Eighteen years sure is a long time to be in business! Kel thought to himself. There's nothing to be ashamed of. I tried my best, didn't I?

Heartland was a massive emporium, the hub that made life in every other part of his body possible. It was split into an orderly quadrant, The Chambers. In the center floated a massive heart that lit up with each beat, and beneath it stood none other than Mari. "Kel," she sighed his name like a dream.

"Mari!" Kel ran into her open arms, holding her close, cuddling her. He missed her so badly it bubbled over into pain. He hadn't seen her since The Bone Palace but knew all along she was in Heartland, never far out of reach. Why did this feel like some grand reunion?

"Poor thing, you must be so tired. I've been waiting for you. Come, there isn't much time left. I'm here to take you on the Heartland Experience!"

Hand-in-hand, he allowed her to take him through The Chambers.


It'd been three days since Hero was banned from the ICU, and Kel had yet to say a word to anyone.

"They're your favorite team, right? They won their fourth game in a row last night, so this should qualify them for finals." Aubrey squinted at her phone, looking over basketball statistics that she barely understood. She took another swig from her water bottle, filled with the cheap vodka her mother blew their grocery money on. She choked down a gag. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she needed to stop before the switch was flipped and she became her mother, but… there would be time to worry about that after Kel was finished dying in front of her.

She was just drunk enough to tell him what was actually on her mind. "I heard about that 'pastor' who came to see you the other day. He's controversial, to say the least. I always thought he was a hack, but shit, it takes a special sort of son of a bitch to torture… someone in your position." She clenched her phone, vision blurring. "I'm sorry."

She believed in Jesus and a world to come, but if Kel wasn't going to heaven then she didn't want to go, either. She swallowed another mouthful and staggered on unsteady feet to the bathroom.


"You won't leave me again, will you?" He hugged Mari's arm as she guided him through Heartland.

"Of course not. In fact, I never left you at all!"

In the Lower Right Chamber was a door labeled AUBREY. Kel crinkled his nose. "Why do I have to go in there?"

"Because she's your friend, and I know deep down you're worried about her." Mari gently nudged him forward. "Go on."

When Mari told him to do something, he had to do it, didn't he? He opened the door an inch, which was all it took for the vision inside to envelop him. Aubrey was seated on the edge of some city rooftop, the skyline glinting prettily in the horizon. Behind her was the buzz of a party. She was older now, but not by much. There was no lonely whir of television static here, no shouts or slaps in the distance—only the sweet hum of talking and the occasional roar of laughter. Kel didn't like how close she was to the edge, but felt no fear that she might fall or fling herself off. She had a lightness he hadn't seen in her in years, not since before…

"She had to work really hard to get to this point," Mari went on. "I'm so proud of her I could burst. This year will be the first she doesn't get blackout drunk on either of our birthdays."

"How many years has it been?" Been since what, he both knew and didn't know. A pretty girl slinked up behind Aubrey, wrapping her tattooed arms around her waist and playfully kissing her neck.

"Five."

When they were young, Aubrey used to joke about the moon following her home; but here in his headspace, she truly did feel like the center of the universe.

"Let's go." Mari took his hand. "I still have more to show you before we move on to the Other Side of Life."


"I just don't know what to do."

Basil chewed anxiously on a cuticle. Aubrey watched him from over Kel's body as he slept soundly between them. (Or maybe he was awake and had his eyes closed? He would do that sometimes, sneaky son of a bitch.)

"My dad put the house up for sale."

So, this was how Basil's parents were choosing to retaliate for his refusal to move back with them. Aubrey couldn't say she was surprised. "Tell him to stop being a little bitch."

"I did." Not using those words, she bet. "But it's not like I can buy the house off of him, and Fix-It doesn't pay enough for me to live on my own."

"And you're sure you don't want to move with them?"
"You don't know what it's like to live with those people. I'd rather die."

That absolutely could not happen. "Vance landed a job not too long ago at this sweet landscaping company. Pay is decent, and they're unionized. I'll ask him to keep an eye out for any openings."

"He would do that?"

"Sure, he knows you have a green thumb and all. Lemme think… oh! Angel's mom has been milking public assistance for years, and he just got into the game. I'm sure he'd be glad to teach you some of their tricks."

He frowned. "That's not right."

