In Which We Were Dead

In Which We Were Dead
Until Tomorrow
Morning Meetup

I’m an inhabitant of another world. That’s the best way to describe it. I grow up in this world that others see, but I have so many memories of other times and places that overflow, mixing, one into another. So much that it’s hard to separate me from us.

It feels like I’m adrift in an alternate reality, occupants; me and the man who wants to kill me, no room for boarding. And no lifeboats. I gave up on even trying a long time ago. Not for the first time, I curse the fate that brought me into this repetitive, terrifying hell.

You’d think I’d be used to it, but every time I’m shot, I’m stabbed, I’m burned, it feels like the first. Disturbing my dreams, giving me sleepless, terrified nights and mornings waking up tangled in sheets, glistening in sweat and with my skin ice cold.

I’d never been to Japan before this life. But it’s strange, it feels different and homely at once. It’s like me, a nation in the present that is so connected to the past, temples and shrines that have stood the test of time sitting side by side with modern glass skyscrapers.

When I float in this void, I can see images of different lives clearly, swimming before my eyes. Once, it looked like books, but now it looks more like a series of screens. Maybe it’s related to where I’m born, like the dream is condensing around me in a form that is familiar. A way to organize so many thoughts across so many lifetimes. I walk among the paper-lantern glow of the images, watching myself in each. As I progress through, the scenes get deeper, choppier. The colours around me turn from vibrant hues, to more somber sepias, and then… red. Glowing, bright. Screen after screen. Splashing against me, on my face, on other people. Blood. My blood.

I watch as scene after scene of my own death flash by, bending over to throw up, my hair floating, weightless, behind me.

In each one, there’s that face. I glimpse it briefly once or twice but turn away instinctively once I see those eyes. The same yellow that captivates me, like a rabbit looking in the face of a fierce predator, aware of my own mortality and utterly powerless.

The gap between each life, when I’m dead, and become unable to separate each of me from the “us”. That’s what I fear. That gap that he sends me to every time I lay eyes upon him, every time he catches me.

The wolf pursues through this strange dream void, his shadow lurking between the image-planes of my own past, present, and future.

I find a place to hide, hold my breath, and wait…

❀ ✿ ❀ ✿ ❀

Waking up with a start, I reexamine my location. Tangled sheets wrap and pull tight against my legs, and blood rushes to my head as I look around the disorienting room before enough of my brain clicks together to realize I’m upside down. Staring at the ceiling from the ground, like everything’s in reverse of where it should be. Focussing my eyes, I see my phone lying nearby, social media open with a handful of missed messages.

Crap, I seriously fell asleep while talking to people. I kinda hope that they don’t think I was ignoring them or something. I pick it up and send out a wave of apologies, and get a couple thumbs up. One sends a smirking grin from an anime, and another a cute bird sticker holding a sign. I know without looking who sent those ones. And then… the other message. The one I’d not replied to.

I disentangle myself from the sheets, and get up. Going about my daily routine, brush to hair, check I’m not too much of a disaster in the mirror, and head for lunch, dodging rogue toys from my brother’s evening adventure. Really ought to teach him not to do that.

I head into the kitchen and see him there early, awake and eating before me. I give him a gentle half-pat-half-slap on the top of his head.
“Oww! Hey! Sis!”
“Clean your toys, I coulda broken something on them.”
“Hmph! Maybe you should just watch where you put those dumb oversized feet of yours!”
“What did you say!?” I scowl, rubbing my fist playfully into his cheek as he squirms to shake me off.
“Still shorter than me, runt.” I tease him, he rolls his eyes.
“Not for long. Some’ve the boys in my class are like as tall as the teacher!”
I stare at him and rub my fist into his cheek. Time flies, huh?

I grab some toast from the table and head off, giving a half-wave to my mother, who scowls at my disreputable appearance and act, and move out towards the station. This time, I’m checking my phone.

There was one message that stuck out…

“I want to talk with you. Before school. The convenience store.”

Now that one was different. The first and only message I’ve received from that ID. One that I didn’t respond to at the time.

A host of thoughts had raced through my mind about it, I was worried if it was The Wolf, but shook the thought from my mind. That’s not how he operates, I’ve been hunted by him before, and he was rarely so kind…

The words in blood, I’m Coming For You. Painted on a wall. That image jerks into my memory. The face of a woman, a rictus of pain. Chosen because of her hair colour. That stuck out to me. In this single moment, that was what made me shiver in recollection. No, The Wolf was always far more… direct with his threats.

I forgo my usual bike as it’s early enough, and take the slow walk to the convenience store. No… maybe I’m just trying to delay this strange meeting. Frankly, there’s enough to deal with without adding secret meetings with strange uncontactable messages. Part of me wants to chew them out, or yell at them, or just ditch and go to school. Teenage melodrama isn’t on my to-do list in this lifetime, no thank you. I’m not interested in any secret confessions, lost love, or childhood best friends reuniting after transferring into school.

❀ ✿ ❀ ✿ ❀

I sit at the bench and open the bottle I grabbed from the store. Forgive me this one indulgence, but you forced me up at such an ungodly hour.

I idly look around the street as I sip the sweet liquid, swishing it about a little to get the full extent of the taste.

“You’re late.” a voice whispers in my ear. Dark, growly, masculine. It’s disconcerting, but not as disconcerting as the metal cylinder poking at my back. My hand freezes, trembling, holding the bottle up to my mouth.

“...That’s a gun, isn’t it?”
“The car’s a short walk from here. I’m sure you can manage to not attract attention.”
“If you think I’m going with you-” I start, but the metal prods my back harder, and my short lived defiance caves under the pressure.
“...You’d be right.” I mutter, the words tasting of defeat. He motions for me to stand and I do so, hoping I’m not sweating too much.

I follow where he leads down a back alley nearby. The most nondescript van I’ve seen awaits us. It has a dull logo that looks like it was applied once, tires that look a little worn, and a driver who looks plain and uninteresting. In other words, the perfect camouflage in a city.

“Get in.” The voice hisses. The back door of the van looms ahead, no windows. I shakily play with the bottlecap in my hand.

Oh hell.

I turn on my heel fast, splashing the liquid into his face to gain some form of advantage. I’m smaller than him, but that doesn’t mean I can’t fight. Just means I have to get some advantage. Something, anything…

My spinning half-pirouette kicks his knee, thank god for those ballet lessons my mother made me take, and I raise my leg to attempt a high kick. He’s still stunned by this move, giving me ample time to grab for the outstretched hand. This is going well, this is going perfectly. I grab the hand that was formerly pressed against my back and pull free the metal cylinder, pushing it against the wannabe-kidnapper’s throat.

“...A deodorant can!?” I say in surprise, staring at the metal cylinder in shock. Definitely not a gun. So much for having that on my side. And any second now, the much bigger man is gonna get back on his feet, and I’m gonna be in trouble. Maybe I can run-

The back door of the van opens, and a voice calls out.

“That’s enough.”