Clearance
Just a bit of quick fiction so I can say I did something today.
It was forty minutes into Edmund's shift when he felt the nightly creep of desolation. A new record, he thought. Maybe Carey was right. Maybe I'm getting used to it. But after all this time? Maybe solitude was playing games again. Carey. He could get out of uniform and to a nightclub in record time on Saturday nights. "At least the center is quiet during your shifts," he'd said on his way out. "Have a good night, man. I know I will."
He tapped the antennae on the little television beside him. No signal in the lower corridors but no one bothered to take the thing back out. Nothing to watch but the oncoming hall or the back vault units. It didn't matter. No one came down there more than once in a long occasion. The hours hardly made a difference; deep in the vaults there were no windows, and midnight and noon were the same thing. He checked his watch and regretted that only a margin of time had elapsed. He remembered the job interview all those years ago and how they said he'd be important.
He'd begun to borrow some sleep when a faint mechanism echoed from somewhere in the complex. He sat up. Could be the boss coming in. He listened. No, couldn't be the boss: hooves under a four-hundred-pound stallion didn't sound like soft padding. Edmund looked down the iron gray hall, and a woman turned the corner.
He stood up: She wasn't authorized to be down here. She was surprisingly familiar.
"Ma'am, can I help you?" he asked. She was barely hesitant as she entered the guard chamber, her dulled eyes on him for only a moment, then continued toward the vaults. "You're not authorized to be here," he said, more aggressively, and moved to block her path.
She stopped, her eyes moving up and down his body. "You're in my way."
"Because you shouldn't be down here, now please, turn back and exit."
The woman shook her head and moved around him, and he drew his weapon. "Stop!"
She did and turned back to him. There was no fear at the eyes looking down the barrel. "Edmund?" Her voice was soft and innocent as if she was doing no wrong.
His voice wavered as he registered his name from her voice. "I don't want to harm you. I told you to leave."
She took a pace closer. Her eyes...
"Just come with me," Edmund murmured. "I'll...radio in and have someone escort you out." He nodded to the booth behind him. She made another step toward him, wordlessly. He tensed and aimed at center mass. "Stay where you are. Final warning." His finger trembled on the trigger and his nostrils dried up.
She looked from the gun to him. "Edmund, you're...going to shoot me? I'll die..."
He felt something in him. The crosshairs were less steady. "No, Rita, I won't...you just have to leave," he choked out from his dry throat.
She came closer, her gait never unrelaxed, until she was within arm's reach. Edmund stepped back; she was inches from the barrel. With a tsk she reached slowly for the gun. The guard didn't move. He couldn't pull the trigger. Her hands were on it now, and she gently slid it from his grasp.
"Rita..."
She looked at the weapon, then at the disarmed man. She aimed it at him. His eyes watered.
"Now," she said, "let's go. You're going to open a few doors for me."