Unbecoming Humans

Chapter 3

CW: Gun violence

A small village sat on the outside of Eden's indomitable fortress wall - a dusty, cracked reflection of the Predoc village inside the wall. It appeared uninhabited, save for a ragged old woman sweeping a doorstep with calculated, arthritic motions. Wind rustled the leaves of the forest that bordered the village opposite the Eden compound. It whistled through the fractured buildings until they wailed a ballad of reclaiming the earth for Mother Nature. It blew the dust the old woman had swept off her stoop back into her house, so that when she turned her back to sweep it again she failed to see the first soldiers step out of the trees. Above the wind's lament she could not hear their booted footsteps, nor the first pops of their rifles as they sprayed a frenzy of bullets through anything and everything in their path.

The first sign the old woman noticed that something was amiss was the siren blasting over the village from the loudspeakers. The next was a searing heat in the back of her leg that caused her to collapse, landing painfully in the dirt on her stoop. She could see blood blossoming on her tattered skirt. A crowd of feet scuffled around her, but she couldn't see above them to tell if they belonged to friend or foe.

She could barely make out the continued whizzing of bullets and shouting voices through the fog that was clouding the edges of her hearing, her thoughts, her vision. Was she flying, or perhaps her soul was leaving her body?

Then, everything was dark, but she knew she was still conscious because she could hear voices - familiar Russian voices - talking above her.

"-glad you got here when you did. Those ublyudki are getting bolder every time. We need more-"

"The Provo has heard your concerns. They will be addressed as resources become available."

"What about her? Please, will you help her?"

"This woman is old. She is not worth the resources."

"Please, just take her with you. I know you can help her. Or bring us the medicine and we will do it. Please?"

One pair of footsteps began to recede.

"Wait! You cannot leave her like this. Without her your precious Eden receives nothing." The voice had turned bitter with desperation.

The footsteps stopped.

The sound of rustling, velcro, then more rustling. Hands clapping.

The old woman felt a sharp pain that quickly blended with every other pain in her body. The searing heat in her leg was replaced with cool relief, and then there was nothing.