Chapter 9 (Joshua’s POV)

  The day arrived faster than I wanted—or maybe I’d just been stalling, desperately hoping a few extra hours of prep would soothe the anxiety gnawing at my gut. But time was up. My gear lay carefully arrayed in the cottage’s living room, each piece a tangible weight of both hope and dread. The old, musty walls seemed to hold their breath, as if acknowledging the mad decision I was about to make.

  I stood at the threshold of the basement door—that door, the one with the eerie copper inlay that had once swallowed me whole and spat me back onto a city street. My father’s neglected inheritance had become my personal gateway to a nightmare realm. Now, I planned to reenter, fully aware of its horrors. Why would I do this to myself? The answer was seared into my conscience: Anna, and to a lesser degree Money.

  My breath quivered as I scanned the cramped hallway. The basement light flickered overhead, casting jittery shadows on the peeling wallpaper. No city bustle or curious onlookers here—just me, a battered old house, and a choice that’d shape my life. Or end it.

  I took a shaky breath, forcing my gaze down to the backpack at my feet. It bulged with supplies: a medieval war hammer in its makeshift cover, a short sword and bow tucked carefully inside, MREs, water purifiers, and a K-Bar knife strapped on top. Enough gear for two people, I hoped. Enough for me to survive. Enough for Anna—if she still lived. The memory of her face, grim and fierce, wouldn’t let me rest. Guilt kept me awake at night, a dull ache that whispered: You owe her this.

  Swallowing hard, I took one step closer to the door, the copper inlay glinting dully in the faint light. My heart thundered in my ears, each beat sending tremors through my chest. Even though the door looked harmless—just battered old wood, corners chipped, a tarnished, ornate handle—I couldn’t ignore the swirling tension in my stomach. That swirl of fractals could appear at any moment, that cosmic shift that’d fling me back into the rotting city. I was an idiot for returning. But Anna—

  Suddenly, my vision blurred, and a nauseating spin squeezed my insides. The Key—the same skeleton key that had freed me from that realm—slipped from my sweaty palm, clattering on the floorboards. My knees buckled, a tremor racking my arms so violently I thought I might pass out.

  “Oh God,” I gasped, staggering against the banister. My stomach lurched, and bile rose before I could fight it. I twisted aside, retching violently onto the warped wooden floor. Acid burned my throat, the acrid smell of vomit mingling with the mildew of the old cottage. Tears stung my eyes, shame prickling through me. This is what I’ve come to?

  For a moment, I crouched, breath hitching in ragged gasps. My forehead pressed to the cool wood, hands splayed for balance. I could practically hear Anna’s voice in my head, that scornful tone she’d used when I first failed to kill a roamer without screaming. But she wasn’t here to push me. I’m alone, I realized bleakly, fear coiling tighter.

  Blinking furiously, I spat the bitter taste from my mouth, trying to steady my spinning head. The overhead bulb flickered, an unsteady hum that felt like it mocked my panic. The Key lay just out of reach, glinting faintly. My pulse raced in my ears, blood roaring with the frantic question: Why am I doing this?

  I knew the reason—Anna. The rotting city. The guilt that devoured me like a slow poison. But my body refused to cooperate, trembling so hard I could barely see straight. That realm had nearly killed me; roamers with hanging flesh, savage factions, the constant stench of decay. Not to mention the Gate’s cryptic toll.

  “Come on,” I whispered to myself, forcing my body upright. My legs felt like gelatin, but I managed to brace a hand on the stair rail. “You can’t back down now.”

  My breath came in short, ragged pulls, sweat trickling down my neck. Slowly, I lurched toward the Key, picking it up with shaking fingers. A swirl of self-loathing churned in my stomach—if I couldn’t even hold the Key, how the hell would I survive a second trip?

  But I inhaled, focusing on the image of Anna’s eyes—sharp, unyielding. She’d risked her life to save me once. If she was still out there, alone with only a baseball bat and scraps of hope, how could I not do this?

  Steadying myself, I gripped the Key tight, ignoring the clammy sweat on my palms. I turned to the copper-laced door again, my shoulders knotting under the weight of the backpack. Focus. My heart hammered so loud I swore the entire cottage could hear it. Anna, Anna, Anna…

  I took another slow, deliberate breath, lifted the Key, and slipped it into the lock. The door groaned under my touch, a faint spark flickering along the edges of the copper designs. A tingle raced up my arm, like static electricity dancing beneath my skin. My pulse jumped, sweat stinging my eyes. Don’t freak out again—don’t—

  Cold panic lingered in my stomach, but I forced my hand to turn the Key. Metal scraped against metal, the Gate acknowledging me with a low, resonant click. I tensed, half-expecting fractals to bloom at my feet, the cottage to vanish in a swirl of cosmic confusion.

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  Not yet—just a subtle ripple, like the door had exhaled. My chest seized with a fresh wave of dread, but I bit down on my lip to keep from hyperventilating. No going back.

  My free hand fumbled for the doorknob, a dull brass piece battered and scratched from age. With a trembling push, I opened the door, half-blind with fear. The smell of musty basement air swirled out, mingling with something deeper—like ozone, or the faint echo of that other realm’s rancid wind.

  Time slowed to a crawl. I pictured the rotting city, pictured roamers lurching along deserted streets. I imagined Anna’s battered silhouette, defiant in the gloom. My stomach lurched again, but I held my footing, refusing to retch.

