Scales of Time

Here's a bit of poetry I wrote in about twenty minutes while my kids were eating lunch.  Hope you enjoy!  Or not, because it's not the most cheerful thing in the world.  I'm just hoping you'll consider it for a little while.

Scales of Time

Image courtesy of Tactician/
DeviantArt.com

Seconds stretch on, seemingly to infinity

as you await the dreaded news, clinging to hope.

You feel the shadow of death lurking about you

as your own mortality becomes a stark reality.

Days fly by in a whirlwind, blending

one into the other as the joys of a life

fulfilled elevate you above the clouds

and you feel, for the moment, invincible.

Weeks drift into months, months to years

and part of you wonders where it all goes.

The limitless possibilities the once lay before you

dwindle bit by bit, so you reflect on the good things.

Then a century has passed, in which generations

rose and fell, each with their own joys and sorrows.

Some continue and with memories of you, but that

will also turn to ash as time marches relentlessly on.

Centuries turn into millennia as the drumbeat of

the universe keeps on, marking the rise and fall

of entire civilizations now, heedless of how many lives

have crumbled beneath its heavy, uncaring feet.

Epochs have passed us by now, and no one even

recalls much of the species from whence you came,

never mind the choices you once made with such care

and deliberation, for they were everything to you.

The steady beat of time will wear away all you know

and will ever know until it is dust, such is the harsh

reality of it all, regardless of your feelings about it,

or any protests you may launch on your behalf.

Yet, if anything, this is not cause for despair.

Odds to the contrary, for you are the result of

countless choices made by your ancestors before,

you are here now, and thus can make the best of it.

Live for now, do what you can to make life better

for those around you, for though it will all turn to dust

that will never obliterate the fact the you were once here

and in spite of some rough patches along the way,

you were happy.

Love and Adventure, Nerd Style

I am officially too much of a nerd for my own good.  Today I decided to write a poem in the style of "Roses are red/violets are blue . . ."  We all know that poem. Instead of making it a standard love poem though, I've littered it with science fiction references.  Yeah, I know.  I just couldn't help myself.

Anyway, you'll find references from Doctor Who, Red Dwarf, Star Trek, Star Wars, Babylon 5, and Firefly.  It's basically a sampling of some of my favorite things.

Enjoy!

Love and Adventure, Nerd Style

The Dwarf is Red.

The TARDIS is blue.

Browncoats are cool,

and bowties are too.

The Force is imbalanced.

The Borg have arrived.

We must set course

for Babylon 5.

Corruption is strong.

Smegheads abound.

With Picard in the chair,

our odds are sound.

Bat’leths are sharp.

Light sabers are bright.

Beware the weeping angels

and Shadows in night.

The Reavers are waiting.

Serenity adrift.

Time is a luxury,

and love is a gift.

There’s no time to waste,

with a sky full of stars.

Get ready to fight

for what is ours.

Draw up a plan.

Aim for the rim.

We’ll fly beyond it,

all on our whim.

Set phasers to stun.

Get ready to go.

Let’s say to our dreams:

“Make it so.”

George's Cynical Rules for Surviving a Comically Absurd Cosmos

Today I would like to share with you a little more bonus material I've written for my April A-Z Challenge story Adam's Apple.  (If you're interested in reading the story as written for the challenge, you can find it HERE.)

George seemed like a fun character, so I wanted to delve into his rules for surviving life.  This is not the entire list I've written for him, but a sampling of the first few.  Please let me know what you think!

George’s Cynical Rules for Surviving a Comically Absurd Cosmos

Dear Reader,

My name is George, and though I don’t particularly enjoy taking the time out of my day to do this, I’m writing this to offer you some words of wisdom and advice.  Not that they’ll necessarily do you any good.  If anything is inevitable in this life, it’s failure.  Even the most valiant efforts to make things right frequently go up in flames.

There’s one pesky fact you need to keep in mind at all times, and it is so important I’ve made it the first rule

Rule #1: The universe is out to get you. 

Try to ignore this fact all you want, but the fact that there are so many gruesome ways to die that I cannot help but conclude one thing.  This conclusion is summarized in the next rule.

Rule #2: We’re all screwed.

That doesn’t mean we should all give up and die, of course.  There are ways to extract entertainment value from the worst that life has to offer.  After all, why not?  We’re stuck here anyway.  Would you like to know the key to doing this?

