The Quick & The Dead

Ice and snow screeched underfoot.

“The quick,” a painful breath, “and the dead.”

The words flaked down through the air, the air that was cracked with bitter cold. I rubbed my fingers together. Too cold. I muttered the mantra again to myself. As before the words fell to the deep snow, my fingers too slow to catch hold of them. I trudged forward.

The snow itself had stopped falling a few hours ago. Now the snow just stole. Stole my voice, stole my breath. It had even stolen the force from the wind. This would have been a relief if there was any hope of survival left. Soon the ice and cold would steal my remaining body heat. A simple equation of physics. I was just too slow to escape the basic math.

“Who shall judge the quick and the dead!?”

I screamed this time, my voice cracking under the exertion. The deathly silence surrounding me was similarly split. I rubbed my fingers together again, then reached to feel the weight strapped across my back. Metal, indifferent and biting, responded silently, just as it had for the last three days.

“Or… or is it ‘WHOM shall judge?'”

I giggled, delirious. Too slow. Much too slow. Wouldn’t be too much longer now. I giggled again, remembering that I had forgotten which tense of who, or whom, or whore, or whomever to use. I had a feeling that grammar wasn’t at the top of anyone’s priority list now. Not anymore.

I was nearing the edge of the cliff. My trek through snow and ice, finished in a few dozen yards. The snow didn’t care to make these last steps any easier. That didn’t matter. I had at least that much heat left, to drag myself all the way. Ice crunched under my boot. I didn’t care. I would have crushed the crust of the earth and spilled molten rock into the blackness of space if it meant getting to Him.

An apparition appeared in front of me.

For a brief moment, I wondered if I was already dead. Which wasn’t a rational situation once I recognized who the apparition was. She was sitting on the edge of the cliff, overlooking the sheer empty world beyond. I knew I wasn’t dead, because we could never end up in the same place. The quick and… the dead.

No, I knew I was hallucinating. Without looking away from Her, I vigorously rubbed my hands together. Hallucination meant that the cold was setting in, and I was running short on time. I couldn’t afford to be slow. Meanwhile, She stood and turned to me. Our eyes connected.

I could feel campfires and roasting marshmallows. Sand underfoot, hot and burning with laughter. That was the warmest, I think. The laughter. Laughter was gone, had been gone for a while now. Gone from the whole world, for all that it mattered.

“So. The quick and the dead. Here we are.”

At least, I thought I spoke aloud. It felt like I said something, but the sounds were devoured by the chill in my bones.

In response, She smiled warmly at me. Then the warmth eased to sadness, a melancholy more fitting with the conditions.

“Don’t.”

The word came out this time, I was certain. A rough croaking sound, masked by my frown. Tears could be dangerous, so the frown would have to do.

“It’s too late for that. Nowhere to go but forward. I don’t have room for regret.”

She watched me for a moment before responding.

“What do you think happened to that beach? That beach where we spent days walking across the sands?”

Her words were anything but forward. I knew the beach, remembered every night. How the border between sand and salt water seemed to stretch forever. I could still trace the flippant path of high and low tides with my mind. If only I’d known then how important those paths had been in their utter senselessness.

“It’s gone. Nothing left but the dead.”

Which was probably true. I had never returned, not after what happened. As of now, it seemed unlikely that one particular spot on this abyss that is earth would be saved from devastation just because it held a few fond memories. Life couldn’t afford to be so sentimental.

“What about us?” Her question stung more than the air.

“This is all about us.”

I shrugged the weight on my back, emphasizing the metal end. Cold metal. It had no place here with Her, but here we were. My gesture had the desired effect, and She was gone as fast as She appeared.

A red napkin floated to the ground in Her absence.

I stomped the fabric into the snow as I plodded by. Those were the memories I should be seeing. The death and sickness. Not questions to my resolve, not here at the end.

Moving on, nothing remained but the snow and the air. Finally close to the edge of the cliff, the wind had returned. Icy whips of wind slapped over the jagged line between cliff and sky.

I mechanically shrugged off my burden, holding it tightly. Before setting it down, I removed my pack and retrieved a moth-eaten blanket. Kicking a space in the snow for myself, the blanket, and cold metal, I sat. With no more food, water, or warmth, I stared out over the cliff.

Someone once told me that the most beautiful views were from the mountaintops. Looking out, I estimated that I likely had the best view on all the earth. The only view worth seeing, I would say. Me, looking out over the whole barren nothingness of the world.

“Are you satisfied now? Now that the world is gone?”

I was confused for a moment. The words cut through the icy air like mine had been unable to do, and I realized that they were not my words. I turned to my side to find a tiny girl in a purple dress.

“Well?” this child asked.

Some part of me knew who she was, even though she had never existed. Never even had a chance to exist. Too slow.

“The quick, the dead, and those without a chance at life…”

My words faded out, but I knew they were heard. Sitting here as jury and executioner of the world, I knew everything that mattered could hear me. This last hallucination, one last glimpse of a world that had passed into darkness.

“Are you really going to keep going with this?” Her tone was confused, a frightened girl with no grasp of what the world was.

I turned away from her at the words, grasping my icy, metal burden to my lap instead of responding to unimagined demons. The scope dug into my thigh. I reminded myself that she was a glimmering candle of hope. Hope taken from Us long ago.

“You wouldn’t understand. I had to do it. Have to finish this.”

“But you’ve already destroyed so much, why – ”

I picked up a handful of snow and flung it through the apparition. The ice pierced through the facade, and she disappeared. Angry cold pierced my hand from handling the snow – a biting retribution for my action.

Stupid. I shook my hands again, and tried to find somewhere on my body that had any warmth left. My feet were colder than the snow. Too slow. The quick and the soon-dead.

I busied myself with setting up my final camp. There was little to do but retrieve a stand from my pack and clear snow from the edge of the cliff. Absently I scanned the terrain down below, noting the distinct topography that hid a secret bunker. It didn’t really matter exactly where, now that I was here.

I tried to keep distracted, but there was nothing left to think about. Nothing left to do but wait. My mind returned to Her, and the girl in the purple dress. We’d always wanted a girl.

“I was too slow! I’m sorry!”

My voice was lost on the wind, futile. Ironic, really. The most important man on the earth, and I couldn’t raise a whisper above the wind. Well, second most important man on the earth, I suppose. For now.

“Why me?”

A third hallucination. At my back, though I didn’t turn this time.

“Why US?”

I could suddenly sense more presences. A dozen, a hundred, a thousand. Didn’t matter who they were, they were dead. And I was slowing down.

“Why!” the disembodied voices wailed.

“It doesn’t why matter anymore. It’s done. The only thing left is what happens next.”

The cold was edging deeper into me. Desolate and unforgiving, the frozen wasteland around me seemed to lack a judge. Needed a judge for the living and the slow. I was certainly the hooded executioner, and I had passed the verdict, but there seemed no control over the dead. I’d sentenced the living, but death was wild and unruly.

“I asked why! Why did you do this to us!”

I didn’t care to respond. Somewhere out there, He was in a helicopter. There was nowhere else for Him to go, I’d made sure of that.

“You started nuclear war, for some pitiful revenge! And you can’t even face us!”

The apparition was right. But I didn’t need to face them. Didn’t need to explain myself, to prophesy where the world was heading under His thumb with or without my intervention. Out in what remained of the world, everything was dead. Years of planning, and nothing was left but the quick and the dead. Out here, the living were slowing down.

On the horizon a helicopter appeared. Finally. After spending years engineering the earth’s destruction, I’d spent the last three days hiking to this overlook in the middle of the ice and snow. Until now I had no idea if my plans had worked, if they’d proceeded correctly while I hiked.

I rested the cold metal of the gun on the stand. My burden was finally relaxed, prepared to be sated. Peering through the scope, I could almost read the name of the helicopter pilot on his vest.

He didn’t deserve this. None of them had deserved it. But they were all dead. Maybe everyone. My scope revealed Him, sitting strapped in his seat. He deserved this. All those lives, they were His fault. Not mine. He deserved everything that happened, to watch the world go in an inferno of screams. Just like I had.

My fingers fumbled while loading the rifle. Too slow. If I was too slow all this would have been wasted. The most powerful man on the earth. They said He was invincible. I still couldn’t imagine the lives. Didn’t matter.

I refocused on Him. I could be the judge. I had to be. The motion of the helicopter was smooth, graced by another lull in the wind. I watched Him for a moment.

The two of us were opposites, in this moment. I’d forced the world into something it never wanted. The power to destroy the world had been mine. In this I was the most important person in all of history, for I ended it.

He, however, He was different. He was a hero. A war hero. Saved lives, I’m sure. The world cheered for him. The world never cheered for me. Somewhere along his path saving lives lost the intrinsic value, became only worthwhile for personal gain. Political gain. A war hero turned veteran turned leader. Soon enough, ending life was as useful to Him as saving it. In this respect, we are the same.

I loaded a round. The single round.

Through the scope I saw wars being launched to waves of applause. I saw total power and infinite corruption. Innocents were slaughtered. The world raved with enthusiasm for Him while victims and patients were murdered before a cure for their plague could even be considered. Winged Death burned hospitals to the ground faster than the drop of a bloody rag.

I followed the helicopter mechanically. In this moment I could be quick enough. The stillness of life wasn’t enough for me, I had to be more. Because that’s all that life was, a gradual slowing. Slowing until there was nothing left but to die. Only the dead were free.

The quick and dead. The slow and living.

For Him, I could be fast enough. The world lay devastated because of me, just to chase Him here. A rabbit running for his hole.

I focused, taking more precise aim and firing. The most invincible man on the earth, yet even he was too slow in the end. Too slow. I watched calmly as the pilot, now dead, lost control of the helicopter. It crashed to the ground.

The crash was slower than the fall of a red, bloodied napkin. Much slower.

My eyes traced the trail of smoke billowing from the wreckage. The heat from the flames leapt into the air, and I was finally satisfied. I leaned back, my eyes getting heavier. Slowing down.

In the end I had been the judge. Maybe I had wrongfully seized the power, but I still took it. All in Her name.

“Nothing left… but the quick and the dead.”

Even I was too alive to escape death.