Cyrus stood before his aunt's house, the rising sun shining a dismal grey light from behind it. He shivered, but not only from the cold. Ever since arriving back at the city he had been filled with a powerful dread that only deepened the longer he lingered there. The feeling was only made worse by the fact that there wasn't sight nor sound of another person anywhere. The dread was worse than ever now that he was home again, as the feeling seemed to emanate most strongly from the house. If there was any danger, Cyrus couldn't see it, but the accumulating fear was powerful enough that this, his home, his only place of refuge and real security, was the last place he wanted to go.
The streets and yards around every house were charred completely black, proof enough that the fires had really been there, despite the fact that they had inexplicably left all houses untouched. Stranger still, there was no ash in the air or even the smell of smoke, despite the level of destruction the fires had caused. Even the cracks he had seen that ruptured the streets were gone, as if they had been perfectly mended back together.
His aunt's car was still parked in the house's narrow driveway, but that seemed more like an indication that she was gone rather than here. If the car was missing then she might have taken it and escaped, but there it was. Burnt and most likely inoperable, like every other vehicle they'd come across. Now that Cyrus noticed his aunt's, he realized that every other house had a car in its driveway too.
Did no one else leave?... Cyrus thought, trying desperately to hold his body still. The oppressive air wasn't lost on his companion, it seemed. The stag flickered and waned more than ever, making it feel even less real than before.
Still, it could speak. "I think we should leave," its voice breathed, quietly, "as fast as possible."
"She's not here..." Cyrus mumbled. He knew that wasn't for certain, and he knew he was just trying to justify running far away from this place, never looking back.
"No one is." The stag answered. "Let's get out of here, yeah? There's something..." The stag's voice trailed off, but Cyrus knew what he meant. He gave a quick nod of agreement, took two steps backwards, then turned to run back the way they had come.
Something wrong.
Cyrus ran as far as he could, which admittedly wasn't very far, back to the highway leading away from town. When he felt they were far enough away, he slowed down to a walk, but didn't stop. He felt like he would never get far away enough from that place to stop moving.
Thankfully, as the sun rose in the sky and the darkness subsided, so too did his dread. The light offered security; there was nothing around them as far as the eye could see and whatever was behind them in the city had been left there.
Now that it was brighter, Cyrus looked at the stag beside him. Surprisingly, it was just as visible as it was during the night. The sun shone on it and, without the faint glow, it appeared almost natural now.
They hadn't spoken at all during the walk back to town. Cyrus had kept his eyes fixed to the ground, barely keeping track of where they were going, silently hoping that this was all somehow a dream. Now, however, he looked all around him, feeling only relief. Despite whatever had happened to the world, he was alive, and for now that was enough.
This didn't stop him from feeling a little ashamed at him leaving behind the possibility of finding his aunt, however. They were never all that close after his childhood years, but she was the only family he knew. He found himself looking back at the shrinking city behind them. Would he ever go back there? Other than his aunt, he supposed there wasn't much he was leaving behind. He already had what were possibly his most prized possessions with him on the roof last night, his scarf and his MP3 player, stuffed into his jeans pocket.
He unfortunately hadn't had his jacket on, but he was at least thankful for the warmth and comfort the scarf gave him. It was an old thing, having been with him as long as he could remember. So long, in fact, that he couldn't remember where he had even gotten it from.
Looking back, it might have been a better idea to at least get his jacket and any other supplies before leaving, but he wasn't going back there now.
He began to wonder where he would even go now, but the stag asked the question for him. "Where are we going?"
Cyrus turned his head forward again and pulled his arms tight to his body. "I don't know." He replied shortly, trying to ignore the worsening cold. He had scarcely noticed the chill in the air before, but now the wind was beginning to pick up and the cloudy sky hadn't cleared. For however much the sun warmed the air, the early morning wind chilled it again twofold.
Out of the corner of his eye, Cyrus noticed the stag looking at him, evidently noticing his condition. He pretended not to notice.
"We should find somewhere to stop soon," The stag said at length, "I think it's going to rain."
Cyrus could see another town already on the horizon ahead of them, but it offered little comfort. "What if it's also like... that?" He asked the stag, resisting the urge to glance behind them again.
"We'll have to see when we get there, I suppose." Was its matter-of-fact response. Not the most satisfactory answer, but Cyrus supposed the stag knew only as much as he did about any of this. Whether that was true or just a farce, he couldn't yet tell. He was still struggling with the idea that it was real, let alone what its intentions might be.
The unasked question that had entered his mind last night suddenly pressed to be answered again. Cyrus, taking a breath, asked the stag, "Are you a ghost?"
They walked for a few more paces before the stag responded in its quiet, simple manner of speaking. "I think so."
"You... don't know?"
"No, not really. I remember vaguely where I came from, but only up till finding myself... waking up, in a way, there. Nothing before that. But I can still think and speak, and I know what things are. Nothing feels new, to me. But nothing I see feels familiar, either. At least, so far as a single day goes."
Cyrus thought for a moment, a little perplexed, before inquiring further. "You've only been here a day, then?" He asked, forgetting to address the stag, instead keeping his gaze forward.
"Yes," It replied, "coming here was the first thing I did after leaving."
"You came straight here, to me?" Cyrus asked, becoming incredulous. He looked directly at the stag's face now, but was unable to read any kind of expression on it. "Why?..." He prodded, quietly.
The stag's wavering eyes met his. "There was nowhere else I could go."
Cyrus stared at him blankly, coming to a halt. The stag, also stopping, continued, "Nowhere else that I could find, anyway."
Cyrus was unable to think of a response; he supposed that, until now, he had just assumed their meeting was mere coincidence. The stag, seeing Cyrus's confusion, looked down at the asphalt. "In the place where I was," it began, slowly, "it felt like... I'm not sure how to explain it. Like being in a picture, one where there's meant to be people, but there aren't any. Yet, you can still feel them, close to you, but separated. Like... they're all sitting indoors while you stand outside, looking through a window. Watching them, but unable to call out and get their attention. Sorry, I can't think of a better analogy than that. You could say that I checked... a lot of houses. But none of them ever let me in."
Cyrus didn't understand what the stag was talking about, but he was catching on to what had happened. "Until you found me?" He asked, tentatively. The stag looked back up at him, nodding its head. Cyrus furrowed his brow slightly. "I... let you in?" He asked, feeling certain that he would have remembered doing such a thing.
"No," The stag replied, "you didn't. But you were the only one I could find with enough room." The stag looked away again before finishing, "...For me."
Cyrus, still staring at the stag, causing its apparition to flicker, intoned, "You're inside my... In...?" Noticing the stag glance back at him again, Cyrus pointed vaguely at his own head.
The stag blinked once, nodded, and looked back out to the horizon again.
Cyrus had no idea what to make of any of what he was hearing. He couldn't think of anything else he could even ask, so he didn't speak.
Instead, he joined the stag in gazing out as far as he could see, to the distant and dark clouds that were gathering over the pale grey sky.
