Eyes open.
Date: December 9, 1980.
The side of the road.
The day Blinc was waiting for Zander.
He stood there, confused.
Thinking.
Something felt wrong, but he couldn’t name it.
The air felt thick.
The sunlight felt strange on his skin.
Like everything was slightly shifted.
Slightly off.
He saw Zander coming toward him.
Angry.
Same as always.
But today it felt like watching a movie he had already seen.
Every step.
Every breath.
Predicted.
“Hey!
What happened?” Zander asked.
His voice was sharp.
Familiar.
“Nothing,” Blinc said.
Distant.
Confused.
His own voice sounded like it was coming from far away.
Zander opened his mouth to say something.
Blinc knew what it would be before the words came.
“Your cat peed on your homework,” Blinc said.
The words left his mouth without permission.
“What?
No!
You know I never do homework,” Zander said.
He stopped walking.
Stared at Blinc.
“I’m asking you again.
What happened?” Zander’s voice was different now.
Concerned.
Something was wrong with his friend.
“No… no… nothing,” Blinc said.
He shook his head.
Tried to clear the fog.
— At School.
Sitting in Class.
Blinc sat in class.
Mrs.
Milli was on time today.
The lesson went smoothly.
But Blinc heard none of it.
The words washed over him like water over stone.
Amili was not at school.
Her empty seat felt like a wound.
During break, Blinc turned to Lomro.
His voice was urgent.
Low.
“Lomro, what about that meteoroid?” “What?
Meteoroid?
Where is it?” Lomro asked.
He looked genuinely confused.
His brow furrowed.
“Ten kilometers away from Monovi.
Don’t you remember anything?” Blinc’s heart was beating faster now.
Something was very wrong.
“Blinc, I don’t remember anything like that.
Did I talk to you about this before?” Lomro’s eyes searched Blinc’s face for an explanation.
“Forget about it,” Blinc said.
His voice was tight.
Worried.
Confused.
A cold fear was settling into his bones.
— Blinc’s Room.
Night.
On the Bed.
Blinc lay on his bed.
Cold pressed against the windows outside.
He stared at the ceiling.
His mind wouldn’t stop.
Round and round.
The same thoughts.
The same questions.
No answers.
He got up suddenly.
The movement was sharp.
Desperate.
He walked to his study table and sat down.
His hands were shaking.
He opened his daily diary.
The leather cover was worn.
Familiar.
He flipped to the first empty page.
A date was written there: December 9, 1980.
He turned the page.
Same date.
He turned another page.
Same date.
Every page.
The same date.
Over and over.
December 9, 1980.
December 9, 1980.
December 9, 1980.
He stood up so fast the chair fell over behind him.
It crashed to the floor.
Pain split through his head like an axe.
He dropped to his knees.
His hands pressed against his skull.
His eyes squeezed shut.
A sound drifted up from downstairs.
Glass breaking.
A woman screaming.
His mother’s voice.
Blinc got to his feet.
His legs were shaking.
He moved slowly out of the room.
Down the stairs.
Each step creaked.
Each step felt like walking deeper into a nightmare.
He looked into the living room.
Empty.
He looked toward the kitchen.
Blood on the floor.
Dark.
Wet.
Spreading.
He stepped toward the door.
A small boy stood there.
Small.
Silent.
Staring.
And a body.
A man lying on the ground.
His father.
Blinc stepped back.
And back.
His heart was pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears.
Someone stood behind him.
He could feel the presence.
Cold.
Watching.
He turned.
His father.
“Blinc.
You could have saved me,” his father said.
His voice was the same.
Exactly the same as it had been in life.
Low.
Rough.
The voice that had haunted Blinc’s dreams for seven years.
Fear locked Blinc’s face.
His eyes filled with tears.
Hot.
Burning.
“I wanted to.
But I did not want to save you,” Blinc said.
Tears streamed down his cheeks.
His voice cracked with seven years of suppressed rage.
He looked toward the small boy.
The boy he had been.
Small.
Helpless.
Terrified.
“I am not afraid of you anymore,” Blinc said.
Anger sharpened his voice.
