Against the Tide - A New Elysium Story [Complete]

5. Scraps, Bits and Pieces

The Butcher stood crouched over his latest lamb.

They had brought it in just last night, and he had been furious when he had realized nobody had awoken him right away. It was a most delicate thing, his line of work. It was best to start when they were still fresh, and ideally, warm.

That one had now regrettably already grown cold and stiff when he had begun his work in the early hours of morning.

He reached for a scalpel, his hand shaking. He didn't like that part of the work, not even after all these years. They called him the Butcher, but that didn't mean he enjoyed it. It was just that by nature, his work was bloody and gruesome. But there was no sense in dwelling on semantics now. His lamb couldn't wait much longer, or his cause would be a lost one, so he began.

That one was young, and might have been quite beautiful at some point. But not anymore. Now the body was stiff, but it had been broken and fractured before that. Dark bruises covered the spacer's sickly, pale skin and made it hard to find the traces of what he was looking for. But once he had found one, it was easy. With nothing more than a delicate pull, they would always come apart in the end. Like ragdolls.

It was over quickly. The butcher was disappointed. This one had held much less than he had hoped.

They were running out of time. He would have to tell the others that waiting was no longer an option. He would have to send them out to look for new lambs.

~ ~ ~

Null?

Yes?

What do you think will happen if we die? he asked.

I don't know, Lars, she replied. Isn't that the thing about dying? Nobody knows what comes after, all we know is that everyone finds out eventually.

But we're different, he claimed.

How so? she asked.

Because we already died, once.

Seems like we're not very good at it, then, she said, considering we're both still around.

She could feel the familiar warmth of his intangible smile, and opened her eyes. It wasn't intangible any longer. It was right there in front of her. He was right there. Her eyes went wide with surprise.

They were back at the beach.

They were lying in the sand next to each other, not far from where soft waves rolled across the sand.

"Lars, open your eyes!" she said. "Lars!"

She sat up and leaned over him, just when he opened them wide and bolted upright, almost bumping his head against hers in the process. Bewildered, he stared back at her for a moment, then his gaze darted past her, toward the ocean, and the fog.

"We're-"

"Back," she completed his sentence.

"How did we get here?"

"No idea," she said, as she got to her feet, stretching out a hand to help him up. He seemed uneasy on his legs. Perhaps because the body he had in this strange place was so different from the shell.

"Could we be dead?" he asked, taking in their surroundings.

"No way," she replied. "I'm absolutely certain I got the dosage right."

He squinted his eyes at her doubtfully and she felt a shiver run down the back of her neck. She wasn't used to seeing his expressions, she only ever felt them. It was confusing. Irritating. Fascinating.