Trail of Blood

by Michael McBride

  His eyes widened, and it felt as though his heart stopped. Had he really just thought those words? He could feel his face burning flame-red and prayed she couldn’t see him. Not that she was looking anyway. She just stared at that dusty old skeleton she refused to let them bury.

  “Who was she?” he asked, content for the moment to simply share her company.

  “I don’t know how many greats, but she was my grandmother,” Jill whispered. She sighed and shook her head. “And I don’t even know her name.”

  “The others are saying that she and her tribe sold their souls to the storm to become those big white birds.”

  “They gave them willingly. For me. For us. For our…” She let her words trail off.

  “For our what?”

  “Nothing,” she whispered, scooting farther away when their elbows brushed.

  “Did I do something?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Did I do something to make you mad? I mean, you’ve been so distant the last couple of days, while before that we…it felt like there was something between us…”

  Jill let the silence speak for her, as she didn’t know what to say.

  “Was I wrong?” he whispered.

  She shook her head.

  “Then talk to me, Jill. What’s going on behind those beautiful eyes? Let me help you.”

  “No one can help me.”

  Mare smiled. “That sounds like a challenge to me.”

  She looked at him for the first time, through teary eyes, and couldn’t help laughing, despite the fact that it sounded more like a sob.

  “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

  “Is that French for hot?”

  Jill laughed again and had to wipe her nose before it drained onto her lip.

  “There’s a smile,” he said. “That’s a good place to start.”

  He offered his hand, and this time she took it, her small fingers ice-cold. She squeezed so hard his knuckles started to ache. They sat in silence, both of them watching the skeleton, the head askew atop the cervical spine, as though waiting for something to happen. The ribcage was filled with spider webs, the bones fading to the color of tobacco spit, but it was nice to just sit in one place and allow the world to speed past without them.

  Jill released his hand, brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, shivering.

  “Do you want me to leave?” he finally asked after a long moment of silence.

  “No,” she whispered, still looking at anything but him. “Please…just stay with me.”

  He wanted to wrap his arms around her to assure her that everything was going to be all right and that he was there for her, but he was going to have to be fine with only being close to her…for now. Eventually, she would want to talk about what was plaguing her, and when that time came, he would be there. That was going to have to be enough. He wasn’t about to give up on her, on what they had together.

  “So, tell me about this grandmother of yours,” he said, looking at the bones and imagining Jill’s face on the skull.

  Jill looked at him at long last, a weary smile crossing her lips.

  “All I know is that she loved her family very much, and was willing to do absolutely anything for them.”

  Would you sacrifice everything for the child?

  She started to cry again and leaned against Mare’s shoulder, this time allowing him to embrace her and keep her safe. If only for the moment.

  III

  “HAVE YOU GOTTEN YOUR SUPER POWERS YET?”

  “What?” Ray said, nearly jumping up from the stone floor where he sat by the fire. The voice had startled him. He hadn’t heard the footsteps approach over the crackling blaze. He looked toward the source of the voice through hollow sockets as his instincts still demanded.

  “When Daredevil lost his sight, that’s when his superpowers kicked in,” Jake said.

  Ray smiled. “Nothing yet, but I promise you’ll be the first to know.” He had taken to wearing a shirt sleeve tied around his face like a blindfold to keep the others from having to see the gaping black holes and the cauterized flesh around his dead eyes, letting his long bangs fall down over the top, no longer bothering to brush them away with his trademarked sweep.

  “I’m sorry,” Jake said, a note of sorrow permeating his words. “I was really hoping they would have by now.”

  Ray heard the scuffing of boots and then jeans scraping rock as Jake sat down beside him.

  “Right now I’d even trade superpowers for a big, sloppy burger. One that’s so fat you can hardly get it into your mouth and squirts a mess of ketchup and mayonnaise onto your shirt.”

  “I’d rather have pizza. Pepperoni. The kind with cheese in the crust.”

  “You’re killing me here,” Ray said.

  “You started it.”

  “I suppose I did,” Ray said with a chuckle. His train of thought derailed and he imagined the last time he had eaten pizza. It had been with Tina, who still occupied nearly every waking thought. They had been at one of those mom and pop joints with the red- and white-checkered, plastic tablecloths. There had been shakers of freshly ground Parmesan cheese and garlic that was still wet with its juices. He had lifted the cheese on her slice and crammed a spoonful of garlic underneath while she had been in the bathroom. He’d never laughed as hard as he did the moment her mouth caught fire from the overload of garlic, her face turning all shades of red as she drained her glass of Pepsi and then her water. When she had finally regained her composure, she had wiped the tears from her eyes and smiled that breathtaking smile, and he had known that he was going to pay. She had savored the prospect of revenge, always taking her time to make sure that he never saw it coming. Only she’d never had the chance to get even for the garlic.

  God, he missed her.

  “I’m sorry,” Jake said.

  “Hmm?” Ray said, drawn back to the present.

  “I’m sorry you’re blind. It’s my fault. I know that.”

  Ray could hear the tears in the boy’s voice, the quiver in his exhalations as he tried to hold them back.

