I help Claire off of the boat. A tan skinned man dressed in a Hawaiian shirt rushes over to greet us.

“It is good to have you here,” he says as he bows. “Welcome to the independent Islands of Hawai’i.”

“Why are you…?” I begin as I notice a familiar face in the crowd of thousands.

“Ethan Chase,” Katharine says as she approaches.

“Stay back,” I say as I pull my handgun from my pocket and aim it at her.

“There is no need for that,” she says calmly. “I do not mean you any harm.”

“I’ve heard that before,” I say as I keep my gun on her. Robert raises his assault rifle as the crowd lets out a collective gasp.

“Ethan… Robert,” the man who greeted us speaks. “There is no need to worry. You are safe here.”

“You won’t take her away from me!” I shout.

“Nobody wants to take her away from you,” Katharine says as he fearlessly continues to advance towards us. “I was one of Noah’s contacts. Please trust me.”

“What do we do, Ethan?” Robert asks, he is still holding his rifle.

“What choice do we have,” I say as I nod to Robert. “We have to trust you.”

“This is Andrew Kaapana, protector of the Hawaiian islands,” Katherine says as she begins to lead us through the thick crowd.

“…protector…” Claire repeats nervously. All these people must be making her feel rather uneasy.

“Yes we have done away with any of the old words associated with the United States… old words lead to old habits they say here,” Andrew answers. I suppose he does not realize that he is answering a question that was not intentionally asked.

We are carted off by limousine to a room. It is a small room, part of a larger hotel. Katharine has us sit in leather chairs. A large screen hangs on the wall. I look out the window—there are still people everywhere. I look past them and notice beautiful green mountains and palm trees. It is a cloudless day, almost a perfect day.

“You’ve come a long way…” Katharine says as she sits down at the table. The protector sits beside her.

“A long way for nothing,” I say as I shrug my shoulders. “If you want Noah’s case—I have to tell you… it was nothing… It just said ‘you are the message’ over and over… whatever Noah’s plan was, it failed.”

“But, Ethan… you were the message.” Katherine says as she leans forward. “You were the plan… and it did no fail. It far exceeded any expectations that he had… that any of us had. You showed us so much. More than we could have possibly even imagined.”

“I don’t understand,” I say as I shake my head.

“…don’t… understand…” Claire repeats.

“The first day that Noah met you, he implanted you with a tiny transmitter—in the back of your neck…”

“The spider’s bite…?” I say as I search for the small bump I had all but forgotten about.

“That was his cover. After Noah and a lot of people on the inside of C-Shapes had discovered that something terrible was going on, they started reporting C-Shapes’ plans to the resistance—we formed an alliance with Japan and called ourselves ‘The Ohana.’ We had the information, we just needed to get it out there,” Katherine explains.

“If you had everything you needed, if Noah had all the info—then why me?” I ask, growing frustrated and a little confused as I try and keep up.

“Why me…?” Claire repeats.

“Because people needed to be shown it in a different way… all they were seeing on TV was the news. Noah came up with the idea that we had to present this in a way that people could relate to it, a story… like in the old days. He placed a transmitter inside of you that gave us access to everything you’ve seen, your thoughts, your dreams, and your words… all of your experiences. Everything you went through was transferred to The Ohana—we edited it down, of course, to an eight hour story… Originally, as Noah had envisioned it, it was just meant to show things from your side. From someone who’d be sympathetic to Claire. Instead, you ended up showing us all a lot more than Noah or The Ohana could have ever expected… you ended up having to run—even Noah’s backup plans failed… You had to face Hunters who admitted the truth, you had to fight off Aggros that had been activated by C-Shapes, you saw the riots first hand, it all came to light… and then the nuclear attacks hit. Ultimately, we needed to find a way to take down C-Shapes network and put your story up… once it was finished—however, without any intervention from us, that issue took care of itself as well when the C-Shapes main facility was completely overrun… another thing that Noah did not expect but you saw coming… we still don’t know who did it—it could have been anyone from any country. Anyway, that night that you opened up the metal case… your final transmission ended and we were able to start finishing your story.”

“Who has seen this?” I ask.

“Everyone…” Katharine says as she turns on the large monitor. It flashes to the time that I hid my work badge and phone in the glove box of my old car and snuck Claire, or Cherie at the time, into the restaurant. “It has been playing continuously for eight hour time periods over the past ten days… all over the entire world. It has been translated in every language… the entire world has seen it. They saw everything that you went through. They were shown the truth, of course… but more importantly they saw your story. They laughed at times; they cried at other times… They were horrified, scared, and worried. They watched you fall in love. They watched as others gave their lives for you… and one who kept attempting to…”

Robert coughs purposefully as he looks away and out the window.

