Joe strode out slowly into the center of the desolate avenue. The wind blew with a steady moan through the concrete canyon formed by the buildings on either side. He saw little dust devils form on the street and then dissipate.

The buildings were shells of what they once were. The cars were rotting hulks. Looking up at the overcast ceiling above, he saw what he’d not noticed initially—that it bore a sheen of colors, like an oil slick on water, covering a sizable chunk of the sky. It was exactly like he’d seen in his most recent dream—Joe tried to comprehend what that meant, as he paced slowly down the avenue. Each time he glanced up at it, the celestial sheen twinkled in the clouds, like a spider web, glistening with morning dew. Joe felt twinges of the acid trip sensation returning to him and he clenched his jaw. He could even hear traces of that music still, although he wasn’t sure if it actually carried through the city, or if it just echoed in his mind.

The street was covered in dust and debris, and Joe walked down the center of it. The double yellow stripes were faded and worn but still visible. The buildings and landmarks around him were just as he remembered them, albeit similarly abandoned and decrepit. But somehow the desolation in his midst wasn’t the most startling thing. Staring more closely, he realized that some sections of the city block were weirdly bland—like cookie-cut building templates, with no architectural details or nuance whatsoever. It was like taking a walk through his own mind—the city was filled-out as he knew it, but there were plenty of gaps in between that he couldn’t recall.

“Where am I?” Joe whispered to himself. The truth—that he’d gone physically into his own dream—was sitting there, but he wasn’t ready to believe it yet.

He stopped walking in the center of a wide thoroughfare, where the sprawling Massachusetts Avenue cut diagonally through a perpendicular intersection. He had been walking southbound, but while standing still he turned and looked to the north with wide eyes, sensing the terror emanating from there. Dreams could flip into nightmares pretty easily, he knew this too well, and peering in that direction, he stared one of them right in the eyes. He heard the dour bell tone somewhere in the distance, the forecasting of doom, and in the middle of the windswept road, with dust devils running past his feet, he studied the anomaly with a harrowing expression on his face.

Everything to the north part of the city was drawn into a black and white vortex, like it had become an ink drawing—there were no colors at all, and not even any greys. The streets and buildings in that direction lost their dimension and depth, or any kind of practical engineering sense. The angles of buildings were not squared off, not even close, instead they were wildly acute or obtuse, and roads didn’t fade into the distance like they were supposed to. It was like looking at a Picasso sketch.

He heard its voice a few times, somewhere within the encroaching madness, a kind of shrieking, juvenile laughter, like a punk kid might make. It echoed through the concrete canyons, carried along with the wind. The shadow—it could only be the shadow. And it was near. It always had lived in his subconscious, and ostensibly this was where he’d gone—into a physical manifestation of it. So now they were finally on the same level, on the same plane. There was no more boundary between him and it.

Just as he detected the first hint of movement deep within the zany checkerboard land to the north, Joe turned rapidly and broke into a steady stride southbound. This gradually became a frenzied jog. There was no question where he was heading. He was sure she would be there this time. He finally had everything on the right frequency. On the right channel.

It wasn’t so terrible actually that he’d brought the city of D.C. along with him into this world of dreams. Surely it was just because it had been all around him when he’d transferred over, so the cityscape simply followed along. Basically, he populated a blank slate—like a dream. Only this time he was actually there—physically there. And the city, while ghostly and desolate, had an advantage nonetheless. Because he knew it well—and so did she. And he knew right where she’d be. They had a meeting point already established. It was unspoken, but they’d both know it. He had no doubt.

His body began to complain through the exertion, but Joe forced it forward, still in a steady jog, as he crossed Constitution Avenue and then cut through the grassy Mall. It was unkempt and overgrown, rife with weeds and debris. The fog clung to the ground there too, and when Joe ran through it he felt it stirring around his legs, and behind him he left a wake of swirling mist.

The reflecting pool came into view, and the water was perfectly still, like glass, and the mist clung to it too. It was a haunting sight, and Joe stared at it while taking a second to catch his breath. Still panting heavily, he looked back to the north and saw the anomaly had followed him, and it crept ever closer—already the Ellipse and the buildings around it had degraded into a surreal ink sketch, like the work of a brilliant artist on drugs. Joe shivered and forced his body to keep moving.

