Begrim (Oneshot)

The sky was empty.

Ruben looked up to the familiar sight of an endless abyss; there were no stars, and even the moon was distant, with a light so weak the world was almost entirely shrouded in darkness.

Down on the heaven of concrete, buildings emerged tall, featureless if not for the large stains and cracks. Each building was closely and clumsily built beside each other. Wooden poles with electric wiring drew nearly invisible lines in the sky. The only light came from rusted street lights fitted with bright orange bulbs.

The few pockets of light scattered around illuminated a path of beaten concrete. Ruben strode along anxiously, counting corners, making sure he would take the right turn at the right places. The coins jiggled in his pocket, and with each metallic clink, his temper only worsened.

The buildings twisted and turned, warping around Ruben. Their simplistic shapes bled into each other, creating long halls with narrow paths and sharp turns. The orange lights were becoming more and more distant as he ventured deeper into the heavens.

On the 13th turn, Ruben was greeted by the familiar sight of yellow tape blocking out an entire section of the heavens. Written on it in a bold font were the words "QUARANTINE ZONE KEEP OUT" repeated over and over across the length of the tape.

Before continuing, Ruben reached into his worn-out shoulder bag, pulling out a compact gas mask big enough only to cover his mouth. He held it up with one hand, inspecting it. It only had one slot for an attachable filter, and even though its only filter looked a bit worn out, he figured it would be good enough for at least this one final outing.

The twists and turns continued until finally, the last turn directed him to a hallway. It looked somewhat clean. As Ruben began to study it with great paranoia, he noticed a small patch of daisies growing near the end of the hallway.

They were planted in a small pocket of dirt that peeked out of the broken concrete slabs. He had never seen flowers this up close before. They were a strange thing to find this deep into the heavens. "Who on earth would plant this here? Let alone take care of it?" he thought to himself.

Ruben took a moment more to admire the small patch before moving deeper into the hallway. At the very end of it was a rusty door, with a weak blue fluorescent light faintly illuminating it just enough for the door itself to be visible, as well as a small metal plate with a door number carved onto it. "668..." Ruben read, with the words escaping through his mouth as a faint whisper.

It was finally time. Ruben took but a second to compose himself before knocking on the door. He was met with silence, and just as he was about to knock a second time, the door cracked open just enough for him to hear the man inside. "He's not here."

Ruben was taken aback "How? He said he would be?"

The voice anxiously explained, "He said he couldn't sell anymore, he's...."

Ruben grew impatient. "He's what? What happened to him?"

"He doesn't sleep anymore", the voice had shifted. The tone was now stern and serious, with a hint of concern. "He can't sleep anymore, so he left. He went to the endless vast. I don't think we are going to see him again."

Ruben stood in silence. He didn't know whether to scream or cry, so he pleaded, "No.. no.. it can't be. Please! I need something, anything."

The voice at the other end reduced itself to a whisper. "I got this. Sometimes it works, but it's not the same" The door moved just enough for a small hand to peek out. It held a bottle made of semi-transparent plastic. Its contents were impossible to see in the dim light, but by the sound, it held at least a good handful of small capsules.

The voice explained, "They were his. This was his... project. He never finished them, but he did give me some to try. I don't take them anymore. I think I want to stop dreaming."

"Well, I don't" Ruben tried to sound confident, but desperation was all over each and every word he spoke. The exchange happened in less than a minute.

The path home was uneventful. The streets had not changed in the slightest. Ruben reached for his pocket and grabbed the keys to his apartment with a shaky hand.

He was tired, too tired. There was no energy left to do anything anymore. The day had been too taxing, and this final venture took all the little energy he still had left in him. The interior of the apartment was dim, with the only light coming from the half-shut windows that allowed the orange street light to creep into his living room.

He sifted through mostly empty cans and boxes, throwing his shoulder bag onto the couch and removing his jacket, allowing it to fall on the ground on top of whatever was at his feet.

Reaching into his pants pocket, he wiggled out a small crumpled box of cigarettes with three still left in it and allowed himself to collapse into the couch, sinking into it. Finally, he grabbed his shoulder bag, pulling out both a lighter and the small container that just cost him every bit of loose change he had.

He lit a cigarette and then used his lighter to take a close look at the container. It was made of semi-transparent white plastic. The lid was also white, and it had only a small label with the words "B-43 dream pills."

He pulled as much smoke into his lungs as he could and held it deep in contemplation, finally releasing it with a realization: '_35... maybe 40... maybe longer._' When was the last time he had slept? How many days had it been? He knew for a fact he couldn’t go for two entire days without it. That’s 48 hours total. It clearly hasn’t been that long yet.

"B-43? Is that code for something?" The words came out unintentionally. He continued to contemplate the small container, his mind now racing with anxiety. "What exactly will this do to me?" he thought fearfully.

Finally, the cigarette burned itself into ashes, leaving only the filter. He considered going for another smoke but then admitted, "It doesn't matter anymore. I'd die to see it again" The lid was removed, and from the container, a small handful of pills emerged. At the inner side of the lid were some crudely scribbled instructions: "1 - 7 days."

He ignored them promptly. "Only 1 capsule for 7 days? There's no way that's going to be enough" he thought incredulously, instead opting to swallow 2 all at once. He figured that after his smoke, he would at least have enough energy to crawl onto bed, but right now his room felt all too distant, all too unreachable. Instead, he sank deeper into the couch.

Ruben drifted off. His head felt heavy, and his eyes had a will of their own. The whole world felt distant. His mind began racing both in fear and anticipation, but to his disappointment, as he lost consciousness, he was once again greeted with nothingness.