1 Part (I): Noe

Noe's breathing escalated. He stood under a thin sheet of rusted metal and a mug of steaming coffee in his hand. The morning had dawned clear and warm, and Noe took a solemn step forward, off the patio and onto the wet grass. 

'Hmm'

He rubbed two fingers over his eyebrow and heaved a heavy sigh. A slight breeze brushed against his cheek. Taking a sip, he sat his coffee down on the Patio railing and took another step forward. 

Here comes the song of birds, Noe expected it every morning. The crispness of the morning air, the soft breeze that calmed his heart, even the sound of beasts sleeping in the nearby woods. He expected it all. It was the same every morning. 

Branches creaked under his foot, he grabbed the shovel leaned against the gate, and hurled it over his shoulder. His arm brushed against the rough tree bark as he entered the dark and sultry forest. 

Noe could almost taste the humid earthy air, it left a bitter taste in his mouth. He wanted to call the forest cold, and heartless, but that would be a lie. The forest was anything but that.

He returned to the holes he dug the day before. It still hadn't reached six feet, and he had until nighttime to dig it. The holes were near the creek. The mountains weren't very far from here, several hundred feet down, but nothing more. The creek rushed fervently to escape from the forest like every morning. 

He dug for, what seemed to be, about four hours. That was less than half the time it took him to dig the day before. He struck the shovel into the dirt and brushed his arm against his forehead. Another day was taken from him.

Noe had to choose his spots carefully, oleander's were the only flowers that seemed to grow here, and they were poisonous to the touch. He couldn't tell you how he got here, or where he is. Both the cabin, the forest, and the oleanders were novelties to him. All he knew, was that when he came to, he was surrounded by curious eyes and he could not leave. 

Noe turned his back on the hole and made his way to the cabin. It was a short distance from here. His forearm, triceps, neck, and back, were being seared as the sun reached its peak. 

The "ones" who rescued him bore no name or identity. They were soft creatures with a meek appearance. Thin cheeks, flushed skin, and hollowed eyes. They claimed to be human, they offered him a room and shared portions of their food. 

A shiver ran down his spine thinking back on it.

His foot stuck to blood and grime, he snatched his coffee from the patio railing and examined it. Still warm, even after four hours, and took another sip from it. 'Disgusting.' he thought to himself. 

He shook the filth from his boot and pushed open the cabin door, he dreaded this moment the most. A wave of decay rushed at him, a rancid display of rotten flesh, old twisted cans of beer, and cigarette buds that overstayed their welcome. The couch was littered with old comics of the golden era, and roaches and maggots nested there like a colony of ants. 

In the distance, the birds came to life, a melody rose in the forest, four hours too late, and the avian creatures danced and marched to the beat of their drum. 

Down the corridor, his knife was struck into the wall. Aside from the clothes he came in, his knife was the only relic of his world. It calmed him. He struck it into the wall for it to be the first thing that he saw when he entered. Above the blade were the limp bodies of two children, a boy, and a girl, crucified for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. He tried to help them, he did, but once nighttime came, no one could stop the rush---not even him. 

"Hrrk...!"

Noe tore both kids down, alone they weighed nothing, but Noe's legs were close to snapping like uncooked noodles. Combined, their weight hit him like a freight train. He stumbled a bit but managed to stay upright, long enough to regain his balance. 

The children were beginning to rot. He slung them over his shoulder and sauntered back to the holes he dug earlier, knocking over the cup of coffee, still steaming. 

He wasn't sure he dug deep enough. He should've been used to it, he's been digging since his first morning there. Each of his comrades, fallen, slain. And each time, he was the one to dig their holes. It never got easier.

He tossed them into their holes. This was the easy part, the digging, and the burying. He could get lost in his thoughts, daydream about a different life, about life before he got stuck here, about his sister, and finished the job. Burying is always harder to deal with, from time to time he catches a glimpse of the person he's burying, and he can't help but think about their life and the people they possibly left behind. Everyone had a life before this forest. 

When the job's done and the sun is set to rest, Noe has no other choice but to return to that cabin and await the hell that came every night. 

He sat on the patio, days were shorter here than they were in the regular world. Ten hours, that's all you got. Inside the cabin, a spatial started to open. Noe entered and, with all his might, pulled his knife out of the wall. "Here they come," he murmured to himself. 

"Noe." 

A large, red, and scaly hand punctured the tear. Beneath it, another small hand oozed from the creature's forearm, cold and shriveled. Another arm reached out, and then another, then several dozen. The largest arm crushed them and rushed out letting the tear close in around them. It roared and drummed its chest. Snaring at Noe. 