Why do I even bother to ask that question?  If you’re reading these words, it means you haven’t yet walked away in boredom, and that fact could be counted as an implicit desire to hear more of what I have to say.  Of course, as I write this, I have no way of knowing whether you’re actually still reading or not, so I’ll keep writing.  If anything I write beyond this point scars or offends you in any way, it is entirely your fault for continuing.

Rule #3: Don’t take anything too seriously.

I may live my life as an eternal grump and general pain in the posterior, but it isn’t because I take things too seriously.  It’s because I’m a realist, and people don’t like what I have to say because they don’t want to admit that I’m right. 

I make it a point never to set goals, because that leads to disappointment.  If you start out from a point of having nothing, you’ll usually end the game with nothing.  There are the success stories that people like to hold up as a shining example of what you can get through hard work, but they frequently neglect to include the fact that part of any victory can be directly attributed to luck.  That’s one thing I don’t have.

So what’s one to do?  You can set a goal and hope life will work out in your favor, all the while risking disappointment.  Or you can accept your life for what it is and strive for mediocrity.  This may not be seen as a laudable goal, but it’s an achievable one.

Besides, if you did manage to make some headway in pursuit of a dream, someone is likely to cut you off and take all the credit for what you did.  Why?  See the next rule for an explanation.

Rule #4: Scoundrels usually win.

The universe is filled with people whose goal is to get to the top by any means necessary.  They’ll lie, cheat, steal, and drag your name through the muck until people think you’re the reprehensible one.  It’s a disgusting fact of life.  Just look at politicians.

A Follow-Up Snippet

I intended to write something else to share with you today, but you know how it goes.  "The best laid plans of mice and men often go astray."  Still, I wanted to post something so I wouldn't feel like a complete failure.  Then I remembered several people who read my scene from the More Than Just a Kiss Blogfest said they wanted to see more.  Well, I do in fact have more.  This is only a small portion of what I have written, but this is going to be a part of a much larger story, and I don't want to give away everything that happens!

If you didn't read my scene from the blogfest, click HERE to read it first.  Both scenes added together are still pretty short, so it won't take long.

I hope you enjoy!  Feel free to let me know what you think!

“How could you?  You know how I feel about her!  You’re supposed to be my best friend!” David raked a hand roughly through his black hair.  In the afternoon light, his hair shone, revealing subtle shades of other colors. 

Of course, Mitchell took note of that little detail to avoid looking him in the eye.  He couldn’t stand to face the sense of betrayal he knew he would see in them.  “I am . . .” he muttered lamely.  For a reason he knew all too well but could never say aloud, his eyes were now glued to the ground before his feet.  “I don’t know what to say.  I’m sorry.”

“That’s it?” David demanded incredulously.  “Do you think that makes it feel better?  You never showed any interest in her before.  Everyone else drools over her, but I never imagined I would have to worry about you stabbing me in the back!”

Mitchell’s heart quickened again, his eyes snapping back to David’s face.  His friend was too close to the truth.  Can he possibly know?  Or even suspect?  I’ve been so careful . . .

The inspection of David’s features did nothing to reveal how much he may or may not know about Mitchell’s motivations.  All he could see was the anger.

In his quest to protect himself, he’d ruined everything.

“I never meant to hurt you,” Mitchell whispered.

“Well, you did.  I hope it was worth it,” David muttered bitterly.  Then he turned abruptly on his heel and stalked off.

Mitchell stared helplessly at his retreating back, his pathetic reply playing silently over and over again in his mind.  But it wasn’t.  It really wasn’t.

A Brief History of Adam Evans and His Failed Romantic Encounters (Excerpt)

Hey guys!  I know this is a late posting.  I wanted to share this with you earlier, but real life demanded attention.  It has a way of doing that sometimes.

Though I haven't gotten as much work done as I'd have liked at this point, I have been trying to expand on and polish "Adam's Apple", which some of you may remember as my April A-Z Challenge story.  There's plenty more I'd like to do, but patience and persistence will get me there.

I wanted to share a little bit of the back story I've been writing for the protagonist Adam Evans.  Consider it bonus content.  While not crucial to the main story, it's still fun.

