So be it

Recycling

I sat next to my rucksack, my hands trembling, my shoulders hunched. I had not done the deed but my body acted as if I had.

I ignored the raised voices around me. They were still arguing. About many things. All of them together.

Had it been necessary? Was it civilised? Was it right? Was it wrong? What should we do now? Did one have the right to take the dead woman's things? Her clothes? Her provisions?

I ignored them. As I ignored the furtive glances sent my way. As I ignored the anything but furtive glances sent the way of the tattooed one. She was sitting too, just a few feet away from me. Her eyes looked at some distant horizon none of us could see, or at least I couldn't.

The almost victim of the tower-woman's attack was cowering next to the two Germans but I could see her watching the shouting-match avidly. I still had not managed to think about what language she had spoken. Still it looked like she had some English. Not a bad thing.

I was getting tired, even if the sun had not yet fallen. Maybe noon had passed, maybe not. My gut instinct and what I could see of the sun told me it had. I was thirsting for water and needed the loo something fierce. Neither of my two needs looked like they would be magically taken care of.

Syn Athena kai cheira kinei, as the ancients said. And I was getting tired. Tired of the arguments, the raised voices, the expansive hand-gestures. Tired of not knowing and tired of waiting to see what others would do. Logic still counselled to wait but there was a rebellion inside me. I've had enough.

I stood up abruptly and the world around me moved. Not that I had made the world move in the name of every god in creation. I have been called conceited, I have been called arrogant, I have even been called mad but please. I was not that bad.

It was merely my usual falling pressure that made the world seem to move. I narrowed my eyes and stiffened my knees. Usually I grasp a wall under such circumstances but there were no walls near me, not even a tree. Still I managed to stay on my feet until the fit of dizziness passed.

My movements were careful as I put the rucksack on my back once more and made certain that there was an easy draw for the knife. I had to remember to always do that. Every time, always, forever. Forever. So be it.

My steps were a bit wobbly. Too much time sitting cross-legged I guess. Still I managed to get to the dead body in our midst without falling or stumbling. I always hated making a fool of myself.

My hands trembled as I took the rucksack. Silence had fallen all around me. I could feel their eyes upon me. Let them stare.

A clearly irritated voice behind me made my back stiffen. "What the hell is she doing?"

I did not turn, neither did I speak. Whoever was wondering would know soon enough.

The rucksack was first as I moved it away from the body and the puddle of blood. When I knelt next to the body, my trembling hands extending to the first of the jacket buttons, a hand fell on my shoulder.

"What are you doing?" the same irritated voice asked over my shoulder.

I turned slowly, my hand moving across my body to grasp the hilt of the knife, even as my head rose to look at the woman above me. I should have expected it. The CEO was looking at me, irritation mixed with contempt in her eyes.

"Recycling."

I heard my own voice and I could not help but smile. It was gruff and low. I was a smartass. Always had been when pressured.

I saw her mouth open, her eyes flashing with real and perceived insult. I just looked at her, allowing one of my patent arrogant smirks on my lips.

I never had to finish that contest. A booming laugh sounded in our little circle. I glanced towards the sound. The tattooed one looked at me with twinkling eyes. My smirk became a small smile. Her lips twitched but never widened into a true smile.