Chapter 1

“Mr. Gion, I know this must be a confusing time for you, but I hope you’ll tell us more. Can people who have died really come back to life?” The reporter bent forward in the armchair, leaning his suit-clad arms on his thighs.

Leon looked up at the TV mounted on the whitewashed wall in his living room. This man obviously lied. It had to be a hoax. Obituaries could easily be faked, and actors could play the deceased person’s family members. But why would someone do that sort of stunt? Religion? Politics? It could be countless things. But why pretend to be dead for three years if they only wanted attention?

The scrawny-looking man in an ill-fitting blue suit leaned back in the sofa and pulled a hand through his brown hair. “No.”

Leon frowned. That didn’t make much sense. Wasn’t that what it was all about? Trying to fool people that they’d see loved ones who’d passed?

The reporter pointed at him. “But you came back from death. Why not others?”

Mr. Gion sighed and peered into the camera. His eyes were dark red, like his irises had been dipped in wine. “Don’t get your hopes up. I know the system, but I don’t know why it’s picky.”

The reporter shook his head and chuckled. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean. Doesn’t everyone who dies come to that place?”

Mr. Gion pressed his fingertips together. “Only a certain group of people are given the chance. I believe there are two requirements to entering that world.” He leaned back. “During my three years, I never met someone under the age of twenty-five, and no one older than forty. Meaning, they have to be of a certain age. Then, when you die, you get a choice. Try to live, or go on. I think everyone who meets the age criteria and chooses to battle will enter the world. But even when people within the age bracket die, they might choose death. Maybe they should. It’s much simpler.”

The leather sofa creaked under Leon as he sat up. He took the controller and raised the volume.

The reporter cleared his throat. “Well, wouldn’t those who die want to come back to life? You did. And now, you’re rich, and have these fantastic abilities.”

“It’s not that simple.” Mr. Gion raised his hand and rubbed his thumb and index finger together. A small flame burst up, like from an overcharged lighter. The reporter sat up straight.

Leon swallowed. It must be a trick. Easily done.

“You have to fight your way to the top and reap the reward,” Mr. Gion continued. “If you aren’t strong enough, that’s that. I’m not sure why I returned almost completely to my original body or why my powers haven’t left me, but I’m happy to be back.” The flame died out and Mr. Gion crossed his arms. “Don’t get your hopes up, out there. The tower has stood for over twenty years, and I’m the only one who’s made it out. Your loved ones won’t come back.”

“B-but, Mr. Gion, if you have amassed this weapons and armor collection, couldn’t others do the same?”

“It’s a long and hard process, and much more complicated than that. My friends helped me get back, but they couldn’t reach the final floor. I hope that when they do, they’ll meet up with me.”

“We all hope so, for your and their families’ sake.” The reporter nodded. “So, what are your plans now that…”

Leon lowered the volume. When the news first broke a week ago that a person, who’d supposedly died when his office building collapsed three years ago, had been found alive in his mother’s basement, the world hadn’t thought much of it. But when that person started showing signs of supernatural abilities and possessed weird and dangerous items, he became the main subject of national news overnight.

This was the first interview he’d agreed on doing. All the online forums had discussed his powers and weapons—the ones that were disclosed, anyway—but all seemed to agree that it was a publicity stunt made with an ulterior goal.

Superpowers weren’t real. Everyone would like to think they were, but they weren’t. And the resurrection… No, that was bullshit, too, no matter how much he wished it wasn’t. Could it be a ploy to get people to kill themselves, to get supernatural powers? No one would be so stupid that they did it because of that, right? The chance was too high that this was all made up.

The phone vibrated on the cushion, and Leon rose while answering.

“Sis, what’s up?”

Quiet sobbing filled the end of the line.

Leon turned off the TV and walked into the hallway. He knew, but asked anyway. “What’s wrong?”

“Uncle Jer… Uncle Jerry died twenty minutes ago.”

A flash of his uncle’s laughing face filled his mind. A sting went through his heart. They had known this day would come, but it was still too soon. He gritted his teeth. “I’ll meet you at the hospice.”

Leon slammed his palms on the bureau and screamed into the mirror on the wall. He stood, heaving, looking into his own face.

Within three to seven years, his short brown hair would gray, his dark blue eyes would turn pale as ice, and his strict jawline would be covered with sagging skin.

He’d been exercising for months, but it didn’t seem to have an effect in slowing the progression. He’d seen it shift from passive to aggressive four times. He’d be the fifth. His sister the sixth.

He breathed out. It was just after 10 pm. At least there wouldn’t be much traffic. No matter how much he hated it, he had to go to the hospice. He couldn’t leave his sister alone with the sight of their future. He grabbed his coat and car keys and slammed the door behind him.

******

Jane stood outside the yellow two-story hospice when Leon arrived. She wore a black coat and had her arms crossed to shield against the strong, cold wind. Her short brown hair stuck out from under a black cap, and she wiped her eyes with her sleeve while puffing on a cigarette. The snow-filled sidewalks were lit up by street lights, and only three of the rooms in the hospice had lights on.

“Was the traffic okay?” she asked, looking toward the entrance. Thick and wet snow started falling around them.

“Sorry you had to work when it happened,” Leon said, and stroked her arm. She twitched, so he moved back.

“Not my patient, anyway. But news travel fast when one of the staff’s relatives…” She cleared her throat. “You didn’t need to come.”

“Of course I did.” He sighed. “How’s Mom? Does she know?”

Jane shook her head and scraped at the caked snow with her leather boot. “She hasn’t woken up yet. Maybe that’s for the best.”

“You don’t mean that,” Leon said. “How long has she been sleeping now?”