"And neither are hand-to-mouth wages. We all do what we have to."

Basil forced a laugh. "I'm so pathetic. I don't have any skills. I was given everything, so I'm not good at anything."

"That's not true."

Basil chose not to press the matter further, looking everywhere in the room except his friends.


They were before BASIL's door in the Lower Left Chamber. It was made of clear glass, but the inside was obscured by the plants and flowers crowding the inside.

Kel opened the door, and it led to an open field, rows of crops going on for as far out as he could see. People tended to them, talking amongst themselves. Children chased each other through the fields of flowers; animals drank from the stream. Kel followed Mari to one of the many houses peppering the hillside.

They entered an industrial-sized kitchen. Basil was there, along with a few others, preparing dinner. The room was full of noise—banter, bickering. It was an orderly setup, and everyone seemed really happy, and… and Kel watched a documentary about a place like this once. "Oh shit, did Basil join a cult?!"

"No, it's an intentional community." Mari laughed when she saw Kel's expression, totally unconvinced. "No one's being brainwashed or abused—believe me, I looked. People are free to come and go as they please. Basil's done so several times."

Two of the younger children stormed inside, in the middle of a game of tag. They weaved around Basil's legs, scrambling away when the head of the kitchen shouted after them to be careful. The lady next to Basil cracked some joke; he giggled into the back of his hand.

He had the sort of life anyone would want: doing what he loved, caring for others, and in turn, being cared for.

"He's going to be okay," Mari said, as if reading his thoughts. "Come."


"Has he said anything?" his mom whispered.

"No," Basil replied. "Maybe when Sunny comes over? You know Kel's always happy to see him."

"I hope so." She sat down beside her middle child.


"Sure is a long way!" Mari said as they stared up the dark shute to the Upper Right Chamber.

A long way … a long way down? Falling down—

A blaring alarm went off, his glowing heart flashing rapidly.

"Shh, everything's going to be alright," Mari cooed, gently rubbing his back. "Take a couple of deep breaths for me, okay? Follow along. In... out..."

He followed her direction until the flashing lights went back to a gentle glow, the alarm tapering off. Kel hid his face in the crook of her neck. How could he forget the very worst thing anyone had ever told him? It all made sense—what Sunny told him in Brainscape, why he hadn't seen Hero in the waking world. His brother was gone. "Mari… Hero, he…"

She held him at arm's length. "What happened to Hero?"

Kel couldn't even bring himself to say it. He looked out in the distance, to Heartland's center and the massive hole in the ceiling just above it.

"You think he fell down?"

Kel shook his head. "He—he jumped—"

"No," she said sternly. "I've been in Heartland for almost a year, I would have seen him if he fell."

Kel slowly raised his eyebrows, face drawing to a blank. "So, Sunny lied to me again?"

"He wouldn't lie about something like that. You must have gotten him mixed up with someone else."

His heart hurt for her. It wasn't her fault her brother was a lying, murderous snake.


"Get out!"

Kel blindly grabbed the first thing in arm's reach—the little seashell necklace Cris made him—and chucked it at Sunny's head. Sunny, either by shock or resignation, made no attempt to dodge it, allowing it to hit him square in the face. It shattered at his feet.

"Leave," he repeated, the rasp in his voice doing nothing to abate the dark edge it had taken. "Liar! Liar liar liar! Such a fucking liar. Get out! Get out!"

Sunny swayed, as pale and unsteady as a ghost in the wind. He left just as quietly.


"Where are you," Aubrey texted him not long after she arrived.

"Waiting for the train back"

"Why !"

"Kel doesnt want me around"

"Yes he does hes asking where you are"

"Thats not what he said?"

"W/e thats just how shit is now. Come back"


Over the weekend, Kel threw Sunny out of his room seven times.

He knew a thing or two about forgetting, so it was okay. It was okay. It was—


The Upper Right Chamber was brightly lit. Childish doodles were scrawled on SUNNY's door, along with spatters of blood. Kel wanted study the pretty images he associated with his friend, but Mari spurred him on. "You know what to do."

The room was dark. Sunny was in bed with some guy, head laid up on his chest. The guy—boyfriend, Kel realized with a pang—ran his hands down Sunny's back, pressing their bodies together. Sunny sighed contentedly and snuggled closer to him.

