Topic 23: The Weak Force
Apr. 16th, 2012 05:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
java_fiendOnce again, here is my offering laid upon the altar of the mighty Idol gods. As always, may they be kind and generous...
This one ran a little long. Sorry, guys. I hope you'll stick with me though...
“Good morning, sunshine.”
The irony of my daily greeting to my twelve-year old daughter is not lost on me. I lean against the doorway of my Sarah’s room looking at her. She is the reason I get up every day and do what I do. She is everything to me. She sits up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and smiles at me.
“Mornin’ dad.”
“Did you dream?”
She yawned and smiled again. “I did,” she said. “I was sitting next to a beautiful river reading a book of poems. The grass was long and tickled my legs and the flowers were all so bright and colorful. And the best part was feeling the warm sun on my face.”
“Sounds like a beautiful dream.”
“It was.”
This has been our morning ritual for as far back as I can remember. Despite the fact that Sarah has never actually seen the sun, she’s claimed to have had some variation of this dream since she was very young. As she gets older though, it grows more detailed and vivid.
“Daddy, do you think we’ll get to see the sun soon?”
I sigh inwardly. “Maybe one day, honey,” I say as I cross the room and kiss her on the top of her head. “But for now, you need to get yourself cleaned up and out to the kitchen for some breakfast before school.”
She sighs outwardly. “Okay.”
“I love you, sweetheart.”
“I love you too, dad.”
*******
I walk down the cramped corridor and make my way to the greenhouse for my first appointment of the day.
“Prefect Hardwick,” he says and extends his hand. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, Neville,” I grumble as I shake his hand. “What seems to be the problem this morning?”
Neville Ballard is the Chief Agricultural Officer for our little city, I suppose you’d call it. Though that’s being extremely generous. He’s pompous and annoying but is often right and is basically one of the most important people in our colony given the fact that he helps keep us fed.
“Well, the crops are fine,” he says. “For now. What we’re having an issue with is the water consumption in the living quarters.”
“How so?”
Ballard looked at his clipboard though it was more for show; that man’s mind had an endless capacity for minutiae.
“It seems that too much water is in personal use. Far more than what we’re able to filter in from above and purify. At the rate we’re going, this could lead to some serious problems.”
I sigh. “What do you suggest?”
“Rationing, of course. Cutting back on personal use.”
I’m not surprised. Rationing is Ballard’s solution to just about everything. Not that he’s always wrong but there are other ways to conserve that he rarely considers.
“I understand,” I say. “And I’ll consider it. But I plan to meet with Victor to see if there are there other, non-essential areas where we might cut back and conserve.”
“Victor means well but he’s a fool, Prefect,” Ballard says. “Personal use of our water supply is the single greatest usage. The data is irrefutable. Why are you so opposed to putting people on rations?”
Coming from anybody else, I might take that as something callous and unsympathetic. Ballard though, lacked any sort of understanding of people. His life was ruled by numbers and cold, hard logic. Coming from him, it was just an honest question.
“Neville, something you need to remember is that despite our circumstances, we’re still human,” I say. “And being able to step into a hot shower and scrub the day’s cares away only serves to reaffirm that fact. I’ll look into your suggestion but my first duty is to the people and making sure we retain our humanity is a key piece of that.”
*******
I retreated to my office in the government pod after a quick stop in our livestock facility where I was accosted by a very angry Meredith Simpson, our head Livestock Technician. Apparently, Ballard has already instituted water rations on the Agricultural department that Meredith took extreme exception to. I idly wondered how long it would take to get my full hearing back after that blistering tirade. I had to promise, on the head of my daughter, that I would talk to Ballard and set him to rights.
I lean back in my chair and sigh. This is a job I never wanted but for whatever reason, people thought I would be good at and should do. So for the last ten years, I’ve been the Prefect of our little underground world, such as it is.
“Prefect Hardwick?” My assistant, Danielle, sticks her head into my office. “Mr. Salo is here to see you.”
