Cold Mourning

God it was cold that morning. Of course, it was always bloody cold on Tartarus. Two decades Abel had lived on this back water of a planet. All that time and this rock had never even had the decency to rise above freezing. Two decades of not being able to step outside, without three thick layers on. Two decades of not being able to touch anyone, outside of the hermetically sealed habitat units. Two decades of this pathetic imitation of life. God Able hated this frozen planet. If it had not been for the extortionate price of a ticket off world, he would have left as soon as his six month contract was up. But then he had to go and get himself a reason to stay. A god damn anchor to this frozen hell. And now, now he couldn’t leave.

With heavy steps, the old man trudged through the snow. He did not bother to lift his feet out of the black snow cover. He just pushed through the upper, lighter, deposits. A long trail reached out behind him, back to his Spartan living quarters. But the man continued on his path unabated. Out of the hab village, slowly making his way up a nearby hill. He pushed on, even as the black snow coated his lower trouser leggings. The cold seeped into his bones. Each step became an arduous struggle just to lift his leg. But still he pushed onwards. Forcing himself up the hill until, finally, he arrived at it’s snow covered peak.

The rather barren mound was not much of a sight, nor was the valley of factories it looked over. Their gigantic chimneys produced a constant stream of smoke, which poured out and coated the surrounding habitat units. But, for now, Able did not care about them. Instead his eyes focused on the ground at the top of the hill, and the collection of pollution covered rocks heaped upon it.

A pile of stones, just gathered from around the hillside. It was not much, but it was all he had left. As he approached the mound, Able fished in his pockets with two half frozen hands, fumbling around a moment before pulling out two items from his coat pocket. One a full hip flask, the other the final stone for the mound. A deep dark stone, distinct from the rest by its lack of pollution. And the hand carved inscription it bore.

Here lies Hannah Afley, she will be remembered.

With a slight tremble in his hands, the old man bent down with a groan and gently placed the stone at the summit of the pile. It was all that he had to remember her by. Hannah; his Hannah. Her real body was gone. Burnt up in the incinerator, along with all traces of what had killed her. Her few possessions had been sold long ago. This was it. Just a pile of stones to remember the most important thing in Able’s life.

The man tenderly stroked the final stone before, in spite of the cold and snow, he fell to the ground, in a much less graceful move then what he had just exhibited. Ignoring the cold that now oozed into his body, Able lifted his flask to his teeth and unstopped the bottle. Spitting the lid aside he gratefully took a much needed large gulp. The whiskey had cost him a month’s wages, his last month’s wages, and it was definitely not worth it for such swill. But out here, on the edge of the belt, it was just about the best he could get.

“It’s been a year Hannah. A whole Teran year without you. A year of your friends platitudes, a year of the spokes peoples lies. A god damn year banging my head against the wall, trying to get even some modicum of justice for you. But I failed. I failed just like I always do.” The man paused for a moment there, not quite sure what to say. That was when the next words just slipped out. “And here I am bumbling away again, just like the old times. The good times that is.”

Yes the good times, the twelve wonderful years he had spent with her. Actually thinking about it they probably weren’t wonderful, he was just looking back with gilded eyes. How could anything be so pure as his memories? Especially on this rotten rock.

But, if it was that good, was it a fair trade? Twelve incredible years for six soul crushing ones. Six long years spent depleting savings, selling valuables, working overtime. All of it to try and pay for treatments, just to keep her alive for another month. It had cost him everything to keep her alive, and he would do it all again. But then the money ran out, the jobs dried up, and there was nothing left to sell. That last month burnt away all the joy of the prior years. It damn near burnt away all of Able as well. It left behind a hollowed out husk, barely fit to hold Hannah’s hand in her final moments.

“This one’s for you dear.” The haggard man said, sloppily pouring out a measure of the bottle onto the pile of stones, before helping himself too one. For a moment he sat a while in awkward silence. Hannah had always been the talkative one, the life of the party. He had just been a dragged along in her wake, enjoying the ride. And now she was gone. For a long while he had been left bereft. Sure he had gone through the motions. He had experienced the depression. The bargaining with all his contacts from the old days, who of course feigned compassion even as they pulled out their usual excuses. And then, of course, came the uncontrollable fits of anger. They were purposeless, and came with their fair share of needless vandalism, but they drove him through those days. But they were over now. Now he had a purpose. Now he had his own driving force.

With a large gulp, Able finished off the hip flask. With a lethargic flick of the wrist, Abel tossed the disused item off the edge of the hillside. It’s not like he would needing it again. Then, with one final loving touch of the stones, he set about gingerly pushing himself to his feet. Standing there, in the cold morning, instinct took over for an instant and Able found himself beginning to try and rub some warmth into his extremities. It was useless though, his clothes were soaked; not that he really cared. They would be burnt up soon enough.

“I won’t be able to come round for a while Hannah.” The man said with more conviction then he had had in the last year. He could not look back now. If he hesitated, for even an instant, then he might be turned away from his task. And he could not allow that to happen. He would not fail. Not again. Not this time.

“It’s still cold Hannah. It’s been so cold for so long now.” Able said as his eyes moved off of the little pile of stones and out over the factory covered valley. “But I swear to you, by the time I’m done, it’s going to be a hell of a lot warmer.”