He could feel a warmth radiating between them, but especially on the part of his boyfriend. He was so deeply in love with Sunny it burned straight into his soul like a branding. There was no pent-up anger, no lack of trust. Perhaps it was due to never having the truth withheld from him, but the end result was still the end result. He kissed the top of Sunny's head, nuzzling his scentless hair.

"My brother always did hate sleeping alone," Mari said. She was looking out the window. "I'm glad he found someone nice to take care of him."

Kel was glad, too.

"Lying requires intent, malice." Still not looking at any of them, she clenched her fist. "There's a difference between that and forgetting. As the one person who knew everything from the start, I give you my word that Sunny never lied."

Kel nodded. "Okay."

"And believe me, the one thing he'll never forget about is you. You'll always be his first love."

Why did he want to cry? "Okay."

Sometimes, knowing was as good as having. After a few moments of watching what he'd never have, Mari took his hand. They let the happy couple enjoy their time together.


"We need to put Kel in hospice," Hero suddenly said that Monday morning. He felt like he was hovering over his own body, watching himself say the words he'd hoped for so long he'd never have to say. He just finished getting Sally ready to go to the hospital, his sister dozing off in her car seat while their mother prepared the oatmeal she would eat on the ride over.

She waved him off. "Don't talk like that."

Us not talking about this is what led to the other day. "His team has been pushing us in this direction since he was admitted."

"Oh, please. They don't care about your brother. All they want is to free up his room for someone else."

"Mom."

She threw her mixing spoon into the lukewarm, watery oats. "We'll talk about this when your father gets home."

It was nine in the morning—he wouldn't be back until four, and that was only if he didn't take on any overtime. No, this needed to happen now. "You don't think he's uncomfortable hooked up to all those machines?"

"I'm sure he's uncomfortable, but it's what needs to be done to save his life."

That ship sailed before we even knew he was sick. "Don't you see how much pain he's in?"

"And what's going to stop the pain? More morphine? Sure, let's pump him full of dope until his body gives out."

"What we're having them do now isn't helping. At best, it's dragging out the inevitable."

"I know everyone… passes away eventually. But even if this only keeps him with us for a few more years—"

"Weeks!" he rasped. "He has weeks!"

Sally jolted from her nap, crying. Their mother shot him a thin-lipped glare as she crossed the room, picking Sally up out of her car seat and rocking her. "It's okay, baby..."

Was this what it was like not to be the favorite? It was like shouting at a brick wall. "Instead of six months of comfort, he's had eight months of torture. You know he's doing all this for us, don't you? Look, Kel wrote this before they took the tube out." He opened his notes app, scrolling to the beginning of the month. "'I know I can't give up. I'm not allowed to die. But I feel bad. Like a failure. I keep getting worse and let everyone down.'"

She glanced at his phone. "How am I supposed to know he actually wrote that?"

"So I'm a liar now?"

Her rocking slowed. "No."

"I'm telling you, these are his words. You don't think he might want to do things differently if he wasn't so worried about the rest of us? If he were allowed to leave?"

"You don't understand, Henry," she whimpered. "A mother burying her son…?"

Her face crumbled. She cried into Sally's shoulder, all of her dissolving into sharp inhales and full-bodied sobs.


On Tuesday, all the wires were taken out of Kel's arms. Some nice people in scrubs were taking him on an adventure!

Or close to one, anyway. On the way to the elevator, he heard one of the nurses say they were going to the third floor. Third floor… third floor… it felt familiar, somewhere deep in his bones. The third floor was a big deal, but he didn't want to ask in what way, anxious over having forgotten.

As they were headed down, he locked eyes with one of the aides. The man looked uncomfortable, so Kel winked at him. The man smiled back. He hoped that little exchange would be enough to let this guy know everything was going to be okay.


The last place Mari took him was the Upper Left Chamber. Unlike the previous three, it was preceded by a long, narrow hallway, at the end of which was a door that cast a heavy shadow. Crimson light spilled out of it.

Unlike the other doors, this one scared him. He didn't want to look inside, it was too much, no—

"Go on," Mari prompted.

