The clock in the square struck one. Karea cursed under her breath; she hated being late. She stood on her toes to peer above the heads of the crowd. They jostled and shoved outside the cathedral. Some brandished placards, while others waved banners in a righteous frenzy. “The dead have rights too” and “We’re sick, not criminals” were two of the more popular slogans.
She edged along the edge of the crowd, caught between protestors and onlookers. Many of those watching the demonstration held handkerchiefs to their mouths, or buried their faces in nosegays. Karea wondered why they didn’t just stay away, if they were so scared of the Contagion.
The crowd petered out on the far side of the square, and Karea slipped into a narrow alley between a bakery and a milliner’s. Looking back, she could see mounted militia surrounding the protestors. They sat astride huge chestnut stallions, all wearing black government-issue masks. The long ibis-like nose would be filled with strongly scented flowers. Karea wondered how many people would succumb to hay fever before the Contagion itself.
Karea burst out of the alley as a tram pulled up to the stop across the street. She hurled herself across the cobbled stones, narrowly avoiding a pony and trap driven by a young boy. She climbed on board, and squeezed herself between two elderly women clad in black. She nodded at each in turn, acknowledging their loss. A purple hat band indicated that the woman on her right had lost someone a lot earlier than the woman on the left. Probably when the Contagion first started, thought Karea.
Two government officials flanked the trembling conductor. Blue eyes burned bright behind the ibis masks. Karea shuddered. She wondered if the masks were intended to protect the officials, or to intimidate the populace.
Several passengers alighted at the next stop. Karea dropped her gaze from the window; she didn’t need to see them file into the cemetery. She also didn’t need to see the gravediggers and their pits, shovelling quicklime onto anonymous corpses, dumped in ignoble piles.
A tickle in her nose made Karea look up. A woman settled into the seat opposite, heaving a wicker basket onto her knee. A cat the colour of marmalade sat in the basket. It looked at her with brazen interest. Karea felt her stomach drop as the first sneeze struggled to escape. She left off a volley of rapid sneezes, each more violent than the last. The passengers scattered, clawing at each other in their attempts to get away from her.
The government officials swooped. Each clamped a gloved hand on her arms, hauling her to her feet. The tram lurched to a halt, and they pulled her down the stairs into the street. Karea’s protests went unheard as a crowd gathered to investigate the commotion. A cart waited by the gutter; the livery was that of the House of the Stricken. One of the officials fought to tie a cloth mask over her lower face.
“I’m not sick!” shouted Karea, her words lost in the thick fabric. “I’m just allergic to cats!”
Nice – an environment of fear has a way of scooping people up.
Ack! Urgh, how horrible 🙂 I guess I sympathise with her, I love cats but they make me sneeze too.
Ack! What a time to have an allergic reaction!
And like Tony said, the environment of fear is really something. Well described.
This is *exactly* why I hate cats.
I love your world painting skills. You do such a great job pulling us into the situation. I could feel the damn about to burst all the way through the story.
Oh, fear and the mob mentality. Poor Karea.
Great story, and you tell it very well.
Great descriptions here. And The House of the Stricken is the perfect name for where she’s going to find herself.
And get contaminated!
Fear and ignorance always do their worst when combined.
I’ve had this idea in the back of my head for a long time! So thank you everyone for your comments. I actually like cats, but I can imagine an allergy to them being a bit of a problem. Watch out for more of this world…
Such a medieval Margaret Atwood ala The Handmaid’s Tale, if I’d read correctly. Whoops, if I haven’t. A great world you have created, with sinister hints at our world that exists in such a state. Beautifully described. Great stuff as always.
Adam
Aw thank you Adam, that means a lot, coming from you!
What a perfect piece of flash!
Love the name of your blog too, btw. 🙂
As others have said, great world-building and pacing! I would also be toast in that world – I’m deathly allergic to so many things (including cats), they would think I was carrying the plague for sure 😉
Brilliant! I really love how well you’ve captured a society gripped by fear, but poor Karea…hang on a minute, is the spelling of your MC’s name a play on the word “Carrier?” If so, applause!
Neato. I thought for a minute that maybe this was set in some kind of–I dunno–technophobic dark-aged future, but I guess not. That’s neither here nor there, I guess.
Nice piece. 😀
Yep, Sam, you spotted it!
great story-love the hidden subtlety in the name of the MC. great job pulling us in.
-Kenn