Welcome to The Glade

Chapter 2: A Griever

  Her dream was strange, it was... indescribable. Hard to decipher. It confused her as much as it could confuse anyone but...

  A single lightbulb hung from the apartment's drab ceiling, buzzing every ten seconds or so. Somehow, it seemed to represent what the world had become. Lonely, noisy, dying. Barely holding on.

  The woman sat in her chair, trying desperately not to cry.

  She'd know the knock was coming far before it happened. And she wanted to be strong for her son. Make the boy think that the new life that awaited him was a good thing. A hopeful thing. She had to be strong. When her son-her only child-was gone, then she'd let it out. Then she'd cry a river's woorth until the madness made her forget.

  The boy sat next to her, quiet. Unmoving. Only a child, and yet it seemed he understood that his life would never be the same. He had a small bag packed, though the  woman assumed its contents would be discarded before her some reached his final destination. And so they waited.

   Their visitors tap the door three times. There was no anger behinds it, or force. Just tap, tap, tap, like the gentle pecking of a bird.

  "Come in," she said, so loud it startled her. Nerves. She was on the edge.

  The door opened. Two men and one woman stepped inside the small apartment, dressed in black suits, protective masks covering their mouths and noses.

  The lady seemed in charge.

  "I can see you're ready," she said,  her voice muffled, as she walked forward and stood before the woman and her son. "We appreciate your willingness to make such a sacrifice. I don't need to tell you how much this means to future generations. We're on the cusp of a very great thing. We will find the cure, ma'am. I give you my word."

  The woman could only nod. if she tried to speak,  it would all come out: Her pain, her fear. Her anger. Her tears. And then her efforts to be strong for her son would have been for naught. So she kept it in, a dam against a raging river.

  The lady was all business. "Come," she said, extending a hand.

  The boy looked up at his mother. He had no reason to hold back the tears, and he didn't. They flowed down his freely. He jumped to his feet and hugged her, shattering her heart a milloin times over. She squeezed him back.

  "You're going to do great things for this world," she whispered, somehow keeping herself under control. "You're going to make me proud. I love you, sweet boy. I love you so much and don't you ever forget it."

  His only response was to sob into her shoulder. And that said everything.

  Finally it had to end.

  "I'm very sorry," the woman in the dark suit and mask said. "But we have a tight schedule. Truly, I'm sorry."

  "Go on now," the mother said to her son. "Go on, and be brave."

  He pulled back, his face wet, his eyes red. A strength seemed to come over him and he nodded, helping her believe he'd be okay in the end. He was strong, this one.

  The boy turned away, never to look at her again. He walked to the door and went through it with no hesitation. No glance back, no complaints.

  "Thank you again," the visiting lady said. She followed the boy out.

  One  of the men looked up at the dangling, buzzing lightbulb, the turned to his partner. "You know who invented those things, right? Maybe we should call thi sone Thomas." And then they left.

  When the door closed. The woman curled up into a ball and finally let her tears come. And the dream faded into darkness. And Erica woke up to Newt calling her name.

  "Hey, Erica. Wake up. Wakey-wakey," her eyes fluttered open, and Newt toward over her. "Newt, what are you doing? It's not even sunrise," she groaned.

  "I know, now get you shuck but up. I wanna show ya somethin'," he started walking. Erica stood up and followed, with parts of her dream floating aound her mind. Who were those people? Why were they taking that little boy from his mother? Newt stopped walking and stopped in front of a shroud of vines. He then pulled back a part of the vines to reveal a dusty window.

  And on the other side of window was a dark creature, about the size of a cow. With spikes retracting in and out of it's bulbous slimy, metallic flesh. It made clicking sounds as it walked and rolled every few seconds, lights danced around on it joints. It was like a giant slug.

  When Erica saw the creature she backed away from the window.

"Like what you see?" Newt asked her.

  "No, I don't, what was that thing?" she said nervously.

"That, my friend was a griever."