Categories
Dystopia Genre Short stories

Turning Tides

“Where are you taking me?” Katora raised her hand to undo the red scarf covering her eyes.

“No, no, no.” Kai reached out to her. “Just a little bit further. You trust me?”

She laughed, notes dancing upon the air like flower petals. “Have you met you?”

“Touche. But wait…Please.” His lips brushed her ear. “I promise. This will be worth it.” He guided her down the footpath. Underfoot, hot gravel crunched in the high summer sun. Trees swayed back and forth in the gentle breeze sending dappled patches of light and shadow to dance upon their skin.

Kai grinned, giddy. At this point, he didn’t know who was more eager for the grand reveal: himself or his young wife. His hand trailed absently down her body, resting upon her stomach and the small bump just beginning to show.

“How much further?”

“A few more steps.” They rounded the last bend and came to the large pasture. A few more steps ensured the best view of his surprise. “Okay…Now.”

Katora removed the scarf and it fluttered to the ground as her eyes drank in the sight before her. “Ohhhhh. Oh, oh, ohhhhh.” Her feet carried her forward, lips parted in awe. “Oh, Kai…Horses.”

Standing before them, saddled and ready, waited two horses, sun glinting off their chestnut brown hides. One gave a soft nicker, as if in greeting to the two-foots.

Between them, their female groom bobbed her head. “G’day…And a most happy birthday.”

“They’re beautiful…They’re so beautiful. Just like I always imagined.” Katora stopped before one with a white blaze down her face. Questioning eyes sought the groom.

“Go ahead. Starlett there won’t bite. Gentle as a sparrow she is.”

“Starlett.” With both hands, Katora reached up and traced the horse’s face, running her fingers along the white marking. “You’re so beautiful.”

Hands shoved in his pockets, Kai wandered up behind her. “Ready for your first ride?”

She turned, a hand dropping towards her stomach. “But…”

“Already cleared it with Doc. Said you’d be just fine. As long as we aren’t planning on any racing or jumping or trick riding. You and Peanut will be fine.”

She looked back to the horse. “I’ve always wanted…”

Kai presented a flourishing bow. “And your wish is my command.”

“Oh, Kai!” Arms snaked about his neck. “Best gift ever.”

“Well, ya know…”

Katora playfully backhanded his shoulder.

He smiled, chest expanding at her joy. Three years together and still he could gaze upon her forever and never grow tired. As his father said six months ago at their wedding, he was one lucky bastard. “I love you, too.”

After the groom showed them how to mount and coached them through controlling their mounts, they were allowed down the horse trail to where a picnic lunch awaited. “Enjoy your time,” the groom called, “Remember, if you need anything, just give me a call on the comm. They’re in the bags.”

The journey was a leisurely one. Both of their horses set a gentle walking pace, familiar with the trail and ultimate destination. Kai doubted they’d have to do anything to ensure they got there. For the most part, it was like riding in a hover. But instead of being encased in plastics and glass, they were exposed to the elements of the beautiful day and could feel the power of another living creature beneath them.

Lunch in the glade followed with matching idealistic pleasure. “A fairy’s grove,” Katora named it.

Kai agreed. While clearly engineered by an intelligent hand, outside of the blanket and wicker picnic basket, there was not a single hint of human or technological encroachment. Within this ring of tall shady trees, they were embraced and tucked away from the world. Was there ever a time in human history when such secret places as this were the norm as opposed to the expectation?

There, they laughed and dreamed with all the abandon of all young couples. They would raise their child, travel the world, do meaningful work, and build a legacy of love and joy.

Katora was smiling at him over a cup of sparkling juice when her face fell slack with wonder. “Kai! Kai!” Her hand reached for his.

“What?” With a quick roll, he was up to his knees.

She placed his hand on her belly and pressed it against her. “Can you feel it?”

Kai closed his eyes and concentrated on that point of contact between himself and Katora. He felt the softness of her cotton shirt, the wrinkles in the fabric, the firmness of her skin just underneath, the steady rise and fall of her breath, and then…

A grin morphed the planes of his face. Kai lowered himself until his lips brushed her shirt. “Hello in there, Peanut. It’s Dad.” He glanced up and saw Katora glowing. “I want you to know, your mum and I love you. We’ll be seeing each other soon. Just rest and grow strong.” He kissed her belly.

“Peanut’s first kick.”

“Here.” Kai jumped and ran to the saddle packs. He came back a moment later with his phone, recording. “Say hi, my sweetest darling.”

Laughing, she waved. “Hi, my sweetest darling.”

Kai turned his phone towards himself. “Okay, so we are, officially, in week nineteen of forty, almost at the halfway point. And today, we mark Peanut’s first kick at…four twenty-six pm.” He settled by Katora, holding the screen to capture them both. “Watch out world, Peanut is on the way.”

“Watch out world?” She laughed.

He turned off the recording. “Well, I know me. I’m handful enough. But mix that with you, my dear,” Kai waggled a strand of grass at her, “and the world has a force to be reckoned with on the way. I think we should both count ourselves lucky if Peanut doesn’t become a hacker.”

“Like Dad?”

“Hey, now. What I do is authorized. Not my fault people forget their passwords or don’t use other more reliable methods of security…You hear that, Peanut? Don’t be technophobic. Instead, be the technology and rule the world with it.”

“Be whatever you want to be, Peanut.”

“Yeah. Mum’s right. Rule number….whatever at this point, I lost track. Listen to Mum. She’s smarter than Dad.”

As the sun began to dip, the couple began back to the main pasture. Belly and soul full and content, Kai sat back in his saddle, watching as Katora led the way a few paces in front. He smiled, enjoying the rhythmic swaying of her body atop Starlett. A perfect day, if he did say so himself. Later, he’d snuggle her close on the couch, watch a movie. And after that…he let the thought trail off. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be too tired.