The hall echoed with each step he took, broken floor tiles snapping beneath his feet. Eyes peeked at him from beyond the darkness, not only helpers but other entities as well. As he got closer, the red light shot out from beneath the door, slithering towards him. Its tentacles vined up his feet and calves, yanking him forward, indifferent to his screams. The door—HERO—slammed open—


"Kel? Kel."

Someone was running their fingers through the inch-or-so of hair that'd grown back since his last chemo session. Kel opened his eyes a bit, then all the way when he saw who was sitting next to him.

"Hey—relax, you don't need to get up." Hero's warm hands cupped the side of Kel's face, running his thumb over his browbone. There was a persistent beeping behind him, demanding attention. "Nightmares sure are the worst, aren't they? Do me a favor. I want you to take as deep a breath as is comfortable, hold it, then release. Ready? In… out…"

Inhaling that deep was like trying to breathe through a clogged straw, but if Hero wanted him to do something he would do it. He repeated his brother's directives until the beeping stopped, drinking in his visage like a parched man at the end of the world.

"It's a little creepy when you stare at me like that." Hero smiled tautly, wringing his hands in his lap like he did when the girls around town made eyes at him.

"Sorry." Kel continued to stare.

The tension that had for too many months weighed Hero's furrowed brow and made a home between his shoulder blades was no longer there. "How do you feel? Be honest."

How did he feel? For so long he'd been a gelatinous mass of disjointed bones, every move an infinity of torture. That he now had to think about how he felt could only be a good thing. "I feel okay."

"Good. Any pain?"

"No," he said, astonished.

"I'm so happy to hear that. Truly," he beamed. "Do you like your new room?"

It was certainly bigger than his old room. Someone was even nice enough to bring down all his stuff. "Where am I?"

"You're on the third floor." There was a pause, a chasm of open air that filled Kel with dread. He wanted to jump out of bed and grab Hero by the shoulders, shake him, demand to know what the third floor meant, but every signal sent from his brain to his mouth was dead on arrival. His brother grabbed his hand. "It's the hospice unit."

"We're not putting him in hospice care," he remembered his mother saying incredulously, as if the doctors recommended they take him out to the parking lot and shoot him in an act of mercy.

"I understand your concern—"

"My son's not… no. You have him mistaken for someone else."

His father hadn't objected, nor did Hero when he got home. This was bad. "I'm sorry," he said again, meaning it this time. After all of that, he still let everyone down.

"No, I'm sorry. I should've… I should've seen the situation for what it was. We all wanted you to stay here so badly, we wound up putting you through a lot of pain."

It was no pain at all, he wanted to say—but even if he could, he'd be lying.

"I know you're worried about us," he squeezed Kel's hand, "but we're going to be okay. You're allowed to leave. You're allowed. Next month, next week, tomorrow… tonight. We're ready when you are, okay?" He winked. "You can go back to sleep now if you want."

He didn't want to, but the darkness washed over his head again anyway, pulling him under.


Hero was older, now.

Way older—a certifiable senior citizen. He was seated in his bed at home, wires snaking into his arms. It was morning, and the sun was shining high in the sky. The fall draft was a little cold for his taste, but he kept the window open. He liked to listen to the sounds of his great-grandchildren playing in the yard.

A woman walked into the room. She was old, too, but way younger than Hero. "Hey, dad! You're awake!" She walked over to his bedside, hands pressed to her chest. Kel thought she had such a pretty smile. "Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

He shook his head, and her smile faltered. "What day is it?"

"October 10."

"Your Aunt Sally would have been seventy-two today."

"Aw, daddy. Don't think about those things."

Hero smiled. "Why wouldn't I want to remember my baby sister? She was a cute little girl, who grew up to be the cutest sports agent the world ever knew."

"Never was there a more adorable corner office." She stroked the side of his face. "How are you feeling?"

"Same as yesterday."

"Good. Any pain?"

"No."

"That makes me happy to hear. Truly."

Hero patted the lady's hand. "You're a good daughter, Kelsey."

"You make it easy." She winked. "I have to go check up on the baby… you know that granddaughter of mine is useless."

"Like you were at her age?"

Kelsey rolled her eyes, still smiling. "Press the red button if you need anything, okay? I'll come right up."

"It isn't fair." Mari pouted, approaching Hero as Kelsey left the room. "He's almost a hundred, and still as handsome as ever!"

