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The bus bumps along the deep tunnel of night, sealing in fourteen desperate dreamers against the world.
“It’s just a game,” Mack whispers. But she knows it wasn’t the idea of losing that filled her with existential terror. It was the idea of being found. And then dying.
Her entire life has been after. But there was a before, wasn’t there? Is she living in another before right now, or will she forever be stuck in an infinite after?
If all the world is hell and evil is all around them, what else can they do but try to help each other?
People pretend things aren’t wrong, even when they can feel the truth, because they’re too afraid of what it means to look right at the horror, right at the wrongness, to face the truth in all its terrible glory. Like little kids, playing hide-and-seek. If they can’t see the monster, it can’t get them. But it can. It always can. And while you aren’t looking, it’s eating everyone around you.
To the youngest generations we’ve tasked with saving us all: You shouldn’t have to. I’m so sorry.