He closed his eyes.

Starett let out an unearthly screaming sound, jerking Kai to attention. The horse reared up, front hooves kicking the air, her white teeth showing, and eyes rolling.

And from her back, tumbled Katora. Her arms flailed as she tried to stop her fall.

She hit the ground with a dull thud.

Kai struggled, cursing the stirrups holding him captive. Somehow, he untangled himself and ran to his wife’s side. “Katora. Katora! Answer me.” His hands hovered over her crumpled body, wanting to touch her, wanting to turn her over so he could see her face, but frightened to do so. Hadn’t he heard somewhere it was dangerous to move someone after a fall?

“Katora, please. Come on. Answer me.”

Silence was never so loud.

Kai sprang up, nearly tripping over his feet, as he rushed to the saddlebag on his horse. He threw out the contents, seeking the comm, eyes constantly darting to the far too still body of his wife. He found it.

“Someone, please. Send help. Korta’s hurt.”

*********

He sat alone in the massive waiting room. A now cold and ruined cup of coffee sat on the coffee table before him.

Kai ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. How much longer? Ever since they arrived, he had been forced into this solitary confinement, this echo chamber, alone with only his blackened thoughts.

And the silent hours. They hounded and mocked him as they crawled by. This was his fault. He should have known better. What possessed him to even dare to think something like having her ride a horse would be safe? That was his problem. He hadn’t thought. He didn’t think. He never…

“Kai Whitlock?”

Towering over him stood a female nurse in light red hospital scrubs. He hadn’t even heard her approach. The lights shone down, bringing out golden highlights in her brown hair, but the angle cast her eyes in darkness, reminiscent of twin black holes.

“Yes?” His voice cracked, rusty and broken.

“Will you come with me? The doctor has some things he needs to discuss with you.”

As if he’d tell her no.

He stood, muscles protesting, a testimony to the weary watch.

With its red block numbers, the clock on the wall declared the time, four twenty-seven am.

The soles of his shoes squeaked on the shiny, white-tiled floor. Track lights chased away the shadows, bouncing back the harsh white of floor and walls, an assault on the eyes.

They passed others, trapped in this place, staff with pale zombie-like patients or with frazzled people like himself, struggling to keep up. Kai wondered if they were holograms, programmed to give the illusion of life, for none uttered a sound.

Did they think the same of him?

Several floors up, the stark walls and bright lights gave way to darker wood tones and carpeted flooring. The lights dimmed and gentle. The urgency faded, giving way to an oasis of rest in these silent predawn hours. Was this where Katora and Peanut were? Behind which door was his wife?

They passed door after door, hall after hall.

Katora, it seemed, was not here.

Several twists and turns later, the nurse stopped.

Before him stood a heavy door, beside it a burnished gold placard. Dark letters in an almost Gothic script proclaimed, Doctor Gregory Mitchele, MD. And underneath, Director of Emergency Medicine.

She rapped on the door, each one like a gunshot, a declaration of war, before the surroundings swallowed the sound. If there was to be a war, the dying sound informed him, it was over before it ever began. “You can go in,” she nodded to the room, “Doctor is expecting you.”

He should say something, give some token, some verbal acknowledgment. But for what? Katora would know. But he was alone. If this was for good, appreciation was in order. But if the news were ill? What did one say then?

In the end, Kai settled on nodding and clearing his throat. The metal of the handle was cool, cold even, under his living flesh. He pushed and the door glided open, allowing him access to the waiting Doctor Gregory Mitchele, MD.

The room was long, divided into two halves. The closest portion hosted an L shaped couch and two overstuffed chairs huddled about a glass coffee table upon which sat a silver tray with a blue glossed ceramic carafe and two matching cups. A small bowl held a few sugar packets and stir sticks. Floor lamps stood sentry, giving off honeyed light, warm and inviting.

Bookcases lined the whole length of the room, filled with massive tomes in dark bindings with gold leafed titles. Outside of the university, Kai had never seen so many hardbound books in one place.

The second half of the room held a massive glass desk with file cabinets lining the walls to one side of the window, behind the desk, with a smart board on the opposite side. Dark green curtains covered the window, cutting off the views of the world beyond, making this space a whole universe unto itself. No clocks announced the time here.

From behind the desk, a dark-skinned face looked up. Doctor Gregory Mitchele smiled at him, though Kai noted how the edges looked wilted and frayed. “Good morning. You must be Kai. I’m Greg.” He gestured to the seats. “Please, sit. And help yourself to a cup of coffee. I’m sure you’re tired.”

“That’s one word for it.” Kai dropped into one of the chairs.

The doctor set his glass tablet, screen blank, on the table and poured himself a cup as he joined him. He offered it to Kai, who shook his head.

Doctor Mitchele took a sip, set the cup down, and leaned forward, his hands clasped loosely between his knees. “First, let me start by saying how sorry I am for the situation. I understand you’ve only been wed recently and you’re both expecting your child. Such an unfortunate tragedy.”

“How is she? How’s the baby?” Kai leaned in.

He shook his head. “Perhaps it’s best if I show you. You appear to be a man of intelligence and understanding.”

The doctor laid his hand on the tablet and the screen shimmered, now glowing with charts and vital signs. With a swipe, he transferred the data to the table top, then selected two windows, magnifying them both. Vital charts with five lines each. In one, all five lines bounced up and down with regular rhythm. The second, however, showed only four of the five making any movements at all, and those lines jumped about sporadically, without a rhythm or reason that Kai could tell.

“These are the vitals of the fetus and Katora, respectively.”

Kai felt a band of pressure around his heart ease. The vitals for Peanut were steady. Their baby was okay.

Doctor Mitchele swiped Peanut’s vitals back to the cluster, leaving Katora’s. He pulled the window, enlarging it.

