Prologue
The Kingsley Motel was known for being a depraved place.
Ask anyone unfortunate enough to work there, and they would tell you a myriad of bizarre and frankly disturbing stories.
Many a carcass had been found wrapped in the filthy sheets; overdoses and murders were not uncommon. Most visitors to such a place were unpleasant, to say the least. Vagabonds, outlaws, and all kinds of unsavoury folk.
However, Zach Watterson was not necessarily what you would consider a regular visitor.
He watched numbly as the fan circled below the cracked ceiling. Legs aching with a dull pain that could have only accumulated from weeks of running, he rested his head on the lumpy excuse for a pillow beneath him.
This place was nothing sort of derelict. Peeling, yellow wallpaper. Moths dancing around the flickering bulb above him in a ballet.
He rolled his bloodshot eyes to the side, gazing helplessly into the soft red glow of the electronic clock at his bedside. 11:30, it read, in crimson lettering. The clock reminded Zach of the predicament he had found himself in.
It was only a matter of time before he was found. There was no running and no hiding for Zach; he knew that fact well. He knew he couldn’t stay there for long. Part of him was left with no hope. A hollowness filled him as he acknowledged the fact that there was a slim chance that he would make it over the border alive. Still, some small, almost insignificant part of Zach persisted.
He wasn’t sure if it was the hopelessness that hurt him the most, or the small fragment of hope that still remained within him.
The dusty phone at his bedside sprung to life. The sounds of drunken rage and angst resonated through the thin walls of Zach’s room as he lay there. He didn’t even bother to pick up the phone before the sound faded out...
...only for it to return once again, much to Zach’s chagrin. He let out the groan of a dying man as he slumped up from his likely resting place. He lifted the phone.
“Who is it…?”
“Gumball? Is that you?” A familiar voice spoke.
“...Darwin?” Zach - or more accurately, Gumball Watterson, asked. Darwin’s voice was unmistakable. How could he not recognise the voice of his own brother?
“Gumball! It’s really you!” Darwin sighed in relief. “Where the hell are you?”
“It doesn’t matter, Darwin.” Gumball said flatly, trying his to hide his relief over the sound of his brother’s voice. “Just leave me.”
“NO!” Darwin raised his voice. Even that didn’t faze him. He was at the point that most things didn't surprise him. "Everyone's worried for you! Mom, Dad, Penny, Carrie, ME! Where are you? Why won't you come-"
Click.
An eerie silence was cast over the room like a spell. The energy drained from him, Gumball laid his head back onto the pillow.
Memories of his past replayed in his mind. Fragmented, broken, and barely recognisable in the fog of his exhaustion, but still present there. Zach could still see himself almost a year earlier.
Younger and with a bright future ahead of him.
What had happened to him? Why was he here? Was he going to die soon? The answer of the latter question was obvious, but the previous questions persisted.
He closed his eyes, and he recollected. He refused to sleep at all. Every last moment was precious. He would rather die with the faces of his loved ones ingrained in his mind, than alone in a decaying motel in the middle of nowhere.
So he remembered.
