Chapter Twenty Four: Paper Lives •EDITED•

October, Year 483
Forest of Lacau
State of Nicia
North

Two dimensionality.

Like paper he was flat, near inexistent, empty.

Like paper he could be folded, remolded and recreated. Paper boats, paper hats, paper kites and paper planes; Philip had never felt so part of a group.

He laid there, exhaustion creeping into his bones and seducing his heart to a slow beat with each poisoned breath of fog that was pumped into his lungs; with each flare of heat that pulsed into his arm, thawing another layer of ice from his skintight suit and injecting warmth and feeling into his flesh.

Getting feeling back into his hand was taking longer than he thought. For now all he could do was twitch his thumb, not enough awareness in the limb to even flick his fingers. Each little spasm sent flickers of pain across his face and reminded him of how vulnerable he was as long as his gun was out of reach.

Two dimensionality. Philip didn't know if it had been a stroke of fortune or if life had finally decided to give him a break, but once again he found himself questioning his life choices. Questioning why death hadn't claimed him long ago back when he hadn't had any hopes for a continued existence.

The beast had stopped in it's tracks, it's paws digging into the ground by Philip's face. Hot drool dripped from it's open mouth and splashed on the forest floor with a blast of heat and steam.

Though the moment had passed, the image was clear, vivid. The scene still played out in his mind as he rested his cheek on the damp earth and waited for his hand to be freed from it's cage of frozen fog.

He had waited to fight.

Waited to die.

Waited to give up.

Waited to save Issac's life if he could.

Philip had waited for something as he watched the creature, stared into it's curious and thirsty eyes; gazes filled with equal desperation locked in one moment. Hunger to live and a thirst for living, an unspoken desire universally understood by all in the circle of life.

The battle for survival was a bitter one and there was always a loser. Speed ensured success but for some reason the creature cared to wait for it's meal. One floppy ear stayed raised in attention as though it was searching for something.

They waited, silent and still as a series of deafening howls burnt through the fog and screamed into the air, shaking the earth until the moonlit forest seemed to scatter into darkness.

Philip had held his breath, shut his eyes and prayed. He didn't believe in a higher 'one' or The Code, not even the 'God' of the rebels that razed cities in East to the ground. Still, he sent his hopes into the sky with the expectation that some divine being might have been tuned in to his channel.

Turned out he was lucky. Maybe The Code existed, maybe it didn't. Coincidence or not, he was still alive.

The creature had stalked away and walked past him, apparently having no more interest in the prey that laid defenseless. It broke into a run and disappeared into the woods.

Two dimensionality; like paper I am crushed, recycled and reborn.

It was a passage from the Book of Identity, the first verse Philip had memorized-knowledge of The Law was compulsory for service-and his favorite out of the two books and sixty-three chapters.

Like paper I am refined, reduced and perfected. He slipped his hand out of the cast of ice, blinking away the sleep in his eyes as he gently pushed Issac off him, slid to the side and sat with his back against a tree.

"I never worshipped the Law like the rest," Philip held his trembling hand out in front of him and watched the prison of ice it had been encased in melt into nothingness, "but I love reading so I guess it works for me."

With his strength fully restored by the recovery sequence of his suit, he jumped to his feet. The addictive heat flowed from his toes to his fingers. He nudged Issac with the tip of his foot then bent down to pick up his rifle.

"It's good to be back," he whistled and activated his goggles with a thought. The moon's glow started to fade away, too weak to resist being consumed by the fog.

"Issac," Philip peered down at the stirring captain, blond strands of ruffled hair falling over his eyes as he tipped his head forward, "wake up."

The man in question shifted in slumber, his lips pressed into a thin line beneath his mask and his brows slicked with sweat. For a moment Philip wondered if his old friend was stuck in the darkness like he was.

And the darkness clung to man like the moon drew the ocean, forever lost in the pull and push of eternity; without hope for redemption.

Philip dashed the passage away before he could think more on it, The Order would call him an infidel if they ever discovered what he really thought about them.

I don't believe.

The religion had replaced all others. It had become a major faith in North and crept into the belief systems of other nations until all who did not believe were known as profane.

