The Bookwyrm

Nolan woke up.

This in and of itself was a strange experience, as there seemed to be a hole in his memory on how he had gotten here. He was sore, and had a splitting headache; he could barely think. His eyes were still closed, but he could tell he was lying on a soft bed, and had something in his arm - probably an IV needle.

As he grew more aware, he recognized the familiar sound of a car driving on a highway; the steady drone of the engine and the wheels on the road provided a hypnotic ambiance.

He blinked his eyes open, finding himself in a dimly-lit "room"; it looked like the back of an ambulance. Two people were in the room; a nurse or doctor, her hair in a bun, typing something on a computer, and a dark skinned man in a suit, sitting on the seat to the side of the bed, with a briefcase across his lap.

"You're awake."

It was the man who spoke. His deep voice had a strangely calming effect.

"What...where...what..." Nolan started, trying to figure out what question to ask first. He settled on: "Where am I?"

"You're in an ambulance," the man responded, "currently driving to Houston, Texas."

Nolan frowned. Why would he be...

Memory.

An explosion, a flash of unnatural red light. A demanding presence. Pain.

Nolan hissed in pain as his headache flared.

"Take it slowly," the man said, leaning forward. "An Event like the one you experienced isn't kind to the mind."

"What...what happened?" Nolan managed to say.

The man sighed. "It's hard to explain without background knowledge. You'll learn more at our headquarters."

Nolan was barely paying attention; he was hovering between diving in to remember more, or running as far away as he could to escape that pain.

As he studied his own mind, he became aware of a presence.

Something was sitting there, in his mind. Something...inhuman. Unearthly. Incomprehensible. A presence that now resided along with Nolan's own.

Another memory.

***

Nothingness.

To call it blackness would be inaccurate; black is a color, something you can imagine. This was nothingness. There was no blackness, no whiteness, not the presence of an absence. Just an absence.

Panic. A single emotion among pure nothing. Nolan didn't know how to deal with nothing.

And then, from the nothing, a voice.

Are you...being? It asked.

Yes, Nolan responded.

Are you...alive? It continued.

Yes, Nolan responded again.

A sense of touch, then a burst of light.

We are I, the voice spake. Single. One. Entity. Being. Alive.

Two. Divided. Separate. Dual. Dead. Except also single. One. Entity. Being. Alive.

You and me are we, are I. Are one.

The nothingness faded to the blackness of unconsciousness, a welcome cacophony in comparison to that absence.

***

Nolan burst out of the memory sweating, gasping.

"What," he whispered, horrified, "is inside me?"

"That is one of the questions that we will answer when we arrive."

"Arrive where? The headquarters for what?"

The man looked Nolan in the eye. "The Federal Agency for the Research and Control of Extradimensional Phenomena."

Nolan didn't know what to say to that.

He sat silently for a minute. Then asked. "Where are my friends?"

He remembered going out with them. A movie, something action-packed. A trip to an ice-cream parlor, where he got something sweet and sour. A walk in the park, joking, laughing, wrapping his arm around Jessica, who smiled and kissed his cheek...

Then an explosion, a flash of unnatural red light. A demanding presence. Pain.

"Dead, I'm afraid. Killed. Likely by the being that now lives in your mind."

Nolan shut his eyes.

We are one.

"Where's my family?"

"Wherever they were when you left them. Unfortunately, like the families of your friends, they will be informed you died in a horrible accident."

Tears began to fall down Nolan's cheeks.

"I'm sorry," the suited man said. "It's been over fifteen years since the last code red Civilian Involvement Incident. I'd hope to keep that record indefinite. But this is how it played out."

Nolan barely listened. He started to sob.

As he cried himself back to sleep, he could feel the presence in the back of his mind, watching, existing.

We are one.