"I think I'm going mad," Fade told the corridor.

It stretched out before him, curving gently to the left. Once, it had been smooth metal walls covered in patches of fuzzy mold, but now, vines clung to them like an enthusiastic gardener and mad scientist had done drunk decorating together.

"You are not going mad, Fade," the Guide said.

Fade paused. The four tubes of Fizpan felt warm in his hand, and when he looked at them, he wondered how exactly he was supposed to use them. What if he blew himself up?

"I'm pretty sure I am," he muttered.

"Don't be dramatic. You're doing quite well."

There was amusement in that voice, and Fade could almost picture the subtle smile on the other man's face.

"How are you talking to me, anyway?" He touched fingertips to his left ear. It was there that the Guide's voice had wormed into his skull.

The Guide laughed softly. "You always ask me that. Every time. I bet you even forgot how to use the comms, too."

"Comms?"

"Short for communications. You have a unit built into the collar of your suit, as do the others. But as for how I'm talking with you now, well, I put a bug in your ear after the scrub."

"You put a what?" Fade immediately poked a finger in his ear, but there was nothing out of the ordinary he could detect. That only made him more worried. From scrubs to bugs to alien killer plants—how much weirder could this place get?

"Don't worry. It's only temporary. And it has the added benefit of allowing us a private channel. The others can't hear us."

"Why do we need a private channel? Can't you just use the comms or whatever like a normal person?"

"You always forget about the comms, Fade. The bug allows me to monitor you properly in the meantime. Which brings us to the question: Have you remembered me, yet?"

"I-" Fade stopped. A frown creased his brow. He wanted to deny it, because why on earth would he remember a guy he'd just met a short while ago? What a ridiculous question!

But it wasn't.

Because Fade did recall a cold, bare cell with blood splattered all over the walls, gently reaching towards the drain in the center of the floor. He remembered huddling against the wall, terrified and confused. And he definitely remembered the stranger who had entered, calm and confident with a gaze that burned the color of spilled blood.

The man who promised to guide him in a world gone mad.

"Maybe," Fade said, so quiet that it was barely more than a whisper. Admitting it aloud made him shiver. It felt like by doing so, he was admitting that the other nightmare was real. The one where he watched over 200 of his comrades die a needless death.

"Very good. I was a little concerned, as you seemed more disoriented than usual in the elevator. Now, just to be safe, what's the last thing you remember clearly?"

What was this? Now the Guide was checking in on him? Wasn't it a little too late? Fade wanted to laugh. He wanted to pull out his hair and scream. The Guide was crazy as he was.

A screech echoed down the corridor, followed by a loud bang. Fade jumped, his attention focusing straight ahead. It had come from somewhere by the lab. He hoped that was just Mother clearing out plant zombies for him and not the plant specimen getting frisky in said lab.

"Fade?"

There were no more sounds, which was slightly concerning, but it was a sign that he was safe for the moment. He considered the Guide's question, before shrugging.

Why not? Space stations infested with biological hazards were a great place to have a therapy session.

"I graduated high school," he said. "And I went to a party, got drunk with a buddy, and then I was in the space elevator. It was very confusing. And terrifying. I didn't even think we had that kind of space travel yet, you know?"

There was a period of silence. And then the Guide went, "Oh. Oh, I see."

"Really? I sure don't. It doesn't make sense at all." Fade glanced behind him. He thought he'd heard something, but nothing was there. Just vines. Although, had there been that many there a minute ago?

His skin prickled on the back of his neck. Something told him staying here, in one spot, was a terrible idea.

With great reluctance, he tip-toed forward, stepping between vines with great care. They didn't appear to be able to see, as far as he could tell, so if he avoided disturbing them, maybe he'd make it to the lab in one piece.

And then what? I get killed?

He snickered to himself, because sobbing was not an option. Well, it was, but he refused to spend his last moments crying like a baby.

"I think we made a mistake," the Guide said after a pregnant pause.

And boy, didn't that make Fade feel better. Not.

"What kind of mistake?" he demanded.

"Well, we scrubbed too much. It was only supposed to be the last two centuries, but ah... there must have been a miscalculation."

Fade remained silent. Words failed him while he tried to glean some kind of logical meaning to the Guide's words. He failed. They were just as alien as the plant that had overtaken the station.

"This will make things difficult," the Guide sighed. He sounded quite regretful. "Your full memories will return, as your brain will restore any missing connections on its own, but it won't be fast enough to help you in there. So I'll give you a quick rundown."

A zombie abruptly lurched around the corner. Judging by the gentle curves of its skinless frame, it had once been a woman. Now she had little green tendrils prortuding from her eye sockets. They flickered like the tongue of a snake tasting the air.

Fade froze mid-step. His eyes widened.

The zombie moved with unsteady, staggering steps that left a trail of dark slime on the floor. The vines directly in its path gently writhed and pulled away, as if opening a path for it.

"Fade. You're in the future."

Fade's heart skipped a beat. The zombie was coming his way. He wasn't sure what to do. He didn't have any guns to shoot it with. And he couldn't exactly run, not without accidentally brushing against the multitude of vines on the floor. They'd react in an instant and come after him.

"I'm not joking. This is real. Just look around. There's proof all around you."

Mouth going dry, Fade looked behind him. Where was Mother? He really needed her right now. He was a sitting duck here. A helpless duck. A little yellow duckie that did not know how to safely float on top of the bathwater, but one that was getting violently sucked down the drain.

