Guava #1 and Trail Mix #3
Story: Timeless { backstory | index }
Title: Et In Arcadia Ego
Rating: G/PG (one baddish word)
Challenge: Guava #1: what did I ever do to you?, Trail Mix #3: off the beaten track
Toppings/Extras: none
Wordcount: 887
Summary: Miss Merritt survives being thrown overboard, but of course, peril is hot on her heels.
Notes: First post here, backstory link probably worth checking out if you’re interested at all (it’s pretty short, promise!). Concrit perfectly acceptable! An author tag happens after the first post, right? Sorry if not :S
It was all so... green. Soaked through by the seawater, Adele Merritt stood on a shingly shore, her back to the ocean. In front of here there were trees, real goddamn trees, and vines and crawlers and every type of greenery imaginable. She could feel the fullness of the life here, the abundance of nature as she had never seen it before. People did not live here, and neither were they allowed to come here. It was the final supply of oxygen for the whole world, untouched and perfect.
Her shoes had fallen off in the water. Her hair, usually so severely tied back that it pulled her face taut, was loosening and curling with damp. It had gone from nut brown to blackish from the water. Her business suit was already stiffening on her body, saturated with salt, drying in the constant breeze that made the leaves sing all around her. In one hand, clutched so tightly that her fingernails may well have cracked the screen, was her mobile phone and general communicator. It was waterlogged, ruined by her fall overboard. The ocean, although from the beach gentle and malleable, was not a force that could be mastered. It had tousled her and tumbled her through tides before grinding her face-first into the shore. She had cuts on her face and her hands from sharp shards of shingle and her tights were torn to ribbons.
Yet it was easy to forget the pain punishing her now as she stared into the belly of Eden, her eyes wide and her usually oh-so-severe brow slackened. She took a shambling step forwards and nearly fell. The loss of control could not be helped: right now, she could only stare into the greenery.
“I guess this is why they call it paradise,” she mused to herself. “It is... very paradisiacal.”
“Et in Arcadia ego,” retorted a familiar voice behind her, and she heard the unmistakable click of a gun. How was it that just a few months ago she had never dreamed of such a thing happening, and now it was almost inevitable? Adele tightened her lips and risked a glance over her shoulder.
“Nice quip,” she remarked with a forced sneer. “And what is that supposed to mean, exactly?”
“This so-called ‘modern’ education really has failed you,” replied Ashdown easily, stepping around to the side, the pistol still pointed at her head. “It means ‘I too am in Arcadia’-spoken, of course, by Death. Unfortunately for you.”
For some reason, all Adele could dredge up was frustration.
“Why are you doing this?” she snapped, lifting her arms and then throwing them back to her sides with a wet slap of sodden clothing. “What in the world am I supposed to do to help you now?”
“Just take me home,” Ashdown said, stopping directly in front of her. His eyes were bright and grey, with a dying breath of blue in them. Although he was incredibly good at maintaining his expression however he willed to, his lip quivered slightly. “I hate this place, this time. I just want to be back in 1646. People are so extremely strange now that it blows my mind, and that Horatio fellow is the biggest bastard I’ve ever met. And the cities... dear God. The slums, the skyscrapers... I don’t care that I die two months after you picked me up. I’d rather die in my own time than be a slave here!”
The end of his passionate speech was greeted with the indifferent squawk of some sea bird or other. Adele sighed loudly.
“Whatever. You’ve got me, OK?”
“Are you armed?”
“Are you mad?” Adele rolled her eyes. “I don’t carry guns. I’m a PA, for Christ’s sake, not a secret agent.”
Ashdown regarded her thoughtfully a moment.
“I only understand about a quarter of all the words that come out of your mouth,” he finally said, lowering his gun somewhat. “But tell me this in proper English: is there somewhere you can communicate to the others and tell them of our location?”
“Of course,” Adele said, sullenly moving up the beach. “This is Eden Island. Imaginative, eh? I’ve never been here before-nobody’s meant to come here. It supplies all of the oxygen in the world.” She stared up between the thick trunks and rubbery leaves as they entered the forest, Ashdown hot on her heels. “This scientist discovered some genetic alteration that allowed the plants to increase their oxygen output by... well, thousands of percent. He gave his creation to the world for free, his gift to the Earth... he died poor, of course.” She snorted. “That’s society today, though, isn’t it? And everyone saw it as an excuse to cut down the rest of the rainforests. This is the very last one.”
“Look, I do not understand a word you are-...”
“There’s a laboratory here where they’re carrying on the same research. They’ll have phones.” Adele stuffed her hands in her pockets as she went, refusing to let Ashdown see how awed she was by the sheer volume of plantlife there. He didn’t seem moved by it at all. She supposed that he was used to jungles and the like. Lucky sod.
“Very well... take me there,” Ashdown said-adding, for he would never forsake half-sarcastic politeness where possible, “Please.”