BƎTWIXT

ONE|

Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. Old and young people alike, they danced too. Everything was one then. Everyone was one.

Words Gerri Llewellyn would read herself to sleep. It was true, too. Everything was different then. People were one.

At twilight, Gerri would fall asleep under an electric black sky, and she could picture such clouds dancing over her head, whether purple or gray, and back when trees used to be green. But for tonight, this old, seemingly dead tree was her home. It provided shelter, and its wonderfully thick branches, a bed to lay on. Where would she be tomorrow come morn? If she were to not wake, who would mourn but her own hopeless spirit?

There were stories of before, stories one told themselves to cap the night off, and stories of the future. Or now, as it was. Today was tomorrow.

Gerri woke alas. Was it not awfully pitiful for her to wish something terrible or great would happen in her slumber so that she might not have to awaken in the place she last nodded off in? She was not sure why she ever expected anything at all to happen. Nothing ever did. Life was survival, as it turned out. Was it ever not? The book she carried with her, Gerri's only prized possession, said otherwise.

And here, still, was the tree under her back— Gravity. One of the laws of physics, which quite fascinated Gerri. She had another book about that. She lost that one somewhere along the way— Life. Surviving. It was often not clear to Gerri, just as well, which books were fable and which not. Of course, right now, on this blackest elder tree Gerri had ever seen—that, quite frankly, looked like a rotted banana peeling over to no end—the laws of physics were too true.

And now her head hurt. Waking up with a headache was the cherry on top of this banana split tree. How about that? She had to go, though.

Never stay too long in one place, like hide and seek, Gerri. Go. Count to one hundred. Hide. When they come, you are nothing. One with mother nature, inanimate objects—wherever you are. Listen, be still. And then you go. You keep going.

Not that. Not now. Gerri needed food, and her water was running low. So, rather, she took a big sip from a metal canteen because her stomach urged something to pour over the emptiness. And she was covered in filth. She needed to find a river, although... Not safe.

She climbed out of the tree easily, and this tree, like most others, knew Gerri to be their friend. Because they had died so long ago, frozen still, blackened in time, most people stayed away. They enjoyed each other's company, Gerri and trees; looked after one another.

Many a wise soul once used the stars or other means to tell time, even the moon. But that was before. The moon only came out to swing every two days or so, always on a Tuesday. Sure, there was no way to tell time or know the days anymore, not by traditional ways. Gerri was taught by someone before this time, however.

And she knew much that she could not speak of, so those lessons were invaluable; that which kept her going—a mind full of private thoughts, though nary another human around to invade no matter.

Oh, and the stars? So many light-years away, they were not visible any longer. Shame. The sun, however, that remained, but it would not rise for a few more hours; and there would be two burning hot so-called hours where it was technically unsafe to be out, so Gerri sagely used that time while others cowered.

It was only out for five to six of these hours most days now. Gerri wondered about times when the daylight hung around for half the day. So, this was always when Gerri left her hiding place. People were afraid of the dark too, although, as she heard it, they always had been.

Not her. She was not afraid of people either, so you mistake her if you thought so. Loneliness was certainly worse, but what other choice did she have? If anything, Gerri scared people. Wandering human seen here and there. Others stayed inside anymore anyhow.

This particular morning was warm, dry, and the clouds were red. Dark and seductive, which meant few people would chance their luck getting caught below such a sight. Now was a time when mother nature ruled the world. And Gerri was its daughter, so it would protect her so long as she understood that.

She smirked, because at any moment, the sky could change. Moody, yes. Something she could relate to. Her walk from the dying tree and through the tall grass that shrank, not only from her steps but as she got further away from the tree, felt like no time at all.

When she looked back, her resting place was a speck. And that is when she heard a sound like music to her ears. How badly she wished she could hear a song now... That was a long time ago, but she had heard one once.

The sound was that of a waterfall, or so it seemed. It was loud and seemingly breathless, as though it needed Gerri to give it air. Life. She knew she shouldn't, but that was exactly what she needed, and food, of course. Water first.

At the end of the grass, now entirely flattened and turning over to dirt as she edged into a thick wall of moss, shades of blues and greens; an opening of trees leading the way, this is where the sound groaned on. Water just falling, begging...for her lungs.

She began to slowly walk her feet off of the grass and onto the dirt, ducking inside of the curtained moss that blew, windless, enchanted and alive. And as she was between, the vines and branches pushing her through, she could just see the miraculous waterfall. Crystal clear, shining like an opal or a dazzling moonstone, the light catching it spectacularly. It called her name, she felt. Water.

No, Gerri.

You need water...

