Ending Altered - Dystopian Novella (Ebook)

Euan adjusted the collar of his ill-fitting uniform with trembling fingers. His reflection filled the cracked mirror, revealing eyes still wide from the shock of his nightmare. Yet another twisted dream about her.
Horror that she was.
The memory of her stench clung to his nostrils, the sound of her cracking bones haunted his ears. Euan leaned over the basin and retched. But with an empty stomach there was little more than a painful tense of muscle.
‘Idiot,’ he hissed. ‘Get a hold of yourself.’ He wiped a hand across his mouth, glaring at the pale, gaunt man staring back at him. Little wonder the other guards mocked him so. Euan hardly looked fit to protect a hair on his own head, let alone a hundred other souls. His uniform’s moss-green material sat high against his neck, and drowned his slender frame. The shade provided an unpleasant contrast against his white skin. Almost white skin. Right now, it bore a tinge of the faintest green-grey. His dream had literally turned his stomach.
Euan ran his hand over the black prickles of his buzz cut, checked his fly was zipped, adjusted the long length of blade at his hip, and strode from his cabin. There was hardly a change between the warmth of air inside or out. The unrelenting humidity plagued them day and night. They did not have the luxury of air-conditioning, nor even a fan. There was no electricity to speak of. The very idea of such a thing seemed mythological now. The air was a sticky, leaden weight upon him. Pressing down like another layer of uncomfortable clothing. The island may be their haven, for now, but at times Euan believed he’d rather be incarcerated at the hands of the Altered than spend another day in this tropical climate with its ever-present insects bent on sucking him dry. Their latest hiding place was far removed from his childhood home: brisk air, towering cedars and winter snowfall. A home long lost. Unlikely still standing. His neighbours among the many casualties suffered in a world that had thrown itself into chaos.
If not for the Captain and the Master-Elders, every one of the hundred or so people here in the Settlement would have been among those casualties too. Their last escape had been one of the narrowest margins, sheer dumb luck shining down on them. And though six months had passed, Euan could not think of the dilapidated boat they’d traveled upon without suffering a heave of seasickness. At times the scent of the Settlement fires veered too close to that of the steam-spewing vessel, and Euan knew he was not the only one who withdrew to his cabin to avoid it.
‘Look ahead, not back.’ He whispered his mantra to the dusk, fingering the hilt of his katana. One of the paltry few metal weapons they possessed.
It was early evening, the sun finally relenting, slipping down the sky. Most people in the Ender’s Settlement had completed their tasks for the day and were gathering for the evening meal. Euan’s work, though, was just beginning; his first night of seven, to be spent in the dullness of night-duty. He skirted around the ring of outer cabins, staying out of sight of the main quadrangle where already a considerable number had gathered at the crude wooden tables. Over their meal they would gossip and whisper and imagine what horrors were yet taking place in the Northern Hemisphere, the hub of violent hostilities. The Captain would assure them, as he did every evening, that for now they were safe.