Eons passed… worlds span and whirled… Time was motionless… It stood still-it passed through a thousand ages…
No, it was only a minute or so…
Two people were standing looking down on a dead man…
Slowly, very slowly, Vera Claythorne and Philip Lombard lifted their heads and looked into each other's eyes…
They were the only two people left on the island. Two little soldier boys left all alone…
One of them had to die.
Vera stared at Philip, breathing heavily as the fact set in her brain. It was just her and Philip… they were the only ones left.
Vera thought back to the things she had said when the first murder had been committed. Death was for… other people, surely not for Vera Claythorne. Death was for Dr. Armstrong, Miss Brent, Mr. Blore, General Macarthur, Mr. Marston, Mr. and Mrs. Rogers, and Mr. Wargrave. It was also for Philip Lombard.
Vera kept thinking about that as she and Philip moved Dr. Armstrong's body above the watermark, and she soon made the decision to take the gun from his pocket right then and there.
"Satisfied?" questioned Philip as he stood up.
"Quite," answered Vera sharply.
He turned around very fast and put his hand in his pocket, as if he was expecting it already to be empty.
Vera moved a couple feet away from him and held the revolver at him.
"So that's the reason for your womanly solicitude! You wanted to pick my pocket."
Vera nodded, having no other words for him.
Something crossed the features in his face, and Vera noticed his expression change. He was thinking, oh yes she could see that very clearly. But she had the revolver, not him.
"Give that revolver to me," he said commandingly.
Vera did not waver, but instead she laughed crazily. She was starting to seriously lose her mind.
"Come on, hand it over," demanded Philip.
She didn't move.
"Now look here, my dear girl, you just listen-" he had started to say just seconds before he leapt into the air and a shot was heard.
Vera watched as Philip crumpled to the ground. For some reason, her heart ached when she saw him like that. From right there, he looked like Hugo. Her Hugo. No, her Hugo was not Philip Lombard, nor was he dead.
Vera took a few steps forward just to check that it was Philip and not Hugo. To her relief it was Philip's dead body that lay before her and Vera exhaled a sigh of relief.
She was finally free from the madness of Soldier Island.
After standing there in complete shock, waiting for the relief to settle in Vera walked back to the house. She was tired, oh yes, she was very, very tired and all she wanted to do was sleep. But something drew her into the dining room. She saw that there were still three china figures on the table.
She laughed thinking how ironic it was that they were still there.
"You're behind the times, my dears," she said to them, now realizing that nine other people were dead. She picked up two of the china figures and threw them out the window. She barely registered their crash as she took the last figure and held it in her hand.
"You can come with me. We've won, my dear! We've won!" she crooned to it as if it was a little child, maybe even Cyril…
Suddenly Vera felt exhausted and she climbed the stairs sluggishly, slowly.
She thought of the silly nursery rhyme, what was the last line?
Oh yes, she remembered now.
One little soldier boy left all alone, He got married and then there were none.
Vera smiled to herself. Maybe this was a prophecy that she and Hugo would get married someday. Yes, that must be it. The lonely soldier boy would end up married to his true love.
Vera looked up at the stairs and into the hallway, feeling as though Hugo was there with her, waiting for her.
"Don't be a fool," she scolded herself, "You're so tired that you're imagining the most fantastic things…"
She took her time, going up the stairs, very, very slowly. The quiet house was making her go mad. She convinced herself that Hugo was in her room waiting for her. She didn't even flinch at the sound the revolver made when she dropped it on the floor.
One little soldier boy left all alone… what the rest? Vera suddenly didn't think it was about being married.
She stood in front of the door to her room. She could almost see Hugo inside waiting to take her in his embrace, and tell her that he loved her.
She opened the door… and gasped.
There, hanging from the hook in the ceiling was a rope with a noose all ready. And a chair, an easily kicked away chair.
But no Hugo.
Vera knew now what Hugo had wanted her to do. His last look to her had said it all. He had known that she killed Cyril, and he wanted her to pay for it.
She now remembered the last line of the poem.
One little soldier boy left alone, He went and hanged himself and then there were none…
Vera dropped the china figure and its head detached itself from the body. In a trance, Vera walked towards the awaiting noose, like it was Hugo calling out to her to pay for what she had done.
She would never forget what she had done, and neither would Hugo. At least one of them deserved to be rid of the guilt.
Vera climbed up on the chair, her eyes staring blankly into nothing, just remembering of that day, of Hugo's face when he had looked at her, when he had known that she had killed his nephew.
"Can I go out to the rock, Miss Claythorne? Can I? Can I?" Cyril's whiney voice echoed in her ears.
"No, no, don't! Not again, Hugo will never love me if you do! No Cyril don't!" cried out Vera as she adjusted the noose around her neck.
"Too late, Miss Claythorne… he will never love you," spat back a very angry and evil Cyril.
"It's all my fault! I'm sorry! Really am I, Hugo! Please say you love me!" called out Vera in one last desperate attempt.
But only the crashing sea answered her, and she kicked away the chair in despair.
As she died, she could have sworn Cyril dragged her down to the depths of the ocean, into the swirling dark abyss.
The poem stood in front of her swaying dead body on a shelf, like it was mocking her.
Ten little soldier boys went out to dine;
One choked his little self and then there were nine.
Nine little soldier boys sat up very late;
One overslept himself and then there were eight.
Eight little soldier boys traveling in Devon;
One said he'd stay there and then there were seven.
Seven little soldier boys chopping up sticks;
One chopped himself in halves and then there were six.
Six little soldier boys playing with a hive;
A bumblebee stung one and then there were five.
Five little soldier boys going in for law;
One got in Chancery and then there were four.
Four little soldier boys going out to sea;
A red herring swallowed one and then there were three.
Three little soldier boys walking in the Zoo;
A big bear hugged one and then there were two.
Two little soldier boys sitting in the sun;
One got frizzled up and then there was one.
One little soldier boy left all alone;
He went and hanged himself
And then there were none….
I do not own And Then There Were None, but I think I have permission to love it and write fanfiction about it. This was just a simple one shot about Vera and her craziness. Hope you all liked it.