Fear World

Chapter 11: 9 April 2041

The walls swirled into nothing behind me as I raced down the hallway, panic piercing at my heart. I listened intently for the rhythmic beating of footsteps behind me, but they never came. The Sleep Walkers were not interested in chasing me as they had been before. Like they didn't feel the need to go after me. I was nothing to them and I couldn't tell whether that was good or bad.

Gradually, my frantic pace slowed to a brisk hustle. Looking down at my hands, I discovered that they were still a faded grey, yet a normal pink liveliness was returning to them. It was strange to watch my skin transition from two contrasting forms. Thinking back to seeing Fear in the mirror, I remembered that I had been looking at the reflection that was my own. Although I hadn't been able to remember much from when I saw her only a few moments ago, that was the only thing that seemed to stick. Maybe this was why they weren't going after me? Was it possible that whatever is happening wasn't in my head and I was really infected with something?

Why couldn't I remember?

From the little information that was retained, I knew. I just knew that Fear and I were the same person. She was the part of me that I didn't want to be, yet she had always been there. She wanted to protect me; I knew that too. There was just something about her that didn't feel right. Something about my fear felt dark, almost insidious. I didn't want any part of it, no matter how much I was meant to benefit from it. If this happened to not be in my head, was I becoming my fear?

No, no. I had to think logically. That kind of thing isn't possible.

Though I had to admit, while I tried hard to think logically, there was an egging doubt. There were always things out in the world that we can't see but are there. Was thing one of those things?

Splashes of water echoed through the halls, resembling that of running footsteps. My heart seemed to paralyze anxiously for a moment and my body moved forward without a forethought. I tugged on the knob of a random door and pulled it, closing it behind me as quietly as possible and waited to move until the racing steps carried themselves far away. At this point, my eyes had become used to the darkness of the bunker, but in this room, everything was painted black. Even the faint figure of my hand had become obscured.

Feeling around in the darkness, I searched for something heavy that could barricade the door. To the left was a metal container that felt to be almost a head-length shorter than me. Bracing to pull upon the bottom of its sturdy frame, I scooted the heavy mass toward the door and took a deep breath once it had been put sufficiently in place. The muscles in my lower back and forearms protested when I stood back up. The contractions of the muscles were shaken loose as I stretched in an attempt to stop the ache. I had a feeling that I had overdone it today, not a single part of my body didn't feel taxed. The entirety of my left arm felt strained from overexertion and when I used it, a prickling feeling of nerves trickled up and down.

It wouldn't hurt to take a nap here, would it? The question had nagged at the back of my mind for some time now. It was almost mind-numbing not being able to track the hours from a clock or watch. Having lived in an underground bunker every day, every hour and every day seemed to blend together into one gigantic, conglomerative mess. It was so bad that only a watch could differentiate between the ticks of the minutes gone by. Now, without a watch, I never thought that I'd be so desperate for one.

Searching aimlessly through the room, I hoped for there to be the off chance that there might be some type of furniture that could be slept in. I didn't care if I found so much as a carpeted floor, I needed something. It felt mountainously cluttered as I stepped through blindly. There was the crinkling of papers under my feet and small clinks of accidentally kicked items that sounded like mini explosions in the otherwise quiet space.