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29:59

29:58

Chris came awoke and sat up gasping for air. The breaths came slow and laborious at first as he inhaled the hot air and smoke into his lungs.

The stench of burning rubber made him cough, hard and violently; his eyes watered as his mind tried to get past the fog that covered his memories. He tried to remember but all he could sense and feel was this fire burning in his chest and nothing more.

NO!

The fire was real and around him; it was everywhere. He could barely see anything through the blinding tears but easily made out the red burning hands whipping his surroundings. Blurred figures pranced near him. They were dark and tall whoever they were.

Did the building explode?

He couldn’t hear anything. A buzzing in his ears kept the world at bay and thankfully so. He didn’t want to hear the screams of dying people since he was dying himself... or so it felt like.

What in the hell happened?

He was in his house just a few seconds ago. He remembered feeling a weight in his chest, his heart burning, no—

—his flame awakened.

Did I do this? His heart skipped or was it finally beating again? It was impossible to figure out.

He slogged through his memories again but found nothing but a hole in place of them. He remembered getting home and falling to the floor. Everything else was a missing link in a broken chain. The headache wasn’t comforting either. It flared every time he tried to remember and forced him out of his mind whenever he reached out to grab the truth hiding in the darkness.

Suddenly, his stomach churned and moaned. Chris floundered to his knees and grabbed a handful of cold dirt with his bloody hands.

Why was there dirt--

An onslaught of acidic reflux washed his throat in a painful torrent and buried the thought behind breathless groans and painful moans before everything including his fear and the contents of his stomach erupted out of his mouth. It was as if a pipe had burst, only the pipe was inside him and he was in agony.

He retched until his stomach was free from the heavy rocks of uncertainty pulling him deeper into the depths of the unknown. He had too many questions and had no answers. He needed help, of any kind. If only he could speak. He tried, but his voice was a squeak of air escaping a punctured wheel. There was no strength or volume behind it.

Chris tried again to scream but ended up wheezing, and it was painful, unnaturally so. Tired of the restlessness crawling in his chest and the anxiousness governing his mind, he pulled back and sat back on the ground. Dirt, cement, whatever it was, he needed a moment of silence, of calm, so he could think and breathe -- the latter being of the higher priority.

“SIMP… Help,” He whispered; it was the best he could do.

The device implanted on the back of his ear, a neurological chip the size of a grain of kidney bean, needed a voice command to activate. Then with the chip sequencing his neurological firing and in turn reading the mental images, he could control it with his bare thoughts.

It didn’t activate.

That was his last straw. His heart fell to the bottom of the pit. The synthetic voice he was betting for help remained lost and elusive behind the tinnitus in his ears. He would have panicked if his sight hadn’t suddenly cleared.

He watched the fire first. It entranced him, bringing him the peace and calm he so desired. It was leaping out for the sky, burning some kind of boxy vehicle he had never seen before, which he distinguished from the circular shape of its two wheels. It had crashed into a tree and was burning like there was no tomorrow. Thankfully, there was no one inside it.

He looked at his surroundings next. He was on a dirt road that cut right through a dark overwhelming forest. Thick black smoke obstructed his sight, but he could barely make out a figure ahead on the road.

He saw a… horse.

“What--” A growl came out of his throat.

Yep. He had lost it. Or he was in a dream?

He could almost smell the musty stench of the beast through the smoke. The horse marched away from him. It was tall and dark, and though baffling, Chris was sure he saw a man riding it. It was a man he concluded despite his loose clothes and unkempt hair.

Chris’s gaze followed the horse as it joined its partners up fifty-some meters away. A group of four men stood in a circle beside their horses. The person jumped from the horse and joined the group. They were pushing something between them…

Chris squinted but couldn’t make out. He sat still in awe watching the confusing sight, breathing through his mouth because his nose was bleeding.

Why was he bleeding anyway? What actually happened? Where was he? Nothing made sense.

Still, a horse, a real horse — Chris couldn’t help smile at the notion. He had never seen one other than in books.

Suddenly, the car exploded and sent burning debris flying everywhere. His ears popped at the same time and the sounds came crashing at him. He heard the fire buzzing, the cracking of the wood, the laughter of men, the scream of a woman, and the cry of a child.

He stood up in a hurry, staggered but kept his feet.

“Help…” He murmured. His voice now louder was not loud enough to get the attention of the men fifty meters from him.

His shaking legs wanted to take him to the ground; he clenched his buttocks and pushed through. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stand up again if he fell. Weakness aside, his stomach was bleeding. He was sure there was a hole in it.

He had to stay up to see what was going on. To see if someone could help him… or if someone needed his help. As much he hoped for the former, he dreaded the latter coming true. It was his duty as a Flash agent to help the one in need.

The screams continued.

Righting himself, Chris looked past the fire, where the horse riders stood. He staggered forward, away from the smoke and the fire to get a clear look at them, and saw a horrible sight. The men encircled a woman in a bloody white robe and pushed her around like a ball. She carried something in her arms, tightly hugged to her chest to protect it from the men -- a child.

“Stop! Don’t hurt my baby!” She cried, but the man didn’t listen.