  “C’mere, kiddo,” Ray said, throwing his arm around Jake’s shoulder and pulling him closer. “None of this is your fault. Don’t ever think that for a minute. I’ll admit it freely, though. I’m struggling with this, but you know what? I’m still alive. In that respect, I’m luckier than most. I didn’t always see it that way. It’s easy to have a pity party for yourself, and I’ve had more than a few, but at the end of the day, all that matters is that I’m alive. And as long as I still live, I can make sure that you and all of the others stay that way too.”

  Jake sniffled. “They cut your eyes out because you pretended to be me. You knew they would probably kill you, but you did it anyway. Just so they wouldn’t hurt me.”

  “Anyone would have done the same. We’re all in this together, aren’t we?”

  “No. Richard and the others, they wanted to take me away because of what I can do.”

  “And what can you do?”

  “I can dream.”

  “Everyone dreams.”

  “But I see what’s going to happen in mine. That’s my superpower.”

  “So tell me what’s going to happen now.”

  “How ’bout I show you instead,” Jake said, rising and walking behind Ray. He pressed his small hands to either side of Ray’s head, middle fingers on his temples.

  “I’ve got to tell you, little man. There isn’t a whole lot you can actually ‘show’—”

  The darkness peeled back by a degree. He could see the fire in front of him, not as a wavering miasma of oranges and golds, but as a vague gray shape. The core of the blaze was a lighter shade, growing darker as it tapered into the snapping flames.

  Ray gasped and turned away, but Jake held tight. He could see two human forms, both of them lighter in the central chest and head areas, becoming darker gray down their arms and legs and into their digits. General contours drew definition
against the blackness. There was the pueblo at the back of the cavern, the stalactites riddling the ceiling and the stalagmites rising against them. It was a different sensation entirely from seeing. Sight was an immediate process: he looked at something and there it was. This was more like the heat vision that soldiers used from helicopters. It was nothing nearly as amazing as the ordinary sight he had taken for granted his entire life, but it was more than he imagined he would ever see again.

  It was so cold and lonely in the darkness. He felt isolated even in the middle of the group. The cavern created such strange acoustics and random echoes that even when he turned to face whoever was talking to him, their subsequent words sounded as though they originated from a different direction entirely. He was exceedingly self-conscious of his appearance, but worse still were his actions. Walking into walls, tripping over the smallest cracks in the ground, needing help just to get himself pointed in the right direction, worrying that he was relieving himself out in the open for all to see, or heaven forbid, on something of value. He knew it wasn’t the case, but he felt as though they merely tolerated his presence. He couldn’t carry anything for fear of stumbling and dropping it. He had tried to cook, but had lost more of the kelp to the fire than the pot. All he seemed qualified to do now was sit by the bonfire and throw in more coal when it started to feel like it was dwindling. But now that he could see again, he could pull his own weight, he could—

  Jake removed his hands, and the gray tones faded again to black, the all-consuming darkness welcoming him home.

  “Please,” Ray whispered. “Please do it again…”

  “I can’t,” Jake said. “The rest is up to you.”

  Ray’s sockets burned, as he no longer had the ability to shed tears.

  “Please…I want to be able to see…I need to…”

  “In my dream, I told you something. I’ve been practicing so I could remember. I said your body remembers how to see. You just need to find a way to teach it again. All I can do is show you that it’s possible. Give you hope.”

  “How am I supposed to do that?” Ray whispered. “I don’t have any…I don’t have any eyes.”

  “I know. You gave them so I could be safe,” Jake said, sitting again by Ray and holding his hand. “My mom used to say ‘Let no good deed go punished.’”

  “Unpunished.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Jake said with a giggle. “You can’t be punished for doing a good deed.”

  “It happens,” Ray said, gesturing to the dirty cloth over his eyes.

  “But it isn’t supposed to,” Jake said, his tone as serious as an eight-year-old could make it. “You saved my life. God doesn’t forget these things.”

  Ray tried to forge a smile, but failed. “You’re a good kid, Jake, and you’re still alive. That’s reward enough for me.”

  “Don’t give up. You can do it.”

  Ray gave Jake’s hand a squeeze, and the boy leaned into him. Maybe what he thought he had seen had been an illusion caused by the sudden application of cold hands to the sides of his head. It wasn’t possible for him to see and it never would be. He was blind. That was a fact. Those images, the gray shapes…they had been a cruel trick perpetrated by his mind’s longing. He didn’t blame Jake. He was just a kid, well intentioned though he may be. He wished the whole thing had never happened, though deep down, he could feel hope take root, which he knew all too well could blossom into roses with thorns sharp enough to cut.

  Together they sat quietly by the fire holding hands, both of them facing the flames, though only one could see them.

  IV

  “THEY’RE COMING BACK, AREN’T THEY?” MISSY ASKED.

  “Of course they are,” Evelyn said, though she shared the younger girl’s nagging doubts. Neither of them thought for a second that Adam and Phoenix would abandon them, but there were terrible things out there. They had witnessed far too much death recently to think that anywhere was safe. Their domestic act was just that, a measure of normalcy they imposed upon themselves. It was like walking a tightrope. So long as they kept moving and didn’t stop to look around, everything appeared to be fine, at least on the surface. The truth of the matter was that nothing was fine.

  They stood in silence at the back of the cavern where they’d unraveled one of the Goshute blankets and strung the thick strands between the walls. Kelp stems were twisted into the strings, the leaves dangling toward the ground to dry. They were experimenting with different ways to serve it as all of them were growing weary of kelp salad and boiled kelp, though none admitted it aloud. With such thick leaves, maybe when dried they would take on the texture of jerky. At least it was food though, and it was far better than starving to death.

  Whether it worked or not, it occupied their time. Though that’s all it felt like they were doing now, killing the time between sunrise and sunset. Hopefully, when Adam and Phoenix returned, they would have something productive into which they could invest their energy. They were defenseless, surrounded by nothing more imposing than a lake on one side and a mountain on the other. Until they were again able to block off the road with more than rubble and shield themselves against an attack from across the now open water, they would continue to wallow in a feeling of helplessness. But if what Phoenix said was true—and they had no reason to doubt him after his visions had proven prophetic—that there wasn’t going to be another attack on their fortifications, then they no longer needed to worry, yet still they did. Worse was the fact that Phoenix had said their adversaries were waiting for them to go to wherever it was they were for the battle to end the war. As far as Evelyn was concerned, there was no good cause to leave Mormon Tears. Why on earth would they uproot and strike out through the abandoned cities and feral wilderness?

  All thoughts eventually led back to that point, didn’t they? None of them would ever know a moment’s peace so long as there was the promise of bloodshed hanging over their heads. It lingered in the air, filtering even into their dreams. Awakening in the middle of the night to the sounds of someone sobbing was commonplace. Evelyn herself had been the guilty party on numerous occasions. Night was when true desperation set in, when they were alone inside their heads with no one to talk to, no way of channeling the images of death into useless banter to hold them at bay. Thoughts of loved ones lost were inescapable, the emotions intensified by the exhaustion and frustration at the inability to sleep. It didn’t help that the cavern amplified the whimpers and cries, making them sound even more forlorn and filled with gut-wrenching sorrow, like the sad mooning of lost ghosts.

  She could feel her thoughts spiraling downward into depression and had to change the topic of conversation before it crippled her, even if it was just random prattle.

  “So… How are you and Phoenix?” Evelyn asked. “You guys have been getting fairly close, haven’t you?”

  “I thought so,” Missy said, “but lately…lately he’s been even more distant than usual.”

  “How so?”

  “Ever since, you know, since that night when whatever happened to him…happened.”

  “When he went supernova and incinerated that creature?”

  “Yeah… That changed him somehow.”

  “I can only imagine. I think it changed us all to some extent. I know I’ve never seen anything like it. It was like he was exploding in slow motion, that light growing from him. It felt like it was a thousand degrees in there. It was kind of scary.”

  “I think it scared him even more than the rest of us. I’m pretty sure he didn’t know he could do that.”

  Missy’s eyes had been pinched closed against the pain of having her chest ripped open by that reptilian beast, but had seen the light through her eyelids and felt the heat as though she’d been thrust into an oven. She could only rely on what the others said to know what truly transpired. About the cooked monster that dangled from Phoenix’s hands before crumbling into a pile of ash at his feet, about the look of unadulterated rage in his albino eyes. She loved him for h
is innocence, for the way he always said what was on his mind without filtering it, for the way he treated her, the way he looked at her. She feared that one pivotal event had robbed him of his naïveté and exposed him to emotions he’d never felt before and had been unprepared to deal with. In many ways, he had still been just a kid, a child who had been forced into manhood in the blink of an eye. Missy was afraid. Not of him, but for him.

  “Give him time,” Evelyn said. “He’ll come around.”

  “I’m sure you’re right. I’m just worried about him. He’s the first guy that I’ve actually…you know…loved.”

  Evelyn smiled and gave her a hug. She knew what the younger girl was going through. She’d been there herself once upon a time. First loves were both the greatest and the worst things in the world. They were completely absorbing. Nothing in the world mattered outside of that one person. Spending every waking moment together, every emotion under a microscope. It was a beautiful and magical time to witness, but living through it was sheer torture.

  She didn’t know what to call what she and Adam had. When she looked at him, her heart fluttered, and she constantly caught him looking at her. They kissed every now and then and often shared a blanket beside the fire, but nothing had progressed beyond that point. With everything going on around them, she didn’t have the time to ponder their relationship—if that was indeed what it was—and she was sure that he didn’t either. Maybe under different circumstances they could explore the next logical step, but for now it was enough to know that he was there for her and that he cared. It wasn’t the flame that burned inside of Missy, but it was the only thing that was getting her through the tough times when she missed her father or allowed the fear to overwhelm her. Who knew if that was the foundation love was built upon, but for now it was exactly what she needed.

  Missy crinkled one of the leaves to make sure it had thoroughly dried, the broken fragments falling into her palm. She held them out to Evelyn, who pinched a small brown triangle and brought it to her lips.