Authors: Rebecca Ethington
I scurried across the grass toward the emptied contents of the backpack. I could hear Cohen’s grunts as he fought, his desperate noises as he fought the losing battle.
We only had one chance now.
I grabbed the light and the batteries that had been scattered around. I didn’t know if we had grabbed the battery I had found. I didn’t know if this would work, but it was our only chance.
I wedged the batteries in place as I turned toward Cohen, the light facing out in the desperate hope that it would turn on. That with one flick of the switch the monster would vanish. I never got a chance to try.
My mouth opened in a scream that never found voice as Cohen’s arms fell to his sides. The creature slashed forward with his long claws before Cohen’s last attack even had a chance to make contact.
I saw the flash of gold, the wide arch of Cohen’s red blood as it splattered over me.
The scream died in my throat as the wetness clung to my skin, as the screech of the Ulama died, leaving us in silence. Cohen stood still before me, the muscles in his back relaxing as he collapsed to his knees.
I watched, unable to move as the creature took Cohen’s life. As the monster ended everything with one slash from its claws.
I waited for him to turn to ash. I waited for the scream to break free of the prison it had found inside of me. Nothing happened.
Cohen stayed still in front of me, his face turned toward the creature as he pressed his hand to his chest, his own fingers stained in his blood.
One call from the Ulama broke free from the creature in front of us and his large talons wrapped around Cohen as he lifted him from the ground, the golden prongs holding Cohen’s body as if it was an infant.
The monster lifted him as its massive wings moved and flapped in preparation to leave; to take Cohen from me forever. It was then the sound broke free from my chest. The tortured wail seeping into the air as my fear left me; leaving me with nothing other than the pain and the white-hot pulse of anger at what the monster had done.
I scrambled to my feet, the bed rail in my hand as I screamed and ran toward him. I swung the rail wide, the heavy metal making contact with the back of the creature that carried Cohen away from me.
“Let him go!” I screamed as I hit him. The rail hit him hard enough that a spray of black blood sprinkled over my face.
The creature screamed at the impact, it’s free hand moving to slice through me. I jumped away, avoiding the golden sickles only to feel the feathered surface of his arm cutting into me. The impact of the creatures arm pushed me away, sending me stumbling back only to collide with the blunt edge of the stairs that led up to my front porch.
I yelled out at the pain that rattled through my spine. I needed to get up, I need to fight him, I needed to get Cohen. I turned toward the monster, pushing myself up and struggling to find my feet in my desperation. I stumbled through the grass, the rail heavy in my hands as I tried to rush toward where the monster had stood, but it was too late. The monster had already taken flight, his black feet leaving the patch of grass it stood on as it moved into the air, flying into the black, his wings taking him through the ten foot gap and away from me.
“COHEN!” I screamed as I crawled after him, my body still aching too much to get me to my feet.
“COHEN!” The scream broke from my chest as tears fell down my cheeks. My arms gave up as I went crashing to the ground, my body vibrating in pain and earth shaking sobs.
I saw Cohen turn his head toward me as I yelled for him. The sound of my scream drowned by the darkness and the Ulama’s scream that pierced the night.
Cohen’s eyes focused on me as his mouth moved in farewell, as his eyes closed and life left him.
As he left me alone.
I collapsed back to the ground as the black swallowed him up, as the monster took him away from me.
The screams had died in my chest as soon as they had vanished from sight, but I couldn’t stop the tears and I couldn’t move my body.
I lay in the grass, the rough texture of the dead plants rough against my skin. I stared at nothing except the flicker of the emergency light as it tried to ignite itself, as it sucked the last of the life from the batteries. It’s wasn’t enough. It was too late.
He was already gone.
I watched the light—the flicker of life—and wondered why the Ulama hadn’t come back, why they hadn’t come to finish the job. This light was obviously not enough to destroy them. If it was, then I would still have Cohen. I was open game; they should have come by now.
I wasn’t sure I cared.
Perhaps, this punishment was worse anyway. To die alone.
Slowly, my tears dried to nothing. My sadness and pain disappeared to lock itself somewhere deep inside me. They seeped into the place I held everything else that hurt, nestling themselves together until I could pretend they weren’t there.
I pushed them away until I couldn’t feel them, until only the anger was left. It was what I had done when the pain at being alone was too much, when the loss of my family hurt. Except now, there was nothing to replace it. There was no smiling face on the other side of the glass to help me forget. To make me feel something real.
I uncoiled my body slowly as I stood, my arms hanging down limply by my side. I was just aware of the awkward V shaped metal I still held in my hands, the slime of my sweat and Cohen’s blood making my grip weak.
It hung by my side with the metal cold against my bare leg. My fist clenched and unclenched around the bulky shape with each pulse of my heart. It was a dark, cold reminder of the world I had so ruthlessly been thrown into. I didn’t want it to be like this; me, alone, in the dark. I could feel my anger boiling as it attempted to drown my loss. I didn’t know, however, if it was strong enough to do so.
I stared at the darkness in front of me, the black sky lightening with each dim flicker of the light. I focused on the last place I had seen him. My eyes unmoving from the inky black of the sky. I couldn’t let that be the last of him.
