106 CHAPTER 105 NEBULA

The white light seemed to be returning to their source as they dwindle into a body that stood stone throw away from Matt. He could not see the face at the moment, but from the hands and the feet, he could tell that the sudden light source was a human being and not some kind of alien.

It didn't hurt anymore. The pain in his eyes and the agony had disappeared, and as he retraced his hands away from his face, something told him to run away. To get far from the light source, as far as his legs could carry his body. 

The urge to obey the voice was compelling, and he wanted to oblige, but it seemed as if his feet had a life of their own. Try as hard as he can, his feet would not obey. Giving up the idea of running away, he stared ahead observing for the first time that minute, that the light had ebbed away revealing the face that had been masked under them.

It was a boy. The hair was long and almost touching his shoulders. Those coppery eyes of his gave his body the perfect match. He had red lips too, a lip that Matt remembered all too well. Yes, the color of the lips was familiar, they had joked about it when they were little. They had joked that only blood-sucking creatures had red lips. But that was a long time ago. The boy had even grown muscular, with hairs lining his face and his tanned skin. The gray jumpsuit he wore had a redline trailing their sides. Not a typical gray linage jumpsuit, but they fitted him and made his muscles bulge out of his chest.

Matt found his chest lifting in an abnormal rhyme. It was hard to keep his breathing steady. It was difficult to control the tears from pouring out. How long had it been? How long since he last saw the boy? He had even given up the search for him because he thought he was dead. But what was the boy doing in Nebula? Could it be that he was also trapped in this frequency?

"Hello Matt," The familiar voice said.

"Jeff?" Matt called, walking towards him, "Is that really you?"

"You must not give in, Matt," Jeff said, ignoring his question, "You must not give them the satisfaction. You are stronger and braver"

"What are you talking about?" Matt asked, "Who are they and what is this place?" 

"I wish I could tell you, my friend. But you have to wake up. Wake up Matt, wake up"

"Wait," Matt hurried towards Jeff. He was fading into the vast body of brown and blue, his voice too. "Where are you Jeff, where are you?" 

The wind only stirred, and Jeff was gone without giving him an answer. Matt could not place in words what made him angry at the moment. Seeing Jeff and not touching him or knowing if he was alive was enough agony in itself. But trapped in an unknown world with confusion and agony as his only companion was a differed story of its own.

Wake up. Matt heard Jeff's words resounding in his ears again. What did Jeff mean by that? Could it be that all this was a dream?

Matt looked around, scoffing himself at the ridiculous question. Only dust and the scorching heat stood for as far as he could see. The dream world was destroyed a long time ago. Even if he wanted to consider the fact, then this world was nothing close to what the books had described. From the books, the dream world or dreamland was the perfect world in the entire universe. It was a place where there was no sorrow, no agony, or pain. It was a place where peace, far greater than that of darkness, resides. Evergreen trees were there, flowers of different colors, sizes, and fragrance too. 

Matt's scoff widens over the edge of his mouth. This place was nowhere near the description of the book. It was totally the opposite of what he really knew.

Wake up!! The voice of Jeff shouted this time, more harshly, and more demanding. A sudden white light started to flare, and a wind too, forming a round cloud of dust around him and grew until they touched the blue heavens.

Matt held up his hands to shield his eyes from the wind, but to his horror, a force, mightier than anything he could ever imagine, pushed him into the wind. He tried to resist, tried to keep himself from falling into the disarray of sands and chaos, but his effort was not enough as the sand engulfed him.

Matt coughed and opened his eyes slowly. He rolled to the side and heaved with relief when he realized that he was not back in the desert. The birds sang their melodious sounds as they meander in the air, thanking the creator for the gift of another day. It was morning. The soft hands of the sun on his skin portrayed that very fact. And as they shone from the white heavens, Matt could not help the comfort and the relaxation he felt in his stomach.

He stood up to his feet and gasped at the beauty that stretched out through every sphere. He was in a field of flower and green life, and they stretched into the horizon until he could no longer see them. The air was also covered with a fragrance of life and health.

Matt couldn't say for sure, but something within him told him that this place he was different from the other two places he had been. They looked so real and comforting.

"Matt," Someone shouted.

For some odd reason, Matt found himself frowning. There was only one person on the earth that can shout his name with so much hate and disapproval.

"What are you doing here?" 

Matt turned his attention towards the owner of the voice. True to his guess, it was his brother Kyle. He stood some pace away from him, dressed in one of those baggy shirts and pants of his. His blond hair was trimmed to relax behind him, but they were not dyed or covered with colors. He also had a silver ring on his nose and his ears.

"Bomshark." Tim called, coming from the other side of the garden. He looked thinner than Matt could remember. Unlike Kyle, his hair was dyed with some red shades and green, and his eyebrow too. A silver ring also rested on his nose and ears and brow line. Matt had not seen him in a jumpsuit before, making the loose jumpsuit he wore look odd and less attractive.

Matt wanted to gnash his teeth with hate, but for some odd reason, he found himself laughing. He missed these two guys. They were his brothers and had not accepted him for once in his life, but he missed them greatly. He also missed the funny names they called him.

"What are you doing here Bomshark?" Tim asked as he came to stop beside him. They kept their distance, which was not odd, for there was no love lost between them and Matt. 

Something flared with the light of the morning sun, and at that moment, Matt realized that they both held a Candor in their head. The metallic edge of the object reminded him of the last time he touched the weapon. Keep every weapon polished and clean. The words of the General seemed to say in his head.

"You are not meant to be here, Boomshark." Kyle said this time. His eyes had narrowed as he ignited his Candor, Matt knew that there was trouble. He didn't wait to be told twice as he took to his heel.

Kyle and Tim pursued behind. He had not seen them so angry that they would want to kill him. He was not willing to check as well.

Matt did not know how long he ran, but to his delight, he found a lone door, standing at the distance ahead, not too far if he can make it there. He tried to make it, pushing his weak limbs and burning lungs forwards. It was difficult to swallow now, for the upper edge of his mouth was etched on the lower edge.

"Come back here Bomshark, you will never get away from us," Tim shouted from behind.

Matt ran into the forest, kicking against the urge that told him to rest for a while. Resting for a while might mean dying. He was not ready to die. Not now, though.

The red door came into view at the last hour and Matt hurried towards it, clinging to the hope of living for another day.

"Come back here, Bomshark," Kyle shouted

Matt did not hear them or chose to keep his mind neutral from any sense of thought. He was closed to the red door now and was pushing it, but it would not budge. 

"You will die, Bomshark," Tim said, coming to stand behind Matt some stone throws away.

Matt cursed and pushed the door again. It shifted this time to his delight, and without thinking, he jumped into the darkness, closing the door behind the hands of death.