text: It was the silence that I hated the most. I missed talking to people or just hearing them speak. I don’t mean the screams and yelling from the woods and alleyways. I’ve decided that those are something else I would rather not find. On that Tuesday everyone vanished I was home in Shadewood. I decided quickly that I needed to move on. There are many curious wonders in the world that most were not privileged to see. Initially, I decided to go to the theme park, but it turns out the controls are more complicated than I had thought. I spent a week next to the river on a private estate. That’s when I first heard the screams. I swear I heard a man shouting and then someone scream. I went to investigate the next morning but found nothing. On my way back I heard someone calling my name from the direction of my camp which sent chills up my spine. I have not camped outdoors since. Sometime early in the second month, I had the idea to go to restricted places. Area 51 type areas to see if I could gain entry and answer some questions people have had for years. I did not expect that I would find much. Worst case scenario I would get to see some interesting aircraft. I set off to Stanica. It is said that the mountains there contain a vault where the government keeps its most closely guarded secrets. Not to mention that it’s a massive bomb shelter and should have a lifetime’s worth of food and supplies for a single person. I still heard the voices some nights. But I made sure to stay indoors after dark with the doors barred. The house I was in during the last week of the third month, was at the edge of a valley I would have to cross to get to Stanica. There would be no houses to spend the nights in for three days. I had to keep reminding myself that the voices were just a symptom of being so alone. I was cooking dinner the night before my journey. Canned something or other with canned something or other on top. My meals were functional yet not entirely bad. While cooking there was a knock on the door. I very nearly knocked the pan off the stovetop. Not thinking I rushed to the door to see who it was but froze just beyond the reach of the door. My hair was standing on end and my stomach dropped. I had been alone for months. What are the odds of the only other people in the world finding me in this random house? I had left no trail for others to follow. I wanted to ask who was at the door. I wanted to peek through the window but held fast. Then another knock, harder this time. This was followed by a scream that sounded far closer than it ever did previously. I think whoever or whatever it was, was telling me they know tomorrow I would have no house to hide in. A voice came from beyond the door. It was soft and feminine. It was too indistinct to make out individual words except for my name. I could feel the blood drain from my face. I was starting to doubt my theory about it being my imagination. I stood there for what felt like hours. But it had gone quiet. The presence had left but the encounter stayed with me the whole night. I couldn’t sleep and poured over the maps to find an alternative route to the vault. The next morning as the sun rose, I had prepared myself. I had fashioned a makeshift weapon from a chair leg and some knives. I had also found a new route that would take an extra day but would let me take shelter in houses along the way. The vault that started as a curiosity now became a means of escape and permanent shelter from whatever was out there. The first two days went by without incident. Even the nights were quiet. Something that I never thought I would enjoy so much again. I started thinking that I had perhaps thrown off the weirdness from the previous town. On the third day, my hopes were dashed. The whole way I kept spotting what I thought were people on hills and in the trees. I reached the final house a few hours before sunset and fortified it as best I could. I even locked myself in the upstairs bedroom. Strangely, I guess, that night there were no sounds. The next day’s trip would be the last. Whatever was after me would have to try pretty hard to get into a bunker if wooden doors kept them out. On the first day of the fourth month, I set out with nothing but my weapon and the clothes on my back. I kept my pace high and made a beeline for the vault. I arrived around 4 pm at a great steel door. The sun was going down, and I could see no way of entering. I looked for alternative routes and entries but found none. Finally, as the sun was setting, I had run out of options. As my last hope, I decided to knock. I rapped on the massive steel door twice. As ridiculous as it may sound, that worked. The door swung open with a heavy groan and I entered. There was no one on the other side, but that was to be expected. I saw the door controls and hit the “close” button. The great door swung closed and latched after trickling in the last of the sun’s rays. I had made it. I walked down the long corridor to the interior of my new mountain home. The air was musty and stale but it would suffice. At least I was safe from whatever was outside and the relief was immense. I thought about how ridiculous it was that knocking worked when a familiar chill came over me. There was nobody else here. Who opened the door? I spotted an evacuation planner and sprinted over. There was indeed another foot entrance to the vault. Only a small way down from the blast door, nestled away out of sight. I tightened my grip on the weapon and rushed to the door. I found the