Zoning out at Work Vibes

Otherworldly

"And the sun was just gone?"

"Yep. Just gone."

"Like, you blinked and suddenly, it's midnight?"

His shoulders shake with silent laughter as he sets his beer down and leans toward the campfire's light. He is always following the light. Tonight, I finally dared to ask about it. I asked when he watched the sunset, and after darkness fell, he kept staring at the empty horizon. I asked, 'Why do you stare at the sun like that?' he couldn't answer until the fire roared again in the pit.

He told me about another world, where the sun fell from the sky and everything started to die, and storm clouds blocked out the moon.

"No, Coraline." The laughter fades from his chest as he stares into the flames with haunted eyes. "The sun went down a little earlier than usual that day, and it didn't return."

"For how long?"

"I don't know. I stayed as long as I could. Sometimes you have to leave. When you are the last one standing, it doesn't matter how you fight, or how you die. If you run, you become the person who survived a disaster. If you die on your feet, or kneeling, or lying in the mud, no one knows you even existed. Dying on your feet is for men who have nothing to lose."

The cold seemed to nestle itself in my bones as I thought about this version of death. Thought about fighting for my life in a way that is so quiet and slow. Not a war, or the struggle for the upper hand. Scrambling for a way to grow food in a world with no sun. Livestock dying when the grain runs out. My fingers shake from the cold. I whisper a quick prayer for warmth and the fire blazes hotter and larger.

"I'm not sure you're right about that Dex."

His grin is predatory and the shadows of the firelight dance across his skin. "Is that so, field mouse? Enlighten me. What, exactly, about my history could I have gotten wrong?"

"About men dying on their feet. That's how my father died. Because he had everything to lose. In a world with so many Gods, it's easy to get your prayers answered. They favor the young, of course. And the gentle, but when one man on either side of a war prays for the downfall of his enemy, the Gods will not interfere. But, he wasn't praying for their downfall. When I hugged him for the last time, he was already muttering. Praying faster than I ever could. He begged to be enough. Prayed that he could slow the hoard enough to close the gate. To lock them out forever."

No one says anything for a while and I sift through the memory of nightmares I wish I could forget. Pa, shouting his most heartfelt prayers as he fell into the great wave of beasts. Him, standing alone on the bridge, striking down monsters as best as he can before running out of breath to pray. 

He's the reason we are safe right now. Dex is not new to suffering, but he wouldn't know anything about a fight like that. Saying so to his face doesn't seem like the best idea, though. Thank the Gods I am a quick learner. I whisper a prayer of thanks and immediately smell lavender on the slight breeze kicked up around us.

"Where's the rest of your family, kid?"

"It's just been me for a long time now. You?"

"My wife and two little girls. They were among the first to leave for this world. I said I would come for them when things were right again. They are somewhere in this world, mourning my death or waiting for me to show up with good news. It's been months."

"Months?"

"Coming up on eight months, Coraline. It was a hard few months."

"In the dark?"

"All alone."

"How long did you pray?"

"By the end, I was praying every night before bed, that the sun would rise before I did."

"By the end? What about before then? And I haven't heard you pray once since you got here."

"You may not have noticed, field mouse, but the sun rises here." 

"One more thing to thank them for in the morning." Dex stares into the fire, picking up his beer again. His silence makes my blood boil. He survived. He and his entire family made it onto a world with a sun before it was too late, and he thinks himself too good to thank the gods that allowed this minor miracle.

"I was never too big on religion, field mouse. I prefer to funnel my attention into actually solving problems."

Something in me snaps as he leans back in that dumb plastic lawn chair holding a half-empty bottle of warm beer. I'm thankful, at this moment, that I have never sent a harmful prayer. How natural would it feel to wish him harm for the way he spits on the name of the Gods? How easy would it be for an evil person to harm another?

I can feel my face heat with rage as I shoot up out of my seat. "What is your wife's name?" I growl. He opens one eyelid to look at me. After a moment of silent contemplation, he sniffs and closes his eyes again. Maybe he won't answer me. I'm prepared to storm off, scorned before he whispers, "Connie. Constance Anne Saylor."

I take a breath and focus on my prayer. I speak clearly, so Dex can hear what the Gods are capable of. They have only ever refused one prayer of mine. The Gods will not bring people back from the dead. I kneel in the dirt and speak to the Gods who rule the terrain. The Gods know where every creature places their feet. "Please, help me find Constance Anne Saylor and her two beautiful daughters. They are all alone out there somewhere."

Before the final words can leave my mouth, the long-dead radio in the middle of camp crackles with static and a muddle of voices. In the camp, where seconds before there was hushed conversation and quiet snores, the silence is deafening. Then, the tension breaks. Some folks are frozen in place, some stand up, rubbing sleep from their eyes as they wander towards the radio, and those that remain scramble to untangle themselves from coats and sleeping bags, rushing towards the old radio.

I look at Dex who is suddenly alert to his surroundings. "You said you want to find them, right Dex?" I turn and walk carefully across the muddy grounds to the radio. A woman's voice begins to filter through the old speaker system and her words are broadcast clearly through the entire camp.

"Hello? Please, can anyone hear me? My name is Connie Saylor. Please. Is anyone out there?"

"Connie!?" Dex shouts as he pushes his way through the crowd.

"Please. Can anyone hear me? My name is Connie Saylor and I think" - static interrupts her and no ones dares to breathe- "My name is Connie Saylor and I think I'm going into labor."