No Shadows

  by Matthew Gilliam

  The winds had been picking up all morning, whipping the grit from the road into my eyes. The

  grit had wormed its way into places I did not want to think about. I had been walking before

  dawn in the hopes of finding a safe place to rest from the midday sun. The road stretched in a

  languid arc to the east. There had been a few farmhouses in the distance, but farmers were just

  as likely to turn their dogs loose as they were to beat a man, and the last thing I wanted to do

  was be sent running from a pack of dogs. I had taken a few beatings since the collapse, and I

  was not excited about the prospect of another.

  The quiet of the structures was the first thing that caught my attention. Men and women

  manned the low wall, watching. Were they watching me? They seemed to stare into the

  distance with little regard for my presence. “That’s far enough, stranger,” a squat man said as I

  neared the corner gate. “State your business and make it quick.” Stuttering to a halt, my

  shadow stretched before me across the arid soil.

  I licked my parched lips. “Name’s Devron. I am making my way back east, get away

  from the storms. I am looking for a safe place to rest, replenish my supplies.” The statement

  came out more plaintive than I had intended.

  The squat man leaned back against the rail I had not noticed. “You willing to serve for

  the room and board?” Odd turn of phrase, I thought. “If it gets me food, water, and a safe place

  to rest, I can work.” The squat man grinned without the smile ever touching his eyes. He

  nodded and the gates began to swing inward. That was another thing that struck me as odd.

  Walking into the village, I had an eerie feeling as I passed the gates. Stepping through the

  gates, the light shifted, no longer the harsh light of the waste but a mild warmth on a tired

  body. It may have been a trick of the shadows inside the gate or the tiredness of a weary mind

  that had found shelter.

  The village was a sharp contrast to the outside. Where the land surrounding the village

  walls was sun-bleached and barren, the inside of the walls was bright and airy, like the heat

  and the sun hadn’t eaten away at everything. Waiting on the inside in a light blue t-shirt was a

  young woman. “Right this way, Devron. We need to take you to intake and then we can get

  you set up with a meal and sleeping quarters.” So perky, so happy… “I am sorry, miss. What is

  your name?” For a moment I caught the scent of lilacs or some other flowers as she smiled at

  me. “I do apologize. I know that is rude. We rarely have new people show up anymore. I am

  Eve. Intake is this way.” She almost skipped ahead, excited for some unknown reason. The

  building was a deep forest green, built in the style of the old Victorian houses from the early

  twentieth century.

  The light shone through the stained glass windows as I stepped in. I expected some sort

  of village elder or some sort of council to meet with. What I got was a boarding house desk

  with keys hanging on the back wall with mail slots. Eve rang a small service bell on the

  counter, and before the sound quit resonating, out from the back came a middle-aged woman

  with an apron and flour covering her hands. The light caught a bit of the flour as it trailed to the

  floor. “Eve, dear. What a pleasant surprise, and a weary traveler. You will be here for intake

  then?” She dusted her hands on the apron, reaching under the counter and pulling out an

  antique-style ledger. “Uh… yes, ma’am. Not sure what that entails, but I was told I could get a

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  place to stay and food.” She reached the ledger across the counter. “Yes, yes. That is what

  most people come for, but they stay for different reasons. Fill in your information, dear, and I

  will get you a room key.”

  The ledger had the basic information you would expect. Name, age, date, length of

  stay—but at the end was something unsettling. Blood type. Why would they need that? I

  looked up to the middle-aged woman, her smile almost dormant on her face as she stared off

  into space, waiting on me to finish. Behind me I heard soft breathing. I had almost forgotten

  about Eve. I turned my head. Eve stood in the light from the stained glass, slightly fidgeting,

  almost bouncing like an energetic child. The floor creaked and I glanced down. There was no

  shadow. Eve stood directly in the colored light; it bathed her clothes in a chaotic rainbow of

  color. She had no shadow. She gave me a toothy grin.

  Setting the pen down on the book, I backed slowly to the door, keeping Eve and the

  woman in view. Reaching for the knob, it turned smoothly in my grip as I stepped out into the

  light of the afternoon sun. I turned to leave, but there were smiling people everywhere. Not a

  one had a shadow. The sense of wrongness, all the subtle shifts in my brain that had been

  trying to warn me, were now screaming to run, to leave, to leap the wall.

  The squat man walked forward, laying his hand on my arm. Gentle pressure. I pulled

  away reflexively, but the hand stayed on my arm; the grip seemed to be unbreakable. “Time to

  serve,” he said with a joy and hunger in his eyes, smiling with more teeth than should have

  been in a human mouth.

  As the words left his too wide mouth, the scent of lilacs swept over me, smoothing my

  thoughts. Calmness settled in my mind where panic once held sway. I had found my place. I

  would serve. I was at home. Spending my days in service to the village would be my life’s

  work, and all was right with the world. No more struggle, no more pain—just community and a

  sense of belonging. The tears poured down my face, whether from joy or knowing that I would

  never leave I will never know, because now I serve.

  Bright lights shone in my eyes. The darkness fled to the corners of my vision. Sounds

  of beeping and the soft whisk of air moving through machines. The table was cold beneath my

  body. It was almost nice to feel cool after so many days of blistering heat. People worked

  around the room preparing me. Preparing me for what, I wondered. The concern not quite

  reaching a point that made me want to react. I was here observing, not actively participating.

  That was my role. My role was to serve. A face leaned over me, bisected by a white paper

  mask; only the eyes shone. The light from those eyes was dispassionate. My brain cataloged all

  these details, but nothing seemed to be a cause for concern. Service. I was here to serve. “How

  is our patient, nurse?” said a disembodied voice off to my right. Eve’s voice responded,

  “Good, doctor. I think he is ready to serve. Will he get a new name?” The disembodied voice

  seemed to smile at her innocent question. “Yes, dear one. His name will be Adam. The two of

  you will serve well together.” Then the darkness took me.

  My eyes fluttered awake as the memory of the heat left my mind and body. The dream

  always left me feeling parched. I could hear Eve in the kitchen making breakfast for me and

  the kids. The soft light of the fall morning sent shadows across the floor. “Adam, you ready for

  coffee?” “Yes, love,” I called as I dressed for my day. It is such a privilege to serve them, I

  thought as I stepped into the dining room.