Day 47 - Babel - Chapter 9 (1418 words)

©Wayne Webb and constantwriting.blogspot.com, 2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Wayne Webb and constantwriting.blogspot.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

BABEL

By Wayne Webb

CHAPTER 9

George was at odds about what to do next. It was not like before, though no one but the Few could say anything it was not the same in the Fire-village as it was prior to the alien ships floating through their night sky. People were leaving the Fire-village and not coming back, with no explanation at all, just gone. He saw one person just get up and leave in the middle of doing something, something they had up until that point been happy doing for the Fire-village. The person, a woman who was nameless, George knew her by sight but she carried no ID with her, just turned up one day bleeding, scared and hungry and joined in with Fire like she had been born there, and happy to be part of the family.

He had noticed already that one or two people had left in the nights in the week after the ships in the sky, but then things had settled and the ships were not seen again. He had been readying himself to go to see the other Few and get a sense of how things had calmed down in the community. There had been a mosquito buzzing about his head, in and out of his ears and annoyingly out of reach whenever he tried to bat it away. It was persistent and high pitched, and driving him to distraction when he saw her, the one who would leave, batting about her head in a similar fashion and he forgot momentarily his own annoyance. Then there was a sudden change in her, like a switch had been thrown and the mosquito, if that's what it was, was gone and her head snapped up like she was looking at the source, someone talking to her or showing her something. There was nothing to see, but she nodded slowly and without any facial expression that betrayed emotion or purpose she stood up and walked away.

George could not hear the insectivorous buzzing any longer and realised that it had stopped when the girl reacted oddly and got up. He followed her out of blind curiosity, running to catch up with her as she was striding determinedly on the path out of Fire-village and to the road. She moved unerringly in a straight line to the roadway and then without missing a step headed up the road, the lane-way that would go out of the back-roads and to the highway eventually and then to where? The nearest town was some way away, and Auckland would have taken then better part of a day, or more to walk to, heading due south, even if she found the main road unblocked it was a hard slog.

George tried to stop her with one arm, but she shrugged it off gently and kept walking. He took more decisive action and stood in front of her hands planted on her chest. She stopped cold and looked down at his hands and then back at him.

He grasped in a half second that his hands were on her breasts, he meant nothing of it but the cold look he got sent a wave of guilt through him and he hurriedly removed his hands apologising profusely, but she looked past and started walking again.

“Look this is insane, I'm not trying to assault you! Where are you going?” It was a futile gesture built out of despair, knowing that she had no way of understanding anything. He caught up with her again and this time grabbed her by the arm, not too hard but hard enough to halt progress.

She reacted the same way as before, looking down at the hand then at him with dispassionate eyes. He let go and she started walking again. It made no difference to her at all, it was a minor distraction, and once it was gone she moved on mechanically.

A theory was forming in George's mind and it scared him somewhat to think it. He caught her a third time, and this time he took a very deliberate action. He stood front of her, took the sleeves of the jumper she was wearing and wrenched it upwards violently, exposing her bra and stomach, the jumper trapping her arms above her head at first, until a second yank pulled it off all together. This time as he was no longer preventing her from moving forwards, she made no move to look at herself, or at him she just walked ahead, semi-naked in her bra and jeans, the same pace as before.

It was George who felt the chill of fear, not the nameless girl he had just assaulted in order to prove his point. He felt, cold sick and weak at the meaning of this. He knelt on the ground and lay his head on the road, feeling the harsh edges of the metal digging into his face, the slight pain a welcome feeling from the numbing and knowing he felt like he was drowned in.

When he finally stood she had disappeared around the corner, he ran at a quick pace to catch her up and stop her, put the jumper back on her, and in a semblance of an apology gave her a hug, one that solved nothing, not even making George feel better.

“I know and I am sorry. I know you can't hear me or understand me, and I don't even know if you are in there anymore, but I am. Sorry.”

Then he stood aside, waving her on unnecessarily and she continued on her way. He watched her go and from where he now stood he could see her for a long while until she became a dot in the distance, occasional dippings out of sight and back again until the light faded. He saw another head at one point, coming in from another side road, and walking near but not with her. The two moved at the same pace. He climbed to a hilltop a half mile away and looked out over the country side. There were not hundreds, but there were a handful of people walking on the back roads, miles apart in some cases, much closer in others.

They were all walking in the same general direction, south towards the city.

He came back to the Fire-village and went straight to bed, Anne noticed that something was very wrong and so unable to talk or do much else she climbed into bed with him and held him until he fell into a deep sleep.

He dreamed of alien ships, wide eyed bug like creatures that flew about buzzing like insects and coming for people, zombie eyed people walking towards their deaths, or their capture or freedom. The unconscious mind had so much to process from that day his dreams were confused and erratic, switching scenario and setting rapidly and without context to the change.

He woke up more tired than when he had gone to sleep, his resting mind worked overtime. The toll of being there for so many people for so long was bigger than he liked to admit and now this unbelievable twilight zone occurrence in his life was a straw, a wafer thin slice of just a little too much before the weight of it all snapped back.

The morning came, the light streamed in and he opened his eyes, gritty and worn out to the dawn light. Anne was not in bed with him, which was not unusual at all, she was an early riser and would often be awake long before him and leave him something to eat, drink or enjoy before greeting the morning light and painting first thing before working her day in the Fire-village.

Today there was no breakfast, no tea or toast waiting for him. George looked about the house they lived in, a wooden frame with thin walls hurriedly and easily constructed like most of the Fire-village, and it felt emptier than usual. He listened out for the usual movements of his neighbours, and heard nothing.

He ran outside and there were three others there, the other Few and no one else.

“Every one is gone.” Tree informed him and spread her hands wide as if to suggest searching her for an answer.

George knew it, felt it coming and once again he felt like the name they had taken on “The Few” was the most apt way that anyone could have described how he felt.