Chapter 2: The Past
It was the first time that Doug thought of himself as a fool when Emelie led the way through fallen trees. He knew what direction the world was going to go to, but he never expected this kind of result.
"So what, you're like an entity too?" Emelie asked, using a long stick to rummage a pile of cans that they've found lying around near an empty house.
Emelie didn't sleep a wink last night. She only listened to the grasshoppers chirping and the quiet blow of the wind. Looking at the ceiling not too far from her, she thought that she just wasn't tired, but she knew that that wasn't the real cause. She wondered how she could trust this man, who talked and moved like he was from another planet, and was lying on the floor next to her. Thinking about him made her body shiver, both from the cold and from her own thoughts. She remembered what he had told the old man, and how he saved her. It was strange though, because even though Emelie feared Doug, she felt some sense of comfort with him; she felt safe.
"You could say that. I only use a. . .dead human's body." Doug looked up at the sky, his eyes were forced to squint at the bright sun. He then looked around, picked up a bag of chips, and tore it open. He dropped it immediately when red ants started to crawl to his hand. "What happened?" He asked, wiping his hand on his suit.
"Oh you know. The plague happened then came the massive earthquake with a magnitude beyond the impossible, focusing on China. The whole country's erased from the map. After that, we lost track of how many tornadoes and hurricanes followed. I wasn't sure what happened next. It was like the end of the world," she replied.
Doug realised he had asked the wrong question. He already knew what happened, what he wanted to know was how and why it did, although he didn't ask anything any further.
"That's why I was surprised to see a wealthy man like you pop out of nowhere and save my life--twice," Emelie added. 'It doesn't matter if he saved my life unintentionally,' she thought. 'What matters is that he did.'
Doug observed the young lady in front of him in silence. Emelie was wearing a red cap, blue shorts, yellow boots, and a stained white shirt. When he used to watch the world, he was amused on how people could be so foolish--making unrealistic decisions. He had wondered how someone would jump in front of a car to save a stranger, how people mourn over people they hated, and how people had an amazing ability to forgive and just move on. He wanted to see the world in first person, to understand how and why people make certain choices in their lives.
He had grown tedious of his job. His curiosity got the better of him, so he made a choice that will forever change his perspective.
She picked up a dusty canned good and examined it. It was baked beans, ready to eat. A big smile crept on her face when she realised that the lid was still sealed. "I found breakfast!" She chirped.
Emelie and Doug both made their way back to the crate. It was only then Doug had realized that Emelie's crate, or which she calls 'home', was slowly breaking apart. The roof was chipped off, the metal bars were old and rusty, and there were holes here and there.
After they stepped in, the tiny particles of dust and the smell of old, used rugs greeted them, making Emelie sneeze loudly.
"You alright?" Doug asked.
Emelie looked at him with an odd expression. "It's called a sneeze and yes, I'm fine, thank you for your concern."
"Are you allergic to something?" He asked as he fiddled a broken camera in his hand.
"Yes, I am. To dust." It wasn't like she could do anything about it.
Doug looked around, admiring how so many things fitted in Emelie's crate. He couldn't see the interior last night from the lack of light but now that he could, his eyes never left the walls; they were decorated with worn out paintings of green pastures and portrait drawings. His eyes drifted to one of the shelves, which contained thick books and piles of photographs.
"So tell me," Emelie began, grabbing a small knife, trying tto open the can. "Who was that old man from yesterday? I am forever traumatized."
"He's from a very gnarly place," Doug answered, his eyes still wandering around. "You wouldn't want to know."
"Oh, but I do."
Doug had never met such a stubborn girl, but then again, he didn't meet too many. "He just has an objective, which is to end mankind," he said, fixing his coat as his gaze went left and right nervously. Words seem to slip out of his mouth without his control.
Emelie looked at Doug. "Did he cause all of this?"
Doug quickly turned to Emelie and shook his head. "No, he doesn't have that kind of power. He's like a . . .what do you call that in your world? Ah, an assassin. He's like an assassin. He just kills humans that. . . don't want to live anymore, but never had it in them to kill themselves," he replied slowly and his eyes were still restlessly wandering around. He thought about the simplest explanation for the curious young lady. "There are more like him in this world. . .lurking around some place secluded. Humans. . .like you are their main sources of food. They need bodies."
"Right, humans like me," Emelie grumbled.
"What I meant is that he feeds on the weak-spirited."
She rolled her eyes. She was sure that she was not weak-spirited. It seemed to her that Doug was making up a story, so she decided to play along, "If he's like an assassin, what are you then?" She didn't like how Doug limited his words so much when he talked to her. It seemed like he always tried to cover up something important and was very careful not to spill it.
Doug opened his mouth but closed it, his focus diverting somewhere else as he turned his back from her.
Emelie sighed and started to stab the lid with the knife.
"I'm just plain old Doug," he faltered, walking over to another pile of pictures. "Your mother was a very talented painter," he said as he stared at the picture in his hand; it was a younger version of Emelie and her mother was beside her. Both of them had big smiles on their faces and behind them was a striking-red sunset on the beach.
Emelie slowly looked at Doug and placed the knife on a table. "You knew her?"
"Yes, I did. I knew your father too. He rarely smiled and he always worried for the both of you," Doug added as he picked up another picture of Emelie's father. He had the same eyes as Emelie.
