Trench

Thirteen

Tyler blinked his eyes open with a soft groan of pain and found himself lying on his bed back at home. He had a massive headache, and the bright neon tubes only made it worse, so he squeezed his eyes shut again and rolled on to his side.

His alarm clock went off, reminding him that it was time for breakfast. He stumbled blindly out of bed and fumbled to turn it off, though the ringing in his ears stayed for a few minutes afterward. He sat back down on his bed and rubbed his temples with his thumbs. He had had the strangest dream last night. He had been running and trying to find someone, but he didn't know who. Then he'd been surrounded by vultures and someone had grabbed his neck and he'd passed out. He shivered and yawned, and then quickly dismissed the discomfort that had suddenly settled over him. It was just a dream. He was safe here. The Bishops would protect him like they always did.

He stretched his arms and cracked his back, then pulled his shirt off to change and get ready for the day. The tubes in the middle of the room were too bright, and he kept his eyes closed as he pulled his arms through the sleeves of his button-up. He pulled the top drawer open and dug through it for his medication, but the bottle was empty.

"Perfect," he mumbled, digging his fingernails into his left temple. He would have to go to the nurse for a refill, and she would make him list all his symptoms and explain why he thought he needed them. He dreaded everything about the nurse's office, but he couldn't survive without his medication.

It took him almost two whole minutes to button his shirt, and he didn't bother changing his pants. He staggered to the door, dizzy and nauseous, and then began his trek down the hall.

His Bishop would wonder why he wasn't at worship after breakfast. He hoped he would understand. After all, he was the one who told him to get the medication in the first place. He had thought that was odd, since his Bishop wasn't the kind of man who cared about the small things in his inhabitants' lives. Instead, he monitored them, like an experiment, and he paid particular attention to Tyler only because he had escaped so many times. Why had he done that? Dema was perfect. He had everything he needed here - food, shelter, consistency, and a purpose. Why would he want that to change?

Thinking this hard irritated his migraine, and he squeezed his eyes shut and used the wall as a guide. He bumped into someone and muttered an apology without even looking to see who it was. It didn't matter, anyway. He didn't care what anyone thought about him. He just needed his medicine.

He staggered into the nurse's office and collapsed on a chair, digging his knuckles into his eyes. The nurse asked him the usual questions, and he answered them absentmindedly. Finally, she handed him a pill bottle and he opened it desperately, pouring two pills into his hand and swallowing them dry. Now he just had to survive breakfast, and then the medicine would kick in and he would be okay. He stood up to leave, but the nurse pushed him back down onto the chair.

"Wait here," she ordered. "Your Bishop wants to see you."

A cold, heavy dread settled in his stomach, though he wasn't sure why. The Bishops were there to help them. "Okay," he said.

His knee bounced violently as he waited, his hands folded in his lap. Why was he nervous? Nothing was wrong. Maybe he just wanted to make sure he was alright. But why would he waste time visiting Tyler when the Assemblage was in nine days?

He looked up as the door opened and the cloaked Bishop entered. "Hello, Tyler," he said, his voice quiet and raspy. "How are you feeling?"

Tyler swallowed nervously. "Y-yeah." He blinked and shook his head vigorously. "I mean - better. I'm feeling better."

"Glad to hear it." The Bishop stood in front of him, his hands clasped in the folds of his robes. As usual, his expression was hidden by the veil. "Do you know why I'm here?"

Tyler shook his head again and dropped his eyes to the floor, shifting his weight on his chair. He hadn't done anything wrong. Why was he so nervous?

"I apologize about last night," his Bishop said. "The smearing was more forceful than usual. How is your migraine?"

He shrugged and rubbed his forehead. "Still awful. But I just took my pill for it." He paused and thought for a minute, and then frowned in confusion. "Wait, last night was real? The Watchers and the running and the smearing?"

"Yes. You had another episode."

His eyes widened. "Oh no. I'm so sorry."

"It's quite alright, child. You are here now, and you are safe. Do you believe that?"

"Yes," he whispered.

"Good," his Bishop said. "However, I believe it is time to discuss your reoccurring episodes. Have you been attending every worship and ceremony?"

"I..." Tyler swallowed hard. "I think so. Unless I was already having an episode."

"You haven't missed one for any other reason? You haven't slept in, had a migraine, or forgotten?"

Tyler fidgeted with his fingers as he stared at the floor. He racked his brain for an answer, wondering what he could tell him. "I have missed a few because of my migraines," he said slowly.

The Bishop made a soft humming sound as he thought. Though his eyes were hidden, Tyler could still feel their piercing, soulless stare. Finally, he turned to the nurse. "Give him something to prevent migraines. This is unacceptable." He looked at Tyler again. "You will be at worship in the center church at exactly eight hundred hours. There will be a reserved seat on the front row for you. Do not be late." And with that, he swept out of the room and out of sight.

...

Tyler walked back to his room feeling more anxious than he had before. His migraine was nearly gone, but a new headache replaced it, and he couldn't stop rubbing his neck. He had been smeared again. How many times had that been? Seven? Eight? He knew the effects of repeated smearings wouldn't be pleasant, and if he didn't already have them, it wasn't long before they hit.

He looked at the pill bottle in his hand and sighed softly before stuffing it in his pocket. No one could know he was on medication. Then he would stand out more than he already did, and that was the last thing he wanted. He just wanted to blend in like everyone else. He wanted to make his Bishop proud.

The nurse hadn't explained what the medication actually did. She had just told him that it would help his migraines so that he could attend all of the worships. He knew it was some sort of drug, but at this point, he didn't care. He was tired of disappointing his Bishop because of something he couldn't control.

Worship would begin in ten minutes. He quickly changed into his black pants and splashed his face with cold water, and then swallowed his new pill and started toward the center church.

As he walked, all the pain in his body completely faded. He hardly noticed, because he suddenly felt happier than he had in a long time. Something in the back of his mind told him that this wasn't really happiness. The pill he'd taken was numbing his senses. He ignored that thought and approached the doors to the church.

He walked down the stairs, nearly tripping on the rough concrete, and quietly entered the chapel. There were dozens of other inhabitants there, but just as his Bishop had promised, there was a reserved seat for him on the front row. He walked down the aisle with his eyes glued to the floor, and silently sat down, crossing his legs and folding his hands neatly in his lap. The Bishop hadn't entered yet, but Tyler already dreaded his presence. He didn't want to disappoint him again.

The bright neon in front of him stared lifelessly at those in the church, and for a moment, Tyler thought that it was infusing its cold light into each of the citizens. He shuddered at that thought, and kept his eyes down. His mind felt fuzzy, and he couldn't think clearly.

Then the Bishop entered solemnly, his hands tucked into the sleeves of his robe. He stopped in front of the aisle, directly behind the pillars of neon. His eyes surveyed the scene before him, resting on each citizen before moving on. Tyler thought his gaze lingered when it reached him.

"Let us begin," the Bishop finally said.