It cut through the fear like a blade.
He turned back to his father.
His eyes were hard now.
Burning.
“You don’t deserve to die.
You deserve to suffer.
Like my mother suffered because of you.
You deserve to burn in fire.
You deserve to be blind.
You deserve to be chopped into small pieces.” A blue spark flickered in Blinc’s eyes.
Small.
Bright.
Alive.
Everything turned to dust.
The vision disappeared.
His father dissolved like smoke in wind.
— Blinc stood in a dark, black place.
He looked in every direction.
Nothing.
Only darkness.
Endless.
Silent.
Heavy.
“Who are you?
What do you want?” he shouted.
His voice echoed and died.
A footstep behind him.
Soft.
Metal on stone.
He turned.
An armored man stood there.
Silver armor that gleamed in the darkness.
A helmet that hid his face.
A silver sword in his hand.
Long.
Sharp.
Waiting.
The blade swung.
Blinc’s head fell.
He felt it leave his body.
He felt the world spin.
He felt the darkness swallow him whole.
— The Police Station.
Night.
Nine O’Clock.
Tom’s Cabin.
Tom sat at his desk, reading crime files from the last two days.
His eyes were tired.
Red.
His coffee was cold.
He drank it anyway.
The cabin door opened.
His junior officer, Carla, walked in.
She wore her uniform.
Large chest.
Tight hips.
Golden ponytail hanging long down her back.
Kind face.
Sharp mind.
She was the best officer he had.
“Did you find something, sir?” Carla asked.
Her voice was hopeful.
“No.
Nothing important,” Tom said.
Laziness dragged at his voice.
He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm.
“Sir, I have been thinking.
Who would steal a C.D.?” Carla asked.
She leaned against the doorframe.
“No idea.
But that is not the problem.” Tom leaned back in his chair.
It creaked under his weight.
“The problem is — who can enter one of the most secured places in the USA?” “Hmm.
So what do we do now?” Carla asked.
“I will tell you tomorrow.
I am so tired now.” Tom stood up.
Stretched.
His back popped.
“I think you should also go home and have some sex with someone.” He walked out of the cabin without looking back.
“With who?” Carla called after him.
Her voice echoed in the empty hallway.
— On the Road.
Tom sat in his car.
The night was cold.
He took a sip of alcohol from the flask under his seat.
Lit a cigarette.
The smoke filled the car.
He started driving.
The road was empty.
Dark.
A car overtook him from behind.
Moving very fast.
Headlights blazing.
Engine screaming.
It was Charlie.
Sweat on his face.
Blood on the back of his head.
His knuckles were white on the steering wheel.
He drove like a man running from something terrible.
Like a man who had seen hell and barely escaped.
He reached Lomro’s house.
The car skidded to a stop.
He got out.
His legs almost gave way.
He stumbled to the door.
Knocked hard.
Desperate.
The door opened.
Annie stood there.
Lomro’s elder sister.
Charlie’s classmate.
She didn’t like him.
She never had.
She was a brilliant medical science student.
Her eyes were sharp.
Critical.
“Where is Lomro?” Charlie asked.
His voice was tight with worry.
His chest heaved.
“What do you want with him?” Annie asked.
Cold.
Her arms crossed.
“Just tell me where he is.” Desperation cracked his voice.
“He—” Annie stopped.
Her eyes fixed on something.
The blood on the back of his head.
Dark.
Wet.
Fresh.
“Just stop for a second,” Annie said.
Her voice changed.
Softer.
Worried.
She went back inside.
“Annie!
Annie!
Please!” Charlie begged.
His voice broke on her name.
Annie came back out wearing a jacket.
Her face was set.
Determined.
She took the car keys from Charlie’s hand.
“Hey.
What are you doing?” Charlie asked.
Confused.
Exhausted.
“You want to know where Lomro is?” Annie asked.
Her eyes met his.
“Yes.” “Then sit in the car.” “Hey, I will drive,” Charlie said.
Weak.
Stubborn.
“Sit in.
Or I will not tell you where Lomro is.” Her voice was final.
She looked at him.