Kai’s eyes bounced from the window to the doctor’s now pinched expression.

The band tightened its grip.

“Your wife sustained substantial injuries to the back of her skull. The force caused her brain to twist and turn within the skull’s cavity, resulting in massive damage all throughout the organ.” He held up his hands, one hand forming a cup over a loose fist. He moved and twisted the fist around, demonstrating.

Kai felt as if his brain sustained the injuries, for thoughts, let alone words, floated out of his grasp, balloons carried away on the wind. After several swallows, he somehow managed, “And that means?”

“Here.” He brought up another window and positioned it next to Katora’s. All five lines in the second vitals chart moved up and down in regularity, a stark contrast to Katora’s. “This is what a normal, healthy set of vitals of an expectant mother should be.”

It was the difference between the barren desert and the lush oceanside.

“I know she is badly hurt,” Kai said, feeling his way through the jumbled mess of thoughts and emotions pressing on him. “What I need to know now is what we do from here. What is her treatment? How long will it take? What are the effects on our baby and the pregnancy?”

Doctor Gregory Mitchele sighed and leaned back, folding his hands behind his head. He glanced at Kai, then slowly sat back up, swinging his body forward until his elbows rested on his knees, hunched once more. His dynamic face, the features proclaiming his humanity, smoothed out until nothing but an empty mask looked at him. “I am sorry, Mr Whitlock. But even modern medicine has its limits. There is nothing we can do further for her. The damage to her brain is simply too extensive. Even now, the only reason why her heart continues to beat at all is because of the medication first administered by the medics at the scene and the machines she’s now attached to. Once the medications have passed through her system and we disconnect the machines, she’ll pass on.”

“No. Nonononononono.” Kai shook his head, thrusting himself as far back as the chair would allow. “No. That…You’re lying. Katora’s…She’s going to be fine. She fell, but…No. You don’t…You don’t know my wife. You don’t know her.” Kai stood, a mass of restless energy with no potential of release.

The doctor watched impassively from behind his mask.

Kai turned away and ran his fingers through his hair. He wheeled back around. “And what about our baby then? Peanut? You showed me Peanut’s vitals. Those looked strong.”

“Yes. I did. And yes, her vitals are for the moment.”

“Her?” The word paused his thoughts and for a moment, the world.

The mask slipped, showing surprise. “You didn’t know?”

Kai’s lips jerked into a wry smile. “Call us old-fashioned, but we…We wanted a bit of mystery.” His body collapsed back into the chair. So he was to have a daughter then? A baby girl. Like Katora. He closed his eyes and he could see her. Their daughter wrapped in pink, eyes bright blue, and tiny hand reaching for him.

“The unfortunate truth is that while the vitals are stable, the fetus is too underdeveloped to survive outside of the womb.”

The cold bands around his heart sank to form a knot in his gut. “But what about-”

He was talking to the mask.

“Even transferring the fetus to a smart womb would be too much at this point in the pregnancy. If things were further along then, yes. We’d do it without hesitation. Would have already done it, in fact. But with where things are, it’d never survive the procedure. It’s too delicate.”

“So you’re not even going to try?”

“The chances are viability and success are less than a thousandths of a single percent. It’d be a waste of resources. We’d just as soon wake tomorrow and find all the world brimming with drinkable water again.”

Kai swallowed. And swallowed again. His hands clenched and his nostrils flared. Control was nothing more than a single, thin, and fraying thread, and panic the scissors.

“So…what does that mean then? What is done to protect my daughter and keep her safe until she is old enough for a smart womb? Can you keep Katora…?” His throat closed as his mind showed him a picture of her, nothing more than a broken and abandoned shell wrapped in a bedding of medical tubes. Kai shook his head. “She’d want that. I know she would.”

“We do nothing.”

Kai’s heart stopped. “What?”

Avoiding eye contact, Doctor Mitchele touched his tablet. “There is a matrix-”

“Matrix?”

“Yes. It helps us determine, with clear mind and sound judgment, those to whom we can direct our resources. Both Katora and the fetus-”

“No.”

Doctor Mitchele paused, frozen, like some prey animal before the predator.

“Daughter,” Kai corrected. Peanut was more than some lump of cells to be discarded. He had felt her kick only hours ago, just as alive as anyone else.

The doctor cleared his throat and pointed to the graphs. “Both, as you can clearly see, are well outside of the range of the viability. Therefore, all life-saving efforts are to be stopped.”

Kai sat there in disbelief. He could not be having this conversation right now. This had to be a nightmare. There was simply no way this could be. This was not a conversation that normal people had. How could he speak so casually about ending two lives? Wasn’t he supposed to be a doctor? Weren’t doctors supposed to save and heal people? How could the lives of Katora and his daughter be distilled down to some irrational numbers on some stupid chart?

“Mr Whitlock. Control yourself, please.”

Kai looked around, confused.

He didn’t remember standing up.

Doctor Mitchele rose. “I understand this can be distressing news.”

“Can be?” Kai laughed, the sound raw and all jagged-edges. “You do understand you are talking about murdering my wife and daughter?”

“Murder would be ending lives that were able to sustain themselves outside of medical intervention. Something both Katora and the fetus are, unfortunately, lacking at this point. And beyond that, even lacking the ability to sustain life with the assistance of medical intervention. We are merely facing the reality that in this case, we must, as they say, let nature take its course.”

“No. There must be some sort of recourse. Some appeal process.”

“Mr Whitlock, you waived the right to an appeal process when Katora was admitted to this hospital.”

“I did no such-”

“Is this your signature?” Doctor Mitchele held the tablet, with Kai’s name at the bottom of the admission documents.

