"Keep moving," Elle whispers, voice barely audible above the rain. "That howl was close."
We ascend the muddy slope with desperate urgency, my good leg taking most of my weight as I use fallen branches for support. The wound in my thigh has settled into a rhythm of torment—each heartbeat sending fresh waves of fire through the damaged muscle. The makeshift bandage is soaked through, blood diluted by rain but still flowing steadily.
The slope grows steeper. Silver-leafed trees thin out, replaced by twisted growths with bark like polished metal. The bioluminescent lichen gives way to patches of crystalline moss that chimes softly when raindrops strike it. Each sound makes us freeze, listening for pursuit.
"We need shelter," Elle says, scanning the ridge above us. "You're losing too much blood, and this rain isn't helping."
I nod, teeth chattering from cold and pain. "Overhangs. Caves. Anything."
The alien landscape blurs at the edges of my vision. Blood loss and exhaustion are catching up fast. If we don't find shelter soon, the decision will be made for us when I collapse.
Elle points to a dark recess in the slope about fifty yards ahead. "There. Might be a cave entrance."
It takes us nearly twenty minutes to cover the distance. By the time we reach it, my leg drags uselessly behind me, and Elle supports half my weight. The space is indeed a shallow cave, hollowed out of the strange bluish rock that forms the hillside. Not deep—perhaps fifteen feet—but the overhang blocks the rain, and the entrance is narrow enough to defend if necessary.
Elle helps me inside, propping me against the back wall. The interior is surprisingly dry, the floor covered in a spongy, moss-like growth that gives slightly under pressure.
"This will have to do," she says, immediately checking the entrance for any sign of pursuit. Satisfied we're temporarily safe, she turns her attention to my leg.
"I need to look at that wound," she says, clinical detachment replacing the fear in her voice. "May I?"
I nod, too exhausted to speak. Elle carefully unwraps the soaked cloth, her touch gentle but firm. The fabric sticks to the wound, and I hiss as she peels it away.
"Sorry," she murmurs, eyes fixed on the damage. "This isn't good."
The wound gapes wetly in the dim light filtering through the cave entrance. The edges are puffy and discolored, angry red streaks beginning to spread outward. Blood still seeps steadily, darker than it should be.
Elle's face goes grim. "Possible infection already starting. The environment here... we have no idea what microbes exist or how our bodies will respond." She rummages in her canvas bag. "I have basic supplies. First aid kit from my car. Not meant for this, but better than nothing."
She produces a small emergency kit—antiseptic wipes, gauze pads, adhesive bandages, and a roll of athletic tape. Meager resources against the severity of my wound, but I feel a surge of gratitude.
"Biology professor," she explains, catching my look. "Field research requires preparation."
"Lucky for me," I manage through clenched teeth.
She tears open an antiseptic wipe. "This will hurt."
"Everything already hurts. Go ahead."
The antiseptic touches raw flesh, and the world whites out for a moment. My back arches involuntarily, a strangled sound escaping my throat.
"Sorry, sorry," Elle says, but doesn't stop. "Need to clean it as best we can."
When the initial shock subsides, I focus on breathing through the pain. "You said you're a professor? Where?"
Elle works as she talks, her voice calm and steady. "Boise Community College. Cell morphology, general biology, intro labs." She reaches for the gauze pads. "What about you?"
"Pizza restaurants. Three of them. Meridian, Nampa, Boise."
She pauses, looking up. "Wait. Miles Ahead Pizza?"
"That's me."
"I've eaten at your Broadway location." The absurdity of this connection hits us both at the same time. "Garlic knots the size of your fist. Small world."
"Smaller universe, apparently," I reply with a weak smile.
She finishes binding my leg. The wound is cleaned and dressed as well as possible under the circumstances, but we both know it's inadequate. Without proper medical care, infection is virtually guaranteed.
"Thank you," I say.
Elle nods, washing her hands with another antiseptic wipe. "It's temporary. We need antibiotics, proper cleaning, maybe stitches. None of which we have."
An uncomfortable silence falls. We both know what that means. Without treatment, my chances are poor.
"So," I say, desperate to break the tension. "Two moons. Impossible plants. Magic. Any theories?"
Elle leans back against the cave wall, finally allowing herself to acknowledge her own exhaustion. "Many. All implausible." She removes her glasses, cleaning rain-spotted lenses with her shirt hem. "Dimensional shift? Hallucination? Elaborate simulation? None fit the sensory data."
"You didn't panic when those things attacked," I observe. "Most people would."
"Panic impedes problem-solving," she says simply. "Besides, I've done wilderness survival training. Research takes me to remote locations sometimes. And you're certainly handling this with unusual calm."
"Restaurant industry," I reply. "When the walk-in fridge fails at 2 AM—food spoiling, staff in panic, health inspector due the next morning—you learn to prioritize problems quickly."
A ghost of a smile touches her lips. "Fair enough."
Thunder rumbles outside, the storm intensifying. Elle moves to the cave entrance, peering out at the darkening landscape. "Night is coming. Or whatever passes for night here."
As if on cue, the dual moons brighten, their crescent forms casting an eerie copper light across the alien terrain. The rain begins to glow faintly, each drop phosphorescent as it falls.
"That's... not normal," Elle whispers.
"I think normal stopped applying when we fell through reality," I reply.
She doesn't argue.