I could feel the emptiness of the street around me. I could feel it seeping into my bones and chilling me, changing me. Into what, I wasn’t sure.
A monster? A warrior? I stood on the edge of both; my pain and loss fueling my anger. I couldn’t stay here where everything was gone. Where everything hurt and nothing was good. I couldn’t stay here when the world had been destroyed.
I needed to get out of here.
I ripped my eyes away from the black spot in front of me. My eyes narrowed through the stinging in my eyes as I gathered up the flickering light and ran toward my house. I ran into my house not seeing, not caring; my mind and heart flying away from me. I ran right through the open door, through the destroyed kitchen and into my brother’s bedroom.
I stopped the minute my feet touched the carpet and my eyes scanned the room through the dark.
My heart beat wildly in my chest as I looked at the bedroom, which was as almost perfect and practically untouched as mine was. Two sets of bunk beds, the dinosaur blankets, a Justin Timberlake poster taped above the dresser, and the Scooby Doo slippers which still sat by the bed, waiting for bedtime. It all looked like they had just stood up and walked away, only to forget their way home.
I hadn’t come in here since the week after the world had changed. I hadn’t wanted to. I had searched for food, light and pictures and then I had closed the door, leaving this room alone for the past two years.
I don’t know why my feet had taken me here. Now that I was here though, I couldn’t seem to move myself forward.
I was leaving this house. I had to, to save myself. To put an end to everything. As much as this place had become a prison, all my memories were here. My life was here.
My chest constricted with the idea of losing that connection. Losing the small amount of normal that I still clung to. That wasn’t right, though; I wasn’t clinging to normal. I was clinging to shadows of what used to be. I had been a shadow. A shadow of guilt and fear that lived by the rules and challenged nothing. A shadow of who I used to be. I wasn’t normal.
Normal hadn’t been here in years.
It was going to be hard to leave behind the last memories of what life had been like before the world turned black. I wanted to take those memories with me.
That’s why I had come in here, I realized.
I stepped in silently, my feet quiet against the dust covered carpet as the pain I always kept restrained inside of me attempted to find its way out. I gently set the flickering light on the floor and then my fingers ran over the covers of the bottom bunk, gliding over them as if they were made of precious glass. A glass I could never replicate, never see again.
I wrapped my hand around the bed rails, glancing at the unfinished math homework on the desk and the half-finished Lego castle. Nothing had changed.
That was wrong because everything was different. And it was about to change again.
I crossed to the dresser quickly, pulling open drawers to reveal the perfectly folded clothes of my brothers. I shifted them around in search of something to take with me with the long forgotten smell of my mother’s laundry detergent floating up to me.
I grabbed a pair of camo pants and held them to my nose, smelling in the chemical scent of lilacs before shrugging out of shorts and pulling the pants over my tiny frame. The pants were more like capris on me.
I stripped off the oversized pajama shirt I wore as I moved to the other dresser, pulling a black superhero shirt over my head and placing my youngest brother’s Thor watch around my wrist.
I turned away from the dresser to scan the room. I was missing someone. I needed something from Travis. My eyes fell on the tattered backpack my oldest brother had carried with him since fourth grade, the union jack patch attached to the back, the edges frayed with the color appearing more green than blue under the dust.
I lifted it to the desk and began pulling out books and wrinkled papers, trying not to focus on the handwriting or the way my brother scribbled his “s” so they looked more like backwards z’s. Before I knew it, the pack was empty. My hands curled around the last few things that had been stuffed in the bottom of the bag.
A lighter and a mostly full pack of cigarettes.
My fourteen-year-old brother had been smoking.
Part of me wanted to be angry, to be mad that I hadn’t noticed, but I couldn’t even call those feelings up to their full power inside of me. He had tried to tell me, that day, before the world ended, hours before he… died.
I wondered if I had helped him, if he had been comforted. I hoped I had said enough, that I had helped him. I should have told him I loved him.
I should have told them all, every day.
I should have given my mother a hug before she left.
I should have begged her to stay.
My heart clenched painfully inside of me as the thoughts I tried to keep tucked into the forgotten spaces of my heart found their way out. The bones in my back tensed while my hands gripped the pack of cigarettes tightly and the pain tried to take hold of me. I grabbed the hurt and the fear, stuffing them back in; not willing to answer the questions, not wanting to feel the pain or the loss.
I already had enough loss, enough regrets. Now, Cohen was added to that. Cohen was the only thing that had made any of this worth it… and now he was gone, too.
I clenched my jaw as I stared at the crumpled pack of cigarettes in my hand. My eyes drifted to what I hadn’t truly seen before. The lighter.
I could make fire and fire produced light.
I held the lighter up to my ear and shook, hearing the gentle sloshing that released the last of the tension in my chest.
I placed the lighter back in the backpack, leaving the cigarettes on the table and began throwing a few more of my brother’s clothes in the bag before grabbing the light and making my way up the stairs to my parents’ room.
This room had not been left mostly untouched like mine and my brothers. This room had been destroyed on the very first day. After that day, I couldn’t even bring myself to come in here. I wasn’t sure why they had chosen to destroy my parents’ room and leave my brothers’ room untouched, but they hadn’t just destroyed my parents’ room, they had ripped it to shreds.