His chest heaved. The world tried to tilt and his knees felt weak. “I didn’t…”

“They are part of the standard admittance package. All decisions of the hospital staff are binding and final…I am truly sorry, Mr Whitlock.” He clutched the tablet to his chest as if to protect himself from Kai’s impending loss. “Now…as a courtesy to you and to family and friends, we will hold off on disconnecting our machines from Katora for twenty-four hours. That should give you ample time to gather everyone for a Remembrance Ceremony. We also have ministers here and available once you are ready.”

Kai stumbled. His hand came down, landing on Katora’s vitals.

“Mr Whitlock?”

Under his fingers, he watched as the signs of her life bounced up and down. She was struggling to hang on. He could see it. How could they not? How could they just…toss her aside, like some broken machine?

“Mr Whitlock?”

Well, he wouldn’t cast her aside or give up.

“Mr Whitlock?”

“I’m okay. I just…It’s a lot to take in. You know?” Kai stood and straightened his shirt.

Relief passed over the doctor’s face. “I do. And again, I am sorry. I do wish I had better news. Please, believe me when I tell you, this is for the best and in both of their best interests. If we did anything else, we would only prolong and increase their suffering. And I know you do not want that.”

Kai looked away lest his eyes betray his thoughts. Katora always said he was a horrible liar. “May I…go see her now?”

“Of course. I’ll have a nurse take you.”

“Thank you.” Kai rubbed his tongue against the roof of his mouth to try and clear the rotten taste of those words.

A cold brush of air told him the office door opened, allowing reality and time to rush in once more. Haloed by the hall lights was another young nurse with long blond hair pulled back into a bun and soft blue eyes. She offered him a gentle smile, one that bespoke of understanding, empathy even. “Mr Whitlock?” The syllables of his name rolled off her tongue almost like a song. “If you’ll follow me?”

Kai followed.

They journeyed in silence through the halls. As they walked, Kai studied this new guide. She was a pretty thing to be sure, if not his type, but young. She didn’t look a day outside of high school. Too young even for the adult vocation testing if he were to guess. They passed another nurse and Kai saw the obvious difference he missed. While the other was dressed in medical red, this one, while she wore the same cut and fabric, was clothed in Remembrance blue.

His destination was on the ground floor, at the back of the hospital, and tucked away into a small alcove. Apparently, there was no desire to remind those that entered that not everyone left through the front doors with arms filled with flowers and balloons. Above the archway, carved words in faux stone read, “Always Remembered”. Six doors lined the short hallway, three to a side. Three of the doors were opened, darkened maws silently waiting to consume any who dared to enter them.

From one of the occupied rooms, Kai could barely make out the low murmurer of voices and crying.

From another, the light flicked off as the door opened. A janitor pushed out a cart filled with trash bags. Inside one, Kai saw bunches of fresh forget-me-nots, broken and crushed.

At the end of the hall, stood a large vase with glass blown forget-me-nots, iridescent in the strategic lighting.

The young nurse stopped at the last door on the left. She tilted her head and her eyes found his, steady and unwavering in her conviction. “I am sorry for your unexpected loss. May these last hours be a time of peace and gentle goodbyes.”

What did those words even mean?

With a scoff at her meaningless babble, Kai entered the small room where his wife and daughter waited, helpless, for others to end their existence. She looked small, so unlike herself. At first, Kai wondered if this was not some elaborate ruse. Surely, that could not be Katora in that bed.

But under the mass of wires and tubing, and the thin blue blanket, it was.

At her side, he fell to his knees. “Katora.” Her name a prayer of supplication upon his lips. He gathered her cold hand in his and kissed the smooth skin.

He had done this to her.

“Katora. Oh, baby. I’m so sorry. I’m-” His voice broke. “I’m here. Okay? I’m here. And I know you can hear me. I know you’re there and…I need you to listen very carefully to me. Okay?” His hands squeezed hers. “They think you’re not going to pull through this. But they don’t know you, and…” He swallowed. “I need you to be strong. Stronger than you’ve ever been. I know you wanted to wait, but…we’re having a daughter. And what they want to do…We can’t let that happen. So I need you to be strong and to hold on. For me. For Peanut. I need you to prove them wrong. That you don’t need this fancy medical stuff to stay here with us. And I know you can do that. I love you.”

Kai felt her hand tighten.

“I’ll be right back. I promise.”

Re-tracing his steps, Kai haunted the predawn hallways, keeping alert for an enemy or the object of his search. He found both at the same time.

He wrapped his hands around the handles of a wheelchair, and a male voice asked, “Can I help you, sir?”

Kai turned, bringing the chair with him and plastering a bright smile on his face. “Nope. I’m good. Just grabbing this for my wife.”

The male nurse, one dressed in the correct red scrubs, frowned. “I don’t-”

“Thanks for offering, boss, but I’ve got this.”

“Still-” He took a step forward.

Kai veered the chair around him. “Don’t want to keep everyone waiting, am I right? You have a good day.” He gave a quick nod and headed back to Katora.

No sirens sounded. No voices shouted over the PA.

The easy part was over.

Back in the room, he paused for a moment. Doubt woke, ripping through his confidence. What if Doctor Mitchele was right, it whispered? What if the machine here was indeed the only thing keeping her alive? What if, by carrying through with this crazy, ill-conceived, half-baked notion he killed her?

But if he did nothing, she’d be dead all the same by this time tomorrow. She and their daughter.

And that he could not accept.

Kai untangled Katora from the snare of tubes and wires. They could not have her. Not today.

The vitals flat-lined on the monitor.

He scooped her up and transferred her to the wheelchair.

Kai tucked the blanket around her. “You just stay with me, love. We’ll be home free in just a few minutes.” He rested his hand on her shoulder, her skin warm and soft under the thin hospital gown.

They made it fourteen steps down the hall.

“Stop!” a voice shouted.

Kai quickened his steps.

“You will not be told again. Stop!”

