Traitor
By Harry Tennison
The drone of our helicopter made everything go blank. It was
all I could hear, the rotations of the roters taking a hold on me,
captivating my senses. I looked at them; unable to understand the mechanisms
that caused their turns, and the power that it released to give us flight...but
that’s unsurprising. Girls were never taught mechanical science in Quarter 4.
Saying that though, there is no longer a Quarter 4: or a
Quarter 1, or a Quarter 2 or 3. We are one now, a united front. We are one
race, one people. And together we march.
We marched through the lands who no one could claim. The
lands ravaged by wild animals, sick experiments gone wrong and the rejections
of mankind. We found none who welcomed us, except for a mute woman. She
welcomed us with open arms, offering us shelter from the artificial storm that
was cast upon us in a bid to drive us back.
She gave us berries as we left. She wrote in the dust that
they would keep us safe. The Blood Red
will protect you from bloodshed. As long as you make none fall, you will lose
none. The next day we woke up five short. They had died, poisoned. The next
day we awoke to find the woman swaying in the wind. A rope was around her neck,
her head at an awkward angle.
I stood for a moment, watching her sway, and as I stood I
heard a voice, singing. It was a song my father had sung to me as a child. We
would walk through the high street, singing together. But never at home; Mother
never let us sing it at home. And suddenly, I joined in.
“Will you come with me
Down to the river?
Down to the river;
Will you go with me?
And when we are there
You will see a boat.
I will have gone;
Take the boat.
Take the boat and come with me
Take the oar and row to me.
We will be together again;
And nought can separate us.
Bring a knife, for my necklace of rope
Is tied tight around my neck.
And when you come and set me free
Together we shall be forever.”
When we stopped singing I looked up. A small girl was
standing facing me, a tear trickling down her cheek. I took her hand and we walked.
We stopped by a small cluster of trees. A small group of deer were running not
too far away. They worked together, making sure there was no danger around
them. But they were paying enough attention. And eagle swept down from above,
taking the smallest in its claws. I felt my hand squeeze and remembered the
little girl. Her cheeks were wet again with tears.
Suddenly, my hand was empty. I hear the screams of the
little girl as she was dragged away. I walk back to camp later, but straight
past the crowds by the bonfire.
Darkness fell that night and I knew what I needed to do.
The drones of our helicopters made me concentrate. I breathed in the rhythm of
the blades. I became emotionless, detached from the young girl who only hours
before was at the heart of a rebellion. A man who I once wanted to kill turned
and smiled at me. His eyes were excited as the corners of his mouth turned into
a cruel grimace.
The eagle took flight. It knew its target. I heard a
click and knew the bombs had begun to fall. And as I heard a second click, I
passed out.
I awoke later that day in a room stripped of everything.
I was the only occupant on a single bed, surrounded by a curtain. I wondered
why a bed in a room with one person would need a curtain. They told me they
were all dead, everyone last one. But I knew they weren’t. I was still alive.
But I had turned traitor. I screamed the words at them; violently spitting in
the faces of the aliens who struggled to strap my arms down. I felt a sharp
pain in my arm. I calmed, and I began to sing.
“Will you come with me
Down to the river?”
