Coal Black

Sarah knew the price for her child would be terrible. When she went to Miss Mary, begging the old woman for her help, she knew. Sarah had wept and wailed, inconsolably distraught over the loss of her newlywed husband. Tom had died in a coal mining accident. She couldn’t live without him. Wouldn’t live without a little piece of him with her.

“It won’t be just yours and Tom’s baby,” Miss Mary had said. “A spirit will have to bring back part of Tom. It will be yours and Tom’s and the spirit’s baby.”

“I don’t care,” Sarah had said, resolute in her need. No price was too high, no pain too deep, no burden too big.

Miss Mary, rocking in her chair on the front porch of her cabin in the woods, turned her gnarled and withered face to Sarah. Her eyes, black as coal dust, flashed.

“You’ll care for this child? Protect her and love her no matter the cost?”

Sarah’s heart leaped into her throat. Her. A daughter.

“I will love and protect her until the end of time,” Sarah said.

Miss Mary made a noise in the back of her throat; almost a ‘hummmph,’ that seemed to seal the deal. Miss Mary got to her feet and motioned for Sarah to follow her.

Sarah followed the old lady around the side of the cabin to a clearing behind an old lean-to that looked like it would fall over with the next big wind. The yard reeked of rot and decay, mixing with the heady scent of late spring honeysuckle in bloom.

Miss Mary motioned toward a large, smooth bolder and Sarah sat, watching the old woman move about the yard, gathering twigs and feathers and pebbles. Miss Mary went into the house, leaving Sarah in the late evening light, sitting on the rock. A wind kicked up, and it was cold and dry. Chill bumps raised on Sarah’s skin.

“Next Thursday is the full moon. You’ll need to drink this under it, and bury the jar on the north-facing side of your house.” Miss Mary spoke from behind Sarah and Sarah jumped. She turned and saw Miss Mary holding out an old mason jar in one hand, a large sliver knife in the other.

“Just one more ingredient,” Miss Mary said.

She set the jar on the ground at Sarah’s feet and held out her palm. With a flash of the knife, she slashed open her palm, letting blood drip into the jar below. In another swift motion, Miss Mary grabbed Sarah’s wrist and pulled the knife across her palm, letting the blood ooze from the thin red line down into the jar.

“Next Thursday. Drink this.” Miss Mary handed Sarah a lid for the jar and walked backed into the ramshackle cabin.

#

The pregnancy was a smooth one. The baby grew healthy and strong inside Sarah’s belly. The only hiccup was the terrible nightmares that came. Night after night, Sarah walked a scorched earth, the baby wrapped in her arms, running from some terrible monster she couldn’t see.

When Sarah’s water broke, a vision overtook her. Fire and mayhem overtook the cities, people dying in the streets, fear, and hate in the hearts of the survivors. Black smoke filling the sky with the stench of death. Sarah cried out, grabbing her stomach. It felt like the baby was tearing her way through the womb that held her.

Sarah stumbled to the phone, dialed 9-1-1. Just as she was hanging up the phone, a fresh wave of pain overtook her and she blacked out.

#

Darla was the most beautiful baby in the world. No one could convince Sarah otherwise. She had Sarah’s nose and Tom’s smile. The only flaw in the bouncing baby girl was her eyes. One was as crystal pale blue as Tom’s had been. The other was the dusty black color of coal.

Sarah took the baby to an ophthalmologist, a pediatrician, even a midwife down the road. The first two had said the eye functioned normally. The medicine woman refused to hold Darla to look at the eye.

About a week after her delivery, Sarah got the sad news that the ambulance drivers who had picked her up were in a terrible crash and died. Two weeks after that, she learned that the doctor that delivered Darla had a massive heart attack and also died. Days later, several nurses in that hospital had been found dead of natural causes in their stations.

But it wasn’t until her family started dying that she went back to Miss Mary.

“Come, sit, child.” Miss Mary nodded to a rocking chair near her own on the front porch of the cabin. She seemed to be expecting Sarah.

Sarah sat down, shift so that the toddler could straddle her knee. Now at two, Darla had bright red curls and an infectious giggle. When out around others, Sarah often kept tiny blue framed sunglasses on her.

“She looks healthy. She’s strong. Miss Mary took a long look at the child. “Stronger than I thought she would be.”

“She’s wonderful and perfect, Miss Mary. Except…” Sarah paused.

“What is it, child?”

“I think she may be cursed.” Sarah looked down at her daughter and pulled her a little closer to her chest. “People are dying. People that come in contact with her. The doctors and nurses that delivered her, Addie, the woman that I took her to for a haircut. Her cousin Ginny that sometimes babysat.”

Tears formed as Sarah talked. Miss Mary eased herself out of her rocking chair and bent down, looking at Darla. The baby cooed and stretched out her arms to the woman. Miss Mary took the child, balancing her on her hip. She took off the baby’s sunglasses and looked into her blue and black eyes with her coal-black ones.

