The Things We Bury - Part 1: In Anticipation of the End of the World [Completed]

Chapter 8: Sacrifice (Part 2 of 6)

When the bedroom door opened, Amy was ready for them.

She'd changed into the nightgown she liked the least.  Jamie said he couldn't understand how she had favorites when they all looked the same.  But she did.  There were subtle differences, and over time she'd learned what ones felt best.  Her most cherished one was softer than the others and the hem was torn at the bottom separating the lace trim.  When she curled up on the chair and let the nightie bunch around her feet, her fingers would be drawn to the hole in the fabric and the tips would run along the frayed threads brushing them gently.  The sensation relaxed her and almost sent her into a semi-trance, as she daydreamed about another life outside of the prison.

Back in July, Amy had made the mistake of stubbornly wearing her most comfortable jogging pants into the pen.  She'd never seen them again.  Nothing that went in with her ever came out again.

The door cracked open and there was a subtle woosh from the change in air pressure.  It was like an ancient tomb being opened in a movie.  But the two figures didn't look much like treasure hunters.  They were more like robots with their shapeless white suits and large face visors. 

They didn't talk.  They never did.  The only sounds were from the raspy chaffing of the suit's fabric against itself and the squeaky breathing sound of the air pump, which made them resemble machines even more.  Human breath was absent, along with a heartbeat.

A man stepped in first.  Beneath the visor, shadows blackened his cheeks.  Over his round, bulging eyes, his forehead continued up without end.  He didn't come into her cell often and it took Amy a moment to place him.  Jamie had told her his name some time ago.  It drifted like a leaf falling from a high branch until her mind finally caught it: Aikman.

Amy could tell that the second person was the redhead with glasses even before she saw her. This woman was no more familiar than the man, but the fear she carried on her was vividly distinct.  It was a stink that clung to her like a neon sign.

The suits seemed to block normal human odors just as it did sound.  But the stench of Emily's terror was there.  Somehow it slipped through.  Perhaps she spread it unwittingly over the suit's exterior while she was dressing.  Or perhaps, it was so strong that it fought its way through the barrier.  However the scent evaded the thick shielding, it wafted across the room like sour oranges with a hint of bile. 

Amy raised her head and tried to detect if anything was coming off of Aikman.  Faintly beneath Emily's scent, something was there.  It wasn't fear.  It wasn't anything she had smelled before.  It was almost like rotten meat.

Amy waited for them by the connecting door in silence.  She had shut off her music player when she heard the mechanical clangs of the outer portal.  She wouldn't fight them.  There was no point.  She'd just get dragged into the cage anyway and tossed onto the mat.  She'd be left with nothing to show for her defiance except some bruises.

Besides, Ylva didn't want her to struggle with them.

The woman's presence was always around her now.  Ever since the day in the clearing, she drifted through the prison like a phantom.  In the shadow of the eclipse, they had come to a strange truce and it had drawn them together.

Sometimes on nights when Jamie didn't come to see her, Amy would lie in bed with the covers over her face and talk to her.  She would mumble questions and listen for the reply as though she were a medium pulling answers from beyond the great divide.

"Where are the woods?"  That decayed ancient forest was often in her thoughts, along with the memory of running.  "How do I get there again?"

A shrill laugh stirred through the silent room like the last remnant of an echo.  "You are a stupid little girl.  Do not think about where you're not.  The only important place is this gray land."