He ran.

He knew an exit was close. Just up and around the last corner. If he could run just a little bit faster and stay ahead of the clomping steps behind them they could make it.

Katora depended on him.

Peanut depended on him.

There. The faintest glimmers of natural light to his right. That had to be the exit.

He almost fell, yanking the chair to a stop as they came to it. Their portal to freedom and Katora’s chance at life. Kai slammed his body against the door handle. It gave way and a rush of fresh morning air tickled his face. His hands fumbled for the frame of the chair as he stretched, trying to hold open the door and pull the wheelchair through at the same time.

So close.

The wheels caught on the threshold and the chair lurched forward.

Kai looked up.

He locked stares with the hazel eyes of the hospital security. Instead of yelling or threatening, he said with a soft voice, as one might use with a young child, “You’re killing her, Kai.”

Kai shook his head, gathering Katora into his arms. He wasn’t killing her. He was giving her and their daughter a chance at life. Which was more than anyone within those walls was going to do.

Sweet fragrance exploded around him with each step as Kai fought his way over flowering ground vines.

Katora’s back arched, contorting her body. A deep wheezing, almost a rattle, slipped over her lips.

Kai stumbled and fell to his knees.

Shadows descended upon them; a small army of security, nurses, and doctors.

He could go no further.

Kai gathered her close, trying to shield her with his body. He wouldn’t let her go. Not like this. Not now.

Not ever.

“Kai?” A hand, feather soft, brushed against his wrist.

He dared to look.

Crouched before him was the Remembrance nurse. She blinked and something unreadable flitted over her features. If he had to name it, it looked like sorrow. Her free hand came up and touched the monitoring cord draped over her neck. “May I?”

His arms tightened and his throat closed off. His eyes stung with unfamiliar heat.

He couldn’t let Katora go.

But even as his head shook, his body shifted back.

As she leaned in, he caught a whiff of her faint perfume. She smelt like a wish, like longing.

Kai held his breath as if the mere act of him bringing air in and out of his lungs would disrupt the reading. Maybe if he kept himself as still as death, then death would mistake him for her, and Katora might yet live. He yearned in that moment for someone, something, to pray and believe in. They had lost more than just drinkable water in this last generation.

Who knew eternity could last the length of a single breath?

The nurse settled her weight back on her heels. Her eyes lingered on Katora’s peaceful pale face as if she were lost within some pleasant dream. Then those eyes lifted until they met his. Her blue orbs bright mirrors for his. “She will always be remembered.”

Air raced down into his lungs, a sudden black hole pulling all light and life inside it. Then reversed just as quickly, spewing forth everything, as if speaking were the key to composing reality. “No.”

“As long as there are those who speak her name, her light will never be lost. She will always shine forth, bright and beautiful and vibrant; a guide for those left here and for those to follow. A sacrifice poured out so others might live.”

Kai knew those words; knew the Final Rite. He had heard them far too many times. He always knew one day, those words would be spoken over Katora. No one lived forever.

But here? Now? Out on the lawn of some hospital, not even a day past her twenty-second birthday and only months from being a mother?

“Our daughter?”

“Rests and knows no pain.”

Kai closed his eyes. He was so tired. So…empty.

And there was no one to blame but himself. “I’m sorry.”

The nurse’s hand touched his forearm. Now he knew what emotion it was on her face; sympathy mixed with judgment. He saw it, a shadow behind frosted glass. She knew. “We need to bring them inside now.”

Of course, they did. It wouldn’t do to have them seen, sprawled out like this. Bad for the reputation. A disruption of the order and control, exposing the twisted chaos between life and death. Tore off the mask leaving reality naked. Couldn’t have that. Especially not here.

He should protest it.

Katora would have protested it. ‘Let them see!’ she would have shouted.

But he was not her.

And he ached with emptiness.

He had nothing to give.

They came, the angels of death, vultures circling, intent on their purpose of taking his Katora from him. They’d whisk her away, leaving him with only the memories and digital imprints; hallow echoes coded in zeros and ones.

And their baby…their precious daughter.

He never even got to hold her.

As they lifted Katora from him, the sun burst forth over the high rises of the city. Its beams of light danced down and kissed her brow, a goodbye kiss for the saints.

Kai looked up to the sky.

It was going to be a beautiful day.

Categories
Dystopia Genre

All For a Drop

It was wrong to steal. And Jazel was not a thief.

So it was with little difficulty that he shoved back the random thought that he could easily slip an extra water pod or two into his jacket pockets and not be caught to the recesses of his mind. He was an honest, upright, and faithful citizen to the GenTech Company. Which was the least he could do for all that the company had given him. In the years following the last of earth’s natural freshwater supplies being exhausted, it was GenTech that had stepped up and quite literally saved the world. With their water trees that needed only air to live and ability to produce precious pods filled with clean, drinkable water, they had managed to prevent the nations from rending each other apart. They gave generously from their massive and carefully cultivated forests, providing with seeming ease enough fresh water for every man, woman, and child to not just survive, but thrive. All they asked for was peace; for all to share their wealth and resources just as they had done.

The world willingly complied.

One by one, nations merged with each other. Currency and money became a thing of the past. Crime began to go down. What need was there to take or force from another when all one had to do was ask? Patriotism, nationalism, racism; all those ills of society began to move from daily life to the realms of history books and museums. It was a new era for the world, for mankind; and it was golden.

GenTech continued to be the sole guardians of the water forests. They were the ones who monitored, cared for, nurtured, and distributed the water pods. It seemed like an impossible task and to someone like Jazel, a logistical nightmare. But GenTech had been a profitable company in the years before and thusly showed little difficulty with adjusting to managing the populations of the very world. They ran with a precise science and formula, everything carefully calculated and overseen to ensure that everyone got exactly what they needed; no more and no less.