“Five days.” She puffed out a cloud of smoke and warm air. “I know last time was seven, but I think it will be longer this time.” She snuffed out the cigarette and Leon followed her to the staff door.

“The progression is slower in women. We know that.” Leon smiled. “You and Mom have more time. You should make use of it.”

Jane stopped and turned to him, her face red as a furnace. “Uncle just died. Mom has maybe two years left. Two and a half at the most. Our aunts have maybe four years before they die, too.” She poked him in the chest. “You’re really lucky if you get more than three years before the blood in your body starts to aggressively attack the muscles. Even though I’m a woman, it won’t be more than ten years before my body does the same to me.” She let her arm fall. “This isn’t a time to be smiling.”

“If I’m lucky, I’ll get seven.”

“You won’t. You know that for each generation, it takes less time for the disease to kick in.”

Leon stepped forward and hugged her. “Maybe they’ll find a cure until then. I know you don’t believe that, but we have to believe in something.”

Jane stood completely rigid for a few seconds, but then she slowly raised her arms to hug him back. “I know.”

**********

Leon stared up at the ceiling in the semi-dark hospice room, trying to get Uncle Jerry’s sunken body out of his mind. Of all the things to befall a family, he wondered why it had to be a strong hereditary blood disease. What harm had his family done the universe? His grandparents on his mother’s side died first, then it befell their children. One of the four had died. Mom would be next, then her younger twin sisters. Next after that was Leon, then Jane, and then their four younger cousins. It was like someone had put a curse on them.

They’d all tested positive for the new disease when their youngest cousin was born and Uncle Jerry had started showing signs of rapid muscle loss. The disease that ended with the body being nothing but a skeleton with saggy skin drapes. The aggressive stage started at 35 for men, maybe earlier. Too little was known for that number to be sure. What could Leon count on? Three years would be early, and seven would be God’s blessing.

He was already twenty-eight. Leon rose from the hospice bed Jane had convinced him to sleep in, considering the snow storm that suddenly raged outside. They hadn’t seen one like it in years. Leon walked over to the window and looked at the snow piling up higher. The snow fell so quick he couldn’t see the small parking lot outside. Could they even leave in the morning?

Leon squinted at the place where he and Jane met up. A shadow moved through the whiteness. Was someone actually out walking? It was 2 am and a blizzard. The figure came closer. A short man with shoulder-length black hair wearing a red Hawaii shirt, khaki shorts, and sandals approached the building, seemingly unaware of the cold. Leon shivered. What was he thinking?

The man walked to the entrance and tried the locked door. Then, he tried the staff door, with the same result. Crazy or not, the man would die out there. Leon pulled on his coat and ran into the unlit corridor. He’d have to apologize to Jane later, but even she would understand if he let someone inside in this weather. He stopped short.

The man stood at the desk, behind the metal safety net, tapping away at the computer. How did he get in? Leon pressed his back against the wall, hoping he was hidden behind the pillar.

“Yes!” the man said. Then, the light from the monitor went dark, and the person walked toward the door. He didn’t open it, but walked through it. Leon stared at him. How can a person walk through a door?

The man continued down the opposite corridor, humming to himself. Leon swallowed and snuck after. He thought of his phone back in the room. He should call the police. But… why was the man here?

It only took a split second to decide to follow him. The man entered the last room, leaving the door ajar. Leon tip-toed over to it and looked inside. An older Asian man with a bald head laid shivering under his blankets, and the monitor showed a low heart rate. The man stroked the older one over the forehead.

“Dad? I’m back.”

The eyes moved slowly under the sunken eyelids, and the man repeated what he said.

Suddenly, the older one sprang awake. His monitor beeped as his heart rate increased, but all his body did was to spasm his arms.

“Yung, you—” The elderly man’s voice was brusk and his eyes wide in terror. “You… you can’t be here.”

Leon turned to go to the hospice room to get his phone. Something wasn’t right with this person.

“Dad, I know it’s a shock. Have you watched the news?”

Leon stopped.

“Two of my friends came back, too,” Yung said. Then he smiled. “I’m glad I made it in time.”

“But… you died! Your mother…”

“Doesn’t know yet.” Yung patted his shoulder. “My body showed up in my old apartment. Luckily I got out before the new tenant saw me.”

“This… this is…” The monitor beeped faster.

Yung reached inside his shorts and pulled out a plum-sized vial carrying a light green shining substance, with a purple streak going through it. “Drink this. All of it, or it won’t work. I only have one, so make sure you do it in one go. You’ll feel a lot better.”

The man stared at Yung. “I’m sorry, son. Nothing is going to help me. I have stage 4 cancer.”

“Why don’t you give it a go, then? I promise it won’t hurt you.” Yung sat down on the bed. “I went through a lot of trouble to get this, after I saw you got sick.”

“But I got sick after…” his voice died. The man eyed him for a while, but then he pulled out the cork and emptied the vial.

“Good. Now, go to sleep. I’ll come visit tomorrow, after I’ve talked with Mom.”

Before the last word fell from Yung’s lips, the man was asleep. Leon stared at them both, then at the monitor. The man’s heart rate had gone down to that of a normal person’s, but Leon decided he should wait, just to make sure.

Yung didn’t exit the room. After a minute passed, Leon opened the door completely. He was gone. Where… Leon jogged to the window. Yung was only a shadow walking through the snowstorm now. Leon checked the windows. All locked. Could he have been…?

Leon continued to watch outside the window while keeping an eye on the monitor. After twenty minutes had passed, the snowstorm died down, as quick as snapping your fingers. The man slept easy in the bed, but it might be best to not take any chances. Leon couldn’t sleep, anyway. So, he sat down in the chair and waited.