Sadly, there was no sign of her. And the Professor was still holed up in the little room with Lydia's dead-but-still-functioning robot body. Fade was on his own.

The zombie shuffled closer.

"The important thing here is to stay calm. Don't panic. You are a very capable man, more than you realize. There is nothing you can't handle."

Fade started to tremble. His nerves sang with blind panic, and the only thing that kept him from bolting like a terrified mouse was the fact that his feet were rooted to the spot. Literally. He had been so startled by the zombie's approach that he missed the vines sliding over his boots and curling around his ankles.

"You're probably feeling a little overwhelmed, I'm sure. But listen. You have a very useful ability, and although you forgot about it, you should still be able to use it. It's instinctual for you. If you get into a tough spot, all you—"

The vines yanked Fade's feet out from under him. He fell onto his butt with a yelp. And before he could even manage a blink, the vines retreated back down the hall at a frightening pace, dragging Fade along with them.

"—need to do is imagine yourself moving to a different place. A safe place. Or safer place, anyway. It has to be somewhere close, so don't be stupid and try to imagine yourself back in the past. That doesn't work."

The vines suddenly whipped sideways, slamming Fade face-first into the wall. His nose crunched, and pain speared up into his head. He let out a strangled cry, before covering his battered face with both hands, trying to protect it.

"Fade? Are you listening to me?"

Fade clenched his teeth against the pain. The vines shot up, somehow dragging him up towards the ceiling. His body swung down like a pendulum, sending blood rushing to his head.

"I'm kinda busy here!" From his upside-down position, he was able to catch a glimpse of a busted apart door. A trio of zombies stood in front of it, motionless like statutes. As he swung towards them, three heads abruptly twisted to stare blankly at him.

He moaned. "Oh no. No no no."

"Close your eyes," The Guide commanded, his tone shifting from soothing to stern. "Do it now."

That wasn't a problem. Fade had already squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't want to see those horrible creatures up close.

"Now, think of somewhere else. Perhaps the room that you arrived in. The receptacle. Do you remember that? It's the fancy box."

Oh yes, Fade remembered that. The weird space elevator that started this whole nightmare. The shiny metal panels, the weird people inside, the—

The vines dropped, and his head and shoulders hit the floor. It forced a grunt out of him, his body instinctively trying to curl up defensively. He heard the breathy scrape of tree boughs rubbing against each other, smelled the sweet earthy musk of decaying vegetation, and knew the zombies were right there.

He gasped, forcing his thoughts back to the elevator. The strange people, the smooth metal, the glass doors that showed the deep expanse of space. How dark it had been, but also incredibly bright with countless stars, so vivid and sparkling as if they were alive.

Fade's heart pounded furiously, and a wave of prickling ice rolled through him from head to toe. He shuddered violently.

And then it was quiet.

Deathly quiet.

The musk was gone. There was no scent.

He couldn't feel the vines on his legs. In fact, he couldn't even feel the floor that he'd been curled up on. It was like he floated in the air.

Confused, Fade opened his eyes.

Before him was a big, circular hunk of metal. Behind it was an enormous backdrop of black nothingness, speckled with little dots of light.

Realization sunk with all the shrieking force of a fighter jet breaking the sound barrier. That was the space station. He was outside. In space. With nothing but his suit.

Fade opened his mouth to scream, but there was no air in space to carry sound. Instead, his lungs froze up, his vision blurred, and a deep ache filled his chest. He was dying. In space.

Please no. Not like this!

Panic surged, and he desperately wished himself back into the station. His skin prickled like thousands of little needles jabbed into him.

He slammed into something hard. It hurt, but he couldn't bring himself to make a sound. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't see. His limbs weren't responding. All he felt was hurt. And cold.

"Fade? You still with me?"

His heart still beat. He could feel it, pulsing against his ribcage like a fevered mental patient. It railed against his ribcage, violently shoving blood throughout his frozen body. Clearly, it didn't get the memo that was dying.

"I hope you were successful. You usually are, nine times out of ten. Anyway, if you were, you just managed to 'warp'. It's your signature skill. And well, if you didn't manage to warp, you'll soon find out your second ability. Good news, Fade. You're very hard to kill."

Something in Fade's chest shifted, and suddenly he was able to breathe. He sucked in a huge, gasping breath, feeling it push into his lungs. When he exhaled, he wheezed some not very nice words.

"Ah, there you are. I'm guessing you chose the second option, then."

He said another bad thing, followed by, "What the hell... was that?! I... was in... space!"

"Space? Where are you now?"

Fade managed to lift his head. The rectangular box that he'd first arrived in sat before him. He groaned, lowered his head, and then rolled onto his back. "Back in... the elevator room. What... is even... happening?"

Delighted laughter filled his left ear. "Well done, Fade! Now come on, you've got a job to do, don't you?"

Fade lifted his hand. Looked at it. He still had the four tubes of Fizpan. Somehow. He closed his eyes. "I'm not going back out there."

"Of course, you are. It's what you do."

He scoffed in response.

"You're not going to leave Mother out there by herself, are you?"

"She's a big, strong, independent woman. She'll be fine."

Just then, the comms unit in Fade's collar squawked. Mother's voice came on, squeezing out words between strained grunts. "Where are you, Fade? I need you!"

"See?" the Guide smugly said. "I'll tell her you're on your way. Since you don't remember how to use the comms."

For a third time that day, Fade creatively expressed his feelings.