A Time to Die

When I look at my child, I think of my wife and how I killed her. It wasn’t an accident or an incident precipitated by a catalyst of rage. It was premeditated. A necessity birthed from a vile idea that my wife tossed around loosely until it consumed her every waking moment - that we needed to be free of this world. This thought culminated with me clutching our daughter and tearing into the forest to save ourselves. She had lost her way, devolving into a horror that I no longer recognized, leaving me with no option but to choose between my wife or child.

Years later, sleep still comes in fitful gasps that leave me haggard during my waking hours. The demons come at night, settling in my mind, and offering my emotions a cauldron of rancid memories to taste from. Her death sits heavy on my stomach, gnawing viscerally, and leaving me searching for reconciliation. All I can do is tell myself that I was forced into it like a wounded creature pinning for the life of his child.

Dull light seeps past a skylight, barely illuminating my child’s thin frame. My breath catches. Her red hair and azure eyes are a picturesque reflection of my wife. Even their personalities are symphonious; at least to how my wife was before the world ended. With her gone, my child is the only landmark for anything pure left in this world.

“Adeline…” I whisper, drawing my hand across her hair.

Her eyelids crack lightly. “Are you writing a memory?”

Instinctively my fingers recede and twine around a little black book open on my lap. “No,” I murmur, “just... reminiscing.”

“Can you read me a memory about mom?”

“Sleep Adeline, it’s not even dawn yet.”

She sighs drowsily and rolls away, tucking into a thick blanket.

“I’ll be back,” I whisper, lightly kissing her head.

Stepping into my boots and shrugging into a thick, weathered coat, I transcend from a quaint hunter’s lodge to a world that’s muted and draped in sadness. The building I erected years prior is painted brown to blend with the grove of dead pines it’s nestled in. Nothing that stands out lasts long in this world.

My feet plod their usual route into a clearing and I settle on a small outcrop, fumbling in frostbitten air for my book, thumbing at pages until I land where I left off, and I begin to scrawl.

Day 3,431: today feels heavy. I’m sitting where you died and all I can think of is how I shouldn’t have pulled the trigger. I only wish to hold you in my arms, to tell you I’m sorry. Truth is, maybe you had it right. Maybe leaving this world would have been better.

My pen stills in my grasp. Words feel moot today. Unsure what else to say, I tuck the book away and stare vacantly at the world.

Back at the cabin, I find Adeline cross-legged by a cold hearth, spooning mouthfuls of beans from a rusted tin, a book cradled in her lap. Light attracts death in this world, so fires are forbidden luxuries. Still, she has taken up the hearth as her permanent reading nook.

Adeline tips her spoon towards me. “We have a good one today.”

“Oh?” I grunt, settling on a stool. “Let’s see, is it my favorite, beans... or beans?”

She hands a tin of cold beans to me, “definitely, not beans. But don’t worry,” she gestures toward our hoard of canned foods lining the far wall, “we’ll have some of your favorite tonight.”

Her whimsical laughter fills the dreary space and I can’t help but laugh myself.

“Last one?” I gesture at her book.

“Last one!” She responds proudly.

“I believe that means a visit to the library is in order.” I push off my stool. “You up for that?”

Adeline is already on her feet and reaching for her knapsack. She would live there to whatever end if I allowed her. I throw together a slim selection of supplies, enough for several days if things go south, and soon we are en route.

The nearby town is a two-hour jaunt one way and we hug close to the main road that snakes through it. We are careful to remain out of sight from any marauders roving the area, seeking to leech every bit of light they can from the world.

Hours later, we approach the library from behind, slipping out of a thicket of trees and gliding across a brittle parking lot, past old cars swamped by towering grass, until we reach the brick wall that forms the library’s skeleton. Tediously I scan the area. My fingers grow slippery around the grip of my pistol. All my senses are alive and on edge, hunting for abnormalities.

Adeline tugs my arm. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

I smirk, “ I know what you’re about to ask.”

“Well can we?”

My mouth twists lightly in a smile. “Of course.”

We skirt around the side of the library until a pharmacy comes into view. It has become a routine of ours. Picking out candy. It's only a ghost of the experiences a child should be having, but it’s what we have. It's our normal.

Squatting low, I meticulously pick apart the stoic pharmacy with my eyes for any shred of life. A dilapidated sign that reads “Cal’s Pharmacy” runs above double doors with the glass busted out. Previous visits to the store revealed a surprising amount of goods still available to scrounge.

I fold Adeline’s thin hand into mine without breaking eye contact with the road. “Let’s go,” I whisper, and we surge forward, crouched and wary, ready to backtrack for the woods if something should happen. But the world remains still, safeguarding us with silence, ready to burst at the slightest disturbance.

“Go on,” I nudge Adeline, “get whatever you want.” And she disappears into sugary oblivion.

Our cabin remains well-stocked, but I do my due diligence and comb the shelves for anything purposeful. Drawing near the back, I slip into a backroom, a drab windowless room guarded by a metal door that locks from the outside. The room brims with restocking supplies and clerical items to keep the business oiled.

