Cost of Survival

by B.R. Paulson

  Chapter 17

  I don’t know how long I held Mom’s body. How long I brushed her hair from her face and pretended she slept. I crooned to her, talked to her, even yelled at her a couple times. But she didn’t wake up. She didn’t move.

  My legs had fallen asleep but I didn’t care. My mom…

  Dead.

  How many more people would die in my arms? I wiped at my face with the sleeve of my sweatshirt. I couldn’t bring myself to leave her. Did I even care anymore what happened to me?

  The sound of a car door slamming rebounded off the front of the shop. I tensed, every muscle in my body tightening.

  Why couldn’t I catch a break? Was this some kind of game where people followed me and threw curve balls my way to make sure I never got rest? I had lost everyone. If this was some kind of dream where I’d fallen into a black hole and everything disappeared around me, I would sincerely like to wake up now.

  But waking up would be too easy. Bad, worse, worst. The order of how things went.

  A sick feeling in my stomach warned me I hadn’t reached worst yet.

  I had nowhere to hide Mom, not even enough time to, if I could. I didn’t want to leave her though either. She was still warm and if I ignored the fact that she wasn’t moving, I could believe she was asleep.

  Maybe the noise had been a trick of my imagination and I hadn’t heard anything.

  Muffled yelling came from the direction of the back door of the shop. A man’s voice thundered through the walls. “I can’t believe this!”

  A bang and I jumped. Lifting Mom the best I could from my lap, I searched all around for a place to hide. Standing on legs which didn’t want to do anything because they’d long past lost feeling, I kicked and stamped my feet as soft as possible and stepped toward the carpet rolls, ducking behind them seconds before the door opened to the room.

  Carpet scratched my cheeks. I leaned against the soft insulation and jerked back. Dad had once said insulation was made from spun glass. I wanted to close my eyes, but I couldn’t. I was the stupid person who watched the axe swing down to decapitate me. Surprises weren’t my thing.

  “Crap! Dad, there’s an injured woman in here!” He rushed to Mom’s side.

  Dead, she’s dead. Not injured. Not anymore.

  Icy truth froze my sadness. Between the rolls of carpet, I could barely make out his hands checking her neck for a pulse. He hung his head, blond hair coming into view.

  A new voice arrived at the door. “She’s hurt?”

  The boy moved his head out of my line of sight. I stared at Mom, unable to look away.

  His hands left the small window of my view. “No. I mean, yes she’s hurt, but she’s not… she’s dead.”

  Fingers snapped.

  The boy disappeared. My mom used to snap her fingers to get Braden’s and my attention. I didn’t even look up. If I stared long enough, her chest would suddenly start moving and she would stand up, laughing like everything was a dang joke.

  The carpet rolls started falling away. I hadn’t touched them enough to move them. I darted to the side, but a man blocked the way with a roll leaning in his arms. I didn’t look up. I couldn’t. I needed to escape.

  I squeaked and turned the other way, running smack into the solid chest of the boy. Shaking, I couldn’t stop. I crossed my arms and backed up, staring at the ground. I didn’t want to be caught. I wasn’t ready for anything else bad to happen.

  Just give me a minute. I couldn’t breathe. Mom, I needed my mom. Mom, help.

  And I wanted – no, needed time to mourn my mom.

  I couldn’t wait any longer. I lost my control. Sobbing racked my body and I slid to the ground, arms tight, fingers gripping my elbows. I was full into ugly cry mode, baring my teeth and everything. I didn’t give a crap.

  “Kelly? Oh, my word, Dad. It’s Kelly Williams from school.” The boy knelt beside me, pulling me into his arms. I flinched, but couldn’t pull away, too much energy went into my crying, my loss. Survival mode had redirected and I blocked stuff out.

  “Kelly, shh, Kelly, you’re okay. Look at me. Come on, look at me.” He shifted me away from him for a moment so I could look into his face.

  Bodey Christianson came into focus when I opened my eyes.

  I couldn’t control the relief mixing with increased shock and I slumped forward onto his shoulder, wrapping my arms around his waist. Someone I know! Someone familiar. And he wasn’t dead.

  Something wasn’t worse. Finally.

  I don’t remember what time I fell asleep on him, but it must have been soon after falling into his arms.