Here's an excerpt from "A Brief History of Adam Evans and His Failed Romantic Encounters."  The story about the go kart, the peach, and the turtle follows this piece, but I have to keep some things to myself.  At least for now.

Failed Encounter #1

Teenage Letdown

Adam Evans never knew quite how to interact with girls when he was high school.  His especially scrawny frame didn’t help, either, because he felt invisible next to the athletic types who seemed to have no trouble attracting female attention.  He needed to make an extra effort to stand out.  A lot of other boys his age might have been able to say they felt the same way, of course, but Adam seemed to have a special talent for screwing up each romantic possibility with dramatic flair.

He wanted to be confident around women, because he’d heard from plenty of people that women preferred a man who was confident.  However, he quickly learned that, when feigned badly, the confidence he hoped to display could come across as arrogance.  More than once he walked away from a girl with a well-deserved welt rising on his cheek.  Each injury, whether it was physical in nature or simply manifested itself as a bad case of wounded pride, steered him in the right direction.  The course corrections were gradual, and he often wondered if he would ever achieve the desired result.

Fortunately for Adam (or so he reckoned at the time, anyway), the course corrections eventually led him to Magdalena White during his senior year.  She had stunning long brown hair and . . . well, he would have noticed her gorgeous green eyes sooner if his attention hadn’t been drawn to certain other attributes.  Yet, even with this distraction competing for his attention, he couldn’t help but notice Magdalena’s sense of humor and casual demeanor.  She was cool without even trying.

One day he approached her in the hall.  On any other day, he might not have managed it, but he noticed she was wearing a Captain McNinja and the Bonehead Brigade t-shirt.  This had been his favorite comic book series since he was a kid, and if nothing else, he could surely talk to her about that.  Shoving one hand into his jeans pocket, he tried to adopt the relaxed walk he’d seen some of the more popular guys employ.  Unfortunately, the unnatural gait required so much attention that he didn’t see the classroom door swinging open directly in front of him.

A smash to the face and painful collision with the floor ensued.  Adam sat up as quickly as he could manage in an attempt to salvage his dignity.  Not that this was possible in a hallway filled with students.  A crowd grew around him within moments.  Several students were snickering, while others simply looked on in awe at how quickly Adam’s damaged nose released blood onto the floor.

Magdalena, however, stepped forward with a handful of tissues.  “Here, it looks like you need these.”

Humiliated, Adam took the offering and used it to stem the crimson tide that was threatening to wash away the last of his nerve.  Pushing himself to his feet, he decided to forge ahead before the blood loss made his head go fuzzy.  “I like your shirt.”

It didn’t take him long to see how disjointed that scene from his life must have looked to any outsider.  Magdalena surely thought he was already delirious, but she simply smiled.  “Thank you.”

She walked with him to the school nurse, holding on to his elbow the entire time.

“Did you hear they’re making a new Captain McNinja total immersion game?” Adam asked.  He wanted to get some kind of conversation going since she was still there.

“Yes, I did.  I hope it’s better than the last one.”  She shook her head.  “They completely ruined the ending with the reveal that McNinja’s father was actually the Assassin.  It only introduced a bunch of continuity errors, and it’s an overused plot point anyway.”

Hearing those words come from her mouth made him dizzy with awe.  Or perhaps it was the continued blood loss.

After being patched up by a doctor, he returned to school the following day.  Adam successfully engaged Magdalena in conversation every day for the rest of the week without offending her, or without embarrassing himself a second time.  After accomplishing that seemingly impossible feat, he worked up the nerve to ask her out.  She even said yes!

They had exactly one date.  All went well until he dropped her off at home.  He got his first real kiss that night, which was fairly amazing.  At least for him.  Apparently the feeling wasn’t mutual.

“You deserve a girl who can appreciate everything you have to offer,” she told him afterwards.  “I think you’re a cool guy, but the kiss didn’t do anything for me.  That’s essential, you know?”

Adam went home feeling more dejected than ever.  How could he guess that this would be the most normal of his romantic failures?

Dr. Mystery's Magical Gifts

Today I felt like writing a short, stand-alone piece.  I hope you don't mind.