Not safe.

Suddenly, as her feet began twisting against her own will, because she decided she should turn around, the wall of moss and the green trees turned to decay; and before her, a graveyard of bones in boiling brown lava, while the waterfall became fluorescent and acidic. A sight to behold of oranges and yellows, absolutely, but toxic and fatal. This was once a waterfall. Mother Nature was testing Gerri, and she had but merely failed.

And now her feet were planted, trying to twist deeper into the ground just like a poor plant. Rather, the decaying things that pretended to be trees and vines were limbs and veins of humans foolish enough to trespass where they were not wanted. It was a glamour. This was a trick. And that was why people stayed inside. The dying world meant life for all else went on, stronger, all-powerful.

Gerri knew that if she fought it, it would only get worse. Similar to quicksand. See, Gerri might have had her books and all to teach her things before, but she also had a mother of her own once. A real mother. One who knew the world before this, lived in it. Her name was Geraldine, which Gerri was named after. She worked for a “very important organization,” as they called it then. The work they did was supposed to prevent all of this. Prevent mother nature? Hah.

So they ran tests and trials, messed with mother nature by altering and mutating things—and guess what happens when stupid humans do that? It all comes true. Faster than they anticipated, while man is no match for mother nature. She had to protect her world and her lifeline.

So water was hard to come by now, but there were always ways. Plus, people ate all the animals, and most of the plants were off limits, so they ate modified foods. Something like processed but worse. Gerri's mother said it may as well be what was once known as fast-food, which was a cult favorite, widely accepted as proper nourishment.

Gerri’s mother also told her that what the organization was doing was wrong when it came the end of days, as they tried to stop the inevitable their actions caused. She taught Gerri everything. How to survive the world now: Don't fight it. Yet Gerri also knew that if she didn't, she was giving in. Being betwixt, Geraldine called it. Neither/nor, not either/or. Be at one. Not above, and what is below is mere mirror of.

Quiet your mind, Gerri. There is no meaning of that to Her. Let it be. Let go. And know you belong.

She closed her eyes and pictured the world just before everything started dying and turning, people crying out because the damage they had done came for them. No, not that. Shh. Songs. A song... She could not, for the life of her, remember the words to that one song. They were written in her mother’s book for her to remember— But something else would pull her out first.

A hand with which she believed to be a corpse—except it was real. Human flesh. Coppery brown. Something like Gerri's, though this hand was browned from sunlight only. It pulled with all its might until Gerri was freed from the mother-trap. And when it had ended, the two of them were back out in the tall grass. It was dark again. The elder tree was close to her. What? How much time had passed?

Gerri stood on her feet, hardly glancing at who might have pulled her out. Just spinning around, she wondered where the time had gone, and how she could be near the tree she had just slept in. It was a tiny dot when she looked back hours earlier. Her stomach growled at her. She had no words, it appeared.

"You could say 'thank you,' although, manners... Old world ways, huh?" A strange, low voice said.

Gerri turned around to face them, whoever or whatever had saved her. The tall person had short hair, which meant they had something to cut it with, meaning they were armed. So was Gerri, but where was her backpack? Their hand held it up, knowingly.

"You left this...in the tree." They pointed to the right, where it was.

"I... Huh?" Gerri said, looking about, feeling defenseless.

"Sadie," they said as an introduction, holding out Gerri's backpack to take.

Gerri snatched it back, securing it on her back tightly." Did you—"

"Steal anything? No, but I read some of that book. Interesting. Who's the author? I noticed it's unmarked. You could be killed if someone caught you with that." They shrugged.

"I know— Wait. What do you mean, I left it in the tree? Were you...?"

"Watching? Yes. And sorry, I tend to finish people's sentences who take too long to finish one themselves. Only because I was hiding, too. Again, I'm Sadie. I don't remember much about my past, but I do know I've been running a lot longer than I care to admit."

Gerri tried to get a good look at this Sadie, but the darkness made it hard. They talked a little funny, and too much, quite frankly. In response she said, "Wait, you were...?"

"That sentence I can't complete. I do know I was some kind of Pet—"

"Project," Gerri interrupted. Of course, she knew about this.

"Ah, you catch on quick. Good. Something like that. And I lied. I can't actually read, so I didn't read your book... I'm sure you know what they did to us, but they also... They showed us what unmarked books were, and why they were 'bad.' Anyone who had them were bad, who read them... Sure, that was a long time ago, but... People still get killed for having them."

Gerri wondered which of the projects Sadie was, but decided to not ask. Instead, she said, "By other people, not the law. There is no law. Just idiots preaching the old laws, thinking they're doing any good killing people for having something they don't, and then burning that knowledge, killing their brain cells."