They laughed at her, enjoyed her misery. Chris couldn’t hold it in. He went for his baton… it wasn’t on his waist. There was something there: an empty holster. It was too long, too thin, possibly to hold a flashlight, but not a gun. He hadn’t seen anything like it before.

“SIMP,” He called again. This time his voice was stronger, harder. There was no response.

It was impossible, he knew. Nem-cycle, the company behind the N-device promised signal and connection everywhere, even on top of Everest and in the depths of the ocean. Yet, mysteriously, he couldn’t connect.

Was the chip broken? He touched the back of his right ear and a shiver swept his back. It wasn’t there.

In a panic, he looked around. There were no buildings, no cars, no hoardings, nothing. He looked up and was left dumbfounded by a sky full of bright stars. Where had he seen so many stars in his life? They were a beautiful reminder that he was lost. He wasn’t in the city of Flames. He definitely wasn’t anywhere he knew. Where in the hell was he?

His training kicked in just as despair started growing in his mind. He had never been on the field before, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know what to do in the situation.

Everything aside, he needed to save the woman first. The men had a motive against her and she was helpless. It was going to be difficult, but his knowledge was his advantage. He didn’t know what kind of lighters they were; what were their flames? Did they have a gun?

No matter the case, he was a Flash agent and everyone knew to stay clear of the agency's wraith. He bet on that. What else could he do?

Chris started toward the men. One step at a time.

“Hey!” He yelled at the men once he was out of the smoke. It wasn’t enough so he yelled again, louder than before and the men heard. He got their attention.

They stopped thrashing the woman and turned toward him. They looked at him in confusion and whispered to each other.

“NO! Honey run!” Suddenly the woman yelled at Chris. “Don’t come here! Save yourself!”

She tried to escape but the tallest among the men grabbed her from the arm and whisked her back into his arms. She kicked and flailed but he kept a tight hold on her. He whispered something in her ear and she grew pensive.

Chris ignored it for the time being and raised one hand in the air to suggest non-aggression. He didn’t want them to hurt the woman.

“S-step away from the woman… and stay your hands. I’m a flash agent.” He yelled with pride.

He was merely a worker, a coatless, someone who had been on the desk since he started working at the agency. The men didn’t need to know that.

He continued. “I have called the agency and reported this incidence!” He paused to let the men understand what that meant. “My device” He tapped his right ear, “has recorded everything and sent a copy of the incident to the agency. You all have been marked and named. Right now, there are three orange coats on their way here. I repeat,” He shouted as best he could with strength. “…there are three orange coats on their way here. I suggest you all be rational. Release the woman. It’s not too late. Nobody has been harmed yet.”

He was running out of breath. His legs were shaking, but they were far enough that they couldn’t see his miserable condition. He hoped so.

Chris bluffed.

Everyone knew the Flash agency. Everyone knew that an agent’s N-device had the capability to record whatever the agent sees to protect the agent and to consolidate clues, and facts from the crime scene, as well as to identify the criminals.

Chris heard them laughing. They were loud and demeaning. Nonchalant toward his bluff. How could anyone laugh after hearing about the agency? Did they not understand? Perhaps, they didn’t speak his language. But there were only a few parts of the world where the people spoke a different language. And he sure as hell hadn’t moved there.

“Look to your left.” A voice cut through the distance like a sharp knife. The tone was sarcastic, mocking Chris. Was there a trap?

Chris glanced to his right and couldn’t move his eyes away from the sight. Three men lay dead on the grass before the burning car. The men had been stripped and killed in the most gruesome of ways. The fire illuminated the blood covering their bodies, the shadows hanging in their empty eyes. One headless corpse had died crawling away from the car, another sat still as a rock holding his intestines. The third lay flat on his back, a pool of crimson blood underneath him.

Chris had seen enough blood and murders during his work, but he had never come across such a gruesome sight before. He suddenly tasted the metallic taste of blood between the smoke and the dirt. His stomach churned again and he sensed the leftovers rising to his throat. He suppressed the need to vomit and put his attention back on the men.

A chill ran down his back. These people were animals and they were not afraid to kill. He stood there unable to move, helpless. He didn’t even know what kind of flames they had. He looked at the woman her face ashen, tears in her eyes.

He knew words were his best friend at the moment, but what could he say after having witnessed human immorality? Can you send back a pack of wolves with words? Will a lion listen to your plea? A human might understand, but there was no way these animals would.

“I--” He wanted to apologize to the woman and her child for his helplessness, for being so useless. If only he was a lighter and a true agent of the agency. If only he had another chance to set things right. He wouldn’t have made the same mistake again. He would have done anything to help her, and bring her and her child to safety.

The apology remained unspoken as an arrow cut through the air, struck the middle of his chest, and penetrated through. Blood welled in his throat and he spat it out as his feet gave. His vision expanded as his pupils dilated from the rush of adrenaline in his veins. His mind knew about the danger better than his heart. He watched as another arrow sailed through the air and punctured his left lung, stealing the last mouthful of breath he had inhaled before getting impaled.