I nod. “Show him in please.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And Danielle?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Stop calling me sir,” I say. “Brian will do just fine.”
“Yes, sir.”
I sigh as she closes my door behind her. I was only five years old when the world above ended and we were forced down below ground. I say forced but the only real reason we’re stuck down here is because of our own pride, arrogance and stupidity. The complete destruction of our atmosphere followed by an all-out nuclear war for the remaining natural resources between the U.S., Russia, China and Iran resulted in a near annihilation of the human species and life as we knew it. Granted, I really don’t know what life above was really like since I was so young but I distinctly remember the feeling of the sun on my face as well as how it felt to play in the ocean and feel the sand between my toes. I miss it and wish more than anything that Sarah could experience those things. But I know that it’s a wish that will never be fulfilled. I hate myself for ever showing her old pictures of the world above, the world before. I see now just how cruel that was.
A few moments later, Al Salo saunters into my office and drops down into the chair across from my desk. Al is my oldest friend, most trusted advisor and personal confidante. He’s my eyes and ears down here. He’s a good man who will never shy away from speaking his mind which is something I value. He pulls a small flask from his coat pocket and tosses it to me with me. I twist off the lid and just a whiff of the liquid inside makes my eyes water. I can’t imagine what it’s doing to my insides as I take a swallow of it. It’s surprisingly smooth but burns like fire sliding down my throat and I smile as I feel the warmth spreading throughout my body. Al is also ingenious, resourceful and makes the best hootch around. Not that there is much competition in that arena but those are also qualities I value in the man.
“Very nice,” I say and raise the flask. “But just so you know, Ballard’s on a rampage again and would deem this to be non-essential water usage. I may have to shut you down.”
“Bullshit you will,” he laughs. “You’d miss it too much.”
“Probably so.”
A moment of companionable silence stretches out between us as we pass the flask back and forth. Moments like these are far too rare. There’s always somebody who needs something or something that needs to be done. There’s very little time to sit back and just relax. Of course, given the life we’re trying to scratch out down here, it’s understandable. Still, I’d give nothing more than to be sitting on a warm beach somewhere with my daughter, soaking in the sun.
“There’s an election coming up, you know,” Al says, pulling me back to our grim reality.
“Remind me again why we even have these things?”
“Because the people need structure and order,” Al replies. “Without some leadership in place and rules to follow, we’d all likely be dead right now.”
“You mean they need their illusions of leadership,” I say bitterly. “We have absolutely no power or authority over anybody or anything down here.”
“Be that as it may,” he says evenly. “And so long as that… illusion is maintained, we will all survive.”
I sigh, knowing he’s right, knowing we should be thankful. As tensions mounted and resources dwindled, and knowing that the end was coming, the former government of America ordered these massive “cities” to be built underground in each state and stocked with material to sustain a population of ten thousand inhabitants for a time. Once they were completed, secret lotteries were held to select the lucky souls who would survive while everybody else perished. The hope of the former U.S. government was that once the air cleared and the earth renewed itself, our species would reclaim the land and survive. Nobody could say how long that would take though and the provisions provided to us weren’t nearly enough to sustain us for very long. So until we can reclaim the surface, we are forced to live a very rudimentary life down below. Sure, we have some “modern” conveniences like lights and running water but for the most part, it is a difficult life down here. We get by on our own ingenuity, resourcefulness, and will to live.
“Well,” Al said. “You will want to give some thought to addressing the people again. And soon. Cleary is thinking he’s in a position to unseat you.”
“Maybe I should let him,” I say as I take another deep swig from the flask. “Spend more time with Sarah.”
Al laughed. “Do you really want to live in a place run by Cleary? Might as well just go up above and end your life quickly.”
I sigh again. “At least I’d get to feel the sunshine again.”
Al takes another drink. “Speaking of which, you know what today is, right?”
“Wednesday?”
“You’re not half as funny as I am, you know.”
“I know. Humor isn’t one of my strong suits,” I say. “Yes, I know what day it is.”
“We should probably get to it then. Before you’re tanked out of your mind.”
