Tergiversation

A continuation of “Needles”

His beard was beginning to itch. The shroud wrapped around his head stank of death and the air reaching his lungs was thin and dusty. They had accused him of tergiversation, abandoning The Cause. Freedom was not the point. The Cause was the purpose of life. He had learned this as a youngling of the first settlement.

He was old now, a reluctant seer in his own eyes; a fool in the eyes of others. The sandstorm was abating, but this did not mean much to him. The long-term damage to his lungs was irreversible. The cost of living “free”. The shroud wrapped around his head may finish him off. He was contemplating whether to wish for death. The void was pulling him, but he was resisting.

The transport rig jolted to a halt after having locked its wheels, grinding against the dry dirt with the angst of a battle-hardened tank. The reluctant seer could discern the outline of the settlement building as the scavengers tore him down from the rig. There was only ever need for one building in a settlement. There was never enough life to demand more than a single shelter. The shooting pain in his bad arm was getting worse and he no longer had any control over that side of his body.

He was being supported by two specially bred foot soldiers, his arms around their shoulders. He could feel one of their sawn-off rifles jabbing into his side. They were both lacking in stature, less than five feet tall. But they were stocky, strong, specially bred. The reluctant seer hung between them, his feet dragging, and his shins scraping against an occasional jagged rock.

By the time he had been deposited on his knees, his surroundings had gone completely dark. He was inside now. The settlement building. A void. He began to feel light headed, and his head felt as though it was being pulled off from above. His brittle neck muscles were on the verge of capitulation when the upward pressure suddenly eased and the shroud had disappeared from around his head. He still couldn’t breathe. But at least he could see. A figure stood before him, bearded, tall, imposing.

“Welcome back to The Cause, brother.”

A flash fiction short designed for hair tousling, tedium negating, mental edification. Please hit the heart to help others stumble across it.