Emelie stomped towards Doug with a clenched fist and snatched the pictures from him. "Look, I don't know who you are or whatever planet you came from, but how in the world do you know my parents? I assumed you've met them?"
Doug nodded once. "Yes, I've met them. They had an accident. . .it wasn't their time to pass. Your mother and father didn't want to go yet, and they said that they were sorry to leave you alone."
Tears formed in the corner of Emelie's eyes and her vision blurred. She didn't know what to think. "You were with them, weren't you?"
Doug didn't answer. He regretted his words,, but his breaths were slow and steady.
Emelie felt uneasy when Doug took a while to respond. Maybe he was hiding something, or maybe he had a plan all along for her. She stepped back cautiously. "Why are you even here?" she whispered.
"I'm sorry?"
"Why are you here?" she asked louder.
He hesitated to answer once again but he did, "I've gotten lonely."
"Don't you have a family who takes over dead people's bodies too? Friends? Anyone?"
Doug shook his head in response. "It's impossible for me to have such a thing, or even think about that concept itself. I've been so caught up. . .with what I'm doing that I barely had the time to. . .actually entertain myself. My 'job' had been so tedious, so tiresome. . . and colourless," his words were careful but clear, "I don't expect you to understand, Emelie. . .nor should you."
Emelie opened her mouth to answer, but Doug had interrupted her.
"Are you going to stay here forever?" Doug asked, not wanting to talk about himself anymore.
Emelie shrugged, but was slightly annoyed that he kept changing subjects. She wanted to push the conversation, but she grumbled the words, "Maybe, it doesn't matter," instead.
"Of course it does," he insisted. "Why don't you come with? I'll be wandering around. Who knows, maybe that there are still good people out there like you."
"Why me?"
"Because unlike the other people I've met, you're the only one who stayed with me for over twelve hours and five minutes--"
Emelie scoffed, "What, they didn't like you?"
"They. . . feared me," he answered, his eyes diverting on the small, silver cross hanging on the wall. "They told me I was a spawn of Satan."
Emelie didn't respond. She was still unsure whether she should trust this man or not. Tension was in the air and the two stood distantly from each other, unsure of what to say. After a minute, Doug cleared his throat and ran his fingers down his tie.
"It seems that I am clearly not welcome here," he said as he walked past Emelie. "I shall be on my way then."
"Where would you go?" She looked over her shoulder.
"Like I said," he walked towards the exit, "Around."
Emelie blinked several times. She watched Doug step outside. For twelve years, she had been alone. She had met friends along the way but they didn't stay for long., but Doug seemed to be an exception, if he was interested in staying with her, that is.. She was aware that nonhuman life forms like him could exist and walk alongside people, without having bad intentions--anything was possible now.
She remembered the feeling of sheer loneliness, the type of loneliness where she even forgot what her own voice sounded like, and what 'normal' was. She had remembered how Doug protected her yesterday, how much he looked frantic when he saw her bruised neck. Apart from not knowing the man, she concluded that Doug cared for her and could possibly continue to do so.
Quickly, she grabbed her yellow boots and stepped outside, hoping that Doug wasn't too far.
She stopped dead in her tracks and released her held breath when she saw Doug crouched down, observing a trail of black ants.
"Oh," Emelie sighed in relief, "I thought you've left."
"I was going to," Doug replied. "But this trail of ants caught my attention; look how they're so organized and not letting a single thing distract them from their goal. Anything could kill them, yet here they are, still collected."
"Listen, I'm sorry if I seem very cold to you," Emelie started, walking towards him slowly, "It's just that. . ." her voice trailed off.
"I understand. It's only normal for a human to feel this way after meeting someone like me. Everything they've encountered strange would definitely take a toll on them. You're overwhelmed by it, and especially what had happened yesterday," Doug assured her.
Emelie was taken aback by his answer, "Well, yes, that's true. But it wasn't what I meant," she looked at his black shoes. "It's just I've been through so much."
Silence visited them for a few seconds.
Doug was the first one who spoke up, "Your first friend, a lady companion, was killed by a group that you eventually joined, because you didn't know where else to go. They claimed that she 'fell in the well.' Well I thought that was one shallow lie but you were very young at that time, I guess it was logical for you to believe them."
Emelie was lost for words. She was dying to ask him how he knew that but figured that he wouldn't give her an exact answer. She pushed away her curiosity and questions to the back of her head.
"And then that kid named David," he continued, "He hurt you, in a way that you've never been hurt before. He never really loved you, you see. His father ordered him to be like that so that you could stay in their group and continue being the helper of some sort. I despise people like that."
Emelie felt her heart drop to the pit of her stomach and her shoulders had drooped. She tried her best to hold in the tears, tilting her head upwards. David's crooked smile appeared in her mind.
"Oh, please don't be sad," Doug said gently. He slowly reached up to wipe Emelie's tears but he hesitated and casually fixed his coat instead.
"I didn't know that. I thought Sarah really did have an accident," she stuttered out. "I was naive to fall for George's lies."
"It's okay. He was quite the charmer, wasn't he?"
"Yes," Emelie chuckled. "Unfortunately, he was. . . Excuse me," she turned around to fix herself. She hadn't shed tears for as long as she could remember. She had forgotten what crying felt like, what her tears taste like. After a minute, she exhaled and gave a small smile, "Come, help me pack. We'll leave at dawn."