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"With Wings of Damnation"Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5
Chapter 5: Misery
The sound of heavy winds drowned out the sound of Kara’s steady cleaning. The environment of Mars, terraformed just enough to support human life, was still far from hospitable or even stable. Many of the more wealthy locals had already moved to avoid a possibly lethal change in the local climate. The less fortunate worked nearly twice their regular, already demanding work hours to try to do the same before it was too late. Even if Kara could manage to find a job, it would be too late for her to escape to a new home elsewhere – she simply did not have the finances. Selling her home would require Imperial intervention, which would mean most of the profits would return to Earth to fuel its own growing economy. The Empire would give her just enough money to feed herself for another quarter of a Martian year. Small rocks began to roll and slam into the side of her Imperial-funded housing unit. Even though she and her husband had bought the house, they, as well as the other miners, paid a housing fee for residing on Imperial property; the Empire solely owned almost all of Mars. In most cases, this fee came straight from the worker’s paycheck. However, as Kara did not work, she was harassed by collectors weekly, sometimes daily. Kara wiped the plate clean, examining her dusty, weary-eyed face in its faintly reflective surface. She placed the plate back into its storage, and walked back into her bedroom. She passed only blank walls on her way – she had sold everything in the house aside from her bed and a few articles of clothing. The local Imperial jurisdiction frowned upon private financial exchanges – Kara had sold her possessions sold through government auctions, which naturally took most of the earnings for themselves. Her bedroom was unlit, as the rest of her house. Kara had her electricity turned off weeks ago, and used only enough water to clean once every month. ----- She fell onto the bed, still hungry, and weak from lack of nourishment. Martians that did not work would die like animals. The Empire viewed all humans as a resource for the benefit of the whole of man, and as such, laid most of the burden upon the majority of the workforce, the colonials on Mars, Venus, and other settlements. The higher in ranking a person was in society, the more wealth they possessed, and the more ludicrous their lifestyle became. The pounding of the rocks seemed to increase for a moment, in short, rhythmic beats. Her mind wandered often these days, both from her lack of nourishment and her lack of sleep. Although it pained her, she forced herself to seek employment every day. With population on Mars still on the rise, and construction on new mines still incomplete, there were no longer enough jobs to provide a future for everyone. Kara placed her hand under her bed, and laid her hand on an antique her husband’s father had given him. The course texture of its surface soothed her. She removed the object, holding it firmly in her hands. She had forgotten what Dave, her husband, had called it precisely, but she was very sure it was a gun. At times, she would hold it to her head, undecidedly fingering its cold, indifferent trigger. The irony of killing herself with her dead husband’s heirloom to escape her own grief did not escape her. The ritual of nearing the line between life and death began as it always had before: she rubbed the barrel across her face, breathing in its scent, and relishing the feeling of its cold metal form caressing her unwashed skin. The weapon was loaded and quite capable of killing her, although she did not realize this, nor did she care. The weapon found its way to the side of her temple once again, barely hanging in the air as Kara’s feeble, weakened arm held it in place. The weapon remained in this position as Kara began to cry quietly to herself, delicately fondling the gun’s trigger. She wanted more than anything to pull the trigger, but hesitated. Something always held her back – something she could not identify. The gun went lax, barely hanging from Kara’s fingers, but still pointing at her head; she no longer had the strength to hold the weapon. Gravity pulled harshly on the weapon, bringing Kara’s finger down on the trigger. ----- A sharp, burning noise erupted through the air, causing the gun to fall from Kara’s hand. Her eyes were wide with surprise, and her body rigid from shock. The noise came once more, with more clarity this time. Kara blinked, realizing she was still alive. The noise came once again; Kara realized someone was knocking on her door. As she had no electricity, her guest bell was inactive. She weakly placed the gun back under her bed, and moved to answer the door. The knocking continued, faster and louder than before. As she neared the door, it flew open, pried apart by two men dressed in uniforms. Their height was average, yet their build was much greater than that of the average Martian. The Imperials were collecting again. “Why didn’t you answer the damn door, you stupid girl?” one of the Imperials shouted. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-” “Shut up!” the man interrupted. “We’ve already been by here twice, you stupid bitch!” “I’m sorry, the storm… I didn’t know.” The Imperial moved forward, looking violent, but was held back by his companion. “Look,” the other man began, “we just want our money. You know the drill. We’re not leaving this time. We need that money now.” Kara was indeed holding out, but only because it extended her own life. The collectors would never get their payments if she was dead, as she would neither have any money nor any living relatives on Mars to collect from. This time, however, the collectors seemed more violent than before. “Look, bitch,” the first man began again, “if you don’t have our money, we’ll just have to collect some other way, if you get my meaning.” His eyes began to crawl on Kara’s small, weakened body. Kara felt sure that he would rape her, and that his companion would look the other way. ----- “No! I have it, just wait!” Kara turned and returned to her room, falling to her knees by her bedside. Her hands swept feverishly across the floor, feeling for the small box she stored her few personal belongings in. Her hand ran across something familiar, although it was not the box. She mistakenly removed Dave’s gun from under the bed. Something tugged at Kara; she hesitated to return it. The desire to end her struggle returned. She could shoot herself now, so that it would no longer matter what happened to her body. She could kill the collectors. She savored the concept of rebellion for a moment, recalling the rumors of an underground movement to free Mars. “What’s taking you so long?” one of the collectors said. The sound of slow footsteps could be heard from down the hall. Kara pushed aside her hidden desires and flung the gun under the bed in a panic, quickly locating the box she had been searching for. “Here!” she said, meeting the more composed collector at the entrance to her bedroom. She held out her transaction card, which the Imperial ignored for a moment. “What were you doing in here? It doesn’t look like you could lose much in this place,” he said, examining the blank walls and floors. “Sorry,” Kara replied, trailing off. “Whatever,” the man said, swiping the card across his data pad. He laughed for a moment at the account statement that flashed on the screen. “It looks like we won’t be back here next year, girl. You’d better get to work.” Kara nodded. “I’m trying, sir.” ----- She followed the man with the data pad to the entrance, as he left without a word. Kara felt lustful eyes on her body, and turned to find the more distasteful Imperial’s face virtually buried in her chest. His gaze burrowed into her body; she felt as though he had already raped her. He passed her silently, sliding his hand across her lower body as he passed. Kara’s hand found its way to the side of the man’s face. As soon as it had happened, she knew she had made a mistake. There was no saving her now. The Imperial slapped her fragile form to the ground, straddling her body as he smothered his mouth over her face. Kara tried to scream, but the fall had knocked the wind from her. Her attempts to push him away were futile. A few seconds of resistance was enough – she no longer cared. Her body was as good as dead to her at this point. After he would have his way with her, she would use the gun. The man’s body surprisingly lifted off of her own; Kara was able to breathe once again. A hand had a hold of the collector’s hair. “Damn it to hell!” the Imperial yelled, now lying outside in the dirt. Kara recognized the form of the man who had saved her, its details masked by the bright glow of a setting sun. Farax landed a fist into the man’s jaw, planting his face into the red Martian dirt. Kara’s savior jumped on top of the man, grinding his face into the ground. “Have a taste of Mars, you son of a bitch!” Farax shouted, filling the man’s mouth with dark soil. Two more punches to the side of the rapist’s temple were sufficient to knock him out. Farax spat on the body as he lifted himself up. “Worthless Imperial bastard.” Kara was on her knees, still petrified with fear. “F-Farax,” she began to manage, “you’ll… be arrested!” In that moment, Kara felt more concern for Farax than she had for herself. Although she wanted her own life to end, she found the concept of Farax, or anyone else, suffering as a result to be equally frightening. She wanted freedom, but she was afraid of the price. She finally understood why she had always hesitated in taking her own life. ----- “Let me worry about that,” Farax stated plainly. “It was worth it,” he said with a smile. “Nobody’s going to jail today,” a voice interjected. “That jackass had it coming.” The other Imperial had returned, apparently looking for his partner. “I’ll just say it was me, since I don’t think he ever got a glimpse of your face.” Farax said nothing, mostly out of his initial disgust for all Imperials, good or bad. He appreciated the actions of the collector, but refused to admit it. “He heard my voice,” Farax replied. “I doubt he’ll remember it, from the beating you gave him,” the man said with a laugh. “The office won’t ask questions because of what he was doing to the girl. He has a history of this that they wouldn’t want to report back to the main office.” “Thank you so much,” Kara replied, beginning to cry. Farax moved to her side, back inside of the house, wrapping his arms around her. Kara felt at ease for the first time since Dave was alive. At this moment, she made a silent vow within herself to change who she was, and the fate she had once chosen. She felt ashamed of her selfishness she had burdened herself with over the past months, and more ashamed of the person she had once been. “Don’t get used to it, girl,” the man said. “Not all Imperials are like this bastard,” he said, kicking his unconscious partner, “but you barely have a credit to your name. You’re still in a lot of trouble.” Kara lifted her head, her visage changing as her eyes met the setting sun. She had indeed killed herself today. The woman she was was now dead. She was reborn, a new soul, formed under the final sunset of an enslaved Mars. David would never have allowed her to become so bitter, so resentful towards all life, especially her own. Pity was no longer an option. Kara broke free of Farax’s grasp, and rose with renewed strength to her feet. “…Not anymore.” |