I shake my head. “I hate this job, Al. I really do.”
“I know you do. But if you don’t do it, who will?”
*******
We stand outside the observation room looking in through the glass at the patient. The middle-aged man squatted with his back to the corner, looking around nervously and breathing hard. His eyes were wild, most of his hair and teeth were gone and his skin was gray and sagging in places. There is blood crusted around his mouth; some of it his and some from the doctor whose arm he’d taken a chunk out of.
“As you can see, after four weeks in quarantine his condition has degraded severely,” said the doctor, who wore a thick bandage around his forearm. “The radiation levels combined with whatever else is floating around in the air up above have combined to destroy this man. There is no hope left for him.”
I feel my heart sink and know that some shred of me held on to the hope that after four decades below ground, we’d see some light at the end of the tunnel, that there might be some hope of living up above again.
“There is one reason for optimism however,” the doctor said. “This patient lasted four weeks before succumbing to the illness. He took the longest to show symptoms and he took the longest to fully degrade. Perhaps the air above is starting to purify itself.”
“Great,” I say. “At this rate, we only have to wait another five hundred years before we can go above.”
There is a long and awkward silence between the three of us. Al clears his throat before speaking.
“Prefect Hardwick,” Al believes in formality in public lest he give the wrong impression of me or of himself. “It’s time.”
I remain silent but nod before I turn and walk away. Even well down the corridor, I can hear the shot echoing up the hallway that puts the tormented man out of his misery. Of all the parts of this job, I hate this part the most. We knowingly send men to the surface in gear we know won’t protect them. We lie and deceive them to get them to forage for much-needed supplies but to also gather data from the surface we need. And all of them end up like that poor bastard. I know it’s necessary for the survival of all but it doesn’t make it any easier.
I return to my living quarters, intent on trying to unwind and forget for the rest of the day.
*******
I didn’t forget though. I never do. I remember the names and faces of every man I’ve sent to the surface and every man I’ve had put down. After a long day wrangling with the various department heads over energy and water usage, I return to my quarters. As I step inside, my heart catches in my throat drawing a terrified gasp from me. Lying in the middle of the floor is my Sarah, a pool of bloody vomit around her. I rush to her side and drop to my knees, cradling her head in my lap.
“Wake up, Sarah,” I say as I stroke her hair. “Sarah, talk to me.”
Her eyes flutter and then open. They’re unfocused but I let out the breath I’ve been holding. She’s alive.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” I ask. “What happened?”
“Daddy?” Her voice is weak, raspy.
“Oh my god.”
I turn, startled at the voice in the doorway to see Al standing there wide-eyed, looking as pale as Sarah and as terrified as I’m sure I did.
“Get the doctor, Al.” My voice is thick, choked.
“Brian— ”
“Now, Al,” I scream. “Get the doctor.”
He steps inside and shuts the door behind him. I can see the look of concern on his face mixed with something else I can’t define.
“Brian,” he says. “It’s too late.”
“What?” I ask. “What in the hell is going on, Al?”
He looks around but won’t meet my eye. And when he speaks, his voice is as thick with emotion as mine.
“I’d hoped,” he said. “That somehow it wouldn’t come to this. That maybe it would be different with Sarah.”
“What are you talking about?” I scream.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just couldn’t,” he said. “I found out she’s been going to the surface. She found an old access tunnel and has been going above. I don’t know how many trips up she took but I made her promise to never do it again when I found out.”
My heart nearly stops as I absorb what Al is saying. I look from him down to my daughter. Her skin feels like it’s on fire but she’s shivering like she’s freezing. My anger and frustration is building in as fast as my fear. I shake my head, the tears still falling.
“But she’s not like the others,” I say. “Her hair hasn’t fallen out, she’s not half-crazed. It can’t be.”
“The radiation impacts people differently, Brian. You know that. Maybe it’s her age, the fact that she’s a woman. I don’t know.”
“Get the doctor, Al.”
I feel his hand on my shoulder and hear him sniffing back his own tears. “If we do that, you know how it ends. Is that what you want for Sarah?”