I shift position, trying to find a more comfortable angle for my injured leg. The movement sends a fresh bolt of agony through my thigh, and I stifle a groan. The pain is becoming increasingly difficult to manage, a relentless presence that clouds my thoughts.
"We should rest while we can," Elle suggests. "Take shifts watching the entrance."
"You first," I agree. "I'll probably wake up from pain anyway."
Elle nods, arranging herself near the cave mouth, back against the wall where she can observe both the entrance and me. The spongy floor material provides minimal cushioning, but it's better than wet rock.
"Will," she says quietly, "I'm going to try the light spell again. For us to see by."
She extends her hand, face tightening in concentration. The same three-ringed glyph shimmers into existence above her palm, this time steadier. After a moment of wavering, a soft blue-white sphere forms, casting gentle illumination throughout our shelter.
"You did it," I say.
"Barely." She studies the orb with both wonder and scientific curiosity. "I can feel it drawing from... something inside me. Something that wasn't there before."
As the light stabilizes, I notice a change in her posture—pride mixed with unease. "What does it feel like?"
"Like flexing a muscle I never knew I had," she replies, watching the light bob gently above her palm. "Intuitive but utterly foreign."
The orb illuminates our temporary sanctuary, revealing details previously hidden in shadow. The cave walls glitter with embedded crystal fragments that reflect the light in rainbow patterns. The moss-like floor covering exhibits a subtle pulse, as if responding to our presence.
I'm about to comment when the pain in my leg spikes violently. My vision tunnels, black edges creeping inward. I gasp, clutching my thigh.
"Will?" Elle's voice sounds distant, distorted.
The world tilts. My consciousness fractures.
Then, something new appears in my field of vision:
The text hovers before me like a heads-up display, crystal clear despite my wavering vision. Unlike the creature labels, this information seems anchored directly to my perception, moving with my eyeline.
"What the hell?" I whisper.
Elle is at my side in an instant. "What's wrong?"
"You don't see it?" I gesture weakly at the floating text.
She follows my gaze, seeing nothing. "See what?"
"Stats. Numbers. Like a video game HUD."
Concern flashes across her face. "Hallucinations can be a symptom of blood loss or infection."
I shake my head stubbornly. "It's not a hallucination. It's... an interface."
Experimentally, I focus on the warning message, willing it to expand. To my surprise, it responds, additional information unfurling beneath the initial alert:
"It's interactive," I murmur, fascinated despite the dire statistics. "Responds to my thoughts."
Elle's expression wavers between skepticism and concern. "What does it say?"
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
I hesitate before answering. "Nothing good. Stats on my condition."
She doesn't press, instead placing a cool hand on my forehead. "You're feverish. Infection's setting in faster than I expected."
The interface flickers, then updates:
"The local bacteria," I say, translating the warning. "Our immune systems don't recognize them. That's why it's spreading so fast."
Elle's scientific mind engages immediately. "That makes sense. We've evolved no defenses against these microorganisms. And they've evolved no mechanisms for specifically targeting us, which might be our only advantage."
I stare at the floating text, willing it to offer solutions rather than just problems. As if responding to my frustration, a new option appears:
Instinctively, I focus on this, feeling a strange resonance as my attention interacts with the interface. The display shifts, revealing a simplified menu of options:
I mentally select the last option. The interface changes again:
The unfamiliar terms swim before my eyes, making about as much sense as the alien landscape outside. Yet something about it feels strangely familiar, like code I might have written years ago.
"It's broken," I murmur. "Whatever this is... it's trying to classify me, but can't."
Elle watches me with growing concern. "Will, you need to rest. Your body is fighting infection and blood loss."
She's right. My thoughts are becoming sluggish, the edges of reality softening. The interface remains, but my ability to focus on it is waning.
"I'll keep watch," Elle promises, her face the only clear point in my narrowing vision. "Try to sleep."
I close my eyes, surrendering to exhaustion. The last thing I register is Elle's light spell casting gentle shadows across the cave walls, and the quiet sound of her voice as she catalogues our surroundings in a scientific whisper, finding comfort in the familiar practice of observation and classification.
***
I dream of falling. Not the chaotic tumble through dimensions, but a controlled descent through layers of code. Each level reveals itself as streams of symbols that part at my approach, rearranging themselves into recognizable patterns. The three-ringed sigil appears repeatedly, sometimes complete, sometimes with the fractured central ring that seems tied to my presence.
In the dream, I understand everything. The code speaks to me in a language both alien and intimately familiar. I reach out to touch a glitching segment, instinctively knowing how to repair it—
Pain yanks me violently awake.
Elle kneels beside me, hands on my shoulders. "Will! Wake up!"
My leg is on fire, the pain no longer contained to the wound but radiating throughout my entire body. Sweat pours down my face despite the cave's chill. My teeth chatter uncontrollably.
"How long?" I manage.
"Four hours," Elle replies, her voice tight with worry. "Your fever's spiking."
The interface has changed, red warnings flashing with increased urgency:
A new option pulses beneath the alerts:
I focus on it, desperate for any solution. The interface expands:
The functions display like command lines waiting for input. They feel like code hooks, incomplete without parameters. Instinctively, I focus on the first option, mentally forming the command as if writing a function call:
analyze(leg.wound)
The response is immediate. My vision fills with a detailed wireframe model of my leg, the wound highlighted in pulsing red. Data streams alongside the image, incomprehensible at first, then resolving into information I can process: