I will wait - for Thousandth
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junetideTitle: I will wait
Gift for: Thousandth
By: [anonymous]
Gift type: Fiction; ~1,200 words
Rating: PG
Warnings: Violence, death
Summary: A woman watches out to sea, but when what she’s expected for so long finally happens, will she be up to the task?
She walked to the edge of the cliff face, as she did every morning. It had become a ritual, a routine, and it took her a moment to realize that she had watched for so long… was there. Disappointment had become part of the routine. Part of her thought that she might spend the rest of her life walking the shores and living with the daily disappointment, appointing a successor without completing her mission. Goodness knows her time was growing short as it was, she could feel her body fading, falling apart.
But now – today – she had work to do. So much work to do that the thought of it momentarily overwhelmed her and froze her in a panic. Then her conditioning kicked in and she shuffled back to the small cabin, to the trap door that led down to the cellar, and to the tunnels beneath the rocks.
It was hard, bruising work, and her body wasn’t up to it. Several times she had to stop and rest, or to bind her skin where it split against the jagged rocks. Perhaps she should have given up her post earlier, to someone more capable. But she had been convinced she was still up to the job, and too lazy to go about getting a replacement. Turning someone to the cause wasn’t as easy as it used to be. There was the internet, and information flowed freely. It was more dangerous than it had ever been, despite the small but fairly vocal group that tried to rally the masses to the cause. No one took them seriously, that’s the only reason they survived. If, for one minute, they were thought to be a serious threat, that would have been the end of all associated with that movement.
Of course, it was serious, but by the time everyone realized it, it would be too late. And historians might someday and look back and see the groups that had known, had prepared, or had supported and wonder why they weren’t taken seriously. But then, hindsight and all.
She reached the end of another long corridor and heaved a large rock out of the way. Water slipped into the tunnel, covering her ankles. The tide was coming in, and she was going to have to abandon the job for now. Hopefully the timing would be right, and she’d use the outgoing tide to her advantage to finish the job just in time. Hopefully. For now, she would head back up to the cliff face and watch, and wait, and savor the last few moments on this peaceful island before all hell broke loose.
And here is where history takes an interesting turn. Because she would have failed, being far frailer than she realized, had she headed back into the caverns at low tide. It had been so long since she’d practiced and drilled that she’d forgotten how grueling the last of the steps were, and with her failure the movement would have died, been dashed to the rocks on the next incoming tide. But fate was on her – and their – side, and when she reached the cliffs there was a young man standing, staring out at the sea.
“Is that what I think it is?” he asked, with a nod out to the water.
She said nothing, of course, but nodded her head.
“Interesting. I had an uncle that tried to warn us this would happen. He was, of course, written off as crazy and sent to an asylum. A bit of an over-reaction, to be sure, but he seemed… a sympathizer. No one knew why, and no one ever listened to him or visited him, except me.” He paused, and rubbed his hands across his face. “And believe it or not, he made sense. All that talk of transcendence and a nobler purpose, it… it makes you want to believe, even if you don’t think you can. Or don’t think you should. Who doesn’t want a goal? Who doesn’t want to make a difference, to be a part of something?”
She listened quietly. If he was going to come to the conclusion himself, he might help her. If not, she would have to deal with him. Even a moment’s notice to the villagers, even assuming they might believe him, could ruin everything.
“Is it… I mean, do you feel… are you…” he trailed off, not really sure what to ask.
She could see in his eyes that he was a lost soul, looking for purpose and reason. He would be perfect, and she knew now that her time was done. She would not see this through, but she could still have meaning and purpose and her life and death would be for the greater good. And that was enough.
He leaned forward, and she grasped his hands in hers, drawing him closer. She kissed him deeply, softly, her tongue sliding into his mouth. He stiffened, but didn’t resist. She reached down and a small knife appeared in her hand, pulled out of a coat pocket. Stepping back, she slashed violently across his throat, and watched the blood first spurt, then dribble out of his body.
There was a brief moment when he swayed on his feet, and she worried it hadn’t worked. Then he gathered himself, and blinked. His eyes were bright and glazed, his skin chalky. He tried to talk, and she shook her head. He’d spoken his last words.
She led him down to the tunnels, and showed him what needed to be done. In the process, her arm came off, and she saw how close she’d come to ruining everything. She sat down in the tunnel as he continued to work at the stones blocking the passages, the last of the outgoing tide helping to move the boulders. As they reached the shore, the army was just rising out of the ocean bottom, pulling themselves onto the shore. Many of them were tattered and ragged, in suck horrible condition from the surf and the rocks that they might not make it through the tunnels and into town. But there were enough recently dead and in good condition that would make it, that would spread the infection, and that would start the zombie apocalypse.
***
“Mrs.F, were there really people who didn’t want to be zombies?” The little boy looked up at his teacher as she finished the tale.
“Yes, Jeffrey, they didn’t realize at the time, and the media, of course, had it all wrong. And then, there was the part about falling to bits, before we developed the gene therapy,” she said.
“I’m glad we don’t live in the dark ages anymore,” a little girl piped in. “It would be horrible to be… unchanged.”
The kids all nodded in agreement. Their slightly grey skin and shiny eyes were the only outward indication that they were infected.
