Losing Eight Lives

24 | Survivors

I squinted through the window of the book store, my breath fogging it. The light source looked solid, like a lamp. However, when I looked closer, the uneven lighting of flames from candles presented itself.

Becka looked through the window next to me. We said nothing, and studied the rows and rows of new books that used to be available to people made of air.

A shadow suddenly ran in front of the light. But it was gone just as quickly as it appeared.

Something was in there.

I looked a Becka and gestured for her to follow me. We crept around the building until we reached the glass doors in front of a large parking lot.

The light stood out even more through the doors. And when we looked closer we saw the light source.

The bookstore we were at had a fireplace in the corner where you could have sat and read a book.

A fire burned in the small space.

I looked at Becka. "Should we go in?" I whispered.

She nodded, "Let's do it."

We slowly opened the doors together and made our way toward the fireplace. Getting closer I started to see the outline of a person sitting on one of the couches.

I swung my arm out in front of Becka and made her stop walking.

A person, I clarified, confused. I thought everyone was a hologram.

Then I realized something. Area 9L told me that. Who's to say there telling the truth?

I swallowed and closed my eyes for a few seconds. I didn't even know what was real and what wasn't anymore.

"Hello," Becka suddenly said cautiously. I opened my eyes and looked at her, surprised.

The person sat up in their seat, and turned their head towards us. The lighting was terrible and I couldn't make out a face, but I felt eyes studying me.

They looked at us from a few feet away, and then stood, back to the fire so their identity was hidden by shadow. However, I made out short hair and a body that seemed male.

"How'd you get here?" was the first thing he asked us.

I exchanged a look with Becka and let her do the talking. "A crashed landing in a helicopter."

The stranger didn't answer at first, only staring at us as if trying to remember something. "And you lived?" he asked, surprised.

At that point I felt like laughing hysterically, while also wanting to break down in sobs.

"No, we're figments of your imagination." Becka's answer dripped with sarcasm. I thought I saw the guy smile.

"Yes, we lived," I joined, shooting a disapproving look at Becka.

The stranger nodded, and gestured to the other recliners and couches in front of the fire. "Please, sit. I will be right back." he walked quickly passed me, and into the many rows of new books. As he passed me, I caught a glimpse of what looked like a boy about my age.

We made ourselves comfortable on the seats as we wondered where the guy went. Becka asked me for an explanation now but I didn't want anyone to over-hear. She then asked me who would be listening, gesturing to the empty space we sat in, and pleaded some more.

"Alright," I finally agreed, unsure where to start. I then sighed, "Becka it's so much to explain and I don't know how much time we have alone. I promise I'll explain just not right now."