The Other Side of Nowhere Read online

  There was a rustle of sound, soft and feeble—a movement of a sort, and at first it appeared to be nothing at all, but the all-seeing Void knew better, for the strange visitor from the Other Side had stirred.

  Johnny Abram moved. It started out small—his right appendix finger curved once with every ounce of force that he could muster, bending like a steel bar—but soon he managed to move a second finger, and another, until finally it was a hand, a foot, an arm, a leg, a neck, a waste, and then, at last, Johnny took a step.

  Back again, he moved before the Door. His heart raced with what he had just seen—the dream, vivid with the thought of his dead wife, echoed in his mind like the sound of thunder in an empty room. He had accepted it at last—after all this time of false and lonely solace, Johnny had awakened into grace.

  The Door was once again before him, its archway strong and wide. Johnny knew it held his answers—that beyond the oak there was a truth so valuable that to touch it would mean sheer and absolute elation—a joy as pronounced as life itself. He did not know how he knew this, but nonetheless, he could feel its truth encapsulating him. All he had to do was reach out and take it.

  He took another step. The Void shook. The sky’s once tranquil demeanor became an outburst as the clouds rose fast, and lightning and thunder broke out against the silent hills of barren earth. The sand returned the shocks of light with their own objective bolts until everything around the Door raged in protest against this new, defiant soul.

  Johnny continued pressing on towards his goal. The Door was just before him, and for the first time it did not feel so out of reach. For the first time since he had been there, within the confines of this place, he believed that he could do it—open the Door. He needed only to reach out—reach out and press his fingers to its wood, to its celestial bark of divine malevolence.

  His fingers rose. He did not know what would happen once he touched it—once the Door was open—but the truth was embedded in him like a shard of glass: that the answer he so desperately sought to know, that he so earnestly longed to understand, would be realized, and he would be free of all of it.

  He touched it.

  MARVELOUS AND WONDERFUL IT CAME!

  Images, thoughts, patterns, answers, questions, emotions, years, decades, centuries, millennia, gods, mortals, death, life, and the Universe, itself, collided into one simple piece of majestic delight known throughout Existence as Man, and for a single and infinite moment of reality, Johnny Abram was Creation.

  He was Jeremy Jones from South Dakota, raised at 4300 Bently Dr. 12301, father of seven, brother, cousin, uncle, and grandfather, born September 16th 1943 at 1:33 A.M., dead on November 25th 2005 at 3:13 P.M. from pulmonary failure.

  He was Lu Mei Gou of the Han Dynasty, brought up in a noble home, a devout follower of the old faith, a mother of fourteen, grandmother to forty-one, and great-grandmother to eighty-four servants of the Empire.

  He was Sirius A, the brightest Star in all of Earth’s sky, made entirely of plasma, carbon and oxygen, fusing hydrogen for nearly all its life, born approximately 13.7 billion years before man could read or write.

  He was the rock. He was the tree. He was the wind. He was all the empty space between. He was everything that ever was, and all that came to be. He was a single molecule. He was everything.

  Forever he was, and then not at all, for suddenly it all came down, back inside that feeble shell, and just as quickly as it had happened, he was mortal and small and with a mind so finite that he could scarcely comprehend the light within the Door.

  He stood atop the threshold of it, within the archway, the blinding light of The Other Place before him.

  Suddenly, he was overwhelmed with joy, bursts of laughter and happy tears of love enveloping his smiling cheeks. He reached out toward The Place—toward the Light of Eternity—toward whatever it was that had caused him to feel this way—

  And he heard a voice.

  Johnny. Johnny, wake up.

  That voice. It was so distantly familiar, like the dream of mortality, like being born, and it called to him. That voice. It rang throughout his body like a rope around his waist, tugging his mind towards it.

  Johnny. Johnny, wake up.

  He took a step back. That voice. It was like a song within his mind, a symphony of words, and it called to him. Oh, how it called to him.

  Johnny. Johnny, wake up.

