Chapter 5:

Alan drifted in and out of consciousness, his mind swimming in a dark, chaotic void. He couldn’t tell how much time had passed—minutes, hours, or days. The sensation of the cold floor beneath him was the only tether to reality, and even that seemed distant, slipping away from his awareness.

When he finally opened his eyes, everything was wrong.

The world around him was no longer the small control room at the base of the radio tower. It was something else, something warped and distorted. The walls shifted and flickered, as though they were alive, bending in ways that defied logic. The floor felt unstable beneath him, like he was standing on the surface of a lake, its calm waters hiding depths unknown.

He pushed himself up, his body weak and trembling, and looked around in a daze. The figure—his doppelgänger—was gone. Or at least, he thought it was. He could still feel its presence, lingering at the edges of his consciousness like a shadow that refused to leave.

Alan staggered forward, trying to make sense of where he was. The space felt endless, a surreal landscape that bore no resemblance to the world he had once known. The buildings from his town appeared and disappeared in the distance, flickering like mirages. Streets stretched out into the void, leading nowhere.

He was trapped in some kind of nightmare, a twisted version of reality where time and space had collapsed in on themselves. He had no sense of direction, no sense of what was real or what wasn’t.

Alan’s pulse quickened. Was this it? Was this the world now?

As he walked, his footsteps echoed unnaturally, reverberating off invisible walls. Every sound was distorted, like it came from underwater. His mind raced with questions, but the most pressing one gnawed at him with a relentless intensity: Was he still alone?

The figure—himself—had spoken to him, had looked him in the eye and told him the truth. Or was it the truth? The words echoed in his mind.

“There is no one else, Alan. It’s just you.”

He wanted to deny it, to fight against it, but deep down, he couldn’t shake the certainty that those words held. The emptiness of the town, the silence, the figure that had worn his face—all of it pointed to one terrifying conclusion.

He was the last person alive. Perhaps the last person in existence.

As he wandered through this warped, surreal landscape, something caught his attention—a faint glow in the distance. It pulsed softly, like the flicker of a candle in the dark. Alan’s heart skipped. A light. A sign of something.

Without thinking, he started toward it. His legs felt heavy, like they were wading through thick water, but he pushed on, desperate for anything that might break the suffocating isolation.

As he drew closer, the glow intensified, revealing a doorway that stood alone in the middle of the distorted street. The door was out of place, like it had been pulled from some other reality and dropped here. It was old and wooden, with intricate carvings that seemed to shift and change as he looked at them.

He hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering over the doorknob. Was this a trap? Every instinct screamed at him not to open it, but the pull of the unknown was too strong. If there was any chance of understanding what had happened, it was behind that door.

Alan gripped the doorknob, turned it slowly, and pushed the door open.

Inside was not what he expected. The space beyond the door was vast and dark, illuminated by a single, blindingly bright light in the center of the room. It was suspended above a simple chair. And in that chair sat someone.

Alan’s breath caught in his throat as he stepped inside. The person in the chair looked like a man—ordinary, unremarkable. His back was to Alan, but there was something about him, something unsettlingly familiar.

As Alan approached, the man’s voice broke the silence.

“I was wondering when you’d find me.”

Alan froze. The voice was calm, almost soothing, but it carried an undertone of something sinister.

The man slowly stood up, and Alan’s heart sank. The figure turned around, revealing a face that made Alan’s stomach drop.

It was his face. Again.

But this one was different. It wasn’t hollow like the doppelgänger he’d seen before. This version of him was alive, breathing, eyes bright and sharp. He smiled—a small, knowing smile that sent a chill down Alan’s spine.

“You’ve been running,” the figure said, stepping closer. “Running from the truth.”

Alan’s mouth was dry, his mind spinning. “Who are you?” His voice came out in a hoarse whisper, barely audible.

The figure tilted his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. “I think you know.”

“No,” Alan whispered, shaking his head, stepping back. “This isn’t real. None of this is real.”

The figure’s smile widened. “Oh, but it is, Alan. More real than anything you’ve ever known.”

Alan felt the walls closing in on him, his mind unable to comprehend the situation. “I don’t understand. What’s happening? Why… why am I alone? Why is this happening to me?”

The figure’s expression softened, almost pitying. “You’re not alone, Alan. You never were. Not really.”

Alan’s chest tightened. “What do you mean?”

The figure took another step forward, now standing just inches away. His voice was gentle, like he was delivering a hard truth with care.

“This world is yours. You created it. You are the last person here because you chose to be. You wiped everything away.”

Alan staggered backward, shaking his head violently. “No! I didn’t—why would I do that? Why would I destroy everything?”

The figure sighed softly, almost disappointed. “Because you couldn’t face it. The world out there, the people, the pain—it was too much. So you erased it all. And now, this… this is all that’s left.”

Alan’s vision blurred as tears welled up in his eyes. “No… no, that’s not true. I didn’t—”

But deep down, he felt it. The truth. A horrible, sinking truth that he had buried so deep, he had forgotten it until this moment.

He had wanted to be alone. He had wanted everything to stop.

And now, he had gotten his wish.

The figure—his perfect double—looked at him with a mix of sympathy and cold indifference. “This is your world, Alan. It’s always been. And now, it’s just you.”

Alan collapsed to his knees, the weight of it all crashing down on him. The silence, the emptiness, the figure watching him—it was all a reflection of his own mind, his own creation.

The figure knelt beside him, his voice a whisper in the vast emptiness.

“And now… it’s time for you to accept it.”

As the darkness closed in, Alan felt the last remnants of the world slip away, swallowed by the endless void. There was no escape, no salvation.

Just silence.

Just him.

Forever.

© Brian C. Jobe