The Eden Projects (Publishing edit)

Chapter 8. Boogeyman.

Kasper was dreaming.

He had to be.

He'd lived through this. Sure. But it was here again, and living through the nightmare was all he could think about.

So he waited.

He waited for the shouting to stop, for the pattering of his heart to slow its racing, and for fresh air to rid him of that scent.

Kasper was suspended between moments. He had lost his own corporeality. Listening as things went on around him. His old life, the one before the end. Mundane sounds. Sliding chairs and baggies sealing with soft "zips," signifying transitions he could no longer take part in. Cups toppling and cabinets clacking, laughter, the noise of youthful chaos.

Trash rummaging...

and screaming.

Himself and all the ones he left there. There was no escape.

"You left us." They'd say it. They always did...

It's not real. It's only ghosts.

But there it all was, like some whispered truth burned into the world, deliciously cruel. If only he could open his eyes to see it.

Someone shook him.

His face burned.

And he heard the footfalls of a familiar giant.

And, and-

He opened his eyes.

Archer's angry face crowded his vision. "Wake up." The man had one hand drawn back into a ball. His lip was swollen to one side, and the dry dye of blood stained the underside of his nose.

Kasper was woozy. He had vomited at some point. The taste of it clung to his teeth and tongue. He moved ever so gently.

"Shh..." Archer threw a hand over Kasper's mouth, pointing quickly to his own eyes. "Rubies."

"Here?" Kasper whispered and rubbed away the pain in his chest. His own breath bounced off Archer's hand and returned to him with an acidic tang.

Archer let go and nodded, handing him his gun. He tucked the flashlight back into his belt.

They had a code. If there was danger, regardless of who you were, you deserved a fighting chance. He motioned that there were at least three moving at the outskirts of the camp.

Kasper understood.

They were in trouble.

"Stay low," Archer whispered, crouching against the wall of the building they were next to.

This wasn't where he had sat.

He had moved.

"They heard your shot."

"I shot?"

"Yeah. You shot."

I'm awake.

The feeling of the drenched bricks settled into his fingertips.

Archer was already making his way ahead, covered in dirt and mud; bits of leaves had stuck to the back of his shirt.

Did he fall? Did I do it?

"We need to make a run for the room without being seen. We can hold up there." Archer checked his gun.

So did Kasper.

He was down one bullet and racked the slide, just in case.

So that was real?

With a brain more than frazzled, he worked at trying to pull himself together again. "Where are we?" Kasper asked, adjusting one of his bootlaces that had come undone.