CH 2 - Reality Bites
Meike meets a fellow traveler, and a strange dog.
When they came to, it was not in the comfortable window seat, or even on the floor, in a spill of limbs and mass confusion. But a scene that felt right at home in a dream: a field of flowers and a setting sun.
Meike sat up with a yawn, more curious than anything. Nothing felt out of the ordinary with their body, but assuming the train crashed, there was no sign on it. No broken machinery, scorched tracks, or even the bodies of their fellow passengers. ‘So it has to be a dream,’ they thought, and stood to take stock of their surroundings.
The field they’d found themself in consisted almost entirely of ranunculus flowers of all shades, but arranged in such a pleasing matter that it had to be deliberate. Someone’s private garden, if they had to guess. And yet there was no sign of civilization anywhere, no houses, roads, or other structures. ‘It’s a dream.’
But Meike had no love for buttercups, or the yellows and oranges that dotted the reds and blues. They cared little for flowers at all, outside of studying their properties and breeding potentials. Any garden of theirs, fictional or otherwise, would be strictly carnivorous: sundews, flytraps, pitcher plants, rafflesia, and waterwheels.
They waded through the flowers, their target the lone tree in the area. If they could climb it and get a good view, it might shed some light on this mystery. ‘Or you’ll fall down, hit your head, and wake up.’
But Meike never got that far; they were in the middle of swinging themself up onto one of the sturdier branches, when their foot caught on something solid. Not solid the way the tree trunk was, but more of the flesh and bone variety. They tentatively nudged the object beneath the leaves, and something white and slender rolled out—a human arm.
They glanced around, half-expecting someone to rise above the flowers and aim an accusatory finger at them, before emitting a dull scream like a pod person. But no such scene followed. The only sound was the wind, birdsong, and the soft groans beneath their foot.
Meike crouched down and brushed the mass of dead leaves and flowers away from the arm, and froze when it grabbed for them. At least now they knew it was attached to someone, and not simply tossed out like day old bread. They frantically shook the hand off and resumed digging.
A jacket and another arm came into view, and with nails black with soil, Meike grasped the flailing hands and dug their heels into the ground. They weren’t particularly strong; years of gaming, reading, and gardening only amounted to muscle memory and toned fingers, but determination guided them through.
Out popped a gasping figure, blonde hair almost indistinguishable from the dirt she was born from. The woman came kicking and sobbing, and dropped to her hands and knees in a patch of purple buttercups.
Meike stood back and watched as she hacked up soil, so thick and generous they almost mistook it for vomit. Next came chunks of leaves, and tiny, pink chunks they recognized as earthworms. She lowered her head into a clean section of the flowers once her gut was empty, and divulged into tears, great wracking sobs and disjointed concerns about her location and what became of the train and everyone else.
“I don’t know,” was all they could offer. They were just as lost, and horrified that this was, in fact, reality, and not a cozy dream.
~~~
“I know you. You were on the train…”
“Really, now? Cause I don’t remember you.”
Meike eyed her dirty blonde hair. “I keep to myself. But you were—” Loud. “Laughing,” they said, with better tact than their mind.
“Anyway, my name is Anniken.” She rolled her eyes. “But not like the child murderer.” Too many overzealous space opera fans, it seemed.
“I’ve never seen it,” Meike said, but never would dare to mock someone over their given name. Or care, really. They got enough flack for their own.
Everyone always assumed it was “Micah” or “Myka” until they learned the correct spelling. Same pronunciation, but mom wanted something “different,” something to contemplate dad’s very German surname.
Anniken spat a mouthful of black viscous fluid, a remainder of her earlier ordeal. “How is that even possible? Everyone has seen it.”
“There are people without access to running water or even electricity,” they said, and she went silent.
There was a good five minutes of blissful silence, during which Meike bemoaned the loss of their electronics and bags. The novelty of this bizarre detour was starting to wear off.
“So, like, you think this is purgatory?”
“Whatever it is, it’s peaceful.” What if they never got to play video games again? “But I could see how it could get boring.”
“Have you seen anyone else?”
There seemed to be no end to the flower fields, and Meike was getting hungry. Their last “meal” was a Snickers bar. “Maybe they’re all buried, like you.” Or they turned up somewhere better, somewhere with food and running water.
“I almost died, you know.” She stopped to hack up something awful. Anniken scrubbed most of the grime and dirt off with the flowers and a little spit shine, but was very much rough around the edges. But pretty despite it.
“Yeah, I was there.”
“You’re very nonchalant, aren’t you?”
Meike shrugged. Their mom constantly reminded them of that throughout their childhood, and it came up during the screening process. “I think I see the way out,” they said, pointing past a sloping hill. The flowers gave way to lush grass, and if they stared hard enough, a winding road. Question was, which way should they go?
They looked to Anniken for advice, but she looked just as confused. “We should go north. Always go north when you’re lost.”
“Do you get lost a lot?”
She gave an exasperated sigh. “Only twice. Once while hiking, the other backpacking—in Europe,” she added. “I always keep a compass on me.” She produced it now, and Meike felt a pang of jealousy.
It was a long road, and much like the flower fields, there seemed to be no end in no sight. The low grass on either side gradually became wilder until thick branches crisscrossed above, blocking out most of the sun.
Meike swatted a clump of leaves out of their face. “Are you sure we’re going the right way?”
“You’re free to turn back,” she snapped. “The only way for me is forward.”
They scuffed the ground with their sneakers. They’d been walking for what felt like hours, and had yet to see a river or a good stopping point. ‘Maybe it really is purgatory…’
And suddenly Anniken was sprinting off without them. Meike struggled to keep up; exhaustion and hunger held them back as much as their low stamina. They had to double up to catch their breath and saw nothing but spots as she cooed and fawned over…
“—a dog!”
“Wait.”
Meike sighed and flopped on the side of the road. The trees weren’t as thick in this area, providing patches of bare sky—no longer a pale blue but a deepening purple. Darkness was quick on their heels and the odds of finding a place for the night were against them.
But Anniken was too busy fussing over…a corgi? Meike rubbed their eyes to make sure they weren’t seeing things.
It was larger than average, with orange fur, and carried an adorable axe on its back. It bared its fangs at Anniken, who was ignoring the fundamental rule of strange dogs.
“What are you doing out here all alone, little guy,” she said, in a sickeningly sweet baby voice. The dog growled and stepped back. “Is your owner nearby?” She glanced back at Meike. “See, I knew we were in the right direction! He’ll take us to his owner and we’ll go somewhere with a warm bed and food…”
“You shouldn’t,” they said, between gasps for air.
“It’s okay. We aren’t going to hurt you, little fella.” She reached for the dog again, but this time it didn’t move, only stood its ground and watched her with wary eyes. “Easy…” Her hand lowered to a spot behind the dog’s ear, and it snapped back.
It moved so fast Meike only saw the results—the snarling dog, and Anniken’s wide-eyed stare. And the blood running down her arm and pooling in her sleeve.
“Don’t fucking patronize me,” a gruff voice said.
By process of elimination, it could only be the dog. And while Meike was still processing this and the extent of Anniken’s injuries, her shrill screams pierced the air.
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Sienna Eggler
