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Their Purpose

A story of morals

By Elizabeth ButlerPublished 3 years ago 7 min read
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THEIR PURPOSE

They shot rapid dogs in Chernobyl, to prevent the spread of radiation. That was in 1986, almost fifty years ago this year. If only they knew that it would happen again 45 years later, this time to the entire planet. The people only pacified because of the new vaccine, it had been issued only two years before the incident, and stopped sickness and death from radiation, their resistance to it grown stronger.

It was the weak that suffered the most. The pregnant women, their babies, the disabled and elderly, rushed into hospital for months at a time, as large green boils filled with pus covered their bodies.

At least this time the dogs weren’t harmed. Well, not to my knowledge anyway. Perhaps the strays or wolfs roaming around, but as people stayed, we the pets also stayed. Our ‘cities’ as people called them were just settlements, where a hundred people livid in a group, trying to rebuild a live. Life was harder for people, as they couldn’t travel out of the area like we did. Humans worked in different ways, such as the mystery people who made the magical cream. The cream that was suddenly discovered, that would save the weak, nobody knew the location of the building, who worked for them or how it was even made.

I lead a simple life, still in our old apartment building, along with my owner man. It wasn’t much, it’s what he had before everything happened, the walls grubby, peeling paint but that was the norm for people that worked. My owner was small and gangly with shaggy brown hair and an unkempt beard, he always wore suits when going out, apart from whenever he would go out with me, whereby he would always wear sweatpants and a baggy sweater.

The one thing that never changed about him, even when he was lying in his bed, with me asleep at the bottom, was the heart shaped necklace he wore around his neck. The clasp was always tightly secure. Apart from that time he was very angry for some explained reason, and the chain broke onto the floor, revealing a photograph of me, just sleeping in the midday sun, I suppose I really was the only girl in his life.

We lead a stress feel life. He’d go out, I’d wait in the apartment for hours until he arrived back when it was dark, bounding at him as I greeted him at the door. Mind you, he didn’t seem that interested when he arrived back, in fact thinking about it… he seemed troubled. That feeling had vanished in a morning or at the weekend. We took walks around the city, the smells of the people in the market and fumes filling the air as we walked.

There was also that other smell. We often avoided it, but sometimes it was difficult, like today when there was a rally down the street we would normally go down. That building. The sky turned grey when we turned the corner, my instincts telling me to growl, my tail tucked between my legs. Others walking by howled too, a magnet for sadness. Today, unlike other days, a large cart was there, there wasn’t a gas station in our settlement, so people had to just use hand carts instead. It was parked right outside the entrance, big, muscular people were carrying wooden crates to it, greeted by other, much smaller people, dressed in white coats.

“How many?” One of the white coated people asked, carrying a clip board.

“Five this time.” Said the larger man, who had a much gruffer voice, in contrast to the small man whose face was kind but solemn.

“Five! We’re expecting two more!” The seemingly kind nature of the man dropped almost immediately.

“That’s what they gave me.”

He huffed and nodded as I watched, the larger man stared at me right into my soul before going back about his business. I looked at my owner for reassurance, but as I looked, he was too busy hiding his face between his hands.

“Dave? Dave? Is that you?” The white coated man piped up, looking up from the clipboard he was checking as we walked past.

“Ah! Oh yes!” He mumbled, shifting from side to side.

“Mate? Where have you been? We needed you in today remember, the boss is dropping by!”

I looked up at my owner. He was definitely troubled, and I worried what kind of problems he’d gotten himself into.

He let out a big sigh, tears forming in his eyes. “I can’t do this… I can’t do this anymore, it’s not fair. Not fair on her.” He pointed to me; I had no idea what was happening.

“It would be hypocritical, I can’t…”

“But the boss is coming! We need more staff! The cream isn’t going to make itself!”

“Yeah, I know that, but it’s not me, tell the department, I’m done.”

“Well, I don’t think they’re going to like that... you know what happened to Linda last month.”

“Exactly, I’m done with this company... I can trust you surely, my best mate.” My owner said lowering his face.

The other man just stared and nodded weakly.

I took one last look at the building. He worked in there! How had I not noticed... was I so oblivious, so naive? How did I not know that he was one of the cream makers? I paced all night; I could feel his sadness as he slept. Even on our morning walk, when he jogged along beside me, I felt uneasy.

I felt slightly better, when I saw the elderly woman who worked at one of the markets, she’d been incredibly ill with the disease, covered with puss, until she got the cream, now claiming that she was a ‘A whole new woman’. Just like every other day she greeted me, tickling me under the chin and placing a canteen of water to my lips to drink. I felt rejuvenated, like a spring of energy had come bounding back home. I had so much energy now to just run and I was happier to see my owner laughing and smiling, enjoying my company.

After our walk, we made our way back home. I must have dozed off, because I awoke lying in my owner’s lap, when I heard the door being hammered upon. Opening the door, my owner was greeted by two large muscular men, similar in build to the one I saw yesterday. They burst through the door, without even a hello, my owner went flying, crashing to the other side of the room and just lay there defenceless, the locket was lying next to his hand, broken, the picture of me poking out. I tried to run over to comfort him, but as I walked my legs felt like jelly, everywhere around seemed fuzzy, the room was spinning. I couldn’t help it, I just collapsed to the floor, I couldn’t move but I could hear my owner scream out.

“PLEASE… please don’t hurt her, she hasn’t done anything… punish me! It’s me you want!”

The men dragged me across the dirty carpet of the apartment, my eyes woozy and full of confusion.

“Looks like the water worked.” One man mumbled to the other.

I could just make out the distant shadow of my owner, rushing to the door on his knees, as the door was slammed shut.

I’m not sure what really happened after that, I remember shapes and sounds, and growls from other dogs. I was being hoisted somewhere anyway, everything was pitch black, even when I tried to force my eyes open. Then there was movement. I was jolting around, and I felt scared. I just wanted my owner back. I howled with the others as we travelled, it seemed forever in the darkness.

Then I was being pulled out, the light suddenly hitting my eyes, as I scrunched them up. That man, the one with the white coat from yesterday, came to greet us.

“You got her?” The man mumbled.

They just nodded.

“And him?”

“Someone is going over as we speak.”

“Good.”

I was really beginning to despise this man in the white coat.

They took me into the building. It was clean, full of screens and other people dressed in white. I was taken, with two other dogs, into an elevator and then taken into a room and placed upon a cold metal table. A woman. A vet? Walked into the room a few moments later, looking around I was the only one there.

“This won’t hurt too much buddy.” She said right into my eyes, before turning me onto my back.

“Just look at me… three..two…one.. “

Humanity
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About the Creator

Elizabeth Butler

Elizabeth Butler has a masters in Creative Writing University .She has published anthology, Turning the Tide was a collaboration. She has published a short children's story and published a book of poetry through Bookleaf Publishing.

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