I look at the ceiling and scream.
“Daddy?”
Her voice pulls me back to the present. I blink back my tears as I look down at her, feeling her body shuddering beneath me. I pull her closer to me as her body begins to spasm, a thick white foam streaked with blood pouring from her mouth.
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” he voice is barely more than a whisper. “I just wanted to feel the sun on my face.”
“I know, baby. I know.”
*******
Al follows me up the tunnel as I carry Sarah’s limp body. Her breathing is still labored but she seems more alert.
“Where are we going, daddy?”
“Ssshhh now, baby,” I say. “It’s okay.”
We arrive at the doorway and I pause. I look at the doorway and back to her, my tears hot on my face fall and splash upon hers. I can see the understanding dawning in her eyes but she looks unafraid. I look to Al who always knows what to say and do but he just looks back at me blankly, unsure of himself for the first time since I’ve known him.
“I can’t do this,” I say knowing that the alternative ends with me having to give the order to have her put down like a sick animal.
Sarah squeezes my hand and smiles at me. Her warm, beautiful smile manages to tear my heart into a million pieces.
“It’s okay daddy,” she says. “It’s okay. Put me down.”
Numbly, I set her down and take her hand in mine. A moment later, I pull her to me, wrapping my body around hers and feel the sobs being pulled from me.
“I want to feel the sun on my face, daddy,” she says. “It’s okay. I get to feel the sunshine.”
I kiss the top of her head and then do the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I let her go. With a last smile, she turns away from me and stumbles. I can’t move as I watch her catch herself and pull the door open before stepping through, disappearing from my sight forever. The door closes with a resounding thud and a moment later, I hear the door to the surface open and then close with a sound like finality.
And in that moment, I know that I don’t care if I ever see the sunlight again.
This has been my entry for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
therealljidol Season 8, topic 23: The Weak Force. As always, I thank you for stopping by to give me a read and for your constant support throughout this crazy season! It means a lot to me. Don't forget to swing on by the polls when they open, read some of the other fantastic pieces and spread a little voting love around! Thanks, guys!!!
This one ran a little long. Sorry, guys. I hope you'll stick with me though...
“Good morning, sunshine.”
The irony of my daily greeting to my twelve-year old daughter is not lost on me. I lean against the doorway of my Sarah’s room looking at her. She is the reason I get up every day and do what I do. She is everything to me. She sits up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and smiles at me.
“Mornin’ dad.”
“Did you dream?”
She yawned and smiled again. “I did,” she said. “I was sitting next to a beautiful river reading a book of poems. The grass was long and tickled my legs and the flowers were all so bright and colorful. And the best part was feeling the warm sun on my face.”
“Sounds like a beautiful dream.”
“It was.”
This has been our morning ritual for as far back as I can remember. Despite the fact that Sarah has never actually seen the sun, she’s claimed to have had some variation of this dream since she was very young. As she gets older though, it grows more detailed and vivid.
“Daddy, do you think we’ll get to see the sun soon?”
I sigh inwardly. “Maybe one day, honey,” I say as I cross the room and kiss her on the top of her head. “But for now, you need to get yourself cleaned up and out to the kitchen for some breakfast before school.”
She sighs outwardly. “Okay.”
“I love you, sweetheart.”
“I love you too, dad.”
I walk down the cramped corridor and make my way to the greenhouse for my first appointment of the day.
“Prefect Hardwick,” he says and extends his hand. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, Neville,” I grumble as I shake his hand. “What seems to be the problem this morning?”
Neville Ballard is the Chief Agricultural Officer for our little city, I suppose you’d call it. Though that’s being extremely generous. He’s pompous and annoying but is often right and is basically one of the most important people in our colony given the fact that he helps keep us fed.
“Well, the crops are fine,” he says. “For now. What we’re having an issue with is the water consumption in the living quarters.”
“How so?”
Ballard looked at his clipboard though it was more for show; that man’s mind had an endless capacity for minutiae.