Kel couldn't disagree. In his wizened face lived the same pretty boy Kel had grown up with. Sixteen or twenty-two or ninety-one, he was still just Hero in the end. Kel walked up to his brother and looked down, having grown during his journey through Heartland to his age in the waking world. Hero stared back at him, and it didn't strike Kel as strange until Mari started pulling him away.

Hero's face fell, and his breathing became uneven. Kel wormed his arm out of Mari's hold. "Hey, don't be sad. I'm here. I never left." It wasn't a lie—which required intent, malice. It felt more like a promise.

Though they were still pressed for time, Kel didn't leave until Hero fell asleep again.


At home, Hero parsed through one of their old family photo albums, filled to the brim with photos stacked one after the next. Kel swinging with Aubrey, no doubt trying to see who could make it higher. Kel's first middle school basketball game. Kel and The Hooligans tearing into a pizza pie at Gino's. Kel blowing bubbles with Sally.

Each photo weighed a thousand pounds. The boy in those pictures didn't know that someday, a lone bone cell in his hip would refuse to die and set out to corrupt the rest. How long had it been going on before Spooney—that sickening aberration, that ball of rage—made itself known? Had Kel's body been breaking down for months? Years? Hero ran his thumb down a picture of Kel and Mari sitting together on her picnic blanket.

Trembling, he set the photos aside. There was a wretched wail bubbling in him, but he pressed it down. He was babysitting Sally and she was blissfully unaware of the precipice their family was on. Watching him rupture at the seams would wreck her, too, and his baby sister didn't deserve that.

He'd already collected brochures from Faraway's various funeral homes. (Save Kel himself asking for it, he would not allow the service to be held at their local church, or any church. He would die on that hill.) Their prices varied slightly, not significantly, so it was more a matter of location. Irideal F. Sosa Funeral Home was near the train station, which would be convenient for Sunny and his mother and some of the other attendees from outside town, but did they really want to deal with all that noise? Arlington Avenue Funeral Home was closer to where they lived but was only two blocks away from the town dump. United World Funeral Home was cheapest, but also bordered Senema, making it a headache to get to.

This was, naturally, if they decided to hold a formal wake and viewing at all. They could simply use the funeral home to organize the burial and hold his memorial service at home. It would cut down on cost, a plus with how expensive Kel's treatment had been. Their parents were already in for at least a decade of debt, probably more.

Funeral homes, pictures… clean out Kel's side of the room? No, too soon. That would be admitting his brother would never again lie in his own bed, or play music from his own boom box, or practice his shot with his own nerf balls. Just because he was leaving, didn't mean he could never come home, right?


"Hero's planning your funeral right now."

"Huh?"

"It's true. Your mom and dad are too broken up to do it, so it's fallen on him. It'll be good practice, since twenty years from now he'll have to plan another for his eight-year-old son. Then ten years after that, for the woman he married. And that's not to mention his favorite coworker, Aubrey's mother, your parents, Sally, his oldest granddaughter… and finally his own, so he doesn't have to burden his beautiful, precious Kelsey. That's the curse of growing old, I suppose—you're forced to bury the people you love."

It broke Kel's heart that Hero would have to endure all of that.

"He's a lot stronger than he looks." Mari winked. "All our friends are. I know you believe your death is only going to make their problems worse, and there's some truth to that. But you need to have faith that they can save themselves, and each other."

"Each other?"

As she spoke, it unfolded before him. "Hero is the one who convinces Aubrey to stop drinking, and she goes on to introduce Sunny to that nice young man we saw earlier, who grew up in the intentional community we saw Basil in, where Hero and his family take refuge to heal from the trauma of losing his little boy. Hero helps Aubrey plan her mother's funeral, so she mentors Kelsey when she starts to fall in with a bad crowd, the same bad crowd Sunny is able to help with his arts program, who eventually become starting members of the new offshoot community Basil founds just outside Faraway. Sunny uses the proceeds from one of his art shows to help Hero open his own restaurant, Basil's community provides them with plenty of fresh ingredients, and Hero provides Aubrey with free meals she can give to the recovering addicts she works with. And on it goes. What I'm trying to say is, they still have each other. The world will move on without you in it."

Knowing that, and seeing it, made Kel laugh out loud. "Man, that's a relief!"

"You're so cute, Kel."