Stranded Camp
Present Day
"How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard."
-A.A. Milne
It was Momma. And she wasn't moving.
Dix's arms wrapped around me as he tried to hold me back. I knew he was saying something – explaining, pleading, demanding – but I didn't care. Couldn't care. She wasn't moving. Oh, God, she wasn't moving.
"No!" I choked out while I fought against Dix's restraining grip. "Please, no…no!"
Dix finally let me go and I collapsed onto the ground at her side. The crowd of people backed away to afford us what little privacy there was to be had. I could feel their sympathetic stares upon my back as I gently reached over and gathered Momma's chilled hand into my own. The skin was wrinkly and loose, and dotted with liver spots and old veins. My heart seized when I felt her old bones curl around my own.
"Momma?" I whispered with a tone of defeat in my voice. "Please…please!" I didn't know what I was begging for.
Her beautiful, watery eyes slowly opened and found my own in the dim light. "Bri?" she croaked out, her voice hushed and broken. Sam whined once and buried her nose deeper under Momma's arm. If dogs could cry, she would have been sobbing.
"I'm here, Momma," I said. "I'm here. It'll be okay. I'm here."
Slowly, a plan started forming in my mind. I was desperately reaching for a way to make everything okay again, a way to save everyone around me. Medical care – she needed medical care. Our medic couldn't remove the shrapnel? The COG could –
The COG.
"I'm taking you to the COG. It'll be okay, I'll get you to Port Farrell. They have doctors, and medications, and they'll fix you right up, yeah? It'll be alright. I'll make it alright." I tried to push as much reassurance into my voice as I could. Not only for her sake, but for my own. The same desperation and hopelessness I had felt before on the Islands with Ace pressed against my chest making it hard to breathe. I wouldn't lose someone else I loved – I wouldn't. The COG would make it okay. They had to. How many gears had I saved? They owed me this. I never asked for anything before, I was asking now. I would hold a gun to the doctor's head if I had to.
I would not let her die.
My mind raced frantically. Dizzy – Dizzy was coming back at noon. I only had to get her to the meeting spot and then Dizzy could take her back to the COG. I would carry her there if I had to. Or, I could go to the meeting spot and have Dizzy drive to the camp to pick Momma up. Dix didn't like COG in the camp, but this was Dizzy – he was practically one of us. Or Dix mentioned something about an old Junker he had. I could put Momma in there and drive back to the Port –
As consumed as I was by these thoughts, I almost missed the way her dirty face rocked back and forth against the stained pillow. Her fine hair splayed out around her like an incandescent halo as she attempted to smile. "No, Bri," she disagreed with me. "Life is short and I am old. I'm fortunate to have as many years as I did. But it's my time now, and – child, why are you crying?"
Tears overfilled my eyes and spilled out down my cheeks, tracing paths in the dirt they found there. Again my heart was so filled with emotion that it leaked from my eyes in salty dismay. I gripped her hand in both of my palms and pressed my fingers hard between the bones of her own. I couldn't think straight enough to loosen my grip. Momma didn't complain, she only held my hand impossibly tighter.
"I'm sorry," I beseeched for her forgiveness. "I shouldn't have left. I should have-"
"You stop that," she commanded me, a bit of her old spunk back in her weak voice. "Those thoughts are no good, Bri. You hear me? No good. They will destroy you. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't your fault."
Someone laid a comforting hand on my shoulder that I didn't want. The others around us sniffled and held back their own grief as I sobbed at her bedside. The others had gotten their chance to say goodbye. They were just waiting with us for the end. The dreary cabin was overflowed with people and tears and sorrow. The heat of so many people stayed the cold of the winter morning just outside the door. It was wrong; the sun shouldn't have been shining through the cracks in the wall, the sky should have collapsed with rain at such a travesty. The world should have ended – again.
It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. Why did people like Momma and Ace and Maria – good, honest, lovable people – have to die while scum like myself got to live? I would have traded my own pitiful life ten times over for any one of them. The world would have been so much better with either of them in it. I suppose that's why they were all taken away. We couldn't have anything good or right in this world. We didn't deserve it. We deserved to suffer and fight and to live while everyone righteous and good was taken away.
It was then I was glad I had no faith, no religion, and no deity. Because there was no God ever imagined that would forgive the anger I held deep within my heart.
She coughed weakly then, leaving tiny splutters of red around her insipid lips. She was close to the end, now. I had seen enough death to recognize the symptoms. Her skin was as cold as the world outside, as if snow had fallen in her veins. Her eyes were hard to focus, but they finally came to rest upon my face. Her voice was slightly slurred as she spoke again.
"Bri," she said. "My Bri. Remember, this world is dark, but you are the light. Just be happy, Bri. You have to try, Bri. For me. Try to be happy."
Not trusting my own voice, I simply nodded as more tears slipped unendingly down my face. Apparently she had already said her final words to everyone else in the camp, as she simply smiled weakly at the crowd of devastated people surrounding her deathbed. Before she slipped away, she whispered her final words:
"How lucky I am to have so many loved ones that it makes goodbyes so hard…"
It grew quiet in the room, the only sound left was of people silently sobbing and Momma's labored breathing. Sheryl, the camp's doctor, knelt down on the other side of the cot. She took Momma's other hand in her own, but instead of simply holding it for comfort, she pressed her fingers to the inside of Momma's wrist and counted her pulse. Unable to bring myself to do the same, I pressed the back of Momma's and my hands to my face. Sam stretched her neck out and licked Momma's crinkled cheek before laying her muzzle down upon her shoulder.