“It seems that too much water is in personal use. Far more than what we’re able to filter in from above and purify. At the rate we’re going, this could lead to some serious problems.”
I sigh. “What do you suggest?”
“Rationing, of course. Cutting back on personal use.”
I’m not surprised. Rationing is Ballard’s solution to just about everything. Not that he’s always wrong but there are other ways to conserve that he rarely considers.
“I understand,” I say. “And I’ll consider it. But I plan to meet with Victor to see if there are there other, non-essential areas where we might cut back and conserve.”
“Victor means well but he’s a fool, Prefect,” Ballard says. “Personal use of our water supply is the single greatest usage. The data is irrefutable. Why are you so opposed to putting people on rations?”
Coming from anybody else, I might take that as something callous and unsympathetic. Ballard though, lacked any sort of understanding of people. His life was ruled by numbers and cold, hard logic. Coming from him, it was just an honest question.
“Neville, something you need to remember is that despite our circumstances, we’re still human,” I say. “And being able to step into a hot shower and scrub the day’s cares away only serves to reaffirm that fact. I’ll look into your suggestion but my first duty is to the people and making sure we retain our humanity is a key piece of that.”
I retreated to my office in the government pod after a quick stop in our livestock facility where I was accosted by a very angry Meredith Simpson, our head Livestock Technician. Apparently, Ballard has already instituted water rations on the Agricultural department that Meredith took extreme exception to. I idly wondered how long it would take to get my full hearing back after that blistering tirade. I had to promise, on the head of my daughter, that I would talk to Ballard and set him to rights.
I lean back in my chair and sigh. This is a job I never wanted but for whatever reason, people thought I would be good at and should do. So for the last ten years, I’ve been the Prefect of our little underground world, such as it is.
“Prefect Hardwick?” My assistant, Danielle, sticks her head into my office. “Mr. Salo is here to see you.”
I nod. “Show him in please.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And Danielle?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Stop calling me sir,” I say. “Brian will do just fine.”
“Yes, sir.”
I sigh as she closes my door behind her. I was only five years old when the world above ended and we were forced down below ground. I say forced but the only real reason we’re stuck down here is because of our own pride, arrogance and stupidity. The complete destruction of our atmosphere followed by an all-out nuclear war for the remaining natural resources between the U.S., Russia, China and Iran resulted in a near annihilation of the human species and life as we knew it. Granted, I really don’t know what life above was really like since I was so young but I distinctly remember the feeling of the sun on my face as well as how it felt to play in the ocean and feel the sand between my toes. I miss it and wish more than anything that Sarah could experience those things. But I know that it’s a wish that will never be fulfilled. I hate myself for ever showing her old pictures of the world above, the world before. I see now just how cruel that was.
A few moments later, Al Salo saunters into my office and drops down into the chair across from my desk. Al is my oldest friend, most trusted advisor and personal confidante. He’s my eyes and ears down here. He’s a good man who will never shy away from speaking his mind which is something I value. He pulls a small flask from his coat pocket and tosses it to me with me. I twist off the lid and just a whiff of the liquid inside makes my eyes water. I can’t imagine what it’s doing to my insides as I take a swallow of it. It’s surprisingly smooth but burns like fire sliding down my throat and I smile as I feel the warmth spreading throughout my body. Al is also ingenious, resourceful and makes the best hootch around. Not that there is much competition in that arena but those are also qualities I value in the man.
“Very nice,” I say and raise the flask. “But just so you know, Ballard’s on a rampage again and would deem this to be non-essential water usage. I may have to shut you down.”
“Bullshit you will,” he laughs. “You’d miss it too much.”
“Probably so.”
A moment of companionable silence stretches out between us as we pass the flask back and forth. Moments like these are far too rare. There’s always somebody who needs something or something that needs to be done. There’s very little time to sit back and just relax. Of course, given the life we’re trying to scratch out down here, it’s understandable. Still, I’d give nothing more than to be sitting on a warm beach somewhere with my daughter, soaking in the sun.
