Volume VIII: Inherited Dysfunction

*16. Home

Ever have that dying dream? The one where you wake up covered in sweat and you can’t breathe and reality is a twisted realm of uncertainty. The dream where you’re absolutely certain that for a moment, you’re dead. And you wake up scared. Are you scared that you could be dead? Or that you’re still alive? I never understood that. Imagine that feeling though. And you’d know how I felt. Because I actually did wake up from dying.

I wasn’t where I was before. The dust and dirt were gone. The foundation, the old building. I had deduced that it was a church before I passed out. I looked around. I wasn’t in a hospital; there wasn’t the usual blinding shine of white, or the institutional shade of pale green. No, this was different. This was a safe haven - it felt secure. I was on a mattress on the floor in a room devoid of most else. I looked around but there was no hint. I got up, despite pain that shot through everything. I found that I was bandaged all over. I was still coughing.

After awhile without any sort of explanation, I went wandering. The house I was in was broken down in places, salvageable at points. It was empty. I moved to the doorway, eager to get out, to get away. To find out what had happened, what I’d missed. Could this be Hell? Was I truly dead? Or was this a delusion that I was having as I lay dying? I looked around one more time before putting my hand out for the doorknob. I heard a cough behind me. I wheeled around.

“Feeling better?”

I narrowed my eyes, searching the shadows, but I could find nothing. I wouldn’t answer a disembodied voice - I wasn’t that insane yet. I looked around, waiting. They stepped out eventually, a young man, perhaps my own age. I was in my early 20s, not quite the kid that I wish I was. Children usually still possess some semblance of innocence. I do not. He took a few quiet steps over to me, his hand outstretched.

“My name is Colt Brogan.”

I shook his hand halfheartedly. I had no idea who this was, but I nodded upon hearing his name, as if it were familiar or special. But it was just another name. Another time and place. Another thing that I’d have to try to remember.

I moved to keep going, to walk away from this. I turned away from him, my hand again on the door. He called to me and I turned around for half a second.

“What do they call you?”

I smiled at him. “Traitor.”

And walked out.

He followed me, as I knew he would. I don’t know if it was the look, the smile, the step. Or he was just bored. Or desperate. I don’t know. Everything hurt, I imagined that a small collection of bruises and scars covered my body. It was how I was. They were me. This was my life. I didn’t try to hide them or deny what I was. I kept moving anyway, with him behind me. I moved for blocks, trying to get rid of him. He wouldn’t go. I couldn’t keep going for much further. My body was going to quit. I could feel the dizzy spell already. I had to stop. I looked around and decided to go to the bar. Try and lose him there. Try.

I got to the bar, all the regulars hanging around. I didn’t stay long. The place was called the Drowning Raven. Or to the regulars - the Drown. Or, if you thought you were really clever, you could tell people that you were going to Drown. One way or another, any way you say it, it’s all the same place. I don’t know who runs it now. The owners were killed. Long story, short saga. I looked around, trying to avoid glances. I must have been a sight - then again stranger things have come through the place. When the coast was clear, I found the right door and disappeared behind it.

The hall I stood in was dark, but I knew my way. Most of the local demons knew the way to the Serkis. The Serkis was an underground show, more of a community, a safe haven for the freaks to come to. I moved forward, counting the right number of steps. Anyone who didn’t seem fit was turned back. It didn’t happen all that often, but it did happen. I kept going until I got to the end. There was a heavy curtain at the end, the parting of which led to the outskirts. I had been brought here when I was younger. And from time to time, I came here to hide from the world. From my enemies. From those that plotted against me. Those that would rather see me dead. I would rather fight. To the last.