What Was Left

by Travis West

What Was Left

  Copyright 2014 Travis West

  “Man is the cruellest animal” - Nietzsche

  I

  Valerie heard screams. A girl. Probably a young one, maybe even younger than Valerie herself. The girl was coming towards Valerie, she could sense it from the changes in pitch and volume. The girl wasn’t the danger, but the danger would be there, following close behind.

  Valerie ran across the road and into a nearby shop, her well-worn shoes kicking up a trail of dust and ash behind her. The particles lingered in the still air, painting a giant arrow pointing to the door that Valerie was now hiding behind. She hoped the danger wouldn’t notice, wouldn’t search her out. They would probably be too focused on the girl they were chasing. Valerie would probably be safe.

  Valerie peeked through the window in the door to look outside. She knew she was increasing the likelihood she would be spotted, but she couldn’t help it; she had to look. She always had to look. She saw the girl run by, the danger close behind. There were three of them chasing, and the girl was even younger than Valerie had thought. Probably ten or eleven.

  One of the men launched himself into the air, tackling the girl to the ground in an explosion of cloudy ash that momentarily obscured them both from view. Once the air had cleared a little, Valerie could see the man had the girl held down easily with one hand, and was extracting his knife from his belt with the other. Valerie knew what was coming next, and she wanted to turn away, but she didn’t. She always had to watch.

  Valerie knew she couldn’t save the girl, but this was the one thing she could do. She could watch. She could affix some small significance to the girl’s death by bearing witness. She would mourn the girl, in a way, even if she never knew her. At least there would be someone who had seen her die, someone other than the danger.

  Valerie watched the knife cut a jagged smile across the girl’s throat. She watched until the last drop of life had drained from the girl’s body. Watching her die was the least she could do, and, perhaps, the most.

  II

  Two of the men took up the girl’s arms and dragged her away, leaving a slick, bloody trail in their wake. The crimson painted a vibrant line in the colourless dirt and ash. The third man, the killer, followed behind, licking the blood from his knife. Valerie watched silently from behind the shop door. Her grumbling stomach betrayed the silence, but the danger was too far away to hear it.

  Starving was a slow death. There were days when the tightening knots in Valerie’s stomach made her double over in pain, barely able to walk. Sometimes on those days, Valerie had dark thoughts about what it would be like to be the one the danger found. That would be a quick death, relatively painless. Like the girl. Less than a minute and she was liberated. Wouldn’t that be preferable to Valerie’s continued but tortured existence? Wouldn’t she eventually starve anyway, slowly and painfully? Why not let them have her?

  Sometimes, on those dark days, she had another thought. She thought of setting herself free, emancipating herself from the suffering with the little red pocketknife she carried in the right back pocket of her faded jeans. She always pushed these thoughts out of her head with great swiftness, for she knew where such thoughts could lead. Valerie believed in her life, believed in the importance of her place on earth. She believed there was a reason she was alive. And so she was willing to fight to live, even if living was a crueller fate than death.

  Other times, on only the very darkest of days, Valerie had a third thought, one she refused to fully acknowledge, even as it crept its way into her mind’s eye. A thought she could not admit, even to herself, that she was capable of having. On those days Valerie considered what it would be like to live a different kind of life. She considered how it might be to not be starving. She considered what it might be like to be the danger.

  But that wasn’t life. That was something else, and Valerie wanted no part of it. And so she would continue to starve and continue to hide and continue to live.

  The danger finally gone, Valerie crept from her hiding spot and stepped out into the street. She hadn’t taken more than a step before she detected movement down the road.

  III

  Out of the dust came a girl. At first, Valerie thought her mind was playing tricks on her. It looked like the same girl she had just seen murdered. The same face, the same blondish hair. The girl was coming from the same direction as the first girl had but, as she got closer to where Valerie was standing, Valerie could see that it wasn’t the same girl, though there was a strong resemblance.