Every day, people like Jazel loaded pallets onto trucks. And trucks hauled the precious pallets filled with water to the different distribution sites. Every day, the people of the world would arrive at their appointed times with their baskets, bags, buckets, and arms ready to receive their alloted amount. So it was, and so it would continue: the world finally, truly at peace.

For a company that gave so much good for so long, there was no question at all that they would continue to do so in Jazel’s mind. The company would always give just what was needed. All he would ever have to do was ask.

Then Shara became ill.

It started innocently enough, nothing more than a normal childhood illness. His wife kept her home from day care, more to keep the other children from falling ill than anything. Then she stayed home a second day, followed by a third. She lost her color, her appetite, her energy. Jazel stayed home that third day, his wife needing a break from the constant care. Shara remained in bed, clutching her bunny rabbit as she tossed about in fitful sleep. Jazel sang softly to her. Songs that his mother and his mother’s mother used to sing. He soothed back her hair. He painted her nails in her favorite lime green. And he read her her favorite book over and over without compliant or suggestion of her second favorite book.

Then the fever hit.

He took water from his own supply and gave it without question to his daughter once her daily allotment depleted. His wife did also.

They called the doctor who came without delay. He poked and prodded, took measurements and readings, all the while scribbling ferociously in his little book and muttering to himself words and phrases that made no sense. When Jazel asked him what his daughter had and what she needed to recover, the doctor only bobbed his head, flashed an apologetic smile, and said that he had to run some tests. He promised to call as soon as he knew anything and felt certain that all would be well. In the meantime, continue to ensure that Shara got her rest and that she drank her daily water. GenTech would, as always, provide exactly what the family needed, no more and no less.

Jazel never doubted.

The fever grew worse in the night.

Shara’s skin almost glowed red, flushed with heat. Her curls clung to her head, limp and wet. When Jazel dared to touch her, she burned.

That day, he gave her everything he could spare of his water, leaving just enough for himself to take off the sharp edge of thirst.

The following day, his gaze lingered on the pods as he packed them away into their crates. His hand held their weight a little longer. He was thirsty and surrounded by water, but unable to take even a drop. It would be taking from another. It would be wrong. It would be stealing. He would not steal or take from another.

Finally, two days later, the doctor called back. Shara needed water for her fever and medication for the virus which ravaged her body’s ability to regulate its temperature. He had already called in the request for supplies and GenTech would no doubt respond by the end of day. They would provide exactly what Shara needed to ensure the quality of her life, just as they had for every other human on the earth over the years. There was no reason to fear or be worried.

GenTech responded quickly. A currier arrived within a few hours with a small bag and an official notice.

Jazel disregarded the notice. It would be nothing more than words of affirmation of what he already knew. Inside was everything Shara would need. GenTech was generous and gave freely to those who asked. In the bag would be both the medication and all the water she would need. It never crossed his mind to doubt.

Inside was one small vial of mysterious green liquid.

He frowned at it. The vial was so small. Barely a mouthful for even a child as Shara. Surely she would need more medicine than that. And where was the water?

He picked up the notice and quickly read the words. It fell from his fingers.

There would be no water.

There would be no medicine.

The vial contained not life, but death.

Surely there had to be a mistake. It had to be a simple mix up. The company would not condemn a child like Shara to death. This had to have been meant for someone else. Someone else who was old and already so near death after a full life. It could not be meant for his little daughter.

Jazel called the company. He was granted an appointment for that evening. Everything would be fine as soon as he could speak to them. He would explain what had happened and he would return home with the proper supplies; medication and water. He promised his wife and his daughter, kissing Shara’s fevered brow. She was so hot she no longer sweat at all. She only burned.

He was greeted promptly by name upon his arrival to the large glass building. While he waited, he was offered a glass of water while he waited. Jazel accepted with many thanks. He had drank nothing that day, giving all to Shara. He took nothing for himself but enough to wet his lips.

The rest he slipped into a small water tight bag and slid it into his pocket. Shara needed it more than he.

The company man who greeted him was polite and cordial. He listened well and nodded sympathetically at all the right moments. Yet when the time came and Jazel asked for the correct supplies, the man shook his head. There had been no mistake. They had sent exactly what they had meant to. After looking at the results of the test, an expert panel of doctors had concluded that Shara was too far gone and too sickly to survive and recover enough to achieve any means of acceptable quality of life. Giving her medication and water would only take from another who would benefit more from it. And that would not be fair to that person. Surely Jazel could understand. While it was sad to see one so young have to leave this earth so soon, it would be for the best. And after her burial, he and his wife could apply to have another child. They were young enough yet that the man stated he felt confident they would be granted permission to conceive again.

Jazel left empty handed but for his one small bag with water.

That night, every single drop was given to Shara.

The morning light brought the dismal realization that no help would be coming.

Jazel’s mouth felt like pure cotton and his head felt made of stuffing. He needed water but there was none left in the house. Everything had been given to Shara. And their daily supply would not be given until that evening.

He went in to kiss his daughter’s forehead and could hardly believe what he felt. Her skin was cool. The fever had broken. Though weak, her eyes were clear and was she able to smile and ask for her favorite book.

He returned to the company building. Surely things would be different now. The doctors had misread the tests. They had been wrong. Shara would be well. All she needed was some extra water. No more than a pod or two for a few days. GenTech surely had enough to spare. They had given him an extra glass only yesterday had they not?

He was turned away. The company man refused to listen; refused to even see him. The answer would be the same. There was no water to spare. They would receive their daily allotment at its appointed time, no more and no less. It was advised that he return home and bid his daughter farewell. It was also advised that he remember just what happened to water thieves of old. They were executed on sight.

