Young Writers Society

**Just started this... Kind of rambled after the first few paragraphs... But I would like feedback/comments/critique. Thanks.**

Luke closed his eyes. Body resting upon his neatly made bed, he tried to lose consciousness. Staggering breaths from the spell of sobbing just minutes before held him there, on his bed, in reality. He was tired, and he didn't want to think much anymore. Luke heaved sigh after sigh to control the choking noises until only periodic, sharp uptakes of breath remained as evidence of any crying.

Calm now. Everything was all right. There’s nothing at all besides exhaustion. And it goes… away…

Drifting… off…

Drifting…

"NO!"

An explosion, and Luke opened his eyes. A dim bulb now lit the room. The window, once giving view to the buildings, traffic, people, and smoke pollution of New York City, was nonexistent. In fact, the whole of Luke’s familiar room had disappeared: the bed, the desk, the closet, everything. He sat up on the dirtied mattress slightly off center in the midst of the four, gray-smudged walls that now enclosed him. Strange pumping sounds echoed just outside… whatever outside was now. A door resembling his own stood in the far corner from where he sat, and he could have easily investigated.

But the fetal position was much more comforting. He hunched over and felt like crying again.

Not again… Not here again… I hate this place…

Many times… He’d appeared in this world, this universe, many times. It was never for very long; he always found himself back in the real world afterward. He was alone here, and he was always petrified to return. What triggered the transition this time? Luke didn’t know, and he didn’t care. He just wanted to leave.

Pounding footsteps sounded from somewhere beyond the door. Luke hugged his knees for dear life, as surely they could save him from anything. His heart was racing, pounding loudly as he prayed to God that he could escape. Slamming the door closed as quickly as it was opened, something or someone fell into the room. Luke didn’t know what; his eyes were squeezed shut.

It panted on the floor. Loud. It was very loud. Luke curled even more tightly into a ball as, for several minutes, it panted.

“Who…?” was managed before breathlessness overcame it.

A human voice… it was a human voice! Luke raised his head. On elbows and knees, the girl was still trying to catch her breath. Long, dark hair blocked her face, but she was turned to see Luke.

Defense slowly going down, Luke let his hands fall to his sides.

Luke’s movement brought the girl to flip over and she was pointing something at him. It was a gun. He squealed in fright, cowering into his ball again.

There came nothing but the never-ending pumping noise and the raspy breathing from the girl.

“Oh…” The panting slowed. “Don’t be… such a wimp… Are you crying?”

Luke gave no reply.

“Well, at least you’re harmless.”

The mattresses weight shifted. Unaware that she had crossed the room and joined him on his island, Luke sprung backward, rolling onto the floor.

“Spaz,” the girl muttered. Luke sat up quickly to look at her. Her smirking face looked back at him, deeming him worthless of being any help.

"You don’t have to worry. They never come in here. It’s too safe for them.”

“Why... did you leave here then?”

“You think I haven’t thought about that? What else do I do, sit and rot?”

“But if it’s not safe…”

“I would rather die. You don’t know what it’s like…”

“I’ve… I’ve been here before,” Luke hesitantly admitted.

“You don’t act like it.” Sitting Indian-style, she placed her gun beside her and folded her hands, as calm as if it were two people sitting at a restaurant. “I’m Candace.”

Luke nodded.

“You’re supposed to tell me your name.”

“Luke.”

Candace leaned forward and extended her hand. There was a pause before Luke accepted the greeting. He withdrew nearly at contact and checked his hand.

“I’m not a monster. I’m human, like you.” Candace paused. “Unless you’re not human.” She smiled at her own little joke.

“How old are you?” Luke asked, still reluctant of trust.

Candace’s face turned grim. “I’ve been here too long. Lost track of time…” She thought for a moment. “But I was nearly nineteen when this all started for me.”

“It’s September twenty-“

A snort interrupted him. “The date’s not going to help any. Too much for me to remember around here already. You’re not the first one I’ve met, you know.”

“I’ve never seen others when I’m here.”

“I’ve never seen you either.”

Luke digested the comment. “Then where are they?” he asked.

“What?”

“Where are the others?”

Candace fidgeted. “They’re dead. Those things… they killed them.”

Luke fell silent.

She laughed dryly, waving her gun lightly in the air. “Well, I always did love playing shooter games…”