Gift for: Thousandth
By: [anonymous]
Gift type: Fiction; ~1,200 words
Rating: PG
Warnings: Violence, death
Summary: A woman watches out to sea, but when what she’s expected for so long finally happens, will she be up to the task?
She walked to the edge of the cliff face, as she did every morning. It had become a ritual, a routine, and it took her a moment to realize that she had watched for so long… was there. Disappointment had become part of the routine. Part of her thought that she might spend the rest of her life walking the shores and living with the daily disappointment, appointing a successor without completing her mission. Goodness knows her time was growing short as it was, she could feel her body fading, falling apart.
But now – today – she had work to do. So much work to do that the thought of it momentarily overwhelmed her and froze her in a panic. Then her conditioning kicked in and she shuffled back to the small cabin, to the trap door that led down to the cellar, and to the tunnels beneath the rocks.
It was hard, bruising work, and her body wasn’t up to it. Several times she had to stop and rest, or to bind her skin where it split against the jagged rocks. Perhaps she should have given up her post earlier, to someone more capable. But she had been convinced she was still up to the job, and too lazy to go about getting a replacement. Turning someone to the cause wasn’t as easy as it used to be. There was the internet, and information flowed freely. It was more dangerous than it had ever been, despite the small but fairly vocal group that tried to rally the masses to the cause. No one took them seriously, that’s the only reason they survived. If, for one minute, they were thought to be a serious threat, that would have been the end of all associated with that movement.
Of course, it was serious, but by the time everyone realized it, it would be too late. And historians might someday and look back and see the groups that had known, had prepared, or had supported and wonder why they weren’t taken seriously. But then, hindsight and all.
She reached the end of another long corridor and heaved a large rock out of the way. Water slipped into the tunnel, covering her ankles. The tide was coming in, and she was going to have to abandon the job for now. Hopefully the timing would be right, and she’d use the outgoing tide to her advantage to finish the job just in time. Hopefully. For now, she would head back up to the cliff face and watch, and wait, and savor the last few moments on this peaceful island before all hell broke loose.
And here is where history takes an interesting turn. Because she would have failed, being far frailer than she realized, had she headed back into the caverns at low tide. It had been so long since she’d practiced and drilled that she’d forgotten how grueling the last of the steps were, and with her failure the movement would have died, been dashed to the rocks on the next incoming tide. But fate was on her – and their – side, and when she reached the cliffs there was a young man standing, staring out at the sea.
“Is that what I think it is?” he asked, with a nod out to the water.
She said nothing, of course, but nodded her head.
“Interesting. I had an uncle that tried to warn us this would happen. He was, of course, written off as crazy and sent to an asylum. A bit of an over-reaction, to be sure, but he seemed… a sympathizer. No one knew why, and no one ever listened to him or visited him, except me.” He paused, and rubbed his hands across his face. “And believe it or not, he made sense. All that talk of transcendence and a nobler purpose, it… it makes you want to believe, even if you don’t think you can. Or don’t think you should. Who doesn’t want a goal? Who doesn’t want to make a difference, to be a part of something?”
She listened quietly. If he was going to come to the conclusion himself, he might help her. If not, she would have to deal with him. Even a moment’s notice to the villagers, even assuming they might believe him, could ruin everything.
“Is it… I mean, do you feel… are you…” he trailed off, not really sure what to ask.
She could see in his eyes that he was a lost soul, looking for purpose and reason. He would be perfect, and she knew now that her time was done. She would not see this through, but she could still have meaning and purpose and her life and death would be for the greater good. And that was enough.
He leaned forward, and she grasped his hands in hers, drawing him closer. She kissed him deeply, softly, her tongue sliding into his mouth. He stiffened, but didn’t resist. She reached down and a small knife appeared in her hand, pulled out of a coat pocket. Stepping back, she slashed violently across his throat, and watched the blood first spurt, then dribble out of his body.
There was a brief moment when he swayed on his feet, and she worried it hadn’t worked. Then he gathered himself, and blinked. His eyes were bright and glazed, his skin chalky. He tried to talk, and she shook her head. He’d spoken his last words.
She led him down to the tunnels, and showed him what needed to be done. In the process, her arm came off, and she saw how close she’d come to ruining everything. She sat down in the tunnel as he continued to work at the stones blocking the passages, the last of the outgoing tide helping to move the boulders. As they reached the shore, the army was just rising out of the ocean bottom, pulling themselves onto the shore. Many of them were tattered and ragged, in suck horrible condition from the surf and the rocks that they might not make it through the tunnels and into town. But there were enough recently dead and in good condition that would make it, that would spread the infection, and that would start the zombie apocalypse.
***
“Mrs.F, were there really people who didn’t want to be zombies?” The little boy looked up at his teacher as she finished the tale.
“Yes, Jeffrey, they didn’t realize at the time, and the media, of course, had it all wrong. And then, there was the part about falling to bits, before we developed the gene therapy,” she said.
“I’m glad we don’t live in the dark ages anymore,” a little girl piped in. “It would be horrible to be… unchanged.”
The kids all nodded in agreement. Their slightly grey skin and shiny eyes were the only outward indication that they were infected.
Poll #11045 I Will Wait
Open to: Registered Users, detailed results viewable to: Just the Poll Creator, participants: 4
I enjoyed this!
Yes
4 (100.0%)
no subject
Date: 2012-07-05 01:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-09 04:01 am (UTC)