Submitted for the November 2023 prompt: Feasts with the Beasts

 

Mrs. Rendlesham awakened restlessly from a dream she had been having about other people.

 

In the strangely pink morning light of her tiny apartment she sorted through it all. Yes: she had been watching the adventures of an attractive young couple as they traveled recklessly from place to place evading . . . something or other. In the tropics? She remembered tasting oranges.

 

She turned to Andrew to tell him about the oranges but then she remembered that he was gone and that she had outlived him just as he had always predicted. Don’t be afraid. You’re a survivor!

 

Mrs. Rendlesham looked at her arm and the medicine drip and the IV. Then the sight triggered something and she sat up in her tiny bed.

 

“Arms!” she announced to herself. “It was a television show! The Arms of…something. We were watching the final season when Andrew got sick.”

 

Of course. The Arms of Vengeance.

 

What a strange thing to dream about.

 

Motivated by this random memory — it was so hard to remember anything anymore — Mrs. Rendlesham grabbed the remote on her bedside table and pointed it at the little television set. The Promise of Peace retirement home had provided her with the smallest room but the television had all of her favorite shows conveniently loaded in one place, and she appreciated not having to remember more than that.

 

She sorted through the menus until it appeared: The Arms of Vengeance. Four seasons. She scrolled through the little screen captures and episode summaries and it all came back: honeymoon, heartbreak, fruitless pursuits, mysteries.

 

Mrs. Rendlesham squinted at the screen, confused. The final episode listed was Season 4, Episode 9, entitled “One Last Step.” The plot summary read “Preparing to finally escape the island, Tanner and Ashlyn come face to face with a hidden danger.”

 

“Of course,” she said to herself aloud. “Just as they are about to board that yacht they learn that Ashlyn’s father has been working with the cartel from the start.” How long had it been? She remembered Andrew teasing her about whether they would live long enough to see the final episode a week later. And — was he right? Somewhere around then he had died. But when exactly? There had been something in the air. Or maybe the sky?

 

Mrs. Rendlesham frowned. All of the other seasons had exactly ten episodes. But this final season had only nine episodes, and surely the show had not ended with this father-on-the-boat cliffhanger. They had been waiting for Episode 10 when Andrew had died, coughing weakly she now remembered.

 

She scrolled through the episodes and seasons again. No Episode 10.

 

“Unacceptable!”

 

So Mrs. Rendlesham did what she always did when something in her apartment was unacceptable (which was increasingly often): she pushed the little red button that summoned The Manager.

 

The Manager appeared as expected: almost immediately at her door, as if he had nothing else to do with his time but serve her. He was rather absurdly tall, completely bald, and his smile was friendly but practiced.

 

“Good day, Mrs. Rendlesham. How may I help you?”

 

Mrs. Rendlesham fidgeted in her bed, which for an odd moment she could not remember leaving recently. She waved the remote in the general direction of the television.

 

“I’ve had an idea in my head — you know how they get there and won’t leave? Well I had a dream about a television show that I watched I don’t know how many years ago, but I can’t remember how it ended, and now I pulled it up with this thing and I find that the last episode isn’t here. So I wonder if there’s something you can do. Maybe charge me extra for a week to add some special feature or something?”

 

The Manager stayed in his position in the doorway.

 

“Oh dear, Mrs. Rendlesham. That is distressing. And what television show, might I ask?”

 

She waved at the image on the screen again. “The Arms of Vengeance. All of the other seasons have ten episodes, but this thing stops at episode nine for the last season. I need to see Episode 10 to see how it all comes out. No use after I’m gone, you know.”

 

“You are correct, Mrs. Rendlesham.”

 

The Manager stayed in the doorway.

 

“I am sorry that you are not happy, Mrs. Rendlesham. But I must apologize and say that we will not be able to accommodate this wish.”

 

“But how do you know that? You haven’t even checked into it yet.”

 

“We have tried to make your retirement here as comfortable as possible, but I’m afraid this request is beyond our abilities. You see, the final episode of that program never aired.”

 

“What? Why not?”

 

The Manager was tall and polite.

 

“The final episode of The Arms of Vengeance was scheduled to air on December 10, 2025. But the plague took hold that very week and quite reasonably the program was suspended indefinitely. When we brought you and the other survivors here of course we attempted to recreate your life on Earth as precisely as possible, but alas we cannot recreate a program that never aired.”

 

Suddenly she remembered why her bed was so tiny and why the sky outside was so strangely pink all the time and why The Manager was so unreasonably tall.

 

Andrew had died in their bed and the people from the sky had said Don’t be afraid. You’re a survivor.

 

No use after I’m gone.

 

“Now, Mrs. Rendlesham. Is there anything else The Promise of Peace can do for you today? I’m afraid Mr. Oliver passed in the night. That makes you the final survivor from Earth remaining in our research facility. Oh! Our computers have finally figured out the secret to this orange sherbet you have been requesting, so we have added its flavor profile to your intravenous nutrition. I do hope you will enjoy the remainder of your time with us.”