Dr. Mystery’s Magical Gifts

The giant metallic object hummed as its spherical bulk rotated slowly in midair.  Little emerald lights danced across its surface.  Marcel had never expected that such an odd object could exist, so he certainly didn’t anticipate a delivery van with the words “Dr. Mystery’s Magical Gifts” painted across the side in luminous pink letters.

“What is it?” Marcel asked the tiny delivery man.  How someone who barely stood higher than his waist managed to successfully wrangle this massive object into his kitchen, he would never know.

The delivery man shrugged.  “Beats me.  That’s the point of Dr. Mystery.”  He reached into a pocket and pulled out a brochure, offering it to Marcel.  “Here.  Have a look.”

Marcel was shocked that the pink wording on the side of the truck matched the words on the pamphlet.  “Are you tired of shopping for the person who seems to have everything?  Are you tired of always choosing gifts that leave your loved ones dissatisfied?  Or are you simply unable to refrain from telling your family members what you bought them for Christmas?  Then call Dr. Mystery, and our trained associates will select a gift based upon the amount you are willing to pay.  You’ll never have to make any decisions about the kind of gift we send, nor will you know which gift was sent to that special someone until after delivery.”  Marcel looked up and laughed.  “The lazy man’s shopping strategy, in other words.  This looks expensive, though.  Who sent it?”

“It does indeed come from the top tier,” the delivery man replied.  “It’s the most expensive gift we have in stock, in fact.  The giver wished to remain anonymous, though.”

“What am I supposed to do with it if I don’t know what it is?” Marcel demanded.

“Oh, I’m supposed to give you this, too.”  He handed over a standard issue birthday card.

Marcel lazily flipped the card open and found a note printed inside.  “We hope your birthday is filled with surprises.  As one of those surprises, we present to you the MegaDrive 3000.  Contained inside is a million dollars in cash and twenty pounds of explosives.  The MegaDrive cannot be controlled by remote.  You must open it manually, which requires you to be standing next to the device.  There is a 90% chance that you will not trigger an explosion, and you will become rich.  There is, however, a 10% chance that the device will go off when you open it, and the resulting explosion will kill you, level your home, and potentially maim or kill anyone who lives nearby.  If you do not wish to take this chance, simply return the device to us.  No refunds will be granted.  If you wish to tempt fate, kindly allow the delivery personnel enough time to make it to safety before opening the MegaDrive 3000.”  Marcel looked up at the delivery man, all color gone from his face.  “This is a joke, right?”

“Oh, it’s no joke.  They’re very careful about the safety of their employees, sir.”  The delivery man smiled.  “So, it’s time for you to choose.  Are you going to send it back with me, or do you want to take a chance at becoming a millionaire?”

Memoirs From the End of the World: Entry #38

Those of you who have not read previous installments of this serialized story can find it all on this PAGE.

Memoirs From the End of the World

Entry #38

The next couple of months passed largely without incident.  The rebels had to uproot twice within that time, moving their base of operations to keep any patrols, robotic or organic, from figuring out where they were hiding.  The snow disappeared, then reappeared a couple more times before melting away for the last time of the season.

The largest indicator of the passage of time, however, came from RC’s body.  A distinctive bump began to appear on her slender frame, and she knew her clothes would no longer be able to hide it.  The time for full disclosure had come.

RC lay awake long into the night, struggling to work out what to say.  Would there be questions about who the father was?  Beneath the thin blanket, she rested her hand on her growing stomach.  Alyx’s hand rested next to hers as they lay shoulder to shoulder in the dark.  He didn’t fill the silence with platitudes, but he didn’t have to.  Just having him there next to her in quiet solidarity steadied her.

As it turned out, RC’s worries were unjustified.  When she approached Brock and Becca the following morning, Alyx and Harrison were with her.  Alyx held her hand while she spit out the only words that would come out of her mouth.  “I’m pregnant.”

Brock looked calmly at Harrison.  “Have you confirmed this?”

Harrison nodded.  “Yes sir.”

Brock glanced back at RC and shrugged.  “All right.  We’ll take care of you and figure things out as we go.”  Then he looked at Becca.  “We need to get going if we’re going to have those mines set up in time.”

That was it.  No overt concern.  No talk about handing her over to the overlords.  No awkward questions.

That is, there were no awkward questions until the rebels returned later that night with Ollie in tow.  He headed immediately over to confront RC and Alyx.  Crouching down beside them, he didn’t waste any time with small talk.  “Why didn’t you guys tell me?  I had to find out from William.”