secondary door wide open. Beyond it, a night as dark as tar. The voices started almost immediately. I slammed the door shut and bolted away. I would have to find another spot for the night. They must have come in ahead of me. The calling started, from within the vault this time. It was someone calling my name. It sounded close, spurring me on deeper into the vault. At last, I found the archive room. This door was open. I stepped through and slammed the door closed. It latched with a chunk that rang with finality. There was no way out from here, but also no way in. The inside was lined with row upon row of filing cabinets. Each shelved box had “Top Secret” or “Classified” stamped on it. I had found the jackpot. Perhaps the solution to all my problems would be here. I grabbed a box at random. The tag read “Subject L. Male. Project Darkpath.” This sounded ominous enough, yet stranger still is that my name was printed right below. I hastily opened the box to read what Project Darkpath was. The pages inside were blank. I checked another box. This one was labeled “Subject 0532. Male. Project Brimstone Road.” Again, with my name. All the pages were blank also. By the time I had reached the fifth box, “Subject Orion. Male. Operation Lightbringer.” The knocking on the door started. The steel door was designed to handle a rocket blast, but it was visibly shaking in its frame. Outside a feminine voice was now screaming my name. I had to get out of that room. I was clearly going mad yet refused to be cornered so easily. In a back corner, I found a plain wooden door. I threw it open and ran through without a second thought. As I stepped through there was a crack behind me like thunder. I looked back to find a circular structure a few meters tall. In its center a swirl of what looked like water flowing down a drain. It faded and the world was quiet once more. My breathing was heavy inside my suit. I felt around my head. I was indeed wearing some form of spacesuit. I took off the helmet with a practiced motion and lost my lunch on the floor. A few people were gathering now. I was so happy to see them but lacked the strength to act. “Am I safe?” I asked but was met with confused expressions. I tried to stand. Instead, the world went black. Someone was calling my name. This time it sounded right. I opened my eyes and found myself lying in a bed. A light breeze was coming in through the window. By my feet sat a woman. She looked concerned. I was sure she must have been an angel. “Tommy? Are you with me?” She said in a soft voice. “Tommy?” I asked. Realizing that must be my name. It was different than what the voices called those long nights. “I’m ok I think.” I replied then asked, “Am I safe?” “You’re safe here, I guess. The jump was a bit dangerous, but we never expected casualties.” It was slowly coming to me again. The jump gate. I had walked through it. “How long was I gone?” I asked her. “Gone. Well, the transit was a complete success, so you weren’t gone long. Perhaps a second or so.” She put her hand on mine. Caroline was her name. She was my wife, I think. Or would be next Saturday. She was the lead researcher and I was her loving guinea pig. Project Starshot. The Wormhole. I was remembering. “What happened Tom?” She asked. Her face showed concern. She would know me well enough to know if I was off. I was starting to remember it all. I had walked through the first gate at Shadewood base and was supposed to exit almost instantly through the Stanica bunker gate. “Caroline,” I said “I don’t think it worked. Something went wrong.” I told her about my three months, the voices, and how I was alone. I told her everything. She listened patiently and nodded where appropriate. When I was done, she smiled and took my hand. “Tom, I will see what I can find out ok?” She pat my leg and left. I was alone again. The silence once more hung like a fog in the room. It was finally broken with a knock on the door. “Come in,” I replied best I could. On the other side of the door, something called my name. My skin crawled and my breath refused to come. The knocking increased and the door shook. I was trapped in the room. Just me, the silence, and the knocking. “Leave me alone!” I yelled. The knocking stopped. The silence settled in once more. I got up and looked out of the window, shaking. I was a few floors up, in what must be a hospital. Below the streets looked empty. It was happening again. I was alone. Then the knock on the door returned. I rushed over and swung it open. “Take this, you bastard!” I screamed. I had it by the throat and kept squeezing harder and harder and harder until I could feel the bones snap as I put all my weight into the attack. I kept at it until this thing stopped moving. It was scratching and kicking me but I did not subside my attack. I wanted it to stop tormenting me. I wanted it to die. A weight knocked me off my prey. Wrestling me to the ground. It was an MP. He cuffed my hands, but it did not matter. I was free. I looked back at the thing that had been haunting me for months. Instead, there was Caroline. Eyes bulging, face a grim mask of death. Around her gruesome expression blood. Her eyes were staring at me. The MP lifted me to my feet. Then I saw her entire face. I swear she was smiling. While starting to lead me away, the MP said my name. I tried to turn to face him but could not get a view of his face. Someone saw the body and screamed. All the while somewhere out of sight a knocking. So loud. Never-ending. And all I wanted was to be alone.