Lucky 89rs

Garek heard the wind blowing in the distance, low and calm and quiet. A gentle hush swayed through his hair, bringing delicate scents that teased his nose and raised the hair of his neck as shivers ran down his spine. Warm, and soft, like the wafting smell of fresh confections taken straight from the oven, of warm, well-worn blankets. He shivered again and clutched his greasy bodysuit, pulling it tighter around his lanky frame.

He had never heard the wind. He had never felt a breeze against his back or tasted the scent of burnt sugar. Never felt comfortable in his own bed. He hurried through the dark tunnel, trying to drive every ounce of his focus into the basic act of pumping his legs, navigating the twists and turns from muscle memory alone. He didn't want to follow the coloured lines etched into the floor, didn't want to turn his head to look at the signs. He didn't want to remember what they said, or what happened to the people who followed them.

A giggle followed him in the dark, first quiet and distant, then closer, as if it were chasing him. Garek thumped a hand into the side of his head, eyes swimming from the impact. A laugh, a chuckle, it steadily grew louder. The claustrophobic walls seemed to close in on him. Doors sped past him in the cracks of his vision, his eyes hooded and bleary, but he knew the way still, the same turns he had taken for the past fifteen years.

Garek's ident card dangled from his neck, trembling in his fingers. His hab door accepted it smoothly, stalling for several long, aching moments. It opened with a grinding, heavy chunk that filled his ears, locking lugs decoupling from their niches in the door frame and sliding into its recess. He scrambled inside, a breath chirruping against the back of his neck as he tried to ease the door back as quietly as he could.

Hazy eyes scanned his room. It looked no different, the messy table full of discarded nutrient paste wrappers, the barren shelves and threadbare cot stuffed in one corner, a metal crib resting silently to one side. The only thing missing was Era. He stumbled to the cot, shaking in the clammy warmth of his hab. His baby girl looked up at him through the scratched plastic lid, utterly silent for the first time in her life. She wriggled in the pod, still staring up to the roof, unaware of her protector's absence.

"Come play..." It was like a whisper, a moan, words made of sounds that didn't belong. It filled the edges of the air with sickly sweet rot as the ducted fan in the roof choked and died. "Come play..."

Garek slid the crib open, cradling his child against his heaving chest. Dirty fingers stroked over her soft head, faded eyes watching her perfect blue ones. He backed into the corner, sliding to his knees, onto his back, bracing his most precious possession against himself. The two of them writhed under the cot, barely enough room to breath without pressing against the metal supports. A muffled scream spilled through the locked hab door, cut short into silence in an instant.

"Come play..." Swilling around the room, echoing and soft. A groan that warbled and stretched in pain. The cot creaked. Garek clamped his eyes shut, gripping his precious tighter. She barely stirred, tiny fingers opening and closing around the cord of his ident. His hab was silent now, not even the rustle of distant winds to disturb the stillness.

Something brushed against his arm slowly, delicately. Long and thin, another joined the first against his skin, then more, too many to count. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't find the will to scream, to cry, to move. There was nothing inside him, and too much. The things wormed beneath his hands, coiling around like glacial worms across his chest. A weight lifted, his hands stuck in desperate claws as his baby slid through his grip. His body wouldn't move, fingers wouldn't clutch her tightly again, cradle her delicate head like he used to. His eyes cracked open the barest fraction, catching a glimpse of clear blue eyes and spindly fingers.

"Happy... baby," it cooed with broken sounds, scraping and grinding in the air. "Come play..."