“I guess word has traveled fast since this morning,” RC grumbled.

“It’s a sensitive topic,” Alyx insisted.  “This isn’t exactly what she’d planned on, you know.”

“So, whose baby is it?  Since it’s obviously not yours,” Ollie said with a quick nod to Alyx.

“Obviously not,” Alyx replied, his volume rising in sync with his level of irritation.

Ollie sighed.  “I’m sorry, Alyx.  I didn’t mean to insult you, but it’s a valid question.  I’m not hinting at anything but the simple medical reality that you can’t have kids.”

Which is one of the facts you used to justify getting romantic with him in the first place, she reminded herself.  Still, she could have hardly expected everything to work out the way that she planned.  And ignoring Ollie’s question would do nothing to change that.  “It happened when Alyx and I were captured.  Let’s just say that the person who did this to me didn’t ask my permission.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Alyx turn away, and she assumed he did so to choke back the anger that still flared up from time to time.

Ollie seemed to deflate a little.  He leaned back and bit his lower lip.  “To be honest, I should have known by looking at you when we got you out of there.  I guess I just ignored the obvious.”

The conversation dwindled after that, though plenty remained to be said.  As RC once again dove into the safe embrace of Romero’s pages, she overheard Ollie whispering to Alyx.  “What are you going to do about all this?  This doesn’t have to be your responsibility, you know.”

“It may not have to be, but it is,” Alyx replied firmly.  “I’m going to stand by her through this, and that’s final.”  He paused.  “Remember talking about leaving the city?  How we wanted to find the group that Sheera and Peter came from?”

“Yes.  I remember.”

“Rose and I have been thinking that would be the best option.  She doesn’t want to have a baby here for obvious reasons.”

Ollie exhaled slowly.  “That makes sense.  Look, I can help you guys get there, but I won’t be leaving with you.  I like it here, and I feel like I’m fighting for something important.  You looked after me for long enough.  It’s time for me to stand on my own.”

“But . . .”  Alyx started to protest, but the words wouldn’t come.  Finally, he simply said, “You’re sure about this, aren’t you?”

“You’re sure about staying with her, aren’t you?” Ollie replied.  That single question stopped any further inquiries.

“I’ll miss you.”

Ollie laughed nervously.  It must have been a tad too much emotion for him to process.  “I’ll miss you too.”

Over the next few days, plans fell into place.  Brock seemed to have no problem with the departure plans, most likely because that would end his responsibility toward RC before anything became too complicated. 

Sheera and Peter seemed anxious to accompany them, and understandably so.  That would complicate matters slightly, but it hardly seemed right to deny them the ability to find something of their old lives again.

In the end, they decided to have Ollie and a few more rebel soldiers escort the four of them out of the city.  The plans were carefully drawn up over the course of a couple of weeks.  Soon the night before their departure arrived, and nerves mounted as they all considered the things that could go wrong.

RC could only hope their plans would unfold the way they’d anticipated.  Not that they ever really had.

Memoirs From the End of the World: Entry #37

Those of you who have not read previous installments of this serialized story can find the entire thing on this PAGE.

Memoirs From the End of the World

Entry #37

The test was done.  The results stared RC in the face.  Though the test only confirmed what she suspected to be true, that didn’t make it any easier.

Her hands trembled as she attempted to go about her daily tasks.  Harrison discreetly brought RC a little extra food for lunch, but he warned her discretion could only go so far.  “I’ll give you some time to get used to this news,” he assured her, “but Brock will have to be told about this sooner or later.”

“I know.”  RC simply hoped that she could put off that conversation indefinitely.  Once the topic came up, she couldn’t begin to guess how Brock would react.  Maybe he wouldn’t want to have a squealing infant around.  The sound of a baby crying could attract all kinds of unwanted attention.  Or maybe it wouldn’t even go that far.  Maybe he’d decide that, due to a lack of medical resources on their end, it would be easier to drop her on the doorstep of the breeding facility.  She shuddered at the thought of living in a meat locker until she turned thirty, being passed around to whatever males the overlords felt were genetically compatible enough to produce superior offspring.  Having to hand over every child she ever had.  She’d do anything before facing that fate.  She felt certain of that.

