This story is set in an alternate universe of Into the Other World. Haven't read it? Don't worry. You won't need to. This is just something I had thought of whilst writing IOW and thought why not write it now whilst being stuck in the last few chapters of IOW to at least provide some content. So here it is. Enjoy.

Into the Parallel World

Chapter 1

Labor Day

*RIIIIIIING*

"Enjoy your three-day weekend guys!" the teacher called.

The students behind their desks walked out of the classroom returning her gesture.

"You too!" some said. Others stood beside their friends as they walked out, conversing amongst each other, discussing their weekend plans, or making plans of their own. I was among the last to leave the room.

"See ya, Mrs. Sanders!" I called, waving as I followed the crowd. I exited the classroom, almost joining the crowd before she called me back in the classroom.

"Hey, Joe?" She called.

"Yea?" I replied, backing up back into the classroom.

"Well done on your narrative! I'll look forward to reading your essays this year." Her smile made its way onto my own face.

"Thanks. I'll do my best!" I waved one last time before exiting the classroom into the halls.

Labor day. The first break of the school year. Only four weeks after the start of school. Apparently made to celebrate the success of the economy or something. Why so early in the school year? I don't know. However, it seemed that all the 10th graders in the wing, and ultimately the whole school, appreciated the early break, quickly rushing towards the exits, eager to leave school, stress, and homework behind for an extra day.

Although Mrs. Sanders only held me back for a short amount of time, the halls had practically emptied, save for a few students lingering here and there, on their phones, slamming their lockers, or making out along the walls. I paced out the bright red doors of the wing onto the concrete slope, filled with students. Quickly, I assimilated into the wave of students flowing down the slope and into the parking lot. We eventually spewed out of the ramps and on to the black top. I made my way to a fence on my usual route home. A student was standing there, arms crossed, back against the fence.

"Sorry Jason," I apologized, "Mrs. Sanders held me in for a bit."

He waved it off. "Eh. I wasn't waiting that long." We walked along the fence onto the sidewalk, following a few students, and followed by a few more.

"I take it you're gonna sit and play on your PC all weekend?" I asked.

"Yeah. And I take it you're gonna camp out in the woods again?"

"You know me so well."

"It's not like you've been doing it for most if not all of our extended breaks."

"Maybe you should join me," I suggested.

"Maybe I should."

We continued walking through the streets, conversing through the lights until we hit a split in the road.

"I'll see you Tuesday!" I closed. He waved before making a left. I carried on straight back home.

Camping had always been my favorite way to pass time. The way you left yourself surrounded by the sounds and smells of the wilderness was always relaxing. The rustling of leaves, cries of the crickets, and occasionally the hoot of an owl were sounds that were welcoming into the night. The smell of not-so-polluted air was preferred much over that of the town. The feel of dirt instead of concrete below your feet felt amazing.

The uneventful walk ended at the edge of town, to a small home at the border of the city limits. My right hand drifted to a clip hanging on a belt loop, pressed the latch, and unhooked it. The keys clinked together before I selected one of them, inserting it into the keyhole. It twisted, and the bolt slid back into the door. I removed the key and hooked it back onto my belt loop before opening the door and taking my shoes off.

"I'm home," I said to no one in particular. I laughed to myself. Old habits die hard.

I lived alone. What used to be my father's home was now mine. He had died getting shot in a robbery when I had just started 7th grade. With no other relatives set as a beneficiary, all the money went into the bank, locked away from my reach until I came of age. It was the same with his bank account. Locked away, now put under my name. Why the government didn't do anything about me living alone, I don't know.

Mom had died giving birth to me, or so my father said. Even then, he took me everywhere just like he would if his wife was there with us. My love for camping stemmed from our hunting trips, which was fun. There, I learned how to use various firearms. We had always taken our kills and cleaned them before taking them home and selling the meat to the butchers, keeping some for ourselves. Ever since his death, I had no reason to go hunting, as I couldn't drive, nor could I have skinned and cleaned the animal myself. Instead, hunting changed into camping into the vast woods behind my home.

I had been looking around his room a few days after he was killed, uncovering a few safes and a small vault. I had ever since unlocked, picked, and guessed the passwords to the safes and vault. In the safes were fat stacks of cash in large bundles. All kinds of bills were there. I had been using up that cash for my needs like food and such. Inside the vault were various firearms and magazines that my father and I took with us on our hunting trips. A section of the vault housed ammunition of various calibers. Upon inspection and a few google searches, the firearms came out to be 2 Five-Seven pistols, a Remington 870, 2 Ruger American Rifles, and a single AR-15.

After the discovery of the firearms, I took it upon myself to train in self-defense. With the death of my father in mind, I spent a few hours after school working out and practicing firearm skills like I would be carrying the firearm on me at all times. As I got older though, I realized it was impossible to carry a weapon with me without legal trouble, so I eased off on the firearms.

I went to the kitchen and fixed myself a meal and ate before going upstairs into my room. There, I set down my school backpack beside the bed before grabbing another, much bigger, bag from the closet. I packed the compartments with food, water, and a few extra clothes, and checked other compartments for my gear. I slapped on my cargo pants and affixed a blade with its holster onto my belt. As for my top, the weather said it wasn't going to be cold. I stuck with a red t-shirt. I then looked in the mirror. I brushed my short black hair to the side and switched out the more brittle golden frame for a much more durable black frame. I could see my muscles showing off as lightly tanned mounds beneath my t-shirt. After double checking my supplies, and attaching my sleeping bag and tent to the bottom of my pack, I carried my pack to my father's room and opened the vault. I sat there for a minute or two loading up two magazines for a Five-Seven before sliding one into the gun, and the other, put alongside the pistol and its holster into a compartment in the bag. I've never had to use it whilst camping, but as I had said, old habits die hard.

