Saturday, February 1, 2014

The Short, Unhappy Life of Anathema Macomber

Anathema Macomber staggered out of the mess tent and into the dusty open area.  The camp looked empty but there were noises here and there.  Signs of life.  Something was still moving out there.  She took a long pull from the bottle in her hand and wiped her chin with the back of her glove.  She sat down in the dirt.

“Well, Daddy,” she said, “what do you think now?”  She surveyed the smoking remains and wind tossed debris of the camp.  “Pretty frickin’ great, huh?  Pretty..frickin’..great.  Daddy’s little soldier has really made a name for her self.  Done the old family legacy proud.  Betcher proud!”  She took another long pull from the bottle.

“I see you,” she said to a shadow under one of the trailers.  “I.  See.  You!  You little… why don’t you come out?  What’re you scared of?  C’mon!  Come see what Nathy’s got for you.  We all gotta go sometime.  What d’ya say?  You n’ me.  Nah?  Okay, sit in the dark and skulk.  See if I care.”  More bottle.  The door on the command trailer bent back at one corner.  She watched with mild curiosity as a Monotooth crawled out and then turned and dragged out something behind it.

“Preacher man!  Holy shit!” she slapped her knee and startled the Monotooth.  “You’re still alive!  Fer now.  What a hoot!  We thought you were a raisin!  Why ain’t you a raisin?”  The Monotooth, she thought, actually appeared nervous.  It looked around, noted its kin in the vicinity, shouldered the hapless Ch’Voga and slinked away.  That seemed odd.  Pretty damn peculiar behavior actually for a monotooth.  “Well, bye Preacher man.  Sorry!  Sorry yer gonna get sucked.”

“I’m sorry you’re all gonna get sucked!” she bellowed at any of her people still alive in the camp.  If they were smart, they got out, “only save ‘em for a day or two though.  Look at all you bastards.”  They had come out from under the trailers now.  A lot of them.  “One…two … geez!  What’re there, ten of ya?  Just fer little ol’ me?  C’mon then.  Come and get some.  Who wants first bite?”  A young one ran in and she smashed the bottle over its head.  She kicked at the next one and it grabbed her boot, then they were upon her, tearing at the pieces of armor to get at the flesh underneath.  She didn’t let them.  With one last, “sorry, daddy,” she triggered the antipersonnel mine on her chest.

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