Quaso

We’d all heard the tales. Stories of the earth lurching, of the walls crumbling, were passed down from generation to generation. Everyone knew someone who had seen the sky cave in. Sometimes, as dawn broke, you might hear muffled screams as another town was harvested. We just never thought it would happen to us.

On the day that it happened, the air was still. I was up before the rest of the town, doing my rounds. Same beaten path, same footprints in the soft earth, same hushed voices eeking out from behind wafer-thin curtains.

“There he goes. The cop.”

“What’s he gonna do to save us?”

“None of the other towns had a cop.”

“And look at what happened to them! Maybe he’ll help.”

I’ve done this job for as long as I can remember. It sometimes feels like I was born with the mud between my toes, a charred length of debris in my hand. Even though there were never any troublemakers in this town, an innate desire kept me moving. Maybe it was a longing for the warmth of youthful mornings. Maybe I was constantly chasing a past I had never known. Whatever it was, it had led me here: strolling down painted streets, swinging my club, humming to drown out the doubts.

“Did you hear that a town a few miles over got torn in half?”

“No way!”

“Yeah, they’re saying it was the wrath of a vengeful god.”

“Then we need a priest, not a policeman.”

I chuckled, sneaking a wink at the pale face that scowled out at me. Little did they know that I guarded this town with more than just physical presence. My bloodline was in tune with the curves of our humble wasteland, sensitive to every tremble, every splinter of decay. I had seen the expanses of the world, known colours they could only dream of, gazed in awe at a soaring, pale sky, lit by an absent star, my tiny hands clasped under my chin in glee.

“We can never go out there,” my father had warned.

“Why not?”

His face darkened. “There are untold dangers out there,” he said, his eyes casting shadows on the golden floor.

“Then tell me about them,” I had chirped.

A smile shone through the clouds in his mind as he turned his face to me. “Patience, kid. You’ll know one day.”

It took eons, but I discovered the awful truth. He whispered it to me with his final, rasping breaths, face peering out from the walls as he was absorbed back into the land. My mother wept, clutching my arm with the strength of a drowning woman, as my mouth fell agape, unable to respond to an old man’s confession.

He had pressed his club into my chest, begging me to continue his work. And so here I was, a lonely soul wandering the streets that scorned his name.

Violence isn’t condoned here. We’re fluffy people, liable to disintegrate if enough force is applied. The very presence of the debris I yielded was enough to send grown adults scampering away, send children behind their mothers.

I have never used it, mind. I know it will be useless if the time comes. Father had informed me that it was a symbol, more than anything. I can’t help but think it is a prophecy, a giant, neon sign marking me out for infinite loneliness.

But hey, someone has to do it.

My baleful hum morphed into a cheerful whistle as I ventured towards the edges of our town. Our insular domain was guarded by arching walls that blended into the heavens, creating a bubble effect. Some naysayers claimed that we were trapped, not guarded, and it was my job as peacekeeper to shut them down, though I couldn’t entirely silence their grumblings. Their negativity had meant that most avoided the outskirts of town, and I was alone once more.

The tepid air played with my hair, teasing it into tangles. It was like a loving breath gasped onto my skin, at once making me feel alive. I was alone, yes, but for once I wasn’t lonely. It was just me and the elements, in harmony.

My whistling reached a joyous peak as I spun on the spot, arms outstretched. I longed to drop my baton, to abandon this solitary life and run headlong into the arms of the town.

Almost as if hearing me, the wind embraced my torso. Who needed the snide remarks of neighbours when nature itself respected me? I revelled in it, closing my eyes and inhaling deeply. The lingering scents of fresh food drifted across the wind and I let my muscles unwind, sinking to my knees. Nature intoxicated me. Our symbiotic existence was built on trust and adoration; I cleaned up our bipedal existence, and its heavenly power didn’t destroy the entire town. It had worked well so far.

I was gesturing in prayer for who-knows-how-long when I first felt the disturbance. It was like a shock of ice to a sensitive tooth: a splinter of freezing air tearing through my reverie. Eyes flying open, I was bathed in clinical lighting, only able to watch in horror as a violent tear ripped the town in two.

I was too far out to hear the screaming. I don’t know if I should be grateful for that small mercy, or despise myself more for it. I was the protector of this realm. I should have seen this coming, not been crouching with boyish love for an invisible presence!

I scrambled to my feet, choked with sobs. The earth was rent asunder, houses and lives and generations crumbling in a second. The school - the college - the hospital - the hospice - the nursery, all gone, all exploding into dust. Shards of love and hope made mountains on the streets, barricading the survivors in a flaky cage of doom.

The ham-coloured fist of our destroyer retreated briefly. In its absence I was paralysed, unable to even squeak out a warning. Too little too late for that, though.

Like a melting iceberg, downton collapsed into the abyss. My perilous high ground was beginning to tremble, too, and the rumbles of terrific anticipation propelled me into action. Pushing aside cascading chunks of sky, I headed for the walls. Did I have a plan? Absolutely not. I was overwhelmed by panic and fury, wanting to see devilish blood spilled, lusting for vengeance. My weapon would be useless against the behemoth but I wanted to go down fighting - or better yet, not go down at all. I could cling to the walls like an insect on a windscreen, battered and brainless but somehow, inexplicably, alive.

Before I reached a decision, the walls were peeled away. Fresh air crept in, light slinking past the pieces of our town’s crust. The outside slowly confronted me; it was like being born. Horrific, painful, daunting and cold… except I knew that I would not make it out of this hole alive.

My spear raised, I charged forwards, transfiguring my whistling tune into a screaming war cry. My target was locked, my death was inevitable, but I would not let this monster destroy our existence without consequence.

***********************

“Ow!”

“You alright?”

“Yeah, I think a sesame seed from this croissant just got into my hand.”