Even so, the fear ate away at her, and she only had one person with whom she could share those fears without having to engage in awkward explanations.

Alyx listened to every word, and while he tried to maintain a calm expression, she could see the worry in his eyes.  “No matter what happens, I’ll make sure you don’t end up at the breeding facility.”  He looked around the room.  Most of the rebels were out on a mission to raid a warehouse filled with food.  Ollie had gone along with them.  Isabel was watching Peter and Sheera, though Sheera resented the idea that she needed to be watched.  “Maybe you don’t need to worry too much about Brock’s reaction.  He had no problem bringing them in.  Or us.”

RC sensed that Alyx wasn’t convinced by his own words, though he surely wished he could be.  There was a clear difference between bringing young teenagers in and RC’s situation.  Still, she didn’t say this aloud.  She wanted to wrap herself in the delusion that everything would inexplicably turn out all right, even though it couldn’t possibly last long.

Later on in the day, RC balanced Romero in her lap.  Though she trusted Alyx with her feelings, she needed to sort things out for herself first.  Perhaps writing her thoughts on paper would make things more clear.

Dear Romero,

More than anything, I wish I could talk to my mom right now.  Growing up, I trusted my older brother Pete with everything.  After all, he always looked out for me.  Still, I don’t think he’d understand this.  Not really.  Instead of comforting me, as if that were even possible anyway, he’d probably try to castrate the guy who did this to me.  I think my mom would have known a way to make it all feel better.

Of course, after Pete died, all the fight seemed to go out of her.  Maybe she wouldn’t have enough strength left in her to help me.  My grandmother would have though.  If the overlords had let her live, of course, she would have found a way to help me.  She was never the type to quit.

I want to be like that, but right now, I wish I could pull a blanket over my head and block out the world.  I wish I could go back to a time when life seemed to make sense.  To a time when I had a family, and I didn’t have to worry about whether I’d still have my freedom when I woke up the next morning.

Maybe that’s why I’m so worried now.  This might be the most disgusting way to end up having a family, but this child is going to be my family nonetheless.  I’m just hoping

RC paused, almost afraid to write the rest.  Did her lingering thoughts make her a bad person?

She shook her head.  Her thoughts certainly couldn’t make her any worse than Leo, or Gas Can, or any of the others.  Confident in that much at least, she put pencil to paper again.

that I don’t hate it.  Will I be able to look at its face without remembering where it came from?  Will I even be able to make it through this pregnancy without resenting it?

I won’t lie.  If I could go back in time right now and undo all of this, I would.  Yet here I am, living with a reality I cannot undo.  So, I can only hope that I’ll be able to look at my child and love him or her.  I hope I can look back on this one day and say I wouldn’t change it after all, because this is where I am now.

My life has changed forever.

She closed the journal and set it down beside her.  Alyx, who had kindly averted his eyes while she wrote to respect her privacy, wrapped an arm around her shoulders.  They sat in silence for a long time.

“What are you thinking about?” he finally asked.

RC bit her lower lip.  “I’m thinking that while we may be safe here for a while, we need to make it outside the city.  I can’t risk giving birth here.”

Go to Entry #38

Memoirs From the End of the World: Entry #36

To read today's entry for May Monster Madness, click HERE.

To read my entry for the Best/Worst Movie Remake Blogfest, click HERE.

To help me Celebrate the Small Things, click HERE.

It's time to delve back into RC's complicated world.  For those who've missed prior installments of this serial, you can find it all on this PAGE.

Memoirs From the End of the World

Entry #36

RC sat alone on the cold concrete floor.  The darkness swallowed her whole, and she it allowed her to pretend that no one else existed.  The nausea had persisted all day, but she did her best to hide it.  She didn’t want to voice her fears, because silly as her reasoning was, she didn’t want to make it real by speaking those fateful words.

If she spoke them, the others would know what happened to her.  They would know what Leo did as she carried as she carried the constant reminder with her.

Even as she had these thoughts, she also experienced some guilt.  If she was in fact pregnant, she couldn’t blame the child growing inside her for what happened.

Of course, if it were true, one fact was indisputable in her mind.  She couldn’t let the overlords get their hands on her or her baby.  If they did . . .  This certainly wasn’t the kind of world in which she’d feel comfortable raising a child.