Noe wasn't much of a fighter. He learned a thing or two from the "creatures" that inhabited the forest, but nothing substantial. He'd still lose a fight with Noelle. The monster bore its canines. Oh damn! Noe cried. The beast swung at him, a warning shot, and blew the doors from its hinges. 

Noe stumbled outside, wanting to avoid a head-to-head confrontation with the behemoth. In the beginning, Noe had comrades, they watched each other backs when they fought, vowing to never let each other down. 

The monster lunged at him, bolting off the ground, and slamming to the pavement near him. Is it playing?! The shockwave sent Noe into the air and before he knew it *slam* he crashed into a crater in the dirt. 

 Urh... Noe groaned.

Noe left these battles to chance. One way or another—it always worked out for him. A rush of wind knocked against Noe's bruised body. "Argh!" He could hear the other creatures pour out from the tear. It hurts... he thought. It burns.

"Noe..." 

The creatures surrounded him, big and small, vicious and ugly. Noe jammed his foot into one of the creature's stomachs. It grinned at him. The larger monster sat on a log away from him. Was it observing? It watched as they took Noe apart, taking his arms and legs. They tore open his belly and gnawed on his intestines. Tore flesh from bone! Noe couldn't move. He was alive, awake throughout. He witnessed it all as if he was being punished. Why me?! he screamed all to himself. Why did it have to be me? 

His arms turned to accessories, his legs became noodles, and his vision filled with hideous monsters piled over one after another, like a pack of rabid dogs. He witnessed it all until they gouged his eyes out and feasted on them. 

It's dark, Noe's mind ventured, It's cold.

This was his release. His release from the torture, from the monsters, from that damned forest. And yet—I don't want to die! He cried out. I can't die!

"Noe..." 

A surge of feeling returned. A thousand needles punctured the atoms and cells that formed him. An intense heat poured from within and his mind clambered and drummed in and out of consciousness. Noe delighted himself in a world of delirium. Pain that meant he was alive. 

"Noe!" 

… 

Then—nothing. He remained in the nocturnal abyss, alone with his thoughts. He could feel nothing, see nothing, hear nothing. Was it better than his existence in that forest? He did not know. "Noe!" Light flicked in and out as if the sun waned above him. His soul stretched and morphed as if being sucked into a black hole. 

Then, he saw a hand. 

"Mr. Uzun," a man said, "glad to see you're awake again." 

A discordant tang of bitter wax wafted, the sterile hint of latex, the sweetness of flowers, and the soft beep at his side. Sat across from him, a man leaned in his chair scrolling on his phone with a handful of fries. 

Where... am I?

The man next to him smelled of cheap cologne and stale beer. He was a darker man, short in stature, his mustache consumed his mouth and he wore oversized spectacles that magnified his dull, glossy eyes. 

Noe lifted his arm. As he tested the limits of his body, an electrical current surged through him, and blood streamed through it like a bear's creek. The cool caress of a gentle breeze, as soothing as his mother's lullabies. 

Noe turned his gaze, the man sat upright with his mouth hung open. Without a word, the man stood and ran for the door, shouting something as soon as he went. 'What the hell was that?'

In the brief time he had alone, Noe basked in the silence. The room was white, unreasonably and unnaturally white. The silence left him to his thoughts, and the thought that came to mind was, 'Where's Noelle?' The first person he wanted to see away from that forest, was the first person he met, his twin sister Noelle, not some strange man.

Conceived around the same time, sharing the womb, and being born around the same time, although Noelle made it her mission to remind him that she came first. Noe was sure of one thing when it came to them if they had lacked nutrients in the womb... She would have eaten me, Noe chuckled to himself. 

Even so, there wasn't anyone in the world he felt more comfortable around than his sister. 

The man returned, clad in a lab coat as white as the room, a clipboard in his hand. "Good evening," his voice shook, "Forgive the belated introduction, I am Doctor Theodore Moore and this is my facility... …Do you—recognize me?"

Noe shook his head. "I see... you were rushed in around May," he jotted something down, "you have been in a catatonic state for about two months, your physical condition had improved, but as for your mental... not so much. Until now, at least." He clicked his pen, "Can you speak?"

 Noe opened his mouth, and Dr. Moore watched him intently. Slowly and quietly, words barely audible to himself leaked out. "I can..." 

"Good, good," Dr. Moore checked his notes, then his watch, "You must be tired, but there are some... men who would like to speak with you." 

Dr. Moore opened the door, bowed his head, then scurried away like a rat looking for food. Three men, one tall, one short, and one unfathomably muscular stepped in holding briefcases. Noe wasn't sure, but he felt like he recognized them. Draped in black, the short man stepped forward, his head bowed and his arm extended. 

"Sorry to intrude," the man said, lifting his head, "we are with the M.E.A. and there are some questions we would like to ask you."