C3 – Come Back

Your pay has been docked for late arrival

Matt Muster’s text flicked across her popup screen.

A second message was sent moments later.

HR has scheduled a MANDATORY therapy appointment tomorrow at 11 AM.

Jemma groaned, leaning back against her chair, staring up at her stripped wall. All the case files had been torn down. After the police arrived to investigate her call, they took all her articles away. It didn’t matter how much she protested; it was gone, all of it. Apparently, according to the investigative team, it wasn’t good for her mental health, and it wasn’t the job of a citizen to be worked up about reports. Whatever that meant.

They had taken a look at the emails (she had taken screenshots to make sure they didn’t disappear like before. She wasn’t crazy, okay?) And the police had reassured her that someone would be standing at an outpost near her apartment tonight, just in case it wasn’t a prank, but other than that, they appeared unconcerned.

And now it was decided she needed to go back to the whack-job who was going to try and convince her she was taking this too far.

Why had she even bothered calling the police?

She turned in her chair, staring at the picture of her brother, as if this would conjure some clue when nothing else had.

She breathed out, frustrated, “Couldn’t have left me with something more?”

Alric’s crooked grin stared at her through the picture, and she shifted her gaze away, deflated. She wanted to reread the email, but the police had taken that away, too. The nerve. She drummed her fingers on the desk and scrolled through the long list of emails again, hoping that maybe there would be another message, but there was nothing.

Tonight, though? Isn’t that what the message said?

Maybe it was just a prank message.

What if it’s not?

She sighed and leaned back in her chair, swiveling to look around the rest of her apartment. Her bachelor pad wasn’t much, but it had been her home for…a long time. It was small and rather dark, with a touch of grey shadowing everything. Jemma squinted. The only light that was on was the dim fixture hanging in the kitchen, set over her tiny kitchen table. Jemma slowly got up, chair creaking. Was there really a point to her drive to find Alric? What if he were truly gone? She hated to think that.

A numbness crept up from within. The fight she had been holding onto, the hope of finding her brother, wavered. Maybe he truly was gone, and this is all that was left. Work. Her apartment. A dull ache stretched across her brow, and she pressed a thumb against her temple. Too much screen time. Too much worry. That’s what the therapist said.

“Stupid therapist,” she muttered, folding her arms over her chest, blinking rapidly, as if that would help lessen the pain. Jemma glanced at her empty wall again. At least they didn’t take everything away because of her ‘mental state’. She scoffed.

That’s probably because they forgot you have it.

Jemma opened the bottom drawer of her computer desk and slid it open. A battered shoebox was stowed away. With careful hands, she picked it up. A plain brown box. She brought it over to the kitchen table and placed it under the dim light, then popped it open. A heaviness sank against her chest as she examined items. It held a few pages of character sketches from stories from their childhood, or, at least, she thought that’s what they were. She stared at the drawings of odd-looking creatures and landscapes of worlds that defied the laws of nature on Earth. As she grew near the bottom of the sketches, something clunked at the bottom of the box. Jemma frowned and brushed aside the remaining paper.

A small white marble attached to a leather cord lay tucked at the bottom of the box. She picked it up, frown deepening. Had this always been here? She hadn’t seen it last time she looked through the box. The small marble had a murky white texture to it, as if clouds swirled on the inside, almost as if it were alive. She blinked profusely, leaning in to examine more closely. It did look like they were moving. It–

A sharp pain drilled into her head, and she groaned, dropping the marble back inside the box. She pressed a hand against her head.

These blasted headaches get worse every day.

She needed to go to bed to sleep it off and maybe take a few pills to reduce the pain. Jemma was about to find her medication when something clattered in the kitchen. Jemma jumped, heart pounding as she looked toward the cupboards. Nothing stirred. She took a couple of deep breaths, trying to slow her racing heart.

Stop imagining things, girl. No wonder they think you need therapy.

It wasn’t like this headache helped anything, though.

A loud scratching noise came from underneath the table. Jemma stiffened. Could she be that delusional? Slowly, ever so slowly, she lowered herself to peek under the table. Again, nothing was there. She bit her bottom lip.

I’m going mad.

Pages ruffled coming from the shoebox above. This was getting out of hand. It was time to pop a few pills, put the shoebox away, and go to bed. She pressed a hand against her skull, wishing the pain would subside and that she could think clearly. Jemma reached to put the shoebox away.

Standing on top of the table was a bright green creature no taller than two feet high, foraging through the shoebox. It was a lemur-like reptile, or was it an amphibian? Jemma couldn’t tell. It stood on two webbed feet and had a green scaly face of a lizard. Though, its face was flat like a frog’s rather than pointed like a reptile. It had round, expressive eyes. What confused Jemma even more was that this reptilian creature had two large, fluffy cat-like ears and a long bushy tail. It wore a frilly skirt and a mismatched striped shirt. It stopped peering into the shoebox and looked up, staring at Jemma with its alarming eyes. If possible, its eyes stretched open wider, and it flashed her a huge cartoonish grin.

“About time,” her voice was high-pitched and overly cheerful.

Jemma gawked. I’m losing it. I’m actually losing it.

