Terror. A dimension mirroring the living one--but morphed to reflect the imagination of its Overseer. And the current Overseer... has refused to relinquish her power for centuries, tormenting her souls--"terrors"--into becoming... zombies.
Arielle f...
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Still wading through the mushy mud, weaving between inflamed, swaying branches and dodging sparks in the air, Benny and Jade were silent. Neither had any means to process the news that Benny most likely wasn't where he was supposed to be. And Benny didn't want to pester Jade with questions she didn't have answers to.
She had knowledge, lots of it, and though he wondered how she'd compiled so much, and who had helped her, he wouldn't push. They were both dealing with trauma—Jade had to accept Arielle's death, and Benny had to accept his own.
The farther they walked, past glowing trees and burning bushes, sneaking under the red-tinged sky, the more his vision blurred and his insides unsettled. This realm hurt his eyes, his chest, his heart. The fumes were toxic, the fires were incessant, awaiting them at every corner, and whenever there wasn't smoke, a stench of decay loomed instead. Why weren't there respirators? Special scarves to mask the odors? How had the rebels survived this so far? If they hadn't been assailed by fiery zombies, they'd succumbed to the ash and smoke, right?
Benny wasn't sure how much longer he could handle the toxicity, and prayed for an isolated cabin somewhere away from the chaos. Was such a thing possible? Did such a place exist in this dimension?
Picturing himself sprawled on a rug in front of a fireplace—a controlled fire, warm and cozy, not like the bonfires raging around them—nuzzling a special someone to his chest, Benny broke their silence at last.
"I wonder where Kylie is." He gulped, struggling to erase the memory of her mangled body in the hotel room, her brains scattered all over the covers, her blood all over the walls. "She died in Georgia, too. Would she be up here, like me?"
"You mentioned that name before," said Jade, cautious, her strides slowing down. They'd arrived at a poorly lit area where the path was wider and there were no perceivable fires nearby. Only the bloody sky overhead provided a smidgen of light, illuminating Jade's lowering eyebrows as she turned to Benny. "Who is she?"
Benny peered at his feet. "She was my..." He bit his tongue before saying girlfriend. She wasn't his, no matter how much he'd wanted her to be. And he never got a chance to tell her. "She was the FBI agent I was investigating with. A long-time friend, someone I cared about a lot. She died a few hours before I did."
Jade reached out and touched Benny's hand. A subtle touch, not squeezing, but grazing her fingers over his skin to show she knew, she understood. "How did she die? If you're okay talking about it. Sometimes speaking of your lost ones helps... process things." A lump bulged in her throat, and she swallowed it with difficulty, fighting a wince.
Benny also winced, but didn't try to hide it. "It looked like a suicide. I was in the room next to hers, heard a gunshot, and found her... well, bullet through the head." He mimicked a gun pressed to his temple, and his shoulders deflated, as if they were balloons being pricked by a needle. "Kind of like your situation, I guess? But I know her, knew her well. She'd never do that. Suicide is a sin, and she was super religious."