“People have watched your story over and over… people all over the world have sat down and watched it from beginning to end—numerous times. You gave them something that a simple newscast about the truth never, ever, could—you gave them all hope. You’ve changed the world, without even knowing it. All those people at the dock—they were there because they wanted to see you. They wanted to know how it ultimately ended for you. All around the world, people watched you come ashore,” Katharine finishes as she places her hands on the table.

I am rendered speechless. I swallow hard. “I didn’t fail?”

“No Unstables have been killed since your story first aired,” the Protector says as he smiles.

“Noah only planned to use me for a simple story about… him telling me the truth—me taking Claire off of the pills and dealing with the consequences? That I would be compassionate and help her… that’s all?”

“It was enough for him—of course, things don’t always go as they planned. I imagine the suitcase was an afterthought in case thing started to look bad, as he planned on telling you the truth in person once the transmission device failed,” Katharine says as she nods. “You said it best yourself—he was just an interest story writer, he never imagined a bigger picture—not one so grand and terrifying that was painted out for you by fate. His original idea was enough for us as well. That is why we so heavily funded his plan.”

“The bulletproof car—the money, everything he had…”

“All supplied by The Ohana.”

“We didn’t fail…” Claire whispers.

“You and Ethan, and Robert… you saved the Unstables… in a way… you saved the humanity in us all.

“What happens to us now?” Robert asks as he looks at the large crowd outside nervously.

“You can live here,” the Protector says as he nods and smiles. “You are welcome here for as long as you want to be here—we are honored, your presence here will honor us—after we are all long dead, your stories will live on. Your time here will always be something that people remember and speak of fondly.”

“We won’t be split up… ever?” I ask, still concerned about the entire stigma that was associated with having any kind of relationship with an ‘Unstable.’

“No, you’ll never be split up. You are in love—the whole world has accepted that,” Katharine says as she points to the screen. It shows us kissing for the first time—the same day that Claire smacked me. My inner dialogue speaks on the screen, about how I know it is wrong, but how it feels right—how it is right.

“So will you stay with us?”

“Claire?” I ask, as I turn to her and place her hands in mine.

“Yes?”

“It’s not Paris…” I start with a short laugh. “But, will you make a home here with me—can you be happy here.”

“I can…” Claire says as she smiles and wraps her arms tightly around me.

“Robert?” The protector asks as he turns to the large man. “We would be honored.”

“What about America?” He asks.

“In time they will be ready to rebuild. Right now it is dangerous to even be there… especially after the nuclear fallout. We know that there are safe pockets of people, but it is still a dangerous place—but we… The Ohana, will not give up on them.” The Protector replies.

“I will stay until I can return and help,” Robert says as he nods.




16: Epilogue


Paris: 2 Years after reaching Hawai’i


Claire is wearing her black sweater, the one with the white flowers printed on them and the sparkling abalone top button. She is wearing a pleated black and white skirt and her tight black leggings. The air is cool, and the smells of a different continent fills our nostrils. We stand in front of the Eiffel Tower, finally, we kiss. Our daughter, who will turn two in November, is with us. She is as normal as… well, I guess as normal as one could be. There is no worry or fear that she will pass on the virus that nearly left the world destroyed ten years ago.

“How do I feel?” I say as I speak into a camera. “I really don’t know. I still don’t understand it all—about why I was chosen. I still have questions, but I guess they will never really be answered—but life is a lot like that I suppose… a lot of questions and not often a lot of answers. I’m alright with it thought. We call Unstables just… people now. It is what they always were. Our story is still played from time to time… however, there are so many other stories now… stories just as important as ours. Stories about survivors, stories from people who were hunted and locked up without reason… this is not just about us anymore and I am happy about that. These experiences, these stories, belong to everyone now, and we are all better off for it. So much of the world has changed for the better—the only thing I can really state that I feel is important is… that we continue to change for the better and continue to be understanding. That if something should ever happen in the future that we don’t quite understand, we don’t act out of fear—instead, we act out of compassion—out of love. In the end that is all that really matters…”

“Are you ever afraid that your wife will one day, you know?” The reporter asks as he ensures that Claire is out of earshot. “…change?”

“No… and, I can say that with complete honesty. I suppose, there is always the chance, but… you know, it’s close to what I said earlier… that’s just life. You can’t spend your time worrying about what if, or when, something might happen—life is too short. That’s all… it’s just, too short to worry about those kinds of things.”

“Do you have anything you’d like to end this on?” The reporter asks.

“I saw a sign once back when all of this really started for me; I’ll just go with what it said. Keep hope alive… end it on that… Keep hope alive.




Copyright


Copyright 2013 Matthew Fish

All Rights Reserved