Sadie nodded. "Yeah, I get it. But they walk out here, too. So... And, uh, you were in a trance for a few hours. Took you longer to get to that mother-trap than you knew. And I don't think you realized the sun had gone out. When you started going in, I had to stop you. I'm sorry, I was following you."

"Okay, well... How did I get here?" Gerri wanted an explanation for that now.

"Hmm. My memory fails me, but I think that's a more advanced trap. I think it was made so that whoever failed, even if they survived, by punishment, must be set back. Time lost."

"A lesson," Gerri mumbled. "Right. I remember something like that."

"How? You weren't... You aren't...?"

"No. Long story. Anyway, we can't stay here. Not twice in a row. I mean, I can't. You can stay wherever you like." Gerri began walking in another direction, away from where she just got spit out of. That damned sky.

Sadie was on her heels. "I'll come with. If you don't mind."

Gerri wanted to say no, but she did not have the heart to. She just nodded once.

Sadie was one of the projects, rather, a test subject—or Pets, as they called themselves. May not even be real, like, biologically; and as it were, most of these people were nameless before, though Nameless were a different project. It was usually only the Faceless who named themselves if they ever got out. Gerri had never seen one before, and she would rather have kept it that way.

Your assumptions would be correct in that the Faceless were just as well genderless. See, they were not human at all, unlike the Nameless. Human—became an ugly thing, especially to their kind. Yet they looked just like the rest of the species that made them. It was unbelievable, truly. What Gerri was curious about was why this one chose Sadie as their name.

And Gerri now knew that if she got a closer look, she would probably see all too obviously that Sadie was just a little less than human. But still, they were a person. They got out. So Gerri did not look too closely, just a glance in the darkness here and there.

Sadie spoke again. "You never told me your name."

"Gerri," she said. "How long have you been following me?"

"Ah, Gerri," Sadie said, as though testing the word, new to their lips. "Not long. Someone was following me. I came across your tree. Halfway up, I realized I wasn't alone. I climbed back down, figured it would be rude to stay there without your knowledge. I watched from across..." They broke off. "Anyway, safe to say, I lost whoever was on my tracks."

"It's not my tree, but thanks, I guess. I thought you people—err, you guys don't sleep."

"Guys," Sadie repeated curiously. "We weren't made to, but ever since, ya know, it's necessary, or we lose energy. We're not plugged in anymore. That was technically our rest."

"Huh," Gerri said. They had evolved, then, just as her mother theorized. "Who do you think was following you?"

"Don't know, and if I did, I probably wouldn't be here," they said matter-of-fact.

Another non-human trait was that they had no attachment to any emotion. Things just were. They said it like it was. In truth, Gerri had little knowledge for Sadie's kind. Her mother only told her about "the projects," the many of them, briefly. In particular, the human-like projects, meant to preserve such an existence, as, at this time, everything was going extinct, including humans. She wanted Gerri to know the evil that had become of things while sparing too many details. Not safe.

The two walked on, and Gerri had a million questions about Sadie that she wished she could ask. But she learned it was safer to know less about strangers, and the same for them about her.

○ ○ ○

After some time, Gerri realized that she was no longer leading the way. Sadie was; and whether even they knew that, there was something mechanical about it all. Like Sadie had done this before, so Gerri had to wonder. And then she needed to question it.

She stopped dead in her tracks. "Where are we going?" Gerri asked.

Sadie stopped a few steps ahead of Gerri, not realizing she had. She looked back in an odd manner. "What do you mean?"

"I've been following you for about a quarter of the moon's time now.” She looked up at it, just realizing it was there, staring right at them, a muted indigo shade this night. She continued, “I have no idea where I'm going. I've never been. You have, it seems."

Sadie looked around them, cocking their head a bit. "Oh," they said. "You're right."

"So you know the way?"

"No, but I did once."

Gerri had enough of Sadie’s strange strings of sentences, woven like phantom thread, so as to taunt. "I can't go on with this mystery any longer. I need you to tell me— Why are you here? Are you leading me somewhere, and what for?"

Sadie seemed to flicker out, which is the first time Gerri had seen such a thing. She had heard of this happening, but never knew it were truly possible. It took her aback, so she inched away from the Faceless.

"Gerri, I don't have any answers. Only you do. In your book. In here," they pointed to their ears.

"My head, you mean?" Gerri asked.

"No, here," Sadie pointed to an ear again. "Listen." The word was a buzzing whisper.

Gerri attempted to listen but heard nothing. Sadie didn't wait for her, and instead, turned back around to keep walking.