"Phil?" It was that familiar croaky whisper that drew him from his thoughts, and Philip's gaze shifted into the questioning sea of ocean blue that always managed to melt his worry away. Even now when he was sure that he held no more love for the man, he still found it hard not to get lost in his eyes.

Issac blinked and the spell was broken, Philip cleared his throat and offered a hand to his superior.

"It's Philip, sir." he said with a quietness that rivalled the rustling wind in the background then pulled Issac up.

He took a step back.

"Nice to have you're back in the land of the lucid." He tried his voice again, staring into the barrel of his gun before he placed it in it's holster.

"Identity, Second will." Issac mumbled as his gaze fell to Philip's left hand. A frown deepening his expression in a way that made him seem so serious.

"Wha-" the messenger cut himself short when he realized that he had quoted more scripture, he bit his tongue and turned away.

He knew that he should start moving, that he should get out of here before something he couldn't handle came his way. But he didn't. He stayed because a part of him wondered if Issac would like to come along.

"To reside in the land of the lucid, maintaining clarity and abstaining from all forms of-"

"I know," Philip almost snapped before he took in a deep breath and calmed himself. "The book of Identity, the Second will, the thirty-ninth verse. I know."

"I didn't picture you as religious person."

Philip winced at the condescension in Isaac's tone. He remembered times when they memorized the words together, both Books and their Wills. Then his mind shifted to the times when he had burnt the holy texts just to spite his father.

"I'm not."

"You've become a good liar over the years. There was never a time when you hesitated to speak your mind to me."

"People change." Philip felt the words curl at the tip of his tongue, lies built upon lies to bury how much pain he felt. "I changed."

"Quite the nonsense," Issac sighed and said nothing more, looking down at the ground then up into the fog.

Philip had known that the captain wouldn't believe him. Still, he said what he knew would draw the line between them.

They weren't friends, not anymore.

Quite the nonsense indeed, Iza. Philip kicked the dry leaves beneath his feet, tired of the bitter taste intentional untruths had left in his mouth as he watched the disturbed foliage explode into puffs of plant dust.

A part of him wondered if he would be sucked dry by the fog eventually. That soon his suit would be unable to prevent the deterioration of his health. It seemed to be a better way to die than being eaten alive or mauled to death.

Major. His thoughts danced around the title. I just need to do one thing then it's mine.

Philip didn't dare to think that the man he was looking for was already dead. Hope for the future was the only thing that kept him going; the only thing keeping any dangerous thoughts at bay.

Thinking up to there he turned back to Issac, awaiting instructions as was required of him.

"How did we get here?" The captain asked, his voice cool and nonchalant. His tone was one of authority, not camaraderie.

It's for the best. Philip tried not to feel hurt.

He squashed the emotions that erupted in his chest and ignored unimportant feelings like he was trained to. He had a mission and he was a soldier of the lowest rank.

He tried to remember that.

"I was going to ask you the same thing, Sir." he answered, injecting as much apathy into his words as he could.

"Before we do anything, I suggest that we compare notes." Issac said, professional as always. "This might not be the right time for that, but we are blind without direction and an objective. Do you understand?"

"Yes Sir. . ." Philip said, deciding to choose his words carefully. "I engaged a handful of beasts along the route. They had surrounded. . .us. I stayed behind and provided cover for the rest of the rearguard as they retreated."

He suddenly felt claustrophobic. The wet fog added to the effect of Issac's aura of command. Everything seemed to drown him in waves.

"I fought off the animals and dismounted. . ." he struggled to continue.

"So did I," Issac clicked his tongue, "We both fought creatures along that path, lost our horses and ended up here. Why? All evidence suggests that we were moved. I found you unconscious along the dirt road then I was attacked by the beasts. In the midst of everything, we somehow ended up here along with our weapons. Correct?"

"Yes," Philip agreed quietly then cleared his throat. "How did you find me?"

"I followed your trace until you turned it off."

"Because of an unexpectedly thick section of fog I had lost the signal, but I intended to be found."

"Of course you did, Phil."

"What do you want, Issac?" Philip knew that anger had seeped into his tone and his expression paled. That was no way to talk to a superior and he knew it.