Beneath a desk sits a safe, cracked open and I stoop to view the contents.

I exhale loudly.

Stacked neatly in a plastic bag are twenty-dollar bills banded together by the thousands.

“Adeline,” I call over my shoulder.

Her form quickly crowds behind me. “What’s that?”

“Money,” I say, fishing through the pile. “Looks like… twenty thousand dollars.”

“What’s it for?”

“For buying stuff. Anything you wanted to buy required this paper.”

She picks up a stack and turns it over in her hands. “That’s dumb. Is this a lot?”

“Enough for a car.” An idea grips me and I grab several stacks. “I've always wanted to do this.” I rip apart bands and flick away bills like I had seen people do in the movies.

Adeline stares at me oddly but then joins in, tearing bands apart, flinging bills into the air, filling the air with laughs and the flutter of paper.

“Looks like a good time.”

An unfamiliar voice jolts my heart and I react, gun swinging for the doorway.

A haggard man crowds the door, backed up by two others looming behind him. I see one pistol mixed in with the group, but the others clutch a variety of menacing weapons.

The man in front flashing the pistol speaks, “we seen y’all down the road.”

My heartbeat thunders in my skull. “It would be in your best interest to leave,” I say cooly. “No chance that all of you walk out of here if this goes any other way.”

The man scoffs “I’d say y’all are on the losing end.”

My mind spins for a solution, but all I can think about is my glaring fault of letting down my guard for the thinnest margin of my life. “I have a place, two hours north. It’s hidden, fully stoked.”

“Our world ain’t run out of shelter or canned vegetables. We ran out of meat.” He tugs out a rusted blade with his free hand. “You know what we want.”

A chill snakes down my spine, “that’s not going to happen, you disgusting inbreds,” I seethe.

The man shrugs apathetically. “We do what we gotta to survive. Today we gotta eat. But I’ll tell you what.” He nods toward Adeline, “we’ll do her first so she don’t have to watch you die.”

That familiar feeling seizes me; confined against a corner. I can see the precipice we’re rushing towards, but my finger lingers on the trigger, hopelessly seeking another option.

The gun staring me down bucks in the man’s hand and instantly adrenaline sucks my mind into a tight portal and every moment floods in with alarming detail. The movement of the gun, the pressure of a bullet gliding into my body, and the kick of my own gun.

The light empties from the man’s face before it fully registers what has happened. His head snaps back but his body fumbles forward. The two other men begin to backpedal.

For the faintest second, hope swarms my chest. I surge forward furiously firing bullets, but abruptly an object crowds my view, tossed wildly by one of the vagrants. A clear bottle filled with amber liquid, stuffed at the opening with a rag engulfed in fire.

Unadulterated terror courses through my body and I feel as though I’ll buckle. I spin wildly for Adeline, but she has pulled out of reach. Every step aches and spurts of blood soak my chest with every heartbeat. I grip her arm, but a torrent of force reverberates behind us haplessly flinging our bodies.

Time pulls into focus and senses engulf my mind. Explicit heat from behind, Adeline’s screams to my left, sharp smoke in my nostrils, the abrupt clack in front of me.

“No!” I scream fighting to stand, tripping over the lifeless body. With every fiber in me, I slam against the door handle, but it’s frozen in place. From the other side of freedom, I hear the heavy bolt clunking into place, and I know. Today is our day.

I lurch and pull at Adeline, shielding her the best I can. Just feet away, flames lick the ceiling and lash out at us, eager to consume. They chew at the cash strewn foolishly around, forming a swell of flames that erratically consume whatever is close. Obscene heat blisters my skin, eliciting a steady stream of fluids off my face.

This is what it feels like to die.

Adeline is looking up at me, stricken.

“I’m sorry,” I say, but my words are soundless against the inferno stealing air from our lips.

A nearby shelf holds a bundle of blankets that I jerk free. “C’mon,” I gasp. The air is rancid and thin, clogging my throat. “Let’s pretend like we’re going to sleep. Just like we’re at home.”

Together we shrink away from the fire best that we can and lay facing each other. I haphazardly toss blankets over us, if only to make the transition less painful.

Her thin fingers meld into mine and she holds my gaze. A pure simplicity that hurts splinters my heart. “This is it, isn’t it?” She says.

I can only nod.

“Everything hurts.” She whispers.

“I know, baby.”

Seconds stretch and fury claws at my back.

“Daddy, I read your book. I know about mommy.”

Such a revelation would have sent me spiraling, but now I simply blink back sorrow, fighting for air.

“Daddy?” She closes her eyes. “You’re not a bad person for wanting to live.”

Her words tear at my heartstrings. “I love you, Adeline.”

“Love... you,” she wheezes.

Moments later, surrendering a ragged breath, Adeline grows still, her hands limp in mine. I’m left alone, coughing, sobbing, tumbling dizzily into darkness.

Waiting for whatever comes after.