J. Spelbring - Perfection

Her father’s words echoed in Ellyssa’s head. She wondered what he’d think of her now: sick, broken, imperfect…disposable.

Needing to find refuge before it rained, Ellyssa adjusted the bag over her shoulder and crutched/lurched down what was becoming the never-ending road. It stretched in front of her and curved into darkness.

Resignation whispered to her fevered brain, to give up and sit down and wait for sweet death to take her last breath.

Ellyssa ignored the tempting mumbles and continued.

She went around the bend and halted. Buildings of varying shapes and sizes stood eerily silhouetted against the light of the full moon, whitewashed like ghosts. Relief siphoned away the misery. She knew the town lay empty; the people moved long ago. No comforts of civilization, just shelter.

On the outskirts, barely visible, a silvery reflection caught Ellyssa’s attention. She pushed away the overgrown vines. A faded sign claimed the town’s name in white paint—WELCOME TO DEEPWATER - POP 956.

Welcome?

Ellyssa’s mouth twitched upward into a partial smile. So surreal. The fever. She felt delusional.

Stepping within the town limits, Ellyssa followed the crumbling street past dilapidated houses and buildings sporting faded storefront signs and broken windows. Vines snaked along the bricks and wood, tearing at the decaying structures. Doors either hung loosely on rusted hinges or were gone. Subtle sounds of creaking glossed through the air, and the ticking of claws as the town’s only occupants scurried.

Beyond exhausted, Ellyssa’s feet dragged her forward. She sent her fatigued mind out, but beside the unreadable patterns of animals, there was nothing. No one lived here.

Clouds quickly tumbled, stifling the night’s light. A raindrop pelted Ellyssa’s head. More fell around her. The suddenly cool air sent chills spinning down her spine. She watched the churning clouds. They had swept over the night canvas, blotting out the stars and blanketing the moon.

A flash of blinding light was followed by a loud crack, and what started as a few drops increased in number, wetting her hair and clothing. The chills turned to shivers.

Ellyssa moved as quickly as her body permitted up a wobbly step onto a brick sidewalk in front of an old storefront. The picture-glass window was filthy. She wiped away the dirt and pressed her face against the window. Darkness smothered the store in black.

Stepping back, she turned around. From what she could tell, all the buildings were the same: dark, empty, and falling apart. The store was as good a place as any. She shuffled to the entrance, her footsteps echoing eerily in the night, and went inside.

Complete darkness enveloped Ellyssa like a cocoon. She stopped and listened. Other than the deadened pattering of rain on the roof, and drips plopping on weathered wood, there was silence.

She swept her crutch in front of her. The wood slapped against something soft. She prodded and it gave way, gripping the stick. Stifling a scream, she yanked hard and stumbled back a step. Mold and the odor of rot resonated within the scent of ozone.

Fevered mind envisioning decomposing flesh, ragged muscles and tendons sloughing off bone, Ellyssa’s breath seized and bile rose. On the verge of terror, a harmful emotion, she swallowed hard and leaned against the wall.

I’m hallucinating , she reasoned.

Rumbling resonated from the sky, and electricity sliced through the heavens, lighting the store in brilliance. She glanced at the pile. For a split second, her hallucination was realized before darkness swallowed the image. Flash. A pile of rotten rags. She blinked. Another burst of light. Rags and old tarps.

Worn out, Ellyssa slid down the wall and curled into a ball.

Mumbled voices with strange accents danced on the edge of Ellyssa’s consciousness, fuzzy and unclear, panicky and angry…distant. Unsure whether she was dreaming or hallucinating, she concentrated on the syllables, trying to comprehend through the swirling fog of her fevered brain. Understanding registered at the sound of a round being chambered.

Her eyes remained closed.

“What do you think she’s doing here?” The voice was deep, hard. Definitely male.

“I don’t know.” Irritated. A male, too.

“Look at her hair. I bet she’s part of a patrol,” a musical voice hissed. Female.

“Really? Do you see what she’s wearing?” Another male, but his tone was tinny, nasally, as if he had a cold. Very unpleasant.

“No. She’s hurt. Look at her,” said the male with the deep voice. “They wouldn’t let her continue in that condition.”

Ellyssa’s mind wandered into the crowd. The readings she received felt surreal, dreamlike. She registered four people. Confused, worried, and angry. Especially the female. All of them surrounded her. Images of pump-action shotguns pointing at her crumpled body filtered through.

Her head throbbed. She pulled out.

“Whatever. She got lost.” The female again. “Others will come.” Footsteps faded toward the door. “I say we dispose of her.”

“No,” said the deep voice.

“I think she’s right, Rein.” The tinny sound grated along Ellyssa’s spine.

“No,” said the male with the deep voice…Rein? “The discussion is closed.”

“Exactly when did we discuss this?” said the male who had sounded irritated before.

“Shut up, Woody.”

“I’m serious. This could be very dangerous. What if someone’s looking for her?”

“Wake her up.” The female’s footfalls echoed back to the others. “We’ll ask her.”

“I think she’s already awake,” said Rein. He tapped the tip of her shoe.

Ellyssa stayed still and kept her eyes closed, her breath even. She projected outward, ignoring the thumping and the haziness. She had to concentrate. She ventured from head to head. Her body remained the target of the barrels of shotguns—12 gauges. She waited.

“You do the honors, Jason.”

“Cover me,” said Jason, nasally. “Hey.” Cold steel, like the feel of ice cubes, poked her wrist. Goosebumps rose and trailed up her bicep, finding her spinal cord. She fought against the shiver. “Wake up.”

The sound of a boot scraping against the floor, as if the owner was preparing to kick, alerted her to danger. Before he had a chance, Ellyssa leapt to her feet.

“Stop her,” someone yelled. She thought it was the one called Woody.

With one lithe movement, her foot connected with Jason’s hand and the shotgun clattered to the floor. She whirled around and performed a back kick into the female’s stomach. Hissy Voice backpedaled and fell against some shelves. Wood snapped on impact.

Ellyssa stumbled as darkness rolled on the edge of her vision. She struggled against it. She spun, feebly attempting to take out the one they called Woody. A shot fired and echoed around her, disorienting her. She fell.

“I told you this was dangerous.” The voice sounded far away, like someone was speaking from the other end of a tunnel.

“Shut up and help me.”

Blackness laid a cold hand on Ellyssa.

A feeling of floating, and images of reds, browns, yellows, and white wavered in and out of Ellyssa’s awareness. Colorful hues and shades blurred around the edges. Bright lights burned her eyes and scorched her flesh, especially her leg. Something was burning it. At one time, she thought she’d screamed. If not, she’d wanted to.

Alternating feelings of hot and cold. Sweating and shivering. Angry voices. Intrigued voices. All filtered through. She wasn’t sure whether any of it was real or if it was all a dream. She didn’t care. She welcomed the darkness when it had sucked her away from the confusion. Welcomed the calmness and the blankness.