The Butcher's Bill

Posted on Mon 10th May, 2021 @ 10:34am by
Edited on on Mon 10th May, 2021 @ 7:59pm

711 words; about a 4 minute read

Mission: Waging Peace
Location: Oblivion
Timeline: Any Day in Paradise

Sometimes the dead spoke to her. While she slept, their quiet voices filtered into her consciousness, words impossible to make out, at first. The longer they stayed, the more she understood. She knew what they wanted, even before that. It was always the same ... payment of the butcher's bill.

Kel had tried to tell them she wasn't the one. She didn't owe the payment. Yes, she'd been there. She'd been part of the team delivering the goods, but she hadn't created the weapon. She couldn't. She wasn't that smart. Why did they come to her, then?

Maybe it was because she was the one they could reach. From the time of the accident when she was a toddler, something changed in her ... brain? spirit? heart? She didn't know what, but something. They'd started speaking to her then, only they hadn't come as a collections team in those days. They'd helped her save others ... children, innocents, those who weren't responsible for the messes of the world. A word, a warning, a small nudge, and it was done ... someone was safe who wouldn't have been.

She hadn't minded their visits then or in her growing up years. She'd made a promise to them, a promise she'd kept. She'd never take a life, not even an evil one. And they would help her save the innocent.

Now, they rarely came, and only to insist that payment must be made. She thought they must know, but she'd never told them who was responsible ... or that the woman was also on Oblivion. Kel wasn't a snitch. Each person must come to their own end-of-story without her help.

Some months without contact, and she'd begun to hope she wouldn't hear from the dead again. She could live without their help, now that she was more experienced in how the world operated. If they didn't speak, she was just as happy. But no. Tonight, they were back with increased insistence and new demands. Only it wasn't for the dying doctor this time. It was a new target, a new butcher's bill, one she hadn't known about before, one that sickened her as she saw the condition of the dead.

One voice began to be heard over the others. "Kel Nola. Your help is needed. We ..." she circled her finger around herself and then the others around her, "need your help. A great and purposeful evil stalks the corridors of Oblivion. We are all its victims. Before there are more, you must come to the aid of those who would end this thing that is happening in your home. Help comes from a starbase. You must guide them, you must take an active role in stopping the great and dreadful evil that mangles and kills. Remember when you wake. Remember my name. Victoria Briggs. Be ready."

The woman faded away, her voice echoing her name. Victoria Briggs. She'd never heard of her, but the woman was more insistent than the dead generally were. The other voices began to fade, their manifestations with them. She realized she was awake, staring at a night light in the corner. Getting up, she wrote the name on a pad of paper she kept in a nearby drawer for emergencies. She'd been given other names on other nights. This was the first time a ... ghost? ... had given her own name.

She laid back and went over the visitation, trying to squeeze out more information, until lights in the corridor began to come up, shining under the door of her quarters. Another night, another bit of latinum to pursue at the gaming tables ... and a wait for someone from a starbase. Someone she didn't know, couldn't recognize if she saw him. He wouldn't show up with a contract for her, since he wouldn't know about her, either. Probably.

In spite of misgivings, her interest was quickened. What did Oblivion hide besides others like herself? Who had chosen this place to defile with even worse malevolence than the average inhabitant? Was she responsible for finding out the answer to that question before anyone contacted her? She decided she wasn't and got up to dress for a night at the tables, tossing out crystals and searching for something pure, even if it was only in a game.

 

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