  Another step back, and he stood once more before the goliath Door inside the everlasting desert.

  Johnny. Johnny, wake up.

  He was floating now, backwards, like a hooked fish. And before long he was back inside the desert Void, the wondrous fanatical lights of the thundering sky raging all around him, until, at last, it stopped.

  Johnny.

  He felt himself lift up, and up, and up, and away from the place, back to something so ancient that he didn’t recognize it. Back to flesh and bone and blood and brain and heart and life.

  Johnny, wake up!

  A Hospital in Georgia

  Johnny Abram woke up.

  Immediately, he turned to the side of the hospital bed and vomited. The chunks of pink sludge gushed out of him, and he felt the pain of every piece.

  “Whoa, John! Easy there, man!” cried a familiar voice from his left. “Nurse! We got an emergency here!”

  A woman rushed in, saw the mess, and called for assistance. Before he knew it, Johnny was surrounded by hospital staffers, frantically running back and forth between rooms, touching machines, knobs, needles, and bags of cold liquid intended for his veins.

  “You don’t look so good, Johnny,” said the same voice from before. “Have yourself a hard night out?”

  Johnny looked and saw a man sitting near the window. It was El, wearing blue jeans and a gray T-shirt with the words “NAVY” written in black letters across the front. His chair was turned around so that his hands could rest over the back, and he stared at Johnny with a gaping mouth.

  “El,” muttered Johnny as best he could. “El, what happened?”

  “You had a run in with a ’82 pick-up—took a beating. You should see the other guy.”

  “Is he okay?”

  “He’s fine. Front of the car took most of the damage, but you got hit in the side. You know you been out of it for almost three days? They said you might not wake up, man. Pretty scary.”

  “Three days?” He said, rubbing his eyes. “When did you get here?”

  “About eight hours after they brought you in, but they wouldn’t let me see you until you were done getting stitched up.”

  “You mean you’ve been here this whole time?” Asked Johnny.

  “Been trying my best to be here whenever you woke back up. I figured if you heard me bitching at you, you might snap out of it.” He looked at the floor. “Susie’s been real worried, you know. She was crying up a storm over all this. First Gale, and then you? Said she wasn’t sure she could take it.”

  “I’m sorry, El,” he muttered.

  “Dammit, Johnny,” El snapped. “Why you always gotta go apologizing for? Ain’t like you meant to get hit by the damn thing.”

  “Did you come here all the way from Clearwater?”

  El nodded. “Yeah, but don’t you go worrying about that. You got me down as your emergency contact, so they called me right away. Got my ass in the truck and started driving as soon as the wife let me.”

  “Sir,” said a nurse, which had been standing by while the two had been talking. “I need to give you some medication. It’s going to put you to sleep for a few more hours. Okay?”

  “Alright,” Johnny agreed, and laid his head back against the pillow.

  “Rest easy,” said El. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

  Johnny looked at his friend, sitting in the chair, jokingly waving goodbye to him and half-smiling, and Johnny smiled, himself, glad to be back and feeling almost relieved by it. But as the medication took its hold, his eyes grew heavy and the world faded into thought, surrounding him in dreams.
r />   He dreamed an imagination. He dreamed fiercely. He dreamed of images and wonders that his eyes had never seen: of Lu Mei Gou and the Han Dynasty; of Jeremy Jones from South Dakota; of a rock; of a single blade of grass in the backyard of his grandmother’s house; of a desert road without end; of stars; of being born and bathed in light so beautiful that it could bring a grown man to tears.

  And, finally, as the images dissipated and he suddenly found himself alone, he saw what appeared to be a door, standing alone in the dark.

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  Chapter 1

  Documents of Historical, Scientific, and Cultural Significance

  Play Audio Transmission File 021

  Recorded April 19, 2157

  CARTWRIGHT: This is Lieutenant Colonel Felix Cartwright. It’s been a week since my last transmission and two months since the day we found the city…the day the world fell apart. If anyone can hear this, please respond.

