Spin

Who’s gonna spin, gonna spin, gonna spin.

Spin away the pain, all the pain, all the pain.

The song echoed in the darkness, and they followed the sound downwards, past the parts they liked to visit, past the parts they pretended they didn’t, into the places they only went when forced. Their footsteps were barely audible over the blaring of the music and the cloying scent of decay grew stronger the further down they traveled. They’d been searching for hours, hours longer than they had to stop the dance.

When they found him, it was too late, he sat tailor style in a corner, his blood spilling out in a slowly spreading pool, and his stained fingers fisted around something he held pressed close to his chest. His victims lay in a macabre circle around him, their own puddles long cold and sinking slowly into the dirt floor of the cave.

Give the gift of blood, blood, blood. Give the gift of pain.

The only god lies in the knife, we use to play this game.

The speakers on his holo played the tune in a loop as he sat rocking in his puddle, clenched fisted and drooling as his life ebbed out around him.

“Turn that crap off.” Detective A said and one of his team walked over to where the murderer had dropped the holo and used the edge of his jacket to shut it down. The silence suited the mood better than the ditty. The trio stood staring down at the man, disgust plain in their expressions.

“You’d think everything blowing up would have stopped this kind of thing,” C said, pulling out his handheld to run the camera over the scene.

“The more things suck; the more folks want to escape,” B replied shaking his head and using his own handheld to call for a cart, stepping backward to stay out of the frame of C’s camera.

“And why should the end of the world stop humans from doing what they always do? This poor sap probably never even noticed the rest of the world has gone to shit. Business as usual for him. Same as us.” Detective A said crouching to look at the dying man.

“Why’d you do it huh? We’re already fighting to survive down here. What was it punk? You on the Spin?” Detective A said not expecting an answer. The guy looked too far gone and touching him wasn’t an option. No clue what he had, what he’d been into this far down. The rocking motion was slowing now but the man lifted his eyes to look at them, still somehow aware despite being so far gone.

His eyes had the telltale tinge and A shook his head, rising to go stand next to the entrance of the chamber. It always ends the same. Even in this new reality, this new world where humans are few and codependent. Except some folks never really fit in, did they? The governments considered them excess and not assigned. What choice did they have? Starve or Spin.

Still, there should be rules. There should be order. Even if we’re all circling the drain, we should wait our turn and not jump the queue. Not push others out of the line before their number is called. Otherwise, it isn’t fair. And shouldn’t something be fair? That’s why he wore the uniform. Detective A pulled out his stick and lit the end, taking a deep drag of the sweet-smelling herb, allowing the smoke from the faintly laced leaves to do its job. Relax him and block the smell and bitterness of the situation.

The junkie’s rocking slowed to a stop as A took another long pull on his stick and closed the cap to save it for later, his thoughts began to even out and he nodded to some thought only he could hear.

“Ok guys, you got what we need?” B and C nodded, as disappointed as he at the fact that there wasn’t anything left to do. That they’d arrived too late to save anyone again. He turned to walk back out the way they’d come in. Damn shame. Even if they weren’t living above the line their lives mattered. Now because one selfish bastard wanted dance partners they had a half dozen bodies in the Under while the sky bled up above. Maybe that’s why he did it. Took a Spin and grabbed a few friends. The whole world is on fire and the rivers run with blood. The rich push the poor lower and deeper to make room as more of the land above becomes uninhabitable in their war. What did someone like him have to hold onto? The knife he’d used to carve up those pretty girls. The hope that once the Governments stopped fighting they’d leave those of us still living alone to rebuild in peace? Who knew, and it didn’t matter now.

“Dance like it matters, spin in the sun. Dance like it matters till your life is done.” The man said from behind them, his voice barely a whisper as he unclenched his hand and let the object fall free. His head lolled to the side like a broken doll as his chest collapsed with his final exhale. The trio turned to watch, staring until they were sure he was gone then Detective A walked a bit closer to see what he’d dropped. A locket. Had he stolen it from a victim? Did it matter now that they were gone? They left it and the rest where they lay. The cart would be there when it came. Later rather than sooner this deep in the Havens. B began to whistle as they moved briskly back up through the remnants of their civilization. Who’s gonna spin he whistled, moving past the ones who didn’t matter to anyone but themselves. Moving up closer to the light, but not out. Never out. After all, the sky is still bleeding, and it wasn’t time for them to leave the dance.