hospital so that I had anything I needed when I woke up.
I stayed the same speed as everyone else on the road, using the high tech map to find my way back. I reached the hospital right as the sun was setting. It shed colors over the ruins of what was once a great hospital.
I crawled back into that tiny little hole and found my trunk tucked behind a desk. It was incredibly heavy. I looked around. There had to be a way to get it out of the basement. A sign hung crookedly over a door to the stairs. I pushed the trunk over to the door and heaved it open. More rats ran towards me. I jumped out of the way, holding my breath so I wouldn’t scream.
I dragged that stupid trunk up two flights of stairs and then had to kick open the door. There was so much debris; it took me several tries to get it open. When I finally did, dust scattered as the debris smashed to the ground. I coughed as I dragged my trunk through the main floor to the car. I pushed the trunk through the slats that I originally left through, and it broke them as it fell to the ground outside.
It was getting dark a lot faster than I expected. I opened the trunk of the car and heaved it in there. The car became noticeably closer to the ground. I got back into the car and inserted the address for the cemetery where my parents were buried. I had one more thing I wanted to do before I left Los Angeles, my home.
I headed towards Santa Monica. The sun was slowly setting. I got off the freeway, turned down a side street, and went a few more miles before I parked. I got out of the car and gazed at the rolling hills covered in graves. The sun had left a warm glow on the headstones. I walked slowly through the gate onto the hallowed ground. The cemetery was eerily familiar. It seemed like just last year I was there for my grandfather’s funeral. I was silent as I headed toward my family’s plot.
I was scared. I didn’t know what to think or feel. So much time had passed, and so much had happened while I was asleep. I reached the southwest corner of the cemetery and saw my grandparents’ headstones first. I touched them softly as I passed, offering a silent prayer. I moved swiftly until I was only inches away from the next headstone.
“Betty Anderson,” I read, my words barely a whisper. My mother was buried alone. It made my anger at my father burn more. He was buried with his second wife, Leila. A tear ran down my cheek. I wiped it away quickly. I hated crying. It was so weak.
Something caught my eye. I turned to get a better look. My jaw dropped, and I moved towards it as if in a trance.
There was my brother’s headstone, and right next to it was mine. It felt odd to be looking at my own grave. I fell to my knees and traced my name. It said, “Katerina Marie Anderson, beloved daughter, sister, and friend.”
Tears streamed down my face unchecked. A sob tore at my throat. I gave in and cried. I leaned against my own grave, my head against the warm stone. I wanted to take it all back. I wanted to say no and finish out my life with my family and friends. Even if it was short, I would still have had more time with Kevin and my twin and my mother. I would have been with them longer than if I had chosen to undergo the stupid experiment.
The wind dried the tears on my face even as new ones coursed down. The cold air was a reminder of the changes. It was now winter, all in the blink of an eye.
I mourned for who I was, who I could never be again, for the life I could never get back. The sun set as I sat there. Any prayer I had was gone. This was not a bad dream, and I would not wake up to the life I remembered.
My old life was dead.
The Wolfegang Series continues with Shadows in Darkness: Book Two of the Wolfegang Series.
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