“There’s an election coming up, you know,” Al says, pulling me back to our grim reality.
“Remind me again why we even have these things?”
“Because the people need structure and order,” Al replies. “Without some leadership in place and rules to follow, we’d all likely be dead right now.”
“You mean they need their illusions of leadership,” I say bitterly. “We have absolutely no power or authority over anybody or anything down here.”
“Be that as it may,” he says evenly. “And so long as that… illusion is maintained, we will all survive.”
I sigh, knowing he’s right, knowing we should be thankful. As tensions mounted and resources dwindled, and knowing that the end was coming, the former government of America ordered these massive “cities” to be built underground in each state and stocked with material to sustain a population of ten thousand inhabitants for a time. Once they were completed, secret lotteries were held to select the lucky souls who would survive while everybody else perished. The hope of the former U.S. government was that once the air cleared and the earth renewed itself, our species would reclaim the land and survive. Nobody could say how long that would take though and the provisions provided to us weren’t nearly enough to sustain us for very long. So until we can reclaim the surface, we are forced to live a very rudimentary life down below. Sure, we have some “modern” conveniences like lights and running water but for the most part, it is a difficult life down here. We get by on our own ingenuity, resourcefulness, and will to live.
“Well,” Al said. “You will want to give some thought to addressing the people again. And soon. Cleary is thinking he’s in a position to unseat you.”
“Maybe I should let him,” I say as I take another deep swig from the flask. “Spend more time with Sarah.”
Al laughed. “Do you really want to live in a place run by Cleary? Might as well just go up above and end your life quickly.”
I sigh again. “At least I’d get to feel the sunshine again.”
Al takes another drink. “Speaking of which, you know what today is, right?”
“Wednesday?”
“You’re not half as funny as I am, you know.”
“I know. Humor isn’t one of my strong suits,” I say. “Yes, I know what day it is.”
“We should probably get to it then. Before you’re tanked out of your mind.”
I shake my head. “I hate this job, Al. I really do.”
“I know you do. But if you don’t do it, who will?”
We stand outside the observation room looking in through the glass at the patient. The middle-aged man squatted with his back to the corner, looking around nervously and breathing hard. His eyes were wild, most of his hair and teeth were gone and his skin was gray and sagging in places. There is blood crusted around his mouth; some of it his and some from the doctor whose arm he’d taken a chunk out of.
“As you can see, after four weeks in quarantine his condition has degraded severely,” said the doctor, who wore a thick bandage around his forearm. “The radiation levels combined with whatever else is floating around in the air up above have combined to destroy this man. There is no hope left for him.”
I feel my heart sink and know that some shred of me held on to the hope that after four decades below ground, we’d see some light at the end of the tunnel, that there might be some hope of living up above again.
“There is one reason for optimism however,” the doctor said. “This patient lasted four weeks before succumbing to the illness. He took the longest to show symptoms and he took the longest to fully degrade. Perhaps the air above is starting to purify itself.”
“Great,” I say. “At this rate, we only have to wait another five hundred years before we can go above.”
There is a long and awkward silence between the three of us. Al clears his throat before speaking.
“Prefect Hardwick,” Al believes in formality in public lest he give the wrong impression of me or of himself. “It’s time.”
I remain silent but nod before I turn and walk away. Even well down the corridor, I can hear the shot echoing up the hallway that puts the tormented man out of his misery. Of all the parts of this job, I hate this part the most. We knowingly send men to the surface in gear we know won’t protect them. We lie and deceive them to get them to forage for much-needed supplies but to also gather data from the surface we need. And all of them end up like that poor bastard. I know it’s necessary for the survival of all but it doesn’t make it any easier.
I return to my living quarters, intent on trying to unwind and forget for the rest of the day.
I didn’t forget though. I never do. I remember the names and faces of every man I’ve sent to the surface and every man I’ve had put down. After a long day wrangling with the various department heads over energy and water usage, I return to my quarters. As I step inside, my heart catches in my throat drawing a terrified gasp from me. Lying in the middle of the floor is my Sarah, a pool of bloody vomit around her. I rush to her side and drop to my knees, cradling her head in my lap.