"Sadie! I won't follow you."

Sadie slightly looked over their shoulder. Promptly, they were right next to Gerri. Another first. She had never seen the projects just appear anywhere and everywhere on cue, though she knew they had the ability. In these times, it was practically outlawed, so it frightened Gerri, who jumped away from them. So they surrounded her as though limitless.

"Gerri," Sadie's voice came in watery, like it was in her head. "Listen. We're being followed. You are. It's not me. This isn't about me. If you don't follow me, you won't make it. Again."

Again, Gerri thought. But before she could even respond, Sadie was where they were before, several steps ahead, walking on. Without looking back, they said, "I thought I was following you," and shrugged.

Gerri decided it was better to stick with someone than no one, even if Sadie was not truly anybody at all. She looked around a little spooked, wondering who the hell was following her. She hurried along in an instant.

Once the moon had run its course, and the full quarter passed, a pale yellow sky preparing for the sun to make its appearance, Gerri and Sadie would finally stop. They were at a real river this time, drinking real water. At least Gerri was. Sadie didn't drink or eat, of course. Perhaps their kind could not adapt to every little thing.

There was no time between the next shift, when the sun came in, sucking up the blond sky to form the sickliest yellow color that was ever so blinding, painting everything and everyone just as putrid. Somehow it was enticing... No time, however, when the culprit made themselves known.

Someone was following them, or Gerri, as Sadie put it, after all. A young man came out of nowhere when he first attacked. He came straight for Gerri, arms out, ready to hold her down, practically. Sadie was faster, being what they were.

They were on the man, grabbing his arms with no effort, bringing them around his back, holding them there. Gerri did not scream out. She was not much of a scare, as we know, but still, she was somewhat shocked and unprepared.

Sadie pinned the man down beneath them now, one leg between his legs, stepping on a part of his pant leg to keep him there. It was all so easy and effortless, seemingly.

"I told you," they said to Gerri. Then, looking at the man, "Do you wish to live?"

The man’s golden hair dirtied by sweat and grime covered much of his face, but he stayed put, afraid to move. Afraid of Sadie, he could not speak.

"Trap got your tongue?" Sadie grinned.

Gerri stood before them now, looking down at the young man. He was younger than her even; and why was he here. "Well?" She said, trying to look at his eyes, mostly covered by his hair.

He swallowed hard, looking between her and Gerri. "I... I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I’m not... I—"

"Not much of a talker, is he?" Sadie said, planted in position without a sweat.

"Then why were you following me?" Gerri went on.

Sadie stared at him in challenge, but Gerri did not notice this. She did not know what they knew.

"Be careful with your words," Sadie said mentally to the man only.

His eyes widened at this. "I’ll live," he said, looking at Gerri. "Please," he then begged Sadie.

"I think you should answer Gerri here. What’s your name, by the way?" Sadie had a way of moving people with their words without showing movement at all. Too still.

"I don’t have one," he stuttered out.

"A Nameless," Sadie’s blank eyes stretched wider.

The Faceless did not have much color to their eyes at all. It was the first time Gerri was seeing them now that light had arrived. It would be menacing to any first witness, but intriguing nonetheless. She recalled that these particular projects, unfinished at that, had a lot missing to them. Personality, however, as Sadie here proved, was not included in that.

The man finally moved his hair out of his face, giving them a better look at him. There was nothing special about his make. He had brown eyes, all the same features as humans, like Gerri had. Though not a name, so he confessed anyway.

The Nameless were part of a different project—perhaps not one at all, moreover, survived by parents who never made it back to them. After delivery, the babies were left in what once was known as a hospital, while the parents were shipped off...for something greater, so it was said. Who really knew? Gerri’s mother’s book kept the details of that under wraps. Most likely because she did not want to relive the horror of what really happened.

So the babies were raised without names, without parents, and treated as subjects. It was evident this young man was only a victim of circumstance. Still, why was he following Gerri, she needed to know.

"Why," Gerri said sternly once more, "Are you following me?"

He blinked. "I’m not."

Sadie lasered her eyes like daggers into him, from which he paid no mind to, or at least tried to not.

"You attacked me!" Gerri argued.

"I wasn’t..." He struggled to speak from the ground, letting out a cough.

"Let him up," Gerri motioned to Sadie. "If he moves even an inch, you know what to do."

Sadie listened to her, removing a foot from his pant leg, pulling him upright, as though he weighed nothing. Wouldn’t that be nice? Gerri thought. The man was tall, but not as tall as Sadie, who towered over him about three inches.