He skirted the border of the reflecting pool, disturbing the mist in his rapid movements. He knew the pool lay in between monuments, with the Lincoln Memorial on the far side of it—and specifically, those steps leading up to it, a place that bore more meaning to him than perhaps anywhere else in D.C. Joe picked up his pace, and despite everything felt a growing anticipation. As he passed by the reflecting pool, the stout structure of the Lincoln Memorial gradually emerged from the mist. It stood proud and tall, and in fine detail—having spent plenty of time there, Joe could conjure it clearly. He scanned the wide, sprawling steps as rapidly as possible, and his eyes fell instantly on a lone figure sitting on those steps, right in that exact location he’d anticipated. It was her, of course, it could only be her, and she grew blurry in his sight as he wiped his tears away quickly and ran toward her, while calling out her name.

“Jennifer!”

“Joe?” she called back, her voice a hollow echo in the misty air, unable to locate him in the fog. She stood to her feet, and upon closer sight of her it felt like such a blow to see that she still wore the cheerleader uniform, the one forced upon her in the last dream. And so Joe could realize her state, and how she’d been there all along, merely stepping from one dream and into the next. The uniform she wore was smudged and stained, and the pleated skirt was frayed around the edges. Joe felt fire deep inside of him as he darted toward her from the mist, his movements and his voice frantic, disturbing the fog that swirled around him. But despite it all, he saw the happiness written on her face as she saw him emerge from the clouds and then move nearer to her. Their arms wrapped around one another desperately. Joe felt an incredible joy to finally hold her, to physically hold her, while knowing that, for better or for worse, this time their embrace wouldn’t be interrupted by his waking up.

“You’ve been stuck here all along,” Joe murmured, his eyes still wet with tears. “In my dreams. I wake up, but you don’t.”

“Yes,” she whispered back.

“How did you even get here? I mean, like this?”

Before she could answer, Joe heard another of those awful whooping noises as the unholy punk crept ever closer, masked in the sea of mist from which Joe had just emerged. Looking back, Joe saw the black ink strokes had almost completely overtaken the city behind him. Even the Washington Monument was affected—or, infected, which perhaps was the more apt term. The towering obelisk had become a twisted beanstalk of organic black stone, as though a virus had ravaged it.

She never answered his question. Instead, Joe saw a quiet gloom falling over her. There was a hard truth sitting there, something that Joe was supposed to know… only he didn’t. She recognized that he didn’t know, and so she clammed up, not wanting to be the one to reveal it.

“What is it?” he asked, scared at the desperation rising in his voice.

She lowered her head, not wanting to meet his eyes as she finally spoke. “I told you already. That I fell into the ebb.”

He could hear the dark bell tolling again, somewhere in the misty world. “I don’t know what that is,” he cried. “I don’t know what that means.”

“It’s the city at the end of the world,” she proclaimed. “I think we all end up there eventually.” There was defeat in her voice that was such the opposite of her normal cheer, that Joe was accustomed to, that he so loved. Even worse was how her words sounded not just haunting, but familiar. People around him had kept mentioning the end of the world, at least in some capacity.

“I can never come back, Joe,” she added. “Not completely.” She finally raised her head and looked at him. Her great big eyes were shiny with tears, but more bothersome than that was the calmness he saw within them, like she had already accepted this fate.

Joe felt his head shaking almost uncontrollably. “No,” he uttered, rejecting the notion. “Stop talking like that, Jennifer. You’re fine, okay? We’re all fine. There’s nothing that can’t be undone. I’m bringing you back. That’s why I’ve come here. Don’t you see? I’ve come here to find you. To save you. Look. I have this.” He raised the orb, and was delighted to see it brought the glimmer of a smile to her face, instantly filling him with confidence. He felt his body brimming, even buzzing, with it. Truly, he possessed the one loophole that could save her. It could save them all. It was his power and it was his fire and he’d rain it down upon anyone who tried to stop him or get in his way.

But—what was next? Staring at the orb, he saw it was dark inside, without even the faintest light shining within the glass. Try as he might, he knew he couldn’t activate it. Roy had said as much—the orb only triggered on its own.

