About The Laws of Space

Post 174:

The Laws of Space

Episode 12

Chapter Six Continued

            “Where’s Charlie?” Blake asked, still wiping off his trousers.

            “Here he is,” Addie said, handing him a sampling of seared intestines that had made its way down the shaft. Blake vomited forthwith. She left him to it and shined her torch up at Walsh making his way down the ladder. “Well, I’m really glad we did this. Yeah, I’m satisfied. We got nothing of value, almost got killed, and Charlie’s in pieces. Good stuff. Well conceived and executed—is that a way to put it?”

            As Addie carried on, Blake continued gagging. Charlie’s intestines, along with the mission, were things that happened. It wasn’t that Addie didn’t care—she cared too much, maybe. She just didn’t believe. Beliefs could give you hope, or they could make you puke.

            Walsh was a believer, subject to emotion, but as he descended the ladder toward the base of the dank labyrinth, he directed the loss inward. His soul was puking, so to speak—Charlie had begged him to come along, though Addie had warned against it. She shined the torch at his boots as they hit the tunnel floor. “Come on, let’s move out. We’ve got eight miles to the first checkpoint.” Walsh marched by Addie and Blake like they were columns, paying no mind to anything but the journey back.

            “So that’s it?” Addie screamed. It echoed down the tunnel for what seemed miles. She was the only one who could get away with rank subordination toward Walsh. He was, after all, militia commander of all the Ones Between. She got away with it because hers was also an important family—and in her brash way, she was seldom wrong. The man in charge stopped walking but did not turn, knowing she deserved an answer.

            “I’m sorry about Charlie, he was a good lad. It was his choice.”

            “He was too stupid to make choices. I warned you about this.” Addie’s tone was still brazen, her voice hot with breath.

            “You did—I know you did.” He seemed moved but would not manifest it, shining his light forward into the gloomy darkness that would serve as their path. Walsh was a leader, looking forward because he had to. Forward to the checkpoint. Forward to home, to regroup. Forward until he could get to Alder Tate.

            “Alder Tate,” Addie mumbled, pushing Blake ahead to follow the boss. She was intractable, vivid, wild as ever. “Hope this moron is worth it.”

            Me too, thought Walsh, bearing down on his teeth. Me too.