Part 2
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“It’s incredible,” Albert exclaimed
as he viewed his life’s work. The man’s younger days were long past him. His
head was balding, he was short several fingers, missing many teeth, and his
face was wrinkled. However, that was of no concern, because the village had
grown wondrously. The shantytown that began as a couple of wooden bridges and
platforms built along the giant stone arch now stretched down to the lake below.
They had no reason to shelter themselves in Latrec’s sewers any longer. Their
village was more than large enough to house the majority of their people.
“Still haven’t decided on that
name?” Gordon joked the remains of the older man’s hair had gone gray, and his
beard stretched down to his chest.
“I still say we should call it
Shanty,” Joseph interjected, his smile showed his many missing teeth.
“It’ll be called what it’s called,”
Albert shook his head, “I’m sure they’ll be a consensus eventually.” The aging
man took a seat. “Every day I’ve waited for Latrec’s officials to come and
remove us, but they’ve never come. Do they even know we exist?”
“Don’t they’d be so blind,” Gordon
coughed, “especially now, there’s no missing us, nor pretending we don’t
exist.”
“I guess they just don’t care,”
Joseph shrugged.
“I certainly hope so,” Albert scanned
the wooden shantytown, his eyes observing every resident they passed. As his
vision looped back to the outflow pipe that started it all so many years ago,
he noticed something strange. ‘The sewer water looks darker than usual, I
didn’t realize that was possible.’
~--~
“The flow of new arrivals has nearly
stopped,” Gordon explained. He and Albert had set themselves up in one of the
wooden shacks high up in the village. The night was dark, but a small candle
lit up their space.
“More to for reinforcing the
structure then,” Albert nodded. “Have that young man from the lowest level do
it, he’s strong.”
“Can’t, he’s ill,” Gordon shook his
head.
“How unfortunate,” Albert sighed,
“I’ll figure it out in the morning then.” The aging man yawned, his eyes still
glanced towards the outflow pipe. It was too dark to see the flowing water, but
he knew the liquid was still cloudier than usual. Suddenly, Albert felt a
painful cough overtake him before it passed in a moment.
“Something foul is going around
again,” Gordon wheezed, “worse than usual.”
“I’d recommend we pull water from
further out in the lake for a while,” Albert stated, “just a hunch.”
~--~
“How’s Gordon,” Joseph inquired. He
and Albert stood outside a small shack which housed their mutual friend.
“He’s up in the years, so the disease
is taking its toll,” Albert tried to hide his forlorn expression. “I wish we
had a doctor or priest, anything to comfort him.”
“It was bound to happen sooner or
later,” Joseph sighed. “It’ll happen to us soon too, that’s how getting old works.”
“I guess,” Albert suppressed a
lingering memory of his father. “You still teaching those boys your skills?”
“They’re quick learners,” Joseph
chuckled, “the future is in good hands.”
~--~
“It’s been awfully quiet lately,”
Albert commented as he stared out towards the lake. It was cloudier than he
remembered.
“Hasn’t been the same without
Gordon,” Joseph coughed.
“No, I mean in general,” Albert
gestured to the village. Still, as full as ever, the shantytown was almost
bereft of activity.
“That sickness is hitting us hard,”
Joseph agreed.
“Not just here,” Albert shook his
head, “the flow of new arrivals stopped some time back. It was Gordon’s job to
keep track of them, so I didn’t notice until recently.”
“Think something terrible happened?”
Joseph’s concern grew.
“I don’t know,” Albert replied, “I’m
more concerned about the village.”
“Didn’t I tell you before,” Joseph
assured his friend, “the future is in good hands.” He pointed out the few
residents still at work, repairing and reinforcing the village. A couple were
even expanding the massive shantytown.
“I certainly hope you’re right,”
Albert coughed.
~--~
The waters had only grown more
clouded, darker, blacker, blighted. Albert had initially insisted they pull
water from further out in the lake. However, that became less possible as
sickness enacted a vice-grip on the village. Eventually, the aging man gave up
on the idea, his people needed water, and he felt that soon it wouldn’t matter
where they got water from.
“The future is in good hands,”
Albert repeated to himself. The old man had lost almost all his teeth, his head
had gone bald, his skin wrinkled, and his body malnourished. His mind briefly
wondered where Joseph was until he remembered his friend had died years ago.
“The future is in good hands,” he told himself as he rested against the wall
next to the outflow pipe.
It was almost sunrise, but it was so
very cold. The old man didn’t know if he had another hour in him. He coughed
and wheezed and struggled to keep his eyes open. As his latest attack came to
an end, he took a moment to breathe.
“The future is in good hands,”
Albert assured himself. The village’s activity was minimal, but it was there.
The population had dwindled somewhat, but it was still quite full. “The future
is in good hands,” the dying man repeated.
Finally, the first light of the sun
peeked over the horizon, and a small sense of relief washed over Albert. He
allowed himself to close his eyes and rest a little bit. It wouldn’t be much
longer.
“Foolish old man,” Albert mumbled as
the sun rose over the horizon.
~~~~
Whether or not we leave a lasting mark on the world may not entirely be in our hands, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't try.Admittedly, I planned on making this a four part story, with the last part covering the event following Albert's death and the village's continued struggles. However, I found that I was taking it in a very negative direction, and that the ending in part 3 felt a little better. Honestly it's a little too vague, but I think that's better than spelling out everything that happens next.
Until next time, Read, Comment and Enjoy
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