REVELATION ⏤ michael langdon

𝖙𝖜𝖔. 𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖚𝖗𝖗𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

𝖙𝖜𝖔. 𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖚𝖗𝖗𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

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      Heart pounding, frozen with fear; unable to even scream. In that moment, Daphne knew she was dead—again. Except she had no recollection of how and why, the same way she wouldn't remember that she died in the first place once she wakes up.

      She spends about two or three days in the Empty (a place that's neither heaven nor hell because it is much worse), staring into space with no one else but herself to accompany her. But time doesn't exist in that realm, so three days feel like a lifetime.

     Daphne crouches down and wraps her arms around her legs, pulling her knees closer to her chest. She shuts her eyes and thinks. Why can't I remember my own death? she wonders.

     "Because it wouldn't matter." Daphne turns around only to find herself staring at, well, herself, except the Daphne before her has black ooze coming out of her eyes, lips, and nose, practically everywhere.

    "Wh-What are you?" is all she could muster up given the state of shock that she's in.

     The Daphne before her rolls her eyes, letting out a dry laugh. "You can't remember? Typical. But then again, there really isn't much to remember, is there? You only lasted about three months in this lifetime," she says—or rather it says.

     "I... I don't understand."

     "Well, I would explain it to you, but it really wouldn't matter. You'll wake up and find yourself back on Earth assigned to a new body, new life, and new identity. It'll be as if this version of you didn't exist. At least not to the new you, it won't. It's a complicated process, but we've gone over this before. You have died before, but I guess you don't remember that part either." Daphne tries to make sense of what she has been told. Reincarnation isn't exactly something she gave much thought about.

     "You're telling me that this isn't the first time I've been to this place?" she asks, looking around and wondering if this is some sort of trick and that there's a camera poking out of somewhere. But still, there's absolutely nothing around them. Nothing but a void within a void.

     "Yes, but again you wouldn't remember, and it wouldn't matter because when you do come back, dead and yet still alive, you won't be Daphne." The thing, whatever it is, starts to turn around, but Daphne grabs it's shoulders, forcing it to face back to her.

     "You're not going to leave me here!"

     "Oh, I'm not going anywhere," it says. A chilling smile spreads across it's face, one Daphne wouldn't forget if she could. "It's you who's leaving." And she did.

     Again, Daphne couldn't remember, and that's partly because she isn't Daphne Turner anymore. She's Vera Defoe and she lives in the year 2020, even after the blast that killed off more than 90% of the human race. She'd like to consider herself lucky, but how can she? She knew what was coming. They both knew.

     "Michael," she speaks. "We're here." The carriage comes to a stop and the horses neigh, announcing their arrival. Vera stands to step out of the carriage first, but Michael—already wearing a containment suit—gently pushes her aside, guiding her out himself.

"Let me serve you for once," he says, lifting up a hand for her to take as she steps out of the carriage. Before she can thank him, even bow at his kindness, two figures walk out from the fog that hides much of Outpost 3. Vera can tell she has once again met with the one and only Miriam Mead.