Chris staggered and fell on his knees. His jaw grew slack. He regretted his foolishness and watched the woman thrashing in the man’s arms trying to get free. She screamed and he heard her, but her words made no sense to him. She called him by name he didn’t know.

He raised a trembling hand toward her just as a final arrow lodged itself deep inside his left eye and ended his life.

Chris found peace at once. He found himself floating in a dark place where the concept of senses and times didn’t exist. He didn’t have his thoughts there.

“If only…” But he did carry regrets.

Then suddenly a bright beam of light washed his body.

“Am I going to heaven?” Chris thought.

The concept of an afterlife was as vague and made as much sense to him as the idea of not having dinner after seven pm.

A gentle force pushed him out of the light beam and turned him around so he had a god’s eye view of the life-size projection underneath him. He saw himself dying again in the projection, only it didn’t stop there and continued onward.

He saw the archer who killed him fight the men over the women and the child and leave the group after taking some of the money. The men now down to three carried the women and the child to their lair, and raped her one by one, repeatedly, until she died from blood loss.

Then the scene changed.

The three bandits entered a town where feeble wooden houses stood swaying and groaning in wind. There was not a billboard, car, or streetlight insight, and the sky was clear like it was the North Pole. Only a few houses had feeble flickering lights glowing inside, while the rest perpetuated in eternal darkness.

This place was all too mystical, too magical, and so impossible to exist in the modern world Chris lived in. Wooden houses had no place in the modern world with their super problems.

The projection continued.

The bandits entered the town under night’s veil and approached a building in the west side of the town that his mind told him was a whorehouse. They sold the child there to a middle-aged woman who went by the name of Coin.

There was a time jump in the projection. A few years passed and the girl was now seven years old. Her eyes were the color of the evening sun and her hairs were long and red as rose petals, but a cold fog covered her face. She stood with her head low against Coin who held a stick in her hands.

The scene changed again.

The girl was now bigger, a teenager of eleven. She lay on a bed, cowering, another woman beside her, hugging her back. Something was going to happen tomorrow. She was afraid. The woman told her to be ready in the middle of the night. Night came and so did the woman, carrying a large suitcase. She took the girl's hand and they escape barefooted. They slide through long winding corridors and down the narrow stairs. They took the left one because the right one was older and squeaked louder. They stopped at the front door, excitement in their eyes, which died when they opened the door. There was someone outside, a man tall as the door. He looked down at them as the lights come awake around them.

They find the mistress Coin sitting cross-legged on a chair behind, a half-burned cigarette between her fingers. The other shop girls stood behind her, faces down, fear in their eyes.

The woman pulled back from the door as the man entered and closed it behind him. The girl hid behind the woman, holding the hem of her skirt, legs shivering.

The mistress asked her something. The woman argued. The man grabbed her hair and she screamed in pain. The girl cried and pleaded not to hurt the woman. Coin shook her head and gestured to the man with her free hand. He grabbed the woman’s head and broke her neck. The girl watched as the woman lifelessly fell to the floor.

The mistress stood up and left, leaving a cloud of cigarette smoke hovering in the air behind her.

The projection changed for the fourth time. Now the girl was a couple of years older and kept in a cage. She wasn’t alone there. Her eyes are still the color of the evening sun, but there was no light in them. She was barely covered and suffered from malnutrition and bruises.

Sixteen, the girl hung from the ceiling, chains on her arms, naked. There was a man around her, showing her his tools. She was awake, staring, but unresponsive. The man held an injection in his hand telling her it would sharpen her nerves and then he would peel her skin off from the base of her foot to the top of her head.

He would have injected her if it wasn’t for the tremors that came suddenly. They continued, growing louder until they were right next to them. Then there was an explosion above their heads and the roof caved in at a corner. The two watched as something moved in the dirt and debris and a hazy figure stepped out of the smoke.

It killed the man, and raised its hand to kill the girl but stopped with its hand right next to the girl’s neck as if checking if she had flinched. She hadn’t stopped staring.

It laughed at her and told her it liked her dead eyes. Then proceed to free her from the chains. She fell to the floor but remained motionless. It started to leave then turned and told her she could follow it if she wanted revenge and the girls raised her head. Her eyes were no longer the color of the evening sun. There was no light in them, only darkness. She stood up, tried to walk but staggered.

It grabbed her before she could fall and then disappeared into the smoke.

Twenty-one years old. The world burned. There were corpses everywhere. None alive in the world, except her. Two horns on her forehead, her hair were a river of black fire. A burning sword stood beside her. Its hilts protruded above her head.

She was grinning, couldn’t keep her lips from curling up, watching a fireball falling from the sky, witnessing the end of the world.

The darkness exploded and Chris found himself alive again. A fire burned on his right. There were screams in the distance, blood on his hands, and a horse in his sight.

He was back on the road and this time he was not alone. Something new was there. A transparent hologram hovered in front of his eyes. It had a message for him.

[Welcome to the nightmare. You have experienced the fall of humanity. Now try to change it as much as possible.]

[Task: Save the child.]

[Reward: one free skill point]

[Remaining loops: 47/48] [Time remaining in the loop: 00hr: 29min: 57sec]