He went to his work, watched, and waited. Supervisors walked the rows. They counted the boxes. Machines weighed the pallets. Everything was checked and double checked to ensure not a single ounce was missing. He had never paid attention before to how closely everything was monitored and guarded. Not a single movement was lost to the watchful eyes of those who guarded the water pods.

Jazel picked up a water pod and it slipped from his hand, falling to the floor. It hit with a slosh. Supervisors rushed over in a swarm, everyone on alert.

It was then that he noticed the gun. He caught the quickest flash of it under the jacket of one of the supervisors as he leaned down and over to pick up the unbroken pod. Jazel only recognized it because of the old movies he had watched. He had thought they had been all destroyed years ago. At least that was what the teachers had said.

Before he could say or think anything, another was asking him if he was alright. Was he ill? Did he need to go home and rest?

No, Jazel assured them. He had been merely lost in thought. His wife’s birthday was approaching and he was struggling to figure out what to give her as a gift. It would not happen again.

The answer seemed to satisfy. The pod had not broken so no harm was done. After admonishments to be more mindful and a few gift suggestions, the supervisors left back to their original posts and watches.

How was he supposed to get the water he needed for Shara? With supervisors that watched this closely and guns to kill, it looked hopeless.

Perhaps the company man had been right. Perhaps the kindest thing he could do would be to go home, hold his daughter tight, and give her the vial. Who was he to argue with doctors; with the company? If they said Shara would have no quality of life after her illness, would they not know best of all? Had GenTech not saved the world? Were they not versed in making decisions such as this?

And he was no thief. If he failed, he would be killed before he ever reached Shara with the water. What would it gain her? Nothing but a father to mourn before her own death. And where would that leave his wife? But childless and without a husband. Was it not better to grieve only one instead of two?

His daughter. His only daughter. He could not shake the images of her from his mind. He could not silence her laughter that echoed in the shadows of his memory. She was but a child; so young, too young.

He had to try.

He signaled to a supervisors. He was feeling faint, he explained. He had drank all his rations from the day before due to excessive working out in the yard, and now he was incredibility thirsty. Could some of his rations from later be given early now? In the state he was in, it was not hard to convince the supervisor that he did indeed some some water.

A small glass was provided to him. It would be noted and what he was given this evening would reflect the deduction he took now.

Jazel nodded his understanding and took the smallest of sips. It was hard, but he forced himself. Shara needed the water more than he.

He waited until the supervisors were turned away, then dropped to tie his shoe. In his palm were two water pods. He slipped them into the sides of his shoes, pulling pant legs down and over.

He repeated the process twice more. Each time he felt certain the pounding of his heart would give him away. Surely the supervisors would be able to hear it from their posts? He could hear nothing but. With each drop, however, he managed to slid the pods away. The last time, he pocketed the glass of water, dropping it into a small bag.

At day’s end, he went to file out with the rest of the workers. Jazel fought to keep his head up and gaze forward as he walked out of the door. If he didn’t look like he had anything to hide, then perhaps he just might make it through without notice.

Sunlight hit his face as he passed under the double doors.

He heard his name called along with the directions to stop.

Slowly, he did as directed, hoping his face looked suitability confused and not guilty.

Did he have any water pods on him? The sensors had detected water when he passed under.

The water from earlier. Jazel reached into his pocket and pulled out the small glass. He had but taken a sip. Not wishing to drink more than he needed, for water was precious, he had pocketed the remainder. It must have slipped his mind.

It was hard to tell if the supervisor believed him or not. He did not know if the sensor above the door told them how much water was on him. If it told quantity, all was lost.

The supervisor checked a read out on his tablet. He tapped the screen a few times. Asked to hold the water. Made a few more notes. Then handed the water back. Next time, he should declare such things before leaving. It threw the senors and caused more work.

Jazel apologized profusely. It would not happen again. It was one of those days. Tomorrow would be better.

Yes, the supervisor agreed, tomorrow would be.

Jazel left unable to believe that he had managed to do it. He had actually walked out with six extra pods of water for his daughter. That night, when added to the regular ration, there was finally plenty of water for all in his home to drink and be filled.

Jazel repeated the process over the next few days. Each time, he was successful. And every day, Shara grew stronger.

It came to its end.

Jazel had slipped ten pods away in specially concealed pouches he had brought for the day. It was to be his last day taking this risk. Shara was almost fully recovered. He had his water in hand and declared it before leaving that night. He passed the supervisor and his heart did not pound at all. The sensor he knew, read only that water existed, not how much.

He saw the company man walking towards him, two supervisors flanking, and knew he had been found out. Jazel didn’t even bother trying to defend himself. Instead, he asked just one question. If he was found guilty and killed as the law demanded, would his daughter be able to get his water rations?

The company man nodded.

Slowly, Jazel leaned down and pulled out the water pods, sitting them gently on the ground before him.

That night, a young water tree was delivered to his home.

*Winning Short Story on Reedsy
Categories
Dystopia

Choosing Death

This must be what it’s like to be a death-row inmate.

Heather closed her eyes and turned her face towards the warmth of the sun. She fought to capture the sensation, to drink it in through her very pores, but it eluded her, slipping away like her grandmother’s ring did in the lake all those years ago. Eyes opened and she swallowed hard against the loss.

“Mom! Mom! Look at me, Mama!”

Only a knuckle in her mouth muffled the groan. “I’m watching, baby girl!” Her face felt like it would shatter holding the false smile. But she would be damned if her daughter’s last memories of her were of her crying. She had dark enough days ahead of her as it was. At least, what days she had left.

The child of seven took several running steps, then flung herself into a cartwheel. It collapsed half way through, but ended with giggles. “Hold up! Hold up! Let me try again! I’ve got this!” She bounced up, smoothing back her long, dirty blond hair, features falling into a determined mask. She looked just like her father like that.

He would have been proud; so very proud.