"What is that supposed to mean, messenger?" Issac's eyes hardened as he asked the question.

Philip grimaced and lowered his head. He fought to hold his tongue, again. "I apologize for my tone, Captain."

"Don't look so disappointed Philip," Issac murmured as he walked past the younger man, his voice barely carrying any weight as it faded into the wind, "you're making me feel guilty."

"What?" Philip's gaze snapped up and once again he was lost in Issac's eyes, a shade of blue that mimicked the clear sky.

"Didn't you want us to be strangers? I'm only doing what you wanted."

"I didn't-"

"I know you hate me, but can you at least pretend for a moment that this never happened so that we can get out of here?"

"I don't ha-"

"Don't lie Philip, I can see it in your eyes."

Philip finally looked away, his thoughts scattered about in confusion as his frustrated mind tried to understand what was going on.

Why was Issac the angry one? Why was he defending himself when he did nothing wrong?

"You left me." He forced the words out of his closing throat and gritted his teeth to stop anything else from leaving his mouth.

"And it wasn't my fault," Issac snapped, his irises shifting from a sparkling azure to a dull blue. "I didn't want to go."

"But you did, and you never even bothered to say goodbye."

"I had no choice, what part of that don't you understand?"

"I don't understand any of it," Philip said. "You could have called, mailed, texted. . . Anything! But you didn't. You just disappeared like I meant nothing. Did I mean nothing to you?"

"I don't know," Issac's tone dropped a few more degrees, his voice sending chills down Philip's spine despite the warming effect of his suit. "Did you consider what my mother meant to me when you got her killed?"

The world froze. His heart stopped. Philip felt everything spin out of control. He was numb to the pain until it hit him full force and he was left gasping for air at the sudden attack to his obliviousness. The acrid taste of bile rose up his throat; he met Issac's cool gaze and shuddered.

He hates me. . .

"Philip, I'm sorry." He heard Issac say from somewhere, nowhere on this earth, nowhere near him. Those words didn't exist, they fixed nothing.

"Leave me alone." The messenger took a step back, the movement sending a jarring pain stabbing into chest.

"You know I didn't mean it."

Yes, he knew. But the words were there, unerasable and forever remaining. They were the truth, the painful sentence that spelt out all he had been running away from, himself-his curse of a life.

Each word was like a spear into his side, so agonizing that Philip found it hard to stand.

Desperation clawed at his ribs to escape; stabbing into his eyes to flood them with tears. He resisted long enough to ask a question. "Is that what you think? That I wanted her to die?"

"No."

"Say what you mean, Issac."

"I did." The captain answered slowly. "She loved you, Philip."

"And I killed her." The words escaping and he finally understood the second truth he had overlooked.

He hates me. . . How could I forget?

"It wasn't your fault, I wasn't thinking." Issac rushed through his words, his voice tinged with what could have been regret if not for it's quick pace. "Forgive me and forget about it, if not for old times sake then for hers. She wouldn't want you to blame yourself."

"I killed them."

"Philip, I want this conversation over. Consider that an order from your superior." Issac's tone hardened again like there was never any remorse or sadness coating the deep blue of his gaze just moments ago.

"I want a map of the surrounding area made, now," he added.

Two dimensionality. Transparency in all workings on earth, plain in the revelation of self, and maintaining peace forever with all of creation.

Philip let his emotions fall into a jar somewhere in his soul and slammed the lid tight on all the pain he could be feeling. He released all the hope he had been craving.

He doesn't care.

"Yes Sir," he forced his mind into the present, "consider it done."

Why did I come here? Why didn't I die that day? Why am I so stupid?

In the end they were all just roaming through paper worlds filled with paper lies and spilling over with paper lives. One day they would all face the shredder, with nothing left of them but paper emotions and an early demise without any hope for Paradise.

I had a dream about paper...
This was close over 2,500. I almost got carried away.
Oh well. Philip and Issac have some things to work out, eh?

Do you think Issac doesn't care? How about Philip, some insight into his past shows more disturbing things (yay).

Why is Philip thinking about "Two dimensionality" all of a sudden? Well, except for the fact that I felt like writing about paper.

Question of the chapter

Who is the 'them' that Philip killed?
Any ideas?

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