  If you’re out there, no doubt you know about the gas. You might think you’re all that’s left. But if you’re receiving this, let me assure you, you are not alone. There are people here. Hundreds, in fact, and for now, we’re safe. If you can make it here, you will be, too.

  The city’s a few miles underground, not far from El Rico Air Force Base. That’s where my people came from. As always, the coordinates are attached. If anyone gets this, please respond. Let us know you’re there…that you’re still alive.

  End Audio File

  April 14, 2339

  Maternity District

  Miles below the surface of the Earth, deep within the walls of the last human city, a little boy named Terry played quietly with his sister in a small two-bedroom apartment.

  Today was his very first birthday. He was turning seven.

  “What’s a birthday?” his sister Janice asked, tugging at his shirt. She was only four years old and had recently taken to following her big brother everywhere he went. “What does it mean?”

  Terry smiled, eager to explain. “Mom says when you turn seven, you get a birthday. It means you grow up and get to start school. It’s a pretty big deal.”

  “When will I get a birthday?”

  “You’re only four, so you have to wait.”

  “I wish I was seven,” she said softly, her thin black hair hanging over her eyes. “I want to go with you.”

  He got to his feet and began putting the toy blocks away. They had built a castle together on the floor, but Mother would yell if they left a mess. “I’ll tell you all about it when I get home. I promise, okay?”

  “Okay!” she said cheerily and proceeded to help.

  Right at that moment, the speaker next to the door let out a soft chime, followed by their mother’s voice. “Downstairs, children,” she said. “Hurry up now.”

  Terry took his sister’s hand. “Come on, Jan,” he said.

  She frowned, squeezing his fingers. “Okay.”

  They arrived downstairs, their mother nowhere to be found.

  “She’s in the kitchen,” Janice said, pointing at the farthest wall. “See the light-box?”

  Terry looked at the locator board, although his sister’s name for it worked just as well. It was a map of the entire apartment, with small lights going on and off in different colors depending on which person was in which room. There’s us, he thought, green for me and blue for Janice, and there’s Mother in red. Terry never understood why they needed something like that because of how small the apartment was, but every family got one, or so Mother had said.

  As he entered the kitchen, his mother stood at the far counter sorting through some data on her pad. “What’s that?” he asked.

  “Something for work,” she said. She tapped the front of the pad and placed it in her bag. “Come on, Terrance, we’ve got to get you ready and out the door. Today’s your first day, after all, and we have to make a good impression.”

  “When will he be back?” asked Janice.

  “Hurry up. Let’s go, Terrance,” she said, ignoring the question. She grabbed his hand and pulled him along. “We have about twenty minutes to get all the way to the education district. Hardly enough time at all.” Her voice was sour. He had noticed it more and more lately, as the weeks went on, ever since a few months ago when that man from the school came to visit. His name was Mr. Huxley, one of the few men who Terry ever had the chance to talk to, and from the way Mother acted—she was so agitated—he must have been important.

  “Terrance,” his mother’s voice pulled him back. “Stop moping and let’s go.”

  Janice ran and hugged him, wrapping her little arms as far around him as she could. “Love you,” she said.

  “Love you, too.”

  “Bye,” she said, shyly.

  He kissed her forehead and walked to the door where his mother stood talking with the babysitter, Ms. Cartwright. “I’ll only be a few hours,” Mother said. “If it takes any longer, I’ll message you.”

  “Don’t worry about a thing, Mara,” Ms. Cartwright assured her. “You take all the time you need.”

  Mother turned to him. “There you are,” she said, taking his hand. “Come on, or we’ll be late.”

  As they left the apartment, Mother’s hand tugging him along, Terry tried to imagine what might happen at school today. Would it be like his home lessons? Would he be behind the other children, or was everything new? He enjoyed learning, but there was still a chance the school might be too hard for him. What would he do? Mother had taught him some things, like algebra and English, but who knew how far along the other kids were by now?