Locking up the vault, I stepped downstairs and grabbed my phone and portable charger. I stuck both into an inner compartment of the bag before checking the house. I locked the doors and checked the windows before heading out into the back. The tops of trees came to greet me over the fence. I locked the door before carrying my pack out and over the fence. I quickly followed, climbing the fence into the woods behind it. Instantly, I felt the stress accumulated from school melt. I then disappeared into the woods, away from society and its stress.

After cutting through branches for the umpteenth time, I found an area big enough to set up camp. I produced a campfire and set out a pot containing dinner for tonight: clam chowder. I let it warm up in the pot while I set up the tent. The sun had left by the time I finished setting up the tent. I then ate, cleaned up, put out the fire, and changed into my sweats. In the tent, I checked my phone to see the progress I had made. By that, I mean pulling up a map and remembering every move and direction I had gone in. There was no cell service. Figuring out I was about 3-4 miles from home, I checked the time, reading 7:33, shut off the phone, and replaced it in my bag. I then unraveled the bag and laid it onto the tent's floor, slid in, and fell asleep in the calls of the woods.

I awoke early in the morning. About 7 in the morning. Sliding out of the bag, I dressed out of the sweats, back into the cargos. I had affixed my knife back to its sheath before digging into my bag and getting a can of fruit. I ate, compressed the can, set it in by bag, then got out to fold up the sleeping bag and tent. Then it was another day of walking out.

Lunch followed the same process, minus the tent. This time, lunch was a pouch of beef stew, complete with the orange of carrots, white potatoes, a few beans, the beef itself, and the brown broth that came with it. Again, I ate, cleaned up, and checked my progress. By this time I believed I was about 5-7 miles out. I would make the return trip tomorrow morning. As for now, I planned to go on a lateral path.

As always, the crunching of leaves and dirt and the greens and browns of my surroundings were present. What wasn't usual was a clearing; a large field of grass and various blooms of yellows, oranges, and whites. I had seen it before, both on my previous hikes and on the map, but I had never actually entered it. But that was going to change. I applied bug repellent and entered the field, taking in the scent of the patches of flowers. It would be a great time to take a water break, and so I set the bag down and grabbed a bottle of water. I emptied the contents of the bottle and put it back into the bag. The pack soon made its way back onto my back before pushing forward. It would have been more enjoyable if I hadn't heard a faint grunt. Turning back, my eyes met those of a bear, roughly 20 feet away.

I turned to face it, keeping eye contact. Slowly, I took off one strap of my pack and brought it to my front, unzipping the compartment with the Five-Seven and removing both the pistol and extra magazine, all while keeping eye contact. The bear remained still, with no intent on leaving. I slid the extra magazine into my pocket, and racked the pistol, bringing the first round into the chamber. I then took aim at the bear whilst slowly backing away, in hopes that the bear would remain still or leave and that I would not have to discharge the gun. Unfortunately, those hopes were crushed as the bear followed. It still kept roughly the same distance as it had been before, but this time, it seemed ready to charge. I unsheathed my knife across my body with my left hand, and placed it under my right hand to act as support and a backup weapon. I aimed the gun down to the grass just before it and fired a single round in an attempt to scare it away. Unfortunately, it changed right at me.

Between the time that it started charging and the moment it got too close, I had fired 6 additional rounds. None hit its head and instead logged themselves into the bear's shoulders or whizzed past it. It immediately slashed my right arm in an attempt to bat away the gun. Deep gashes made their way across my arm, but that didn't stop me from holding onto the firearm as I was knocked to the ground. I could thank adrenaline for that. I raised the gun and fired two more shots into the bear's chest before it swatted at my arm again, knocking it back on the ground, it then fell with its claws just above my shoulders. I swung my knife in my left repeatedly into the bear's ribs, but it didn't budge. It instead swatted at my face and chest before pinning both my arms down.

I was now stuck. I had both my arms pinned by at least 300 pounds of weight, was bleeding from the face down, and was quickly running out of stamina. Desperate attempts to kick the bear were futile as pain seeped into my brain. The bear let out a roar before leaning in for my throat. I was gonna die. My body would be found days later, torn apart and limp, laying on the pack, surrounded by dried up blood, a knife, the pistol, and several casings.. I winced as its jaws clenched around my neck, but the puncture never came.

Suddenly, I was in free fall.

So this is what death feels like.

My vision blurred. I could now only see puffs of white and blue. The brown of the bear and green of the fields were gone. Or so I thought. I was suddenly enveloped in green as my pack hit something. My legs soon felt what the pack experienced, followed by my arms and head. Prickling sensations of pain shot up throughout my body. That prickling was followed by a hard thud. More pain coursed through my body. I could no longer feel the weapons in my hand. My ears rung. I could only lay there, unable to move, unable to get help. Or so I thought.

The dominant green gave way to a mix of whites, reds, and yellows in the shape of some kind of animal.

"OH—CE—RE—-U—K, was what I had managed to hear, followed by " —-NE—ED—AL—AT—-VEN—-ARK—-FE—," before the ringing of my ears became overwhelming. Maybe someone was there to get me help. Tendrils of black edged ever closer to the center of my sight as I finally relaxed with the appearance of an individual. I could feel my body being lifted up before those tendrils shut me down.