Maybe you’re jumping to conclusions, she told herself.  Maybe you’re just being paranoid.  Just give it some time, and you’ll see that it’s not true.

It took her forever to fall asleep.

The next morning, her first order of business was to find a private place to be sick.  She carefully ducked outside, knowing that if any of the rebels saw her, she’d be in for a stern lecture about security.  Luckily, there was no one in sight.

RC promptly vomited into a pile of snow, grateful that no one else could see her like this.  The chilly morning breeze helped subdue the nausea, and soon she was done.  Just as she was burying the evidence under the snow, she heard a familiar voice.  “What are you doing out here?”

Alyx.  How could she avoid telling him the truth?  It had been easier to simply avoid saying anything.  But actively lying to him about it?  She didn’t think she could go that far.

She looked down, afraid to meet his eye.  “I’ve been feeling sick the last couple of days, but I don’t have a temperature or anything like that.  I think I might  . . .”  Her voice trailed off, lost on the breeze that chilled her to the bone.

Alyx didn’t need her to finish the sentence, though.  He knelt down behind her, and she felt some warmth again as his arms surrounded her.  “How sure are you?”

“Not 100% sure.  I haven’t talked to the medic yet, but it seems like the most logical explanation.”

He sighed.  “What are we going to do?”

That one sentence soothed her in a way that little else could have.  His word choice spoke volumes.  Instead of asking what she was going to do like so many others might, Alyx used ‘we’.  Without even thinking about it, he included himself in the situation with her.  She wasn’t going to be alone in this.  Tears started to well up in her eyes, as if seeking to confirm her emotional instability.

“I don’t know,” RC admitted.  She shook her head, burying her face in her hands.  “I really don’t know.”

Alyx eventually helped her to her feet.  “It’s going to be all right,” he whispered in her ear as they headed back inside.  “I’ll do everything I can to make sure of that.”

Later on in the day, RC gathered the courage to talk to Harrison about her situation.  As the medic, he was the only one who could help her figure this out.  “The symptoms certainly fit,” he said solemnly after she told her story.  “We’d have to get our hands on a pregnancy test to be sure.  Either that, or wait to see how things go.  If you are, I don’t have the equipment here to provide proper prenatal care.  The only place around here that does . . .”  Harrison winced.  “Well, let’s just say you’ve already rejected that option by being on the run.”

RC nodded.  “Yeah, and this is the reality I was trying to avoid by running.”  She settled back against the wall, knowing that dwelling on this fact would do nothing to change the situation she now faced.  “Either way, I will not hand myself over.  I’m not going to let any child of mine be subjected to that future.  If you could even call it a future.”  And she meant every word of it.  Any child born in the breeding facility had a 50% chance of being implanted with alien spores that would turn them into future overlords, and a 50% chance of remaining human but spending 14 years breeding continuously by force.

No.  She would never stand for that.

“I need to know for sure,” she decided.  “Can you get a hold of the test for me?”

Harrison nodded.  “We’re going on a pharmaceutical raid in a couple of days.  I should be able to snag one for you.  I’ll also be sure to grab vitamins for you in case you need them.”

She managed a smile.  “Thanks.  You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

“Gossip isn’t part of my job description,” he assured her.

Thus began another waiting game.  At least no one was in immediate danger this time around, though this was just as life altering as anything RC had ever been through.  Aware that it was risky to say too much (they were living in close quarters, after all), Alyx simply held her hand whenever it seemed RC was having a difficult time dealing with it all.  She felt grateful for that.

The day finally came.  Harrison was as good as his word.  Immediately after returning from the trip, he discreetly handed her the box.

Her body went numb.  There was no doubt that the result of this one little test would determine the course her life would take. 

It could change . . . everything.


Go to Entry #37

Memoirs From the End of the World: Entry #35

It's Friday, which means it's time to return to RC's story.  For those who've missed earlier installments, you can find the entire story to date on this PAGE.

Memoirs From the End of the World

Entry #35

In order to ensure that it was safe to head back to base, the Brock ordered a couple of the rebels to sweep Alyx for tracking devices, though he insisted he didn’t have any.  “My captors didn’t think there was any way I could escape, so they didn’t bother tagging me with anything.”  And, after a thorough checkup, the rebels confirmed what they’d been told.

