Call Of Duty

• Sadie Hewines, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2017

This was the call of duty she had been waiting for, and yet now she wondered if she had what it takes. She sat overwhelmed, spaced out and full of self-doubt on the mustard couch in her living room in front of the small TV. She could smell that delicious chicken in the oven. But she couldn’t take her eyes off that TV, it was the chaotic screen that delivered its message so clearly, and yet left her feeling so confused.

Abbey was looking at a scene of death, bodies or parts thereof strewn amongst the aircraft rubble, snow tugging at the pieces, begging for forgiveness, whilst eagles flew overhead, longing for meal. No living human was in sight. Except Abbey.

The smell was putrid, filling her nostrils with fumes that she no longer had the strength to fight away. The wind whipped around her frail body threatening her existence. Glancing around, she expected one of those frozen bodies to move, still so perfect and recognisable as passengers faces she had seen on TV that day.

She tiptoed lightly across the scene, remembering what her instructor had told her, ‘the green flags mean a body or part thereof, and red ones mean a crevasse, don’t go near them.’ She looked around at the sea of green flags, specked with red, as far as the eye could see and yet there were only 247 people on board. how many bodies were in pieces? These thoughts were interrupted by the harsh call of an eagle, partially drowned out as the wind whipped the words from its mouth. She lugged her cases into the tent, a mere anchor in a raging sea of white. Never had she seen something like this.

She chipped away at the ice, it was hopeless, with every blow, she felt more and more physically and emotionally drained. She could see the pleading face of the perfect body through the thick ice, mocking her determination. She thought about the other bodies, they were so easy to access, yet they were marred beyond recognition, merely using the hands as in indicator to gender, females had pained nails and wore rings. Was this the case with real life, to be so perfect, you had to live a protected life, surrounded by those who love you? – Abbey was alone, yet longed for company, when she got home would there be anyone to greet her?

Gasping for fresh air, Abbey dropped in exhaustion. She was still alone there was no one to greet her. Her familiar living room, so different, the mustard couch – a tarnished airplane seat, the kitchen sink – a buckled airplane wing. The smell of cooking chicken – a burnt body. Yet there were no bodies, except her own, becoming lifeless as her own fear and remorse began to eat her from the inside out. Everything had changed so much since that day on the couch, or had it?