  This new girl, who, upon closer examination, appeared to be a year or two younger than the first, must have been the other girl’s little sister.

  The girl was moving at a brisk pace, but stopped as she reached the dark smear reddening the earth where her sister had bled out and died just minutes earlier. The girl put her hand to her mouth, but after a moment of shock and horror she determinedly started off again, following the bloody trail down the crumbling city street.

  “Wait,” called Valerie, her voice hoarse and scratchy. It had been weeks since she had any call to speak to anyone. “Don’t go that way!”

  The girl started at the sound of Valerie’s voice and came to a halt, but quickly determined her not to be a threat and started moving off again.

  “I have to find my sister,” called the girl, louder than was probably safe. “They were chasing her!”

  Valerie began running after the girl, quickly catching up to her. “No, you can’t go after her,” she grabbed the girl by the wrist to hold her still.

  “No, I have to go. She led them away from me, but now they’re going to get her.”

  Valerie pulled the girl to her, wrapping her arms around her tiny frame in an effort to both comfort her and keep her still.

  “I’m sorry,” said Valerie. The girl was crying, struggling against her, but only half-heartedly. After a moment she stopped fighting and sank to the ground, pulling Valerie down with her, onto the ash-laden pavement. The girl began to bawl uncontrollably. Valerie didn’t know what to say, so she just held the girl tightly.

  Minutes passed. Eventually the tears subsided and the young girl pulled herself together. She stood and brushed off her clothes as best she could. Valerie stood as well, the two of them staring down at the blood trail lying between them in the center of the road.

  They stood in silence for a long while before the girl finally spoke. “I’m Alice,” she said.

  “Hi Alice,” replied Valerie, offering what she could of a smile. “I’m Valerie.”

  “My sister was named Anna,” added Alice, kicking some dirt and looking down at the ground.

  “I’m sorry about your sister,” Valerie said, after a moment.

  “The monsters got her, didn’t they?” asked Alice.

  Valerie stuck her hands in her pockets. “Yeah,” she said. “The monsters got her.”

  IV

  Valerie and Alice sat around a small fire in a nearby deserted office building. The smoke funneled its way out through a hole in the ceiling. A fire, even a small one, was a risk, Valerie knew. The smoke could draw the danger, but caution wouldn’t do them any good if they ended up freezing to death in the night.

  Alice stared despondently into the flames. She hadn’t said much all day. Valerie didn’t know how to comfort her. She thought back to when she had lost her father and knew that there were no words that could possibly alleviate the sweeping darkness that was gripping the young girl’s soul.

  Alice was probably eight years old or so by Valerie’s approximation. She had definitely been the younger of the two sisters. Anna must have been taking care of her, or perhaps they were taking care of each other. The realization that you are completely alone was not easy to come to terms with, Valer
ie knew. It was a fact she sometimes still struggled to accept.

  Valerie rummaged through her rucksack. There wasn’t much left. She had half a bottle of water and a single can of food. She had planned on waiting another day or two before eating the last of her food, but Alice looked like she hadn’t eaten in weeks.

  Valerie wasn’t entirely certain why she was even helping the girl. She didn’t owe her anything, after all. No one owed anyone anything anymore. But she had watched Alice’s sister die and maybe Valerie regretted not being able to help. She had seen so many people taken by the danger, always while she scurried in the shadows, escaping notice. Maybe she owed something to all of the people who had died in her stead. Maybe she owed it to them to save one life.

  Not that she was likely to be able to save Alice. Not with her half a bottle of water and one can of food.

  Valerie peeled the metal back from the top of the metal can. It had a picture of a smiling dog on the front of it. She didn’t know if that meant it was food for a dog, or if it was the meat of a dog, but she was fine with either scenario. She’d seen dogs, here and there, but they always looked mangy and vicious, and she hadn’t wanted to try and catch one to eat. The dogs she had seen certainly bore no resemblance to the happy-looking animal staring