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Dylan felt sick as he looked at the door, but he knew that he had to go through it. This was the end of his journey, and he couldn't look away. He was dreaming, and he could not wake.

He touched the doorknob. He remembered. Life before. Life after. Banding together as a group. Bandits. His injured ribs. The casino full of cannibals. Drinking. Playing Games. Fighting. The fog. Being lost. The mist. He was infected, and he understood that now.

He was ready to die.

But death wasn't what he expected. He was no longer one, but one of many. He was the virus. His vision was strange and abstract. It was knowledge, creation, a legacy.

It was knowledge, it was creation. He was a legacy.

He knew he had had a name once, but now it was unimportant. He was part of a collection, a gathering.

No. This was a gift, and it needed to be shared. Those remaining needed it.

No.

He harvests, he feeds, he gathers.

This is not what he was. He was...

The world was his. The memories, his legacy.

He was not creation. There was so much more, so much that...

He could not be contained. His memories were not complete.

He felt like he was being torn, ripped into pieces.

He was free. It felt like he was awaking from a dream, but then he realized that he was without his body. Where was it? What had he become? This scared him more than he'd like to admit. He was no longer human, but could he become himself again? Or was it too late.

He looked around, and using the memories and emotions that were his, formed a shape from the vines around him. There were so many, thousands, and the whole corridor he was in was green. A few vines obeyed, and they coiled around him, giving him a form.

It was not human, but he could move again.

He struggled to keep control, to move and search, and as he looked he found something. A face, a person being consumed by the vines. Was it his? No, but he knew it. It was the girl, the one who rescued him, who had come to save him.

He felt guilty, that she was stuck like this, and then, curious. He brushed the vines away from them, and they disappeared. He picked her up carefully, gently, and carried her away. The vines let him. He moved further away, until he reached a flight of stairs.

They did not stop him as he kept moving away, but he was unraveling, losing himself. He couldn't go much further, and then, he saw it. The exit. He was barely there, just a small piece, and he could see shadowed shapes in the fog through the window. They felt uncontaminated, and slowly, he carried his rescuer towards them.

The shadows saw them, they were her allies, and they took her. She was safe, and he retreated back up the stairs.

He smiled, or he would have if he had a face. A rescue for a rescue.

He gathered the pieces of himself that remained. He would never be able to leave the center, knew that he would be come the legacy once again. There were others around him, and as his vines brushed theirs, he understood. They were like him, memories waiting to be completed.

For now though, he was still himself. He still existed. He could share his memories with others, and have memories shared with him.

(517 Words)