A Transformative Love For Nature

20260615

Written for Bradley Ramsey’s “Power Up Prompt #32”.

Alright. This was it. Point of no return. Once wire cutters touched warning-plastered government owned fence, she was officially in big trouble if anyone caught her.
Cathy looked back towards the rain-washed shoreline. Contemplated leaving her transgressions at “mere” trespassing. All those “biohazard past this point”, “unauthorised persons will be shot”, and other stern, formal signs were successfully giving her second thoughts. Thoughts of not risking her life trudging through toxic mud.
But as she wavered, these thoughts were interrupted by thoughts of Christie.
That’s what led her here, after all. Christie had come to the delta seeking The Truth. Bringing her training and experience in ecology, specialising in wetlands, against the shroud of silence the government had placed over this region.
Imagine what might’ve happened, if they hadn’t caught her. In the brief video call she’d managed, which Cathy had thankfully thought to record, Christie mentioned she had samples, that she’d seen strange creatures here, and then she tried to show something on camera but it’d been too dark - and the shouting figures caught up to her.
Cathy shuddered. Looked down at the wire cutters in her hand. Didn’t look at the “will be shot” sign.
Nobody knew what happened to Christie after that. The official story kept changing. First she was undergoing mandatory quarantine, then she was being held awaiting trial, then she’d plead guilty to terrorism - as if!
Her family had fought for answers, for another Truth, nearly six years now.
When had the dreams started? Cathy wasn’t sure. Long enough that she’d stopped brushing them off as just missing a dear friend, or survivor’s guilt. Long enough she started taking Christie’s pleas in them seriously.
So here she was. Chasing a voice which couldn’t exist. About to break who knew how many laws and probably get herself gunned down by government thugs, another victim of this wretched toxic sludge dump.
The first snip of the cutters twanged impossibly loud.
Was the fence alarmed? It was such a long fence to… but this was a top-secret region…
Best to assume she didn’t have long, now she’d started. But she still stopped to cable-tie the fence shut. Just in case. Christie had been clear she’d found weird creatures in here, and hadn’t been able to say whether they were dangerous. They didn’t want the waste spreading.
Alright. Fine. Time to find out if the protections she’d packed were enough. Tall, heavy-duty waders, long rubber gloves, snug waterproof coat, a full-face respirator graded to work even when wet… thankfully, with the rain still coming down. Hopefully that would help hide her.
Just inside the fence looked perfectly normal. Well, made sense, of course they wouldn’t put the fence in the biohazard. Cathy kept alert as she started walking inwards.
Despite her best efforts, despite six years of research, she hadn’t been able to find much about this place. Just that some kind of chemical waste had been dumped upriver, had built up in this delta, and was discovered when ecologists spotted strange behaviours and ‘variation’ in the local wildlife. The government promptly cordoned the place off and forbid anyone come near.
Who dumped the waste in the first place? Riddle for the ages. Which Cathy felt pointed to the government being at least complicit.
Six years of conspiracy theories, failed petitions, and silenced legal action. Now here she was. Risking her life for… what, The Truth? As if she had any idea where to start! She was no scientist. She was a trainee librarian! All the secondary research in the world couldn’t prepare you for a stunt like this.
Even if she found… whatever it was Christie had been trying to tell the world about… what then? She really didn’t have a plan.
Let’s be honest - I’m here because I can’t let her go. Can’t forgive myself for not telling her how I felt. Can’t stop wondering whether, if I HAD confessed, things might’ve turned out different.
Probably not. Christie was always a scientist first and foremost. Dedicated to representing the vast majority of the world’s biomass which can’t vote. But at least I’d have gotten it off my chest.
Cathy sighed. Paused (acutely aware of how the mud was fizzing against her waders) to determinedly blink back pitying tears. She couldn’t wipe her eyes right now - didn’t want to even take of the respirator! - and needed to see. Stumbling blindly through a normal wetland was a bad idea, here it-
She froze. That splash had sounded… big. And close.
Looking up, her blinking now frantic, she scanned the surrounding greenery, trying to make out which parts of fog-shrouded iridescent muck were deep enough to hide something.
“Cathy…”
Oh god her respirator clearly wasn’t protecting her from the fumes this was BAD! Hearing voices whispering your name was a severe symptom, right??
A hand reached out of the ooze, clawing for purchase, followed by another, followed by a body which moved far too fluidly. Like a person who’d decided half their skeletal structure was superfluous.
“You heard me! You came! Oh, I’m so happy…”
If she hadn’t been holding her breath, Cathy would have screamed. The face beaming up her, though horrifically sagged and melted, was dearly familiar.
“And you brought the camera! Thank you so, so much! Come, we should get the evidence and get you out of here quickly, I don’t know how long those protections will buy you…”
This wasn’t right. This had to be hallucination. No way that…
“Christie??”
“Yes. It’s me.”
Oh god her sad brave smile hadn’t changed what the fuck.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t want anyone to see me like this, but we have to get word out…”
Cathy’s head buzzed.
She should turn back. Run for the fence. Leave this bad air behind.
Abandon Christie.
“Are you alright? Ugh, what am I saying, this must be such a shock…”
“Yeah.” Cathy mumbled. She took a deep breath - possibly poisoning herself further - and gripped Cathie’s old camera tight. “Where to?”

Prompt was “The putrid delta. The bookworm. Knowledge verses experience.”