  “Anna,” I murmured—a prayer, a plea, a last scrap of courage. The door’s interior shimmered faintly, a ripple dancing across the threshold. I’d stepped through once before, that swirl of fractals stealing my consciousness. Would it be the same? Or had the Gate changed the rules?

  My heartbeat hammered. My lungs strained for each gulp of air. Yet I nudged the door wider, the Key still in the lock. A wave of absolute terror and determination collided in my chest, making me gasp. This is it.

  God help me… I’m going back.

  Consciousness returned in a stuttering wave—like waking from a dream on the edge of sleep. My lungs hitched, my eyes snapped open, and I realized I was kneeling on something cold and unyielding. Concrete. That familiar, unsettling grayness confronted me, the air thick with stale mustiness tinged by a faint metallic aftertaste.

  I forced my limbs to move, every nerve aflame from the adrenaline crash. My pack thumped against my back, the war hammer’s weight pressing into my spine. With a groan, I pushed myself upright, blinking away the wild swirl of vertigo.

  I recognized this place—the same bare, concrete room from my first arrival. Four walls, no windows, a single door… the same sense of claustrophobic limbo. My heart raced, pounding so loud it practically echoed off the cement walls. I’m back.

  Before I could gather my thoughts, a sudden bright flicker illuminated the wall above me. Instinctively, I jerked into a defensive crouch, hand gripping the strap of my backpack, heart leaping into my throat. But it was just a screen again, that weird, holographic TV-like panel flickering to life from nowhere. The pale glow threw ghostly shadows across the dull concrete.

  My breath caught as fresh text began scrolling. A slight hum accompanied each word, as though the device was broadcasting from behind the wall:

  “Welcome back, traveler.

  You have been allotted 48 hours in this world.

  Please remember: if you lack the resources to cover your transfer expenses, you will not be able to return.

  Cost for one way transfer removed from traveler, Total amount: $156.

  Balance remaining on Traveler $1,784

  Have a wonderful day—and do try to survive.”

  A hollow dryness settled in my mouth, memories of the Gate’s penalty swirling in my mind. I’d known it would charge me 10% for everything I’d brought, but seeing the cost spelled out in that clinical text made my stomach twist. If you don’t have enough to cover the expense, you’re stuck.

  I took an unsteady breath, letting the reality of it sink in. Forty-eight hours. That was all the time I had before I’d have to find a door again or risk being trapped forever. A day and a half, plus some spare change, in a world full of undead nightmares.

  Even in my roiling fear, part of me noticed how bizarrely reminiscent this was of a loading screen in a video game—some meta interface that gave players their conditions or a tutorial. Except this wasn’t a game. No comforting Press ‘Start’ to continue, no respawns if I messed up. My life hung on the flick of a Key in a cosmic lock. The screen’s mechanical courtesy—have a wonderful day—felt like a cruel joke.

  I exhaled, body still trembling, adrenaline fizzing beneath my skin. I blinked, ignoring the staleness of the room, forcing my mind to focus: Forty-eight hours. The countdown started now.

  The screen flickered once more, then winked out, leaving me in dim artificial lighting again. My breath rattled in my lungs, heart refusing to slow. A loading screen, I repeated in my head, half in disbelief. Something about the notion unsettled me deeply: this was real flesh and blood, yet it was framed like a casual set of instructions. It didn’t care if I lived or died, only that I paid the cosmic toll. A twisted system we got here.

  My eyes drifted around the sealed space, searching for an exit. Last time, I’d stepped through the door to find a decimated city. That had kicked off a series of events that nearly killed me. And now?

  I approached the only door in the room: My pulse pounded faster at the memory of stepping through it the first time, discovering a wasteland of broken skyscrapers. The recollection of roamer-filled streets, the suffocating stench of rot, threatened to hijack my senses. My fingertips tingled with a faint static, or maybe just nerves.

  I stopped short, maybe a foot away from the door, letting my hand hover near the handle. Fear battered my insides. I could already imagine the moan of undead just beyond. My mind conjured images of Anna, battered but alive, or maybe… God, I couldn’t finish that thought.

  Swallowing thickly, I forced myself to breathe slowly. In-out, in-out. The screen’s message still rang in my head: Forty-eight hours, pay your toll, or else. Another sick parody of a game loading screen. But I couldn’t linger here forever. At some point, I’d have to open that door, face whatever hell lay beyond.

  But… not yet. The door handle remained untouched, my hand trembling inches away. I needed a moment to gather my strength, to let my pulse settle. Because once I crossed that threshold, there’d be no safe return, no second chance if I messed up. My gear felt heavy on my back, both a comfort and a grim reminder that I was about to plunge into mortal danger.

  I closed my eyes, inhaling one more time. It’s just the beginning, I told myself. Soon, I’d push through that door and reenter the apocalypse. Soon, I’d have to find Anna—if she was still out there. The lumps in my throat felt immovable, fear morphing into a stubborn resolve.

  For now, I stayed put, hunched in the hush of the concrete room, letting the recent tension and the unsettling welcome screen wash over me. I’d crossed the gate, but my journey hadn’t really begun yet. One last moment of calm, if I could call it that, before stepping into what might be the final hours of my short miserable life.

  With every nerve screaming, I stepped forward, letting the swirl of energy embrace me.