Monday, 26 May 2014
Freewrite: And Gary Henderson Started Drinking
This isn't so much a story as a collection of sentences I wrote and didn't stop writing until I finished.
---
No one saw it happen. The San Pantena Genetics Centre had
been abandoned for decades and the equipment inside just churned and bubbled
away, forgotten by everyone except the guards, one of whom would stop by once
every blue moon to see that the site was still as deserted as was expected from
it.
Except it
wasn’t. Not this night.
Gary
Henderson, the well-to-do guard, often discarded by many people simply for his normality
and everydayness, heard it happen, but he never saw what exactly. He was
patrolling the car park in front of the Reception Annex - the only entrance
into the lab – when he heard the siren. No one had gone past him, he was sure
of it. The only sight his dim eyes could afford him as he squinted into the
distance at the place where, instead of the billowing heaps of smoke currently
occupying the area, the Fertilisation Labs had once been, was a glaring orange
light, spinning around. An alarm.
He weighed
his options. He did not have any real weaponry outside of a short range taser
that frequently missed its target, but being well-to-do and blandly
nondescript, the only talking point about his life was the inherent danger of
walking around at night in a deserted area with a flashlight. If he bailed, then
what was he?
A part of
his brain sparked. Gary Henderson, night-shift guard of the San Pantena
Genetics Centre on Mondays, Wednesdays and Saturdays, ran towards the alarm.
The smoke
was clearing by the time he arrived. The laboratories, which had been designed
into two tubes running parallel to one another, were all but gone. Only discoloured
rubble and (probably toxic) smoke remained. And a figure.
He was
young, appeared to be only a few years out of adolescence, and he hobbled and
staggered, as if both stunned by the destruction around him, and like he was
learning to walk for the first time.
He was
naked. Gary Henderson blushed and tried to keep a serious disposition.
“The lab.
It shouldn’t be here,” the man said. His voice was sweet, high-pitched and
almost melodious. It sounded heavenly, and Gary Henderson found it surprisingly
soothing, considering everything. He walked awkward and clumsily, hitting
pieces of rubble as his pale, ghostlike form slowly approached the guard.
“It had to
go…”
Gary
Henderson saw his eyes. They were a pale blue, with pupils that were almost
grey. They sparkled in the mess of half-broken lights from the compound; the
scene, for some bizarre reason, reminded the guard of an ice show he had once
seen.
He wanted
to say something, but he kept failing in his choice of words. He noticed the
holes in the man’s arms. Small, perfect, and all in a row, they looked like cable
sockets or something. Gary Henderson did not know what they were, who that man
was or what was happening. He probably had to call someone, but at this point,
he was too entranced by it all to do anything.
“I am One.
And only One,” the man continued, in his perfect, beautiful voice. “Had to go.
The light that shines”
The guard
reached for his walkie-talkie, but as he put it to his mouth, he stopped. The
wind had caught the smoke and it swirled around him. Through it he could see
the figure, who had walked past Gary Henderson, staring at nothing in particular
in front of him.
And soon,
somewhere in the darkness, out of the sirens and the white spotlights of the
abandoned complex, the man disappeared. There was nothing but silence, and
rubble. A light nearby lit up, incredibly bright, before exploding into
blackness.
Gary
Henderson held on to his walkie-talkie in silence, his eyes adjusting to the
light, and after several minutes of stillness, called in people to assess the
wreckage.
-
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