The Far Away |
The radio remained
stubbornly silent. Only brief moments of static noise seemed to threaten the
eerie quietness.
“Move the
antenna,” insisted Mary for the third time.
“I have
done that already, a million times. It’s no use. The radio is dead.”
“It was
working before. We need to find a higher place, we need to…”
But she was
interrupted by Peter, annoyed and impatient.
“Mary, this
is not the radio. The radio is dead. We have to find out what is making this
noise or we are finished. Do you understand that? We are finished. Everyone is
probably dead already. It’s the end of the world, I tell you.”
“I hate to
break it to you, Peter, but it’s not the end of the world if there are at least
two of us.”
Mary’s
usual pragmatism seemed a bit too excessive for the dramatic situation they
were in.
Isolated in a desolate refugees’ camp, they had struggled to survive there for a few months.
Isolated in a desolate refugees’ camp, they had struggled to survive there for a few months.
The
perimeter was now closed and protected. When they arrived, the camp was empty,
which made Peter prophesize a dreadful end for both of them. Mary dismissed his
fears and went on to gather all the food and any useful objects she could find.
“We would’ve
seen them, if they were around.”
“Mary, just
shut up, ok. For a minute, could you please just shut up and let me think?”
She sulked
and walked away, hiding in the shrubbery behind the main building where she stayed
for part of the afternoon while Peter rummaged through boxes stored in the barn
looking for something.
A piercing
scream prompted Mary to run towards Peter. He was on the floor, blood dripping
from his mouth, his eyes rolled back.
“I told
you. We are dead…”
When Mary
looked up, a miniature alien drone shot a tiny needle at her neck. She felt
weak.
The drone buzzed. It sounded like static.
The drone buzzed. It sounded like static.
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