Cost of Survival

by B.R. Paulson

  ***

  Bodey’s breath had evened out what seemed decades ago. I held his hand, while I was tucked under his arm against his side. Watching the rain drizzle down the windshield from the backseat, I controlled my rising panic.

  I couldn’t sleep. Just thinking about John and what could happen dredged up memories of Mom dying in my arms. I couldn’t prevent the thoughts. Not one bit. And Jeanine running away from me. And the dog. That kid at the school. All the people.

  Everyone.

  Except for the people who should’ve been dead. Why couldn’t they be gone and the good people stay around?

  Closing my eyes, I slowed my breathing and pretended Mom sat next to me. What would she say? What would she do?

  She’d freaking pray.

  Help. Oh, help us. Please bring John back safe.

  Please.

  ***

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  I blinked. Smashed against the cold window, my forehead hurt. I looked up, finding John staring at me in the rainy dawn. A red streak of blood zig-zagged from his upper hairline down his forehead to his nose and cheek.