I have no idea where this is going. I know – spoiler – that Caillie dies. It is this conversation I was told to write, just before Mass, Sunday morning. This is one of the most surreal things I have ever experienced.
If this is uncomfortable for anyone, skip it.
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That was stupid, Caillie Pratt thought, rubbing her broken ankle.
“I can probably crawl down the mile and a half to my SUV, but I’m already out of water up here on this hilltop. Mount Elliot, my ass. It’s just a spur in this range.” She looked at the setting sun. “I know it gets cold out here in the southeast Deseret desert, but I should be okay for a night.”
“Or not,” a man said, just yards across from her on the height.
“Jesus!” she exclaimed.
“No,” was his muttered answer.
“Look…,” she tried to collect her thoughts in the twilight, “I’m Caillie Pratt, here to survey mineral deposits, for the imperium.” The older man didn’t move. “Okay. My maiden name is Hartmann. I am a crown princess of the imperium. Will you help me to my car?”
“No.”
“Is all you can say ‘no’!” she shouted.
“You are going to die of dehydration,” the man said almost tonelessly. “There is nothing for you to do but pray.”
Caillie clutched at her Camelbak water tube.
“My… husband is in Austin, Texas. He and my mother will come looking for me…”
“It will be too late,” the man sighed, looking up at the emerging stars. “Follow my gaze. What do you see?”
“Stars?” she whimpered, missing her newborn son.
“Potential.”
Her Hartmann nature asserted itself. “Just who the fuck are you and why are you not helping an imperial princess!” she said, jerking her eyes back down.
“Shall I carry you?” he asked in the same blank tone. Caillie finally noticed he seemed to be wearing nothing more than a smock with a rope about the center. Reminds me of Thaad.
“Yes. If you are not a subject of my mother, I cannot order you, but I will say, please.”
“Reach out your hand,” he asked, doing the same with his.
She did. Hers passed right through his. Caillie drew back a bit.
“I’m dead. But was told to help you.”