So, the writer in my attic, K Orion Fray, sends out a weekly writing inspiration e-mail, which includes a writing prompt.
A prompt from many weeks ago:
… Now make them have a conversation. Whether it’s an internal one, or with someone else, try and make them talk….
Marje Allise reached Kara before Ket’s screaming stopped. She was a presence, neither warm nor comforting but intensely familiar, while Kara’s finger clicked on the shutter release, over and over again, like a mantra, like a prayer.
“What did he do?” The Sergeant waited to ask the question until both noises had stopped, the screams and the clicks, and until Kara had dropped the device that looked like a camera to her waist, swinging like a hangman’s victim on its neck strap.
“I don’t know.” Kara took a breath and another, and tried again. “He kept repeating that he used to live here.”
“He did, of course. Most of us have.”
Kara nodded. The Mayflower was just – had been, at least – one of those places. It had the echoes, even now, of a city full of stories and memories. She had seen them in her viewfinder. “He kept talking about it – I should have noticed – he was getting a verbal tic.” She rubbed her hands on her pants. “And then he took off.”
“The resonance of the building called him.” Marje nodded sharply. “And then…?”
“We’ll have to look at the images to be certain. But his aura changed as he hit the doorway.” Kara pointed, careful to aim her knuckle and not her pointer finger at the glass eye settled above what had been the entrance. “That’s where it came in.”
“Makes sense.” The sergeant nodded crisply. “Good job keeping the C.A.M.E.R.A. moving, Kara. You did the right thing.”
Kara swallowed around a lump in her throat. “I did the only thing. Marje…”
She shouldn’t be calling the sergeant by her first name, not in the field, but right now it didn’t seem like the most important thing.
“You did the proper thing, Kara.” Sgt. Allise’s hand landed gently on Kara’s shoulder. “You got the data. You did the job. And Ket…”
The two woman shared a sigh. “Ket went out like he lived.” It was a horrible thing to say… but it was all she could think of at the moment. She wanted to miss Ket, silly as he’d been. She wanted to sit down in her car and cry.
“We’ll honor his death.” The sergeant tapped the device hanging from Kara’s neck. “Keep clicking. Likely we still have an unfriendly to contain.”
“Yes, sir.” Kara picked up the device and kept clicking.
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