Her expression softened just a fraction.
“And tell me what happened to you.” — Blinc’s eyes opened.
He was sitting at the dining table.
The same table where they had plugged in the C.D.
His body felt heavy.
Wrong.
He breathed heavily.
His hand went to his neck.
He checked his skin.
Still there.
Still whole.
Still alive.
He looked around.
Slowly.
His eyes were blurry.
Amili.
Inose.
Zander.
Lomro.
Cult.
They were all there.
All awake.
All staring at him.
The C.D.
player was gone.
— Zander’s Room.
Night.
Zander lay on his bed.
Naked.
An adult magazine in his hand.
He was masturbating.
The room was dark.
Quiet.
Just the sound of his own breathing.
A voice echoed in his head.
Blinc’s voice.
“Hey, Zander.
Wake up.” Zander sat up suddenly.
His heart slammed against his ribs.
He looked around.
Nothing.
The room was empty.
“Hey, Zander.
Wake up.” The voice echoed again.
Louder.
Closer.
Fear flooded through him.
Cold.
Complete.
He dropped to his knees on the bed.
The magazine fell to the floor.
“I am sorry!
I am sorry!
I made a mistake.
I misunderstood you, Blinc.
You really are a variant of God, Blinc,” Zander said.
Kneeling.
Begging.
His voice was high and thin with terror.
Pain stabbed through his head.
Sharp.
Blinding.
Zander opened his eyes.
Blinc stood in front of him.
Real.
Solid.
Looking down at him with tired, confused eyes.
“Hey,” Blinc said.
Flat.
Exhausted.
“What happened?” Zander asked.
His voice was small.
Shaken.
“I don’t know.
First, wake them all up.
But one thing I know.” Blinc paused.
His eyes grew dark.
“We are not safe.” He turned his head toward the window.
A dark sky churned outside.
Black clouds.
Violet thunder cracked through them like veins of lightning.
— They woke everyone.
One by one.
Shaking shoulders.
Calling names.
Fear sat heavy on Amili’s face.
Her eyes were wide.
Haunted.
“What happened, Amili?” Blinc asked.
His voice was gentle.
Careful.
“I was in my house.
I saw my dad,” Amili said.
Her voice was hollow.
Distant.
She stared at something no one else could see.
“Your dad?
The one who ran away when you were born?” Zander whispered.
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
“Hey, Zander.
Mind your language,” Blinc said.
Sharp.
Protective.
“Oh.
Sorry,” Zander said.
He looked at the floor.
A clap of thunder shook the air.
The windows rattled.
They went outside.
The whole town was empty.
Silent.
No people.
No cars.
No birds.
Nothing.
The silence was louder than any sound.
They saw a huge tower rising from the center of the town.
Black stone.
Cracked and ancient.
The roof was hidden by thick, dark clouds that swirled like a living thing.
Cult slowly turned to go back inside.
His hand reached for the door.
The gate closed by itself.
A soft click.
Final.
“We can’t go back now,” Blinc said.
His voice was calm.
Resigned.
“But why?” Cult asked.
His voice was small.
Afraid.
“How could I know that?” Blinc said.
A tired shrug.
“My mother always told me not to pick up anything from the road,” Lomro said.
He was staring at the tower.
“That is not helpful,” Inose said.
Her voice trembled.
“Okay.
Okay.
I apologize.
It was all my fault,” Blinc said.
He raised his hands in surrender.
He paused.
Looked at the tower.
Pointed.
“But… we have to go there.” “I want to masturbate,” Zander said.
Deadpan.
“What?” Cult said.
His head whipped around.
“Just ignore that.
Let’s go,” Zander said.
Already walking.
— To be continued…
— Author’s Note Dear Reader, This chapter moves between reality and hallucination.
Blinc’s mind has been fragile since his father’s death.
He was ten years old when the hallucinations started.
Seven years of seeing his dead father.
Seven years of pills that help but never cure.
When he doesn’t take them, the line between what’s real and what’s in his head dissolves completely.
What you just read — some of it happened.
Some of it didn’t.
I’ll let you decide which is which.