The Dark Wife (29 page)

There's a fairy in the barnyard.

My hands go all sweaty on the reins, slipping along the leather as I dismount and push the pony's shoulder over. Maggie snorts, does a little sideways dance, picking up my fear as I duck into the barn, tugging her after me, mind racing. Did the fairy see me? It looked like a girl. Does she know I'm here?

I wrap the reins around a beam and take up the pitchfork. What the
hell
do I think a pitchfork is going to do against a fairy? I mean,
it's
iron, yeah; Ruth says iron still burns them, but I don't know if Ruth was in one of her old lady episodes or actually knew what she was talking about when she brought it up. I grip the rough handle of the pitchfork and peer through the dirty barn window, set up high on the cinder blocks, cursing under my breath. It would BE my luck.
A fairy in the barnyard.

I'm going to die in the barnyard.

"Oh, god, oh, god," I mutter, rubbing at my eyes with a dirty hand. I'm shaking, and I'm afraid,
yes
, I'm afraid, but I'm also really
effing
pissed
. I've heard the stories, but I've never
seen
one, you know? But it was a fairy, had to be, because she had wings, and she kind of shimmered in and out of sight. She was too quick to be human, and she was floating about a foot off the ground. Humans don't do that, not that I'm aware of, unless we've had some really weird and ridiculous evolutionary leap among the
hundred
of us that remain since the
Dis
-Ease. Actually, I made up that number. I don't know if there are a hundred humans left or a thousand or a million or none, accept for me and Ruth. All I know is that everyone in town is dead, and no one has come to help us, and the one family that wandered through here ranted and raved about how the fairies were killing the survivors, and we didn't believe them because we thought they were sick. I
mean,
fairies? That's like saying Peter Pan has it in for us, or that lion from Narnia. They're not
real
. But Ruth believed them, and I didn't, and now there's a fairy in the barnyard, and if the stories are true, she's going to kill me.

I peer out, and I kind of feel my heart stop. Yeah. It's a fairy. She's...she's beautiful; she sparkles in a glam rock sort of way, and she's so pale she's almost translucent. She has long red hair, the pretty, curly, Barbie kind, and there are leaves in it, and she wears things that I think a fairy would probably wear, greens and browns, all tattered. She's standing on the ground now, looking right and left, as if she's confused, and she doesn't exactly
look
dangerous.

I walk out of the barn, and I trip on the last step, sprawling. I guess it's because I'm so nervous. The pitchfork sort of flies out of my grasp, and clangs on the dirt, and I'm on my hands and knees in an instant, lunging for it. I stand, crouching, angling the thing toward where I thought I'd seen the fairy last, but she's not there.

Where is she? I whirl and turn, heart stopped, but I can't see her, she's not there, and that means I'm going to die. The blood pounds through my head, and I hold the pitchfork at the level of my heart, and I wonder what will happen to Ruth when I can't take care of her anymore, since I'll be dead and all. Will she die, too? How soon will it be? I left the can opener out this morning, so maybe she can open some cans for a while before she forgets she's supposed to feed herself.

A blur, out of the corner of my eye.
The fairy's behind me.

I turn, but it isn't fast enough. She's darted forward, and somehow, the pitchfork is lying ten feet away, and she grips one of my shoulders, and there's something cold against my stomach. I look down, dazed, and see that a glittering dagger is pressed through my coat, and I can feel the point against my skin. I know I am going to die, or maybe I'm already dying, maybe she's already pierced me through, and I just haven't felt it yet, but I look up at her perfect face, expressionless, beautiful like a doll's, with equally creepy eyes, and the first thought I have, the really true and honest thought, is that she's
freakin
' gorgeous, and I'm angry that the world has gone the way it did, and I've never gotten to kiss a girl.

From
Ragged:  A Post Apocalyptic Fairy Tale

Coming,
Summer
2011