Joe peered instead at the haunting, empty city around them. “This place. This D.C. It’s like the city of my making,” he posited. “The city of my mind.”

She nodded, confirming. “You brought it with you when you arrived. I was happy to see it, because I knew just where to go.” She gave him an anxious smile.

“Me too.” Joe smiled back to her, flooded with relief, by the glowing confirmation that she had those memories too, and that she was as invested in them as he was.

“Thanks for coming back for me,” she whispered.

“Of course I came back for you, Jennifer. I’m bringing you home. Don’t you understand? I’m bringing you home.”

Her eyes sparkled in gratitude, but at the same time he heard a snickering in the mist somewhere behind him. Joe swiveled his body backward, searching for it, but the fog remained heavy on the grass still, masking whatever crept within.

“There is a problem, though,” he said, while turning slowly back around. “My shadow is here, Jennifer. It’s after me.”

“Oh,” she responded, her tone like that was revealing in some way.

Joe dismissed it, pleading for himself not to stop now, and that he should tell the whole truth. Her should tell her everything. “It’s out there, somewhere. It normally stays in my subconscious. Repressed, I suppose. But now it’s been born. It’s actually alive. It wants to… end me. Or worse… replace me. It wants to take control.”

She stared back at him, her eyes wide in worry.

“It’s after me, Jennifer. I fear it’ll be here any second.”

Joe knew they hadn’t much time, so he embraced her tighter yet. She hugged him back in kind. It felt wonderful, pressed against her so, but with an awful sound like straining ropes he heard the virus behind him drawing ever nearer, and he could see the trees in his peripheral vision beginning to form into black ink strokes, as though the dark wave was upon them.

It was always something, he thought, bitterly. He wondered why everything he loved always had to fall into ruin.

While their hands were clasped together, he placed the orb into her palm. Sensing it there, she looked down at it, and then back at him with concern, as though asking what he meant.

“Take it, Jennifer,” he said, softly, realizing what he intended.

She remained speechless.

“There isn’t time,” Joe said. “Please, go. Use it. I want you to use it, and I want you to get back home. It’ll activate for you, I’m sure of it.”

“But what about you?” she asked, her face aghast, like this couldn’t possibly be the solution.

“Don’t worry about me.”

Joe looked back behind him. The reflecting pool was a crude drawing, and like black lightning the ink shot up onto the pavement and traced across the cracks and edges of the curbs and sidewalks, drawing ever nearer to the steps of the memorial on which they stood.

She still hadn’t moved. She merely held the orb in her hands, and looked back at him with doleful eyes.

“Jennifer, these are my problems,” Joe replied, pushing her behind him, shielding her from the encroaching madness. “The shadow follows me,” he added. “And it can’t have the orb. It just can’t. It’ll do bad shit with it. I can’t let that happen. So, please. Go.” He turned and looked at her. “Please,” he pleaded, his eyes wet with tears. “You need to go back home, Jennifer. You can go now. You can do it now.”

“But…” Her face was downcast.

“What?”

“I don’t know how,” she said, while looking at him sadly.

Joe felt his heart sink as tears shot down both of his cheeks. Those tears were unstoppable all of a sudden, and he hated to think why that was so. The orb remained dark and dead in her hand. “I’ll bring home to you, then,” he said determinedly, while summoning his thoughts. He’d done this before, so he knew he could do it again.

Jennifer had lived for a couple years in Northern Virginia, where she’d finished out high school, and that is where Joe met her. But he knew her heart had always been where she’d come from—in North Carolina. Specifically, in the Outer Banks, where her family owned a beach house. That was her home—and where she yearned to be more than anywhere else. It was a cozy little place nestled among sprawling sand dunes and dry beach grass a hundred yards or so back from the ocean. It wasn’t extravagant, but it was perfect nonetheless. Joe pictured it, and he pictured it clearly. After all, he had been lucky enough to visit her there once.