“Wake up, Sarah,” I say as I stroke her hair. “Sarah, talk to me.”
Her eyes flutter and then open. They’re unfocused but I let out the breath I’ve been holding. She’s alive.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” I ask. “What happened?”
“Daddy?” Her voice is weak, raspy.
“Oh my god.”
I turn, startled at the voice in the doorway to see Al standing there wide-eyed, looking as pale as Sarah and as terrified as I’m sure I did.
“Get the doctor, Al.” My voice is thick, choked.
“Brian— ”
“Now, Al,” I scream. “Get the doctor.”
He steps inside and shuts the door behind him. I can see the look of concern on his face mixed with something else I can’t define.
“Brian,” he says. “It’s too late.”
“What?” I ask. “What in the hell is going on, Al?”
He looks around but won’t meet my eye. And when he speaks, his voice is as thick with emotion as mine.
“I’d hoped,” he said. “That somehow it wouldn’t come to this. That maybe it would be different with Sarah.”
“What are you talking about?” I scream.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just couldn’t,” he said. “I found out she’s been going to the surface. She found an old access tunnel and has been going above. I don’t know how many trips up she took but I made her promise to never do it again when I found out.”
My heart nearly stops as I absorb what Al is saying. I look from him down to my daughter. Her skin feels like it’s on fire but she’s shivering like she’s freezing. My anger and frustration is building in as fast as my fear. I shake my head, the tears still falling.
“But she’s not like the others,” I say. “Her hair hasn’t fallen out, she’s not half-crazed. It can’t be.”
“The radiation impacts people differently, Brian. You know that. Maybe it’s her age, the fact that she’s a woman. I don’t know.”
“Get the doctor, Al.”
I feel his hand on my shoulder and hear him sniffing back his own tears. “If we do that, you know how it ends. Is that what you want for Sarah?”
I look at the ceiling and scream.
“Daddy?”
Her voice pulls me back to the present. I blink back my tears as I look down at her, feeling her body shuddering beneath me. I pull her closer to me as her body begins to spasm, a thick white foam streaked with blood pouring from her mouth.
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” he voice is barely more than a whisper. “I just wanted to feel the sun on my face.”
“I know, baby. I know.”
Al follows me up the tunnel as I carry Sarah’s limp body. Her breathing is still labored but she seems more alert.
“Where are we going, daddy?”
“Ssshhh now, baby,” I say. “It’s okay.”
We arrive at the doorway and I pause. I look at the doorway and back to her, my tears hot on my face fall and splash upon hers. I can see the understanding dawning in her eyes but she looks unafraid. I look to Al who always knows what to say and do but he just looks back at me blankly, unsure of himself for the first time since I’ve known him.
“I can’t do this,” I say knowing that the alternative ends with me having to give the order to have her put down like a sick animal.
Sarah squeezes my hand and smiles at me. Her warm, beautiful smile manages to tear my heart into a million pieces.
“It’s okay daddy,” she says. “It’s okay. Put me down.”
Numbly, I set her down and take her hand in mine. A moment later, I pull her to me, wrapping my body around hers and feel the sobs being pulled from me.
“I want to feel the sun on my face, daddy,” she says. “It’s okay. I get to feel the sunshine.”
I kiss the top of her head and then do the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I let her go. With a last smile, she turns away from me and stumbles. I can’t move as I watch her catch herself and pull the door open before stepping through, disappearing from my sight forever. The door closes with a resounding thud and a moment later, I hear the door to the surface open and then close with a sound like finality.
And in that moment, I know that I don’t care if I ever see the sunlight again.
This has been my entry for
therealljidol Season 8, topic 23: The Weak Force. As always, I thank you for stopping by to give me a read and for your constant support throughout this crazy season! It means a lot to me. Don't forget to swing on by the polls when they open, read some of the other fantastic pieces and spread a little voting love around! Thanks, guys!!!
