Population Control

Sami VII

Wabi-Sabi – finding beauty in imperfections

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While Camille and Jason were with Matthew, I tended to Dylan. There was nothing to wash my hands with so Matthew's blood dried on my clothes and my skin. Soaking in like a care routine. In one of the bedrooms – there was a king sized bed with silk yellow drapes and a rug and a floor-length mirror with a seat off to the side – I took the quilt and took it out so I was left with the sheet.

Downstairs, gently, I closed Dylan's eyes. The blanket secure around Dylan, I didn't want to move him. I said to myself it was because he was too heavy.

Stepping into the bedroom Matthew lay in, I smiled when he lazily looked at me with a dopey face. "Sami." He whispered with a smile.

"Hi, how are you doing?"

"Good, all things considered." I looked to his leg and saw blood soaked into the fabric wrapped around it.

"Can you move it?"

"I can, yeah-"

"-but only if you want to break it." Jason reprimanded him.

"I've done the thing." I glanced to Camille who stared at the blank wall. Jason nodded.

"There's an old tandem bike in the garage. Camille and I can take that and see if it's safe to walk the channel."

"We're almost out." I whispered.

Jason held me at the shoulders, "We are." He squeezed them, then let me go.

They took nothing with them when they left, the broken door closing behind them. I sat next to Matthew on the soft bed, taking his hand. "I'm sorry this has happened to you."

"You didn't stab me, it's all good." He said. A sheet of sweat covered his skin. I don't know how we're going to get him to the tunnel, how he's going to walk it. It will be a long walk, and I don't think he can even take one step. Maybe we can carry him but someone needs to be on guard.

"You can leave me be for a bit, I won't keel over." He smiled as he joked but I didn't find him funny.

Stepping out onto the beach, shovel in one hand and a few sticks in the other, I soaked in the sky. Brightest blue on a calm winter's day. The sand nice between my toes, hot on my soles. But at the end of the beach, far to the left way in the distance, in the water and dragged out to sea, were bodies. Head down, limbs loose. Real, dead, human bodies. I needed to do this quickly.

So, I went out halfway between land and sea, and began digging. In a movie they dug holes the vertical length and the horizontal length of a shovel, so I did it the horizontal length and a few feet deep. It took me hours on my own, by the end I was shivering but drowned in sweat, my hands covered in cuts and white skin and red patches. The sun was three quarters through its day by the time I stopped. Jason and Camille hadn't come back, and maybe that was for the best because Camille can't be here when I have to put him in the hole.

I took five minutes for myself, debating if I should pour a bottle of water over me but deciding someone else might need it more. So, I went to Matthew's room, knocking on the door first. The cloth that was previously tied around his leg was discarded on the now bloody floor, and a yellow garment was wrapped around the cut. "How is it?" He barely grunted back. Fudge, we need to get moving. As soon as possible.

He managed the sounds 'k' and 'j'. "Were they here?" I asked, and he could barely nod. "Took 'er... took 'er s'mwhere... else..." He slurred.

Dylan's body was still in the kitchen. I tied the sheet, then wrapped another one around his middle so I could easily pull him out. After dragging him on the smooth floor to the outside decking, I needed to carry him down. Getting behind him, I felt along the sheets to his armpits. Crouching, I gripped tight to his heavy body and lifted. And dropped him. I took a deep breath, crouched, and strained myself as I pulled. Tears welled as I tried again and again and again and again! Darn it Dylan just move! Defeated, I flopped onto a step, head in my hands, palms in my eyes collected the tears as they fell. I made horribly choked noises, body-jerking sobs. I need to do this, I can't sit here sorry for myself.

Twenty minutes later, eyes puffy and feelings numb, I dragged him by the feet, wincing when his head collided with the wood, tightening my jaw at the drag of the sand. Purposefully, I stood on the left, facing the right. The right was privately owned, down to the left were regular civilian bodies. His body was in the pit, facing the sea. Quickly, I shovelled the sand back, watching it roll off his body then mountain in the middle at the end. With the sticks, I placed them in a cross, cello tape keeping them together.

Closing my eyes, I said a prayer. I had only been to one Christian funeral, and I remember some of the words, maybe not all. "Dear Lord, may your everlasting love rest on this family as they mourn. We thank you that..."