The creature cocked her head to one side, ears flopping. “Why the face?” She mimicked Jemma’s jaw drop, and an abnormally long tongue lolled out. When Jemma didn’t move, the creature clamped her jaw shut and squinted suspiciously. “You are Jemma, aren’t you?” She cocked her head to the side again. “I mean, you look the same — ish — just a lot bigger.” She stretched her arms to the side, “A LOT BIGGER.”

I’m dreaming. Jemma stared, feeling like her mind was glitching and everything was moving sluggishly. But if I’m not… she reached into her pocket, searching for her phone, to prove that she wasn’t hallucinating.

Her pocket was empty.

The creature whipped out an object from behind her. “Looking for this?” She clutched Jemma’s phone and tauntingly waved it in her webbed hand.

Jemma snapped out of her trance. “Give it back,” she demanded.

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” she tilted her head, then stuck out her tongue, “No.”

It started to buzz. A name flashed across the screen.

Matt Muster

Jemma didn’t know what he wanted at this hour, but she had to answer that call, otherwise he’d be furious. Well, more so than he already was. She had done enough to upset him for one day, and she didn’t want him to add anything more than that HR meeting tomorrow.

“Give that back,” Jemma demanded, swiping to take the phone.

“Nope!” The creature nimbly darted out of reach. “Gotta catch me first!” She jumped off the table, knocking over the chair onto the floor. The phone continued to buzz. Jemma hissed and scrambled to catch the creature, desperate to answer the call. The little monster scurried around faster than was humanly possible. It ran around in circles, dodging Jemma whenever she got too close, climbing over furniture, knocking over objects, and making a mess.

The phone continued to buzz.

The creature leapt onto a windowsill near Jemma’s bed. The window was open. Jemma hadn’t opened that. Why was it opened? The creature dangled the phone over the edge.

Jemma froze, breath catching in her throat. “Wait!” she wheezed, embarrassingly short on air for only running such a limited time.

“Wow, you’re out of shape,” the creature said, shaking her head disapprovingly. “Guess we’ll have to fix that.” She tossed the phone out the window.

Jemma’s jaw dropped in disbelief.

The creature let out an exaggerated sigh and rolled her eyes. “You’re not going to die without it.”

Jemma bolted toward the window. The creature jumped out of the way as Jemma leaned out, searching for her phone. It lay in shattered pieces on the street below.

Sudden anger boiled within Jemma. She turned to find the creature back on the table. “Why did you do that?” The sharp pain in her head was almost at an unbearable level now. It was growing worse with every second this creature was here. She wanted it to be gone. She wanted this delusional dream to end.

The creature’s ear twitched, and she crossed her arms, unimpressed. “Since when did you allow a machine to dictate your life?”

“It doesn’t,” Jemma shouted, “It –” She stopped herself.

Why am I arguing with something that isn’t even real? I need to wake up.

But she didn’t remember falling asleep.

The creature took the marble out of the shoebox, seemingly unbothered by Jemma’s anger. “Remember to bring this with you tomorrow.”

Now, Jemma was even angrier. Imaginary or not, this creature had no business touching belongings that weren’t hers. It was the only thing remaining of Alric, and she wasn’t about to lose that too. Jemma stormed over to the table and swiped the marble out of the creature’s fingers. “Get out.”

“You’ll be ready for tomorrow, right?” The creature shrank back a little, as if finally getting the clue that she wasn’t welcomed here.

Jemma didn’t answer as she moved toward her bed, hoping that by keeping quiet, the stupid thing would shut up and disappear.

“Jemma?” The creature sounded rather pitiful, but Jemma ignored it as she placed the marble necklace on her bedside table and pulled the blankets back. A good night’s sleep would rid her of this headache and this dumb dream.

Scuttling little feet tapped against the floor. “I thought you wanted to save Alric?”

Jemma let go of the blanket and sharply turned back with a snap. “What do you know about Alric?”

She inwardly groaned. Apparently, she couldn’t keep herself from engaging. They’re going to put me on stronger meds if HR finds out about this.

“Of course I know him!” she perked up with a smile. “That’s why I’m here.”

When Jemma didn’t respond, the little creature’s ears flopped back, the sparkle of amusment leaving her eyes. “You….you really don’t remember me, do you?” Giant, watery tears brimmed in her eyes. “I mean, I know I was the last of your creations, but…” Her lips blubbered. Unexpectedly, the creature threw back her head and let out a wailing cry.

Startled, Jemma jumped forward and slammed a hand over the creature’s mouth. A wet slobbery sob was muffled through Jemma’s hand, and she cringed, wanted to pull it back, but she kept it over and shushed the creature.

“Stop it!”

Someone was going to hear this.

The creature ripped herself from Jemma’s grip and wailed even louder. “You promised you’d come back, but you forgot!”

“Forgot what?” Jemma demanded, wrestling to get the creature to be quiet, but slipped easily out of her grip.

Tears splashed onto the floor, growing into puddles quicker than what should be possible. “You promised!”

“Promised what?”

“That you’d come back,” she insisted.

“Back?”

“To Cloud World,” she exclaimed, “That’s where they took Alric. You need to go back. It’s the only way you’ll find him.”