We waited together for the end.
A time later that felt all too short and too long all together, Momma's chest started to convulse. She was searching desperately for air that felt like it would not come. I could hear her groan slightly as Sheryl motioned for someone behind me. "She's going into cardiac arrest. Her heart's trying to pump blood that isn't there. Dix, please –"
That was all that needed to be said. As much as Momma deserved to pass peacefully in her sleep, it wasn't to be. Dix's calloused hand grabbed my shoulder tightly as he moved me behind him and out of the way. His wide back stood between me and Momma, so I could hardly see her body start to convulse. Instead, I saw Dix reach for his sidearm and draw it out of its holster.
Momma couldn't be allowed to suffer. And Dix – horrible, wonderful Dix – took it upon himself to do what had to be done. Like a true leader, he wouldn't leave it for anyone else. I saw his arm move quickly as he positioned the barrel next to her temple. "No!" I tried to shout, even though I knew it was for the best. My eyes clamped shut; I couldn't watch another person important to me die.
For the second time in days, the sound of exploded gunpowder carried away someone I loved.
A few shocked gasps broke the resulting silence, and Sam started barking wildly at Dix. I couldn't move; I was frozen on the ground where Dix had planted me. I didn't dare open my eyes – I knew the offending spray that resulted from a gunshot all too well. I could already smell the scent of blood and brains in the frozen air.
I would have laid there for an eternity – not daring to open my eyes – but someone grabbed me by my shoulders and hoisted me away. Only the feel of frozen wind across my wet cheeks let me know that we had left the cabin. My blind feet tripped over fallen rubble and the person guiding me held me tighter to them. It was a while before we stopped walking, and I never once opened my eyes. I couldn't find it within me to look out upon this new world without Momma in it.
Finally the sound of the camp faded away – replaced by the sound of rushing water – and the person next to me guided me to a stop. I felt calloused fingers wipe away the unending tears upon my cheek. I convulsed with sobs, finally collapsing upon the riverbed on my knees, never opening my eyes. The kind stranger never once left me, only silently brushed away my tears.
Time seemed to stand still and rush forward all at once. I had no idea how long I knelt in the silt next to the rushing river, by my companion never left. Finally, when I had no more tears left to shed, my eyes slowly opened again. The blinding noon sun sparkled off of the snow and ice. The frozen world was so heart-wrenchingly beautiful and so ugly all at once. As my eyes slowly adjusted to the light, I could make out the facial features of my companion.
It was Dix.
His black hair tangled in the wind, but he didn't brush it aside. Instead, he stared unwaveringly at me; all his attention was focused upon me. He waited for me to begin the conversation. I didn't think I could, but there was a burning desire within me to know one thing.
"How?" I pleaded, my voice still hushed with tears. "Just…how?"
To Dix's credit, he didn't need any further explanation. "There was an explosion. A few days after the initial attack, she was helping clear rubble out of the camp when something – an old grenade, a hidden propane tank, something – exploded. Shrapnel pierced near her arteries. There was nothing anyone could do." That would be all it would have taken. Internal bleeding, inoperable puncture sites. The fragility of humanity was always a slap to the face.
Guilt immediately flooded my veins. I should have been able to stop this. I should have been here. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'm so sorry."
Finally Dix moved. His long spindly fingers reached out and grasped my shoulders almost painfully. "There is nothing you have to be sorry for. This was no one's fault. It shouldn't have happened."
There was a pause as he continued to stare deeply at my face. The hands he had grasped around my shoulders loosened, and became more of a caress than a grip. "It shouldn't have happened to you. And anyone who tells you that everything will be okay is a liar."
I understood what Dix was trying to say. Momma's death wouldn't be okay. It would never be okay. And sometimes you just had to find a way to live with that.
The time spent next to the river felt like an eternity. The rushing of the water drowned out my sobs, until they quieted down to just a few sniffles. My eyes itch with the outpouring of emotion, and I grind my palms against them until they press back into my skull. No more tears I chastise myself. If I let any more of the pain out, it will never end.
When I open my eyes again, little sparks dance in my vision for a moment. I feel exhausted, but I also feel empty, which is good. Empty is a lot like numb, which is what I need right now. The sun is directly over us now. The cold rays cast shadows over Dix's face. He never left, I'll give him that much. And his hands are still wrapped around my shoulders.
"I'm…" I was starting to say okay, but I know he'll hear it as the lie it is. "I'm…I need to go," I say instead.
He doesn't look surprised. He never truly does. "Where will you go?"
I shrug. Does it matter? I think to myself. He takes my silence for the answer it is, and begins to release me. At the last second, I feel him change his mind as his muscles tense in a different direction. Instead of dropping his hands at his side like I expect, he brings his right one up to run through my tangled, loose hair. He cups the back of my skull, drawing my eyes back to him.
"Be good," is all he says before letting his fingers trail through my hair. As soon as he's done, he turns around and begins the walk back to the camp.
Author's note: Sorry this took so long. I'm still not completely happy with it, but I need to move on with this story.
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