She knew every parent that ever was thought this, but she also knew down in her bones if things had been different, their daughter would have gone to make such an impact that she would have left a ding in the universe. Their daughter would have changed the very face of the world.

But the world was dying. And with it, the human race.

Who could have known that when her husband died six years ago from a mysterious illness he would have been nothing more than a forerunner to what would become known as the worst cataclysmic pandemic to ever hit planet Earth? It was a virus so viral and complete it became known simply as Death.

And Death was everywhere.

Already, from a population size of nearly eight billion, the human race was down to only three. All in less than six years. In all those agonizing, six years not a single surviver was to be found. Once Death showed up, it was just a matter of time until the end. In some, the infected could go on for years it seemed with little to no ill effects. But once those first symptoms appeared, it ate the person alive from the inside out. With less than one percent of the population immune, it left a grim tableau for the future of mankind.

So for the first and last time in all of history, the world came together as one and decided the best hope they had was to fling themselves to the stars and beyond. Hence was the Persephone Project born. Those immune and deemed able to survive were ruthlessly sought out. If you were chosen for the project, there was no option to decline.

Heather rued all her productive and responsible life choices. Perhaps if she had taken those drugs in high school, failed med school, given into the desire to firebomb her first boyfriend’s car, she would have been left to stay on this dying world instead of finding herself being forced to spend the next five years on a one way trip to Titan without her daughter. Do everything right in life and all you get is punished. It wasn’t fair.

The urge to run swept through her. There were no fences to block her path. Every muscle tensed and ached with the need to move, to put distance between herself and this place; to grab her daughter and go as far as she could as fast as she could. Her mind’s eye showed her ways she could disqualify herself from the project. She could jump off a building to the ground below, cut her legs off, crash a car, down some rat poison. Those options and more ran through her mind.

The monitor on her wrist beeped.

Heather’s hand automatically covered the damned tracker and forced herself to take several deep breathes. If she got too worked up, it would alert them, and they would come and take her away. They’d force her back into that small padded white room with nothing, literally nothing, until it was time to shove her body on the spaceship and ship her off. She would not go back to spend her last few hours on this planet in a drug induced comma, locked away from her daughter. She would not risk these last chances to hear her daughter’s laughter, to see her smile, to smell her hair, or feel her slender arms.

She looked to the towers and the stainless steel doors of the facility that had housed her since she was given the so-called honor of joining the project. They remained silent and empty. Good. There was no alarm or checking up on her then. At least not right now.

Heather didn’t buy all the propaganda about how she would go on to be known as one of the mothers of the human race. She didn’t give a rat’s ass about that. She didn’t want the honor nor to be remembered in the history books for all time. She just wanted to be Mary’s mother; to hold and love her firstborn. She didn’t want or need anything else or more.

And it was being stolen from her.

Heather could have screamed her fruitless rage to the skies. But it wouldn’t gain her a moment more of what she really needed; her life with her daughter.

“Mom!” Her daughter held her hands up in question.

“I’m watching, honey!”

Mary’s hands dropped and she took several determined steps, eating up the ground with her long legs. She stopped just before Heather, eyes to the ground, and reached out, tips of her fingers brushing along her arm. “No, you weren’t… You were thinking again.”

“I was thinking about how much I love you.”

Her daughter looked at her, eyebrows arched. “I’m not a kid, Mom.”

Heather let out a small huff and pressed her lips together. “No. No, you’re not. Sometimes I doubt you ever were.” She should have played more with Mary. Should have shielded her more from the world. Should have read her more fairy tales. Should have hugged her more and sang silly songs instead of worrying about dinner and laundry. She should have taken more pictures and agreed to video recordings. How would her daughter remember her voice now?

“It’s okay, Mama. I like me just the way I am…Auntie says it’ll help me when school starts back up.”

“Does she now?”

The schools had been closed for years. What was the point of education when everyone would be dead before they could use it?

Mary nodded. “You’ll come see me at school when you get back, won’t you?”

The great lie; “Yes, baby. Of course, I’ll come see you at school.”

Fingers curled around her wrist and clung tightly. Did she sense the truth? Did she know she was to be as good as orphaned in less than five hours time? Did she know she’d probably never live to see fifteen? Never have a first crush? Prom? High school graduation? Or an infamous Spring Break? Never get married? Never have kids of her own? Did she know that her Mommy was going to get to live instead? And would end up with a new Daddy and have new children; siblings that she would never know of and never meet? Did she sense those things?

Heather prayed to the heavens that the answer was no. She pulled her child to her, pressing her close as if she could absorb her into her very skin and make them one again. “I’ll miss you every day, baby girl.”

“I miss you already, Mama.”

“Now, now.” Heather shook her head. “I’m not gone yet. We still have some time left.”

Mary pulled back.

Even though it killed her inside, Heather let her.

Her daughter’s hands trailed down her arms, leaving goosebumps in the wake. Mary’s hand caught on the monitor, giving it a slight tug.

The clasp gave way and it fell to the ground.

At first, Heather could only stare, frozen by disbelief. She had spent countless hours trying to get it off. She had smuggled dulled knives, pens, screws, anything she could get her hands on into her room. Nothing worked. Nothing had even come close to making the barest of marks. Yet there it was; lying on the sun baked dirt.

For the first time in two years, Heather was free.

Her eyes looked at her daughter who looked back at her. They went to the silent towers and closed doors. They went across the empty expanse of manicured lawn to the near empty parking lot and the small stand of trees beyond.

It was madness. It would never work. They would notice her vitals gone from their screens. Perhaps even now they were making their way down to those doors. Doors that would open and swallow her whole. Doors that would force her from her daughter for the rest of their lives.

No. She could not, would not, let them win. Not without a fight.

Heather grasped her daughter’s hand and together, they ran.

*Winning story for Reedsy Short Story contest