The medic, a middle aged man named Harrison, promptly got to work on Alyx the moment they made it back to safety.  RC simply wrapped an old shirt around her bleeding leg, perfectly content to wait her turn.  It was clear that, though the injury ached plenty, it was nothing more than a flesh wound.  All it required was a good cleaning and some dressings to keep infection at bay.

Alyx, on the other hand, was beginning to run a fever.  He lay on a clean blanket while the medic peeled back the denim that barely covered the wounded leg.  This soon revealed the source of the problem.  The skin was red and swollen, the gash itself forced open by the accumulation of dried blood and puss.  Clearly tending to the festering wounds of those bound for execution wasn’t a top priority. 

Sickening though the sight, and even the smell, of the wound were, RC could hardly be bothered by it.  Instead she sat beside him and held his hand, astonished by how warm it felt to the touch.  Ollie hovered nearby, clearly more repulsed by the infected leg than the rest of them.

“Can you take care of this?” RC asked.  She had no medical expertise to speak of, but she knew something like this would require strong drugs.

“We’ve managed to steal enough medical supplies to keep ourselves alive,” Harrison replied.  “That includes everything I need to treat this.  He’ll probably be pretty sick for the next couple of days, but I don’t think we have much to worry about.”

Though Harrison sounded certain, RC still had her doubts.  Maybe those doubts were based purely on her sense that things tended not to turn out as planned.  In either case, she had no intention of voicing those doubts.  Alyx had enough to worry about already without her piling on more.  It didn’t take long for her to learn just how much guilt he’d already adopted.

“It was my idea to go back to that house,” Alyx said quietly.  “Everything that happened . . . it was my fault.”

RC knew by the tone of his voice, and the weight that hung on the air as he hesitated, precisely what he was admitting fault for.  Though she didn’t want to speak aloud about the assault committed on her in front of anyone else, she couldn’t leave him hanging.  “I don’t blame you for anything that happened.  Okay?  The idea was a good one, because we really needed those supplies.  It just didn’t work out.  Everything those creeps did is their fault.  They’re the ones to blame.  Not you.”

“It wouldn’t have happened at all if we didn’t go,” he insisted.

“Thinking like that can drive you crazy,” RC replied.

Ollie winced as he watched the work being done on Alyx’s leg.  Though it seemed as if he hadn’t been paying attention to anything else, he jumped in on the conversation.  “We’re here now, and we’re safe, Alyx.  There’s no point in beating yourself up for things you can’t change.”

This was sound advice, but easier said than done.  RC had no doubt he would continue to flog himself for it all, and she couldn’t change that.  She could only be there for him.

The conversation ended abruptly when the pain of Harrison’s work made it too difficult for Alyx to speak.  Sweat beaded on his face, and he squeezed RC’s hand until her fingers started to turn blue.  She didn’t complain.

After Harrison finished, Alyx fell into a restless sleep.  After RC’s leg was tended to, she also lay down for a nap.  The day had been so exhausting, both physically and emotionally, that she needed the downtime.  And lying there next to Alyx, though he shivered with fever, was comforting.  Even in this insane world, the good could survive.  RC had felt the encroaching cynicism more than once, but having Alyx back held it at bay.

As the days passed, RC found reassurance in the fact that Alyx’s fever broke and his leg visibly improved.  Her own wound healed nicely.  The rebels came and went, going about errands that they seldom discussed with the rest of them.  Ollie, however, went out of his way to make friends with Brock, and he even persuaded the man to let him accompany them on a couple routine supply runs.

Over the course of those first days, RC didn’t talk with Alyx about anything that happened to her while trapped in that house.  Even though she didn’t remember any of it, just knowing it happened was enough to make her run from it.  And Alyx, who knew far more about what took place than she did, never brought it up.  He probably didn’t want to face it any more than she did.

Still, some realities rear their heads and demand you to take notice whether you want to or not.  Though the scrapes and bruises that came from her time in that awful house faded relatively quickly, the consequences of her time there weren’t about to go away.  As days turned to weeks, RC felt increasingly unsettled.  She just felt . . . off.  Not her normal self.  It could have been attributed to a lot of things, of course.

Then she woke one morning, only to abruptly throw up.  The nausea lingered, and she couldn’t escape the reality of what it meant.