A wind stirred, howling out of the holler. Even with the full summer sun, it was suddenly freezing cold. Darla let out a wail and Miss Mary whispered in the girl’s ear. The baby stilled and then drooped her head, nodding off to sleep. Miss Mary handed the child back to Sarah.

“Stay here,” she said, turning and going into the cabin. The wind died down, but the cold lingered and Sarah shivered in her sundress. She cradled Darla close to her chest to keep her warm.

“You need to wear this.”

Sarah screamed a little at the voice, spinning and coming nearly nose-to-nose with Miss Mary, who was holding a necklace out in front of her. Miss Mary leaned over and put the necklace over Sarah’s head. She looked down at the silver heart-shaped locket dangling from her neck.

“Don’t ever take it off. Ever. You hear me?” Miss Mary sad. She caressed Darla's cheek and shook her head, a sad look passing over her face.

“She is more than I thought she would be. Remember that you promised to love her, no matter what.”

Miss Mary shook her head a little, touched Darla's cheek one more time, and then went back into the cabin. The baby stirred in Sarah’s arms and began to wail.

#

Sarah grew accustomed to the death, even as it simultaneously grew closer to her and spread out. Acquaintances, friends, relatives…anyone that spent time around Darla eventually died. Darla herself seemed unaware of what she caused and grew into a rambunctious young girl.

It was on her thirteenth birthday that everything turned apocalyptic. Sarah had pulled out all the stops that she could afford for her daughter. She rented a pony and transformed the bottom below their tiny house into a miniature circus. She invited every child in Darla's class.

The party was in full swing when the first little girl started coughing.

“Amiee, are you okay, pumpkin?” One of the other parents asked as the girl heaved and wheezed.

“Is she choking?” Sarah asked.

The girl shook her head no, but then coughed again, doubling over, with her hands on her knees. She heaved a thick blood and bile pile onto the ground.

“Oh my God. Amiee!” The girl’s mother ran up to her and put her arm around her shoulders. “Can you walk?”

Before Sarah could offer to help, she heard more coughing from behind her. Bobby Joe and Willow, two of Darla’s closest friends, were on their hands and knees. Blood was oozing out of their eyes, nose, and ears, as they coughed and strained for breath.

“Wha-” Before she could finish, more children began to cough. Next to her Amiee’s mother grabbed her nose as blood rushed out.

Sarah looked around frantically for her daughter. In the center of the field, she saw Darla, standing stock still, and staring right at her. Her blue eye had darkened until it matched her coal-black one.

#

“I don’t want to go. I like it here,” Darla said. She had thrown the bag Sarah had packed down the hallway of the abandoned house they had made into a home for the past few weeks.

“We have to go. They are going to figure out what is happening,” Sarah said. “You won’t be safe here.”

“But there are still people here,” Darla whined.

“There won’t be if we stay,” Sarah said.

Darla’s eyes seemed to flash even darker and she flashed a wicked grin. “I know.” Then her right eye cleared back to dark blue, it never went back to pale blue these days. “I just want to rest.”

The demon part of Darla was getting stronger. The sickness she unleashed on her thirteenth birthday had exploded, spreading like wildfire. Within six months, half the country was wiped out. Before Darla's fourteenth birthday, over eighty percent of the world’s population was gone.

Sarah knew the locket that Miss Mary had given her protected her. She had never taken it off since the day the old woman put it around her neck. She still loved her daughter, even with the part of her that terrified her, that was destroying humanity.

Darla darted past her and into the dark street. Sarah bolted down the street after her daughter, following the flash of her light hoodie reflecting the full moon. Darla ran to the center of the tiny camp, where a few survivors had huddled together in the old town hall. She bounded up the steps, two at a time, nearly kicking the door in.

Sarah stopped at the doorway, listening. A few muffled moans and then the coughing. There was nothing she could do. And even if she could, she knew she wouldn’t. Darla needed it to survive. She didn’t understand how or why, but she knew her little girl lived off death.

#

“There is no one left.” Darla looked out to the horizon. They had been walking for days but had found no camps, no strangers or passersby. Sarah knew that the population had continued to dwindle, but they had always found someone if they kept walking.

“We will find others,” Sarah said. She watched as Darla continued to stare. “Do not despair.”

“I’m not despairing,” Darla said. “I’m almost done. My job is nearly complete.”

Darla turned to her mother, her eyes both black and wide as saucers. She had a look of remorse mixed with longing. Sarah looked into those coal-black eyes and understood. Her daughter, the love of her life, had been sent here for total annihilation. Darla wouldn’t be able to rest until there were no humans left.

“There is no one else left,” Darla said again.

Sarah caressed Darla's cheek and then stood back. “I love you forever and ever, my daughter,” she said. She lifted the chain with the locket over her head and let it fall to the ground.

“I love you, too,” Darla said. Her black eyes grew until they were taking up half of her face and she opened her mouth and Sarah’s world ended.

END