"I wasn’t following...anybody. I attacked you because I thought— I thought this Faceless—Blank—was keeping you." The man spoke, adjusting his wrinkled clothes, which seemed counterproductive, considering.

"Keeping me?" Gerri said, as Sadie just stared into his eyes intimidatingly.

"Well, I saw you at the tree, then I... I lost you, and then you were back at the tree with this—"

"Blank?" Sadie finished his sentence in mockery. "I thought you wanted to live." That was what people called Faceless as an insult, something like a slur.

"I’ve been warned of those like you, all my life, so forgive me if I don’t trust you." He hardly looked at Sadie when speaking.

"By the same people that created and raised me. You know they pit us against each other for sport, right? Silly man, your own people, who couldn’t even so little as name you." Sadie taunted.

"Like you? You named yourselves from books and characters you can’t even read, that someone else told you about. What do you call yourself?" He finally looked at their empty eyes in disgust.

"Sadie,” they said firmly. “Having a name is important, you fool. I think we’ve had enough of this—"

"That is enough," Gerri intervened. "Tell us why we should let you go. Sadie is not keeping me or holding me hostage, whatever you think, so you can either get off our trail or—"

"Fuck off." Sadie laughed at their own words.

"Foul language," the man muttered. "From a foul creature."

And just like that, Sadie held a blade that came from nowhere to his neck. They snared their teeth at him, but they were not teeth at all. They were more like a block of yellowed white without space between, which was as mortifying as you might imagine.

Since Faceless did not use their teeth to eat, it was not clear what their makers had in mind when molding them. It seemed Sadie was not just a Faceless, but very much unfinished, therefore, harder to control. Case in point.

"I will ask but once more," Sadie told him calmly. "Do you wish to live?"

His eyes darted between their blank ones. "You know why I am here. Not for Gerri but you."

The moment was frozen in time, quite literally. Only something a Faceless could do—pause time, stretch it out, so that every millisecond could be savored for one’s enjoyment. The realization set in with Gerri, too. The mother-trap.

Slowly, his words died with him, and his mouth moved like a dummy, only just, ever so slowly. "I...am...here...to...extract. Gerri...is...just...co—" And at that, Sadie’s blade cut into his neck, blood spraying from it like a crimson cascade.

Sadie clenched their teeth with madness ablaze in their eyes: pure joy. The man fell limp in their arms, but they let him drop into the ground sooner. Into the ground. With death, the earth took a human with it, deep into it to birth new life, as it was. And he was gone. Like that.

Gerri’s jaw was ajar, dark aubergine eyes just as wide. It was the first time Sadie saw her eyes, too, which they envied for their color at long last. Gerri began to back away from the Faceless, who, at once, started the clock again.

Gerri did not pause; something was wrong here. She was on foot, not without grabbing her bag first—but she was a fool, too. Sadie had no concept of time, and neither did their being, so they were next to her in none at all. Then, alas, standing before Gerri.

"He was going to hurt you," they said inside her head.

Gerri tried to go a different route, but she was forced in place to respond back. "He was here for you, Sadie. He said so."

"You know what he meant, Gerri. You were just—"

"Collateral, I get it." Gerri thought on these words as they came out.

"Yes." Now Sadie spoke in real-time. The sky had turned burgundy now, sun gone at last. Gerri had never wished for it more.

Sadie continued, "He would have done the same to you, which is why he went for you first."

"I don’t care about him." The two stared each other down in a face-off. "I want to know why you’ve been following me, and for how long. You both were. He didn’t see you when you had both been watching me at that tree, only after the mother-trap." Gerri tested Sadie.

"Fine, I have been. I need you to follow me now. Will you do that? Trust me? I’m not here to hurt you. If you just trust and follow me...” Sadie’s voice remained aqueous, though not in her head.

"Why?" Gerri shook her head.

"You know." Sadie held Gerri’s book now.

"What— You? How?" She knew that too, though.

"Come, Gerri."

And Gerri did, as though in a trance; the journey there felt like no time at all. But she wasn’t walking herself. She was carried there, not by Sadie, but by the wind. Afloat. It was like her mother’s book began. Those words about the violet sky—was it violent black clouds? Were they dancing? Was there bloodshed? Was that before or after? Now?

The sky did shed in bright red precipitation right then, like a decadent, dripping blood orange—but just as she began to see it and feel it, that liquid tone that was Sadie’s cried out in sync with.

With a jolt, Gerri’s head faced upward with a snap of her neck, against her will. Her eyes went wide in horror unnatural to her, red droplets pouring over from above. Then it whispered, "Listen. Be still."

Not safe, Gerri.

She began to count down...