The Pole Shift

Sean feels damned

          

"A thimble full of petrol is equal in energy to one hour of hard labour." He paused, his voice strange and compelling. He thought of his thousand watt generator and the old fish pond pump, he could attach the hose to the outlet and tape it air tight. That would drain the cellar and he wouldn't hardly have to lift a finger. Pleased Sean put his thought into practice and an hour later a thin stream of dirty water was dribbling down the driveway.

            The generator would run for nine hours he seemed to remember, but he decided to hook his laptop up and a subwoofer for  music, then he got the bread maker out and started mixing dough. Four hours later the generator cut, the level of the cellar seemed slightly lower, so he filled the generator and set it off again. In the back of his mind he wondered what future important use he might have for the fuel but he tucked it away safely out of his immediate thoughts.

            The next day the cellar was half empty, and he filled the generator again and sat watching it whilst he ate flat breads he crudely baked in the fire. He looked at the wall, Tess was back in there nosing around. He hoped she wasn't eating body parts.

            "Get out of there!" He yelled, spitting out flakes of blackened bread. The Labrador, trotted to him, but looked back at the wall whining. She went to return and he roared at her, her ears drooping and her tired body dropping to the ground. She continued to look at the wall. It was disgusting, the smell had become so vile that he found himself gagging if he got a face full of it.

            "I'm going to give you a bath." The small action opened up a series of actions for Sean. He helped the pump by bucketing out the rest of the water from the cellar, then mopped the mud out, he dug over the vegetable garden and haphazardly planted seeds. As the day ended he felt tired for the right reasons, and please, then as he looked down at the wall he saw Tess pawing at the door of a car.

            "Oi! Get away, get away! I've just cleaned you you stupid mutt!" He raced to her, clambering over the flotsam for the first time. As he went to grab the scruff of her neck he noticed the car she was interested in. It was Tom's fat brothers. In horror slow motion, he looked through broken windows. In the front was Tom and Caroline, his ex-wife, fly blown in dreadfulness. Something had smashed into the front of the car for it was bent and twisted, as were their bodies. In the back were the children. With slow understanding he realized their tiny corpses were not rotted, they did not hold the same injuries as the adults. One of the faces was pressed up against the window, the other three were huddled together as if for warmth. The back doors were wedged shut with tree logs. They had survived, but died whilst Sean had guzzled vodka and kept warm by the fire. Further clues indicated their struggles to get out of the car.

            Tess was up at the car window, her face alert and a thin whine escaping her. Sean collapsed in horror, tormented with scenarios. It seemed like the dead were watching him, judging.

            "I'm sorry." Was all he could say, and with his hand on Tess's neck he led her away wondering if he had been damned.