The Last of the Whistleblowers

A Thankless Task

A girl with a whistle tied to her heart, and a thankless task.

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She was the Last. The Last of her People, the Last of the Whistleblowers.

She had known how many Whistleblowers there were when she was confined to the Tower.

Seven Whistleblowers, Seven Settlements.

She had counted the long, piercing Final Whistles of her sisters over the past weeks.

When one of the People Passed, they received a short call, only loud enough for the local Settlement to witness. When a Whistleblower Passed, the long, resounding blast of sound could be heard in all Seven Settlements.

Yesterdawn had marked the sixth.

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There used to be good days. Beginning Days when no whistles were heard. No lives were lost. Final Whistles were but a procedure, a rite to learn before you grew old and grey and passed on your Whistle to another, younger, sister.

But there was no one to pass her Whistle to, now. There would be no sister to mark her Passing in the Annals. Only silence, true silence, would fall once she Passed.

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The Bad Things were the first Tragedy that struck the People. There had been other tragedies before: pets going missing in broad daylight, small gardens not doing as well as the Cycle before. But none were so Tragic as the Bad Things and their Mission.

The dark creatures of New Home originated from the Forest. Since Arrival, few had ventured within its shadowy depths, and none had returned.

These Bad Things slunk through the shadows of the Forest, crept in the Dark, and devoured their animals, livestock and domestic alike.

No, devoured wasn't the right word.

They had slaughtered them, and left their rib cages spread-eagled to the skies. Gore and green-spoiled, rotting meat were what greeted the People that First Red Dawn.

The People cried, not for lost lives, but for the Waste. Food was hard to find, had been since the Beginning. They could have used the meat, but the Bad Things spoiled it all.

Three tried the meat after the First Tragedy.

Three sharp cracks of a whistle followed within the hour.

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The Whistleblower turned to her side and stared at the wall next to her cot. Tally marks added up to almost sixty Dawns. She had been locked inside her tower for almost all of the Cooling cycle.

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"We're doing this for your own good!" Dor ground out as he, and Gil, manhandled her up the stairs and into the top room of the Tower.

"I can't leave you all out there, Dor! I need to be with the People!" The Whistleblower struggled in her memories, as Gil manacled her wrist to the radiator, while Dor attempted to hold her still. 

His previously taut, bulging muscles hung limp in folds of skin on his body.

Gil ignored her, and stated in a firm tone,