It had been during the summer after their junior year. She’d spent much of July and August there, to work her summer job, while also spending time with her old friends. By then she and Joe had been dating for several months, and so they’d missed one another terribly. Joe especially felt hurt, that she’d leave so willingly to go back there for the summer, and without any hesitation it seemed. But he tried not to let it show. His sadness was tempered by the prospect of visiting her there, and it gave him something to look forward to. Finally that time came, a blessed weekend in late July, and the couple days he spent there with her had been wonderful. Sure, her parents had been there too, and Joe had to sleep in the guest bed, of course—they were in high school, after all, and so they were mostly chaperoned. But still they had plenty of time together, just the two of them. They spent their days on the beach, and their evenings walking on it, hand in hand. The warm, bubbly surf rushing past their ankles, while kissing her in the moonlight, as the cool breeze gusted pleasantly from the ocean. It was a magical place, and a magical time—maybe the best couple of days he’d ever had.

The memories were so powerful that it almost felt like Joe had gone back in time. Especially when he saw Jennifer looking back at him hopefully, and her bizarre cheerleader outfit was gone—in its place she wore the same light summer dress that she’d worn on one of those evenings at the beach, when they’d walked along the surf in the light of the moon. And that was just the beginning, because behind her, he saw her family beach house—nestled amongst the sand dunes and beach grass, just as he remembered it. His eyes widened, knowing it had been his doing.

“Go,” Joe pleaded.

The ocean breeze scattered her fine blonde hair along her face as she turned and saw her home, and when she looked back at him he saw fresh tears spilling down her cheeks.

Joe too peered around at their surroundings and saw that the National Mall was nowhere to be seen. It had vanished, and beneath his feet was the hard packed sand that the frothing waves rushed upon. His ears filled with the sound of the ocean surf, the waves breaking and the seagulls calling. He felt the cool breeze on his face, and he tasted the salt air on his tongue. To either side, glistening shelves of sand stretched in both directions, dotted with beach houses, and the one closest to them was her family home.

Jennifer smiled at him in a way he’d never forget, with such incredible gratitude, and he thought to himself, well, no matter what happens next, at least I’ll always have that.

“This is your bridge home, Jennifer. It’s all around you now. The orb will know just where to take you. So go home. Please. Go home.” He wasn’t sure exactly what his words even meant, but they all sounded good. They sounded right. They sounded perfect.

With the orb still in hand she finally complied, backing away from him slowly at first, moving up the beach and onto the soft sand where the dunes began. Then she turned and broke into a run towards her house, down the path framed on either side by beach grass, as Joe silently cheered her on. All along the waves crashed and the wind howled.

He wasn’t sure exactly how it would work, but he imagined the orb would trigger for her at some point, and when it did, it would pick up on the environment around her. With that programming, it could open the door to the right time, and to the right place. That’s how it had to be—because it was the only way. He nodded confidently, still wiping the last few tears from his eyes.

It was certainly bittersweet, though. For Joe realized, with pure clarity in thought, that he might never see her again. Perhaps now he was the one stuck in limbo, after having replaced her. Maybe that was how it worked. But he found that he was okay with this. If she made it home—then that was all that mattered. He didn’t care about his own life, he realized. Not if it meant he could save hers. It was actually a fine outcome, he thought, while nodding firmly. If his life were to save hers, then it would finally give him some meaning. Some purpose. He wiped a tear away, accepting the outcome. And he was happy for her. He’d gladly give himself for her. He loved her.

By the time she made it to the wide wooden deck by the front door to her house, Joe was pleased to see that she stood in the bright rays of the sun. All the clouds and fog had burnt off completely—there was no longer even a hint of the soupy mist that had blanketed the city. The foul ink strokes infecting it had similarly been dispelled. He looked down and saw the white froth from the surf washing all around his feet. The ocean behind him was sparkling blue majesty. The day was picture perfect, and the bright sun shone amongst puffy white clouds. Such was the power of his vision, and of his sacrifice—it had completely dispelled the encroaching evil. It conquered all. Joe thought that maybe the evil really was gone for good, and that he might just be able to follow her inside. They could return back to the real world together.

She stood on the sprawling wooden deck of her home, waving to him. Again, Joe could sense her immense gratitude, and for the first time in his life, he felt truly noble. He felt satisfied. He felt like he actually could change the world, if he wanted to. He took a step forward to follow her, a loopy grin on his face.

Then came the crack to the back of his head, from something hard and dense, like a baseball bat.