  Terry walked quietly down the overcrowded corridors with an empty, troubled head. He hated this part of the district. So many people on the move, brushing against him, like clothes in an overstuffed closet.

  He raised his head, nearly running into a woman and her baby. She had wrapped the child in a green and brown cloth, securing it against her chest. “Excuse me,” he said, but the lady ignored him.

  His mother paused and looked around. “Terrance, what are you doing? I’m over here,” she said, spotting him.

  “Sorry.”

  They waited together for the train, which was running a few minutes behind today.

  “I wish they’d hurry up,” said a nearby lady. She was young, about fifteen years old. “Do you think it’s because of the outbreak?”

  “Of course,” said a much older woman. “Some of the trains are busy carrying contractors to the slums to patch the walls. It slows the others down because now they have to make more stops.”

  “I heard fourteen workers died. Is it true?”

  “You know how the gas is,” she said. “It’s very quick. Thank God for the quarantine barriers.”

  Suddenly, there was a loud smashing sound, followed by three long beeps. It echoed through the platform for a moment, vibrating along the walls until it was gone. Terry flinched, squeezing his mother’s hand.

  “Ouch,” she said. “Terrance, relax.”

  “But the sound,” he said.

  “It’s the contractors over there.” She pointed to the other side of the tracks, far away from them. It took a moment for Terry to spot them, but once he did, it felt obvious. Four of them stood together. Their clothes were orange, with no clear distinction between their shirts and their pants, and on each of their heads was a solid red plastic hat. Three of them were holding tools, huddled against a distant wall. They were reaching inside of it, exchanging tools every once in a while, until eventually the fourth one called them to back away. As they made some room, steam rose from the hole, with a puddle of dark liquid forming at the base. The fourth contractor handled a machine several feet from the others, which had three legs and rose to his chest. He waved the other four to stand near him and pressed the pad on the machine. Together, t
he contractors watched as the device flashed a series of small bright lights. It only lasted a few seconds. Once it was over, they gathered close to the wall again and resumed their work.

  “What are they doing?” Terry asked.

  His mother looked down at him. “What? Oh, they’re fixing the wall, that’s all.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Probably because there was a shift last night. Remember when the ground shook?”

  Yeah, I remember, he thought. It woke me up. “So they’re fixing it?”

  “Yes, right.” She sighed and looked around. “Where is that damned train?”

  Terry tugged on her hand. “That lady over there said it’s late because of the gas.”

  His mother looked at him. “What did you say?”

  “The lady…the one right there.” He pointed to the younger girl a few feet away. “She said the gas came, so that’s why the trains are slow. It’s because of the slums.” He paused a minute. “No, wait. It’s because they’re going to the slums.”

  His mother stared at the girl, turning back to the tracks and saying nothing.

  “Mother?” he said.

  “Be quiet for a moment, Terrance.”

  Terry wanted to ask her what was wrong, or if he had done anything to upset her, but he knew when to stay silent. So he left it alone like she wanted. Just like a good little boy.

  The sound of the arriving train filled the platform with such horrific noise that it made Terry’s ears hurt. The train, still vibrating as he stepped onboard, felt like it was alive.

  After a short moment, the doors closed. The train was moving.

  Terry didn’t know if the shaking was normal or not. Mother had taken him up to the medical wards on this train once when he was younger, but never again after that. He didn’t remember much about it, except that he liked it. The medical wards were pretty close to where he lived, a few stops before the labs, and several stops before the education district. After that, the train ran through Pepper Plaza, then the food farms and Housing Districts 04 through 07 and finally the outer ring factories and the farms. As Terry stared at the route map on the side of the train wall, memorizing what he could of it, he tried to imagine all the places he could go and the things he might see. What kind of shops did the shopping plaza have, for example, and what was it like to work on the farms? Maybe one day he could go and find out for himself—ride the train all day to see everything there was to see. Boy, wouldn’t that be something?