With everything she’s been through lately, a little boy that can talk in her head isn’t farfetched, but it is still disturbing. She stands up and takes a step back, regarding the boy.
“Um, okay. Why did you bring me here?”
The boy’s expression remains the same, but the voice in her head seems to thrum with a thin trace of tension.
I had to, Matilda. You were experiencing your memories at a tangible level. If you had been hit by that car, you would have died all over again. Just like you did before.
Matilda shakes her head.
“No, wait. That doesn’t make any sense.”
The same stoic expression stares back at her.
Search yourself, Matilda. You’ve seen the memories. You’ve always known there was something different about you. The only way to move forward is to accept who you are.
Matilda puts her head between her knees.
“Oh God, I think I’m going to be sick.”
The boy’s voice continues.
I had to stop you, Matilda. You’re too important. More important than any of us.
At the mention of us, Matilda looks up. One form after another begins to appear around the boy on the theater’s wooden benches. Soon, a whole host of them become a mute audience, filling the amphitheater. In the moonlight, Matilda can see their faces. She’s speechless as hundreds of the apparitions continue to appear and look at her with silent admiration.
Matilda puts a hand to her temple, trying to stop the world from spinning.
“Look, no more. No more. I’m not dead.”
The boy, Matthew, moves closer to her and extends a hand.
Come, Matilda, there’s much left to do.
She doesn’t reach for the hand.
“What the hell are you?”
The boy keeps one hand extended, and gestures to the growing crowd with the other.
We’re the ones trapped in-between. Those that didn’t make the transition from the real world to this one. We’ve been scattered throughout the Cyberside, but I’ve slowly been bringing everyone here. I was given powers by the System to fix some of the mistakes made by the creators. In their rush to enter this world, humans were not concerned with the… leftovers.
Matilda tries to study the faces of the other specters. They look on with mute anticipation.
“But what do you want from me?”
Matthew moves forward with his hand still extended. Finally, Matilda reaches for it and he clasps her hand in his own.
You’re already collecting the keys to the System. You have the power to create another world, instead of this one. A world where everyone, even us, will have another chance. You are more connected to the System than anyone else. You and your friend are on the right path, but once you have all the data, there is still one final decision that you must make. It will be hard, but remember, as I hold your hand now, every outcast, monstrosity, and leper of this world will be holding your hand through it all.
More phantoms continue to manifest, filling the modest amphitheater. Matilda feels the System’s code subtly shift. Adapt. She shivers at the immense, tidal surge of love, compassion and support she feels.
There’s one more thing, Matthew adds.
He moves closer to her and hugs her tightly, warmly. For a child so small, there is great strength in his arms.
We give you our faith and hope, Matilda. My flock is now yours…
She closes her eyes and feels a strong wind sweep through the amphitheater. Matilda finds herself lost in the moment, until she hears the crashing of leaves and twigs. Opening her eyes, she finds herself alone on the stage.
And suddenly James is there. He rushes to the stage and wraps his arms around her. His embrace is very different from that of the boy.
“Matilda! Are you all right? What the hell happened?”
She wants to respond, but she is still reeling from her encounter with the boy speaking in her mind, the rapt attention of the silent throng around him, the tidal swell of love. Tears run down her cheeks.
“Are you okay?” James presses. “Did that thing hurt you?”
Unable to speak, she smiles at the Taciturn.
Drawing his pistol, James scans the tree line. She attempts to get hold of herself, if only to calm James down.
“Easy, James. There’s nothing to worry about, now.”
James sweeps his weapon up and down the tree line, looking for targets.
“Are you crazy? There’s still that dragon out there…”
Matilda notices a cut on James’ forehead and the glinting shards on his collar and in his hair.
“Why do you have broken glass on you? Are you okay?”
James frantically looks into her eyes.
“Me? Yeah, I’m fine, it wasn’t me who was picked up by a Jersey Devil.”
Matilda’s gaze roams the amphitheater.
“Turns out it was just a kid, and… you know what, it’s not important. I’m fine. But I’m glad you came for me.”
She moves towards the steps of the stage and sits down at its edge.
“I was able to access the data on the key, and there were… some interesting things I learned. I feel… different.”
James looks at her, alarmed.
“Wait, back up a second. What kid?”
Matilda laughs.
“Seriously, don’t worry about it right now. Let’s just get out of here. When we find a place where we can hole up, I’ll tell you everything.”
James throws his hands in the air.
“Great, you’re doing this to get back at me, aren’t you?”
As they exit the auditorium, Matilda notices a dove sitting on a nearby branch. The bird’s eyes look remarkably like Matthew’s.
Finally emerging from the forest, James and Matilda stumble upon the township of Shamong. Like most of the settlements around the Wharton area, it’s been completely abandoned. As they pass through the town, James points to a run-down motel.
“Looks like we just crossed out of the Wharton Locale. Our indexation clocks will have reset. We have some time to rest, if you want.”
Matilda gives a tired groan by way of agreement. Entering the motel, James wastes no time heading towards the tiny bar branching off one side of the lobby. Matilda follows James and watches him swing open one dust-covered cabinet door after another.
“Aha!” he finally exclaims.
Curiosity piqued, Matilda leans in the doorway to the room.
“What are you doing?”
With a triumphant grin, James lifts a bottle of scotch.
“Looks like they left some good stuff behind. Now I just need to find a couple of glasses.”
Matilda gives him a thumbs-up and pulls a table over to a couple of leather chairs. She plops into one, sending dust everywhere. James places the bottle on the table, carefully easing into the other chair.
Matilda looks at James, the bottle, and then back at James. “What, no ice?”
James chuckles as they clink the glasses together. For a while, they savor the alcohol in a mutual, amiable silence. Matilda is the first to refill her glass.
“Well done, Gramps.”
James flexes his right hand before pouring himself another glass.
“Matilda, we should talk.”
The Scry lets out a sigh and puts her glass down.
“Yeah, I’ve been waiting for this.” She bites her lip.
Matilda hopes the alcohol will help with this conversation.
James takes a deep breath. “I have something I should have said a long time ago. I’m sorry.”
Matilda’s eyes widen. She didn’t think Taciturns came equipped with the skills needed to apologize.