by A. L. Tyler
She took the pen and pad of paper back to the bed and laid down next to Brandon. She didn’t want to be taken alive. If she had to give Brandon up, she didn’t want to undergo interrogation as to where he was. She squeezed his cheeks and he gave off a small, laughing squeal.
Lena smiled, and then she was ready to start.
This is the last will and testament of Abilene Collins, she wrote. The child previously rumored to be mine, while in existence, is not mine. As promised, I am not now nor have I ever been pregnant. The child has been surrendered to a human family. It is my only wish after my death that he be left out of all of this. I have only ever wanted peace in my life and the lives of others. Howard, please forgive me. Griffin…
But what did she want to say to Griffin, if he never came to find her? If she never saw him again, what did she want to say to him now?
Griffin, it was all true. I am who he said I was, even if he was not. As faithless as I am, you know I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t have proof. Take care of it. I hope you missed me. I missed you.
*****
The next day, Tuesday, she wrote a brief note about Brandon stating his birthday and that he didn’t have any known allergies or ailments, just in case if she had to surrender him. She spent the rest of the day just being with him, tickling his tummy, kissing his cheeks, and using water to style the little tuft of hair on his head into Mohawks and spirals. As was always the case, she tucked him in next to her before they fell asleep.
Wednesday, the snow started falling again in slow, large flakes. She wasn’t sure exactly when dawn came around, because the light just seemed to fade on. On a whim, she wrapped Brandon up and took him outside for five minutes just to watch it snow.
See Brandon? Pretty…
Pretty… He echoed.
He stared around, looking at the trees, the white sky, the deep snow, until one large snow flake landed on his cheek, and he brought one hand up and tried in an uncoordinated way to wipe it away.
Cold…
They went back inside and took a nap snuggled up together before lunch. Brandon had his usual bottle; as Lena munched on her crackers, she had to wonder how much weight she had lost since January. She didn’t have her original clothes anymore, having long since traded them out for warmer, more practical fair at the church in Florida, so she couldn’t even judge the looseness of her waistband.
Wiping some cracker bits from her hands, she went to the bathroom mirror and undressed to her underwear; despite her solitude, it was one of the only moments of safe privacy she had experienced since she started running. She cringed at the sallow shadows under her eyes and the sunken flesh around her ribs and where the curve of her stomach had once been. She buried the unpleasant images in her mind, redressed, and went back out to Brandon. He was the only one that mattered, and he was pudgy and rosy-cheeked.
The day trailed by slowly, but as it went, there was an indefinable lifting in Lena’s spirit. At first, she thought it was just that she had actually taken the time to be with Brandon, but as night drew near, she realized it was more. She felt strong, and safe.
And somehow, she felt slightly annoyed. It had to be Griffin.
He knew, and he was coming for her. She could feel him growing closer to them by the hour, and as her spirits lifted, she started to reevaluate her situation and her frame of mind. Maybe it would be okay. Maybe someday soon she would be walking back up to Waldgrave, showing Howard and Rosaleen her new baby; maybe that day wouldn’t come for years, but if it ever came, it would make her so happy.
As five thirty rolled around, she found herself sitting by the door, waiting for the sound of a car to come rolling up to the front of the cabin. As the minutes ticked past, she found it hard to rip her eyes away from the window. What would he say to her when she told him?
Griffin had been absolutely crushed when they had found out about her grandfather; his real name was Jack Durand, and he was a human-born. What was she going to tell him about Olesia and Tom? She wondered briefly if she should tell him at all; with all of his exuberance on the topic, he would probably want to go out and meet Olesia himself, if only to collect her small piece of the family story. Lena supposed she was going to have to say something about them to explain Brandon. But then her thoughts became darker. What was she going to tell him about how she had been living over the past few months? She hardly wanted to think about it at all herself.
Six o’clock was only five minutes away now. She went and got Brandon from the bed and started pacing back and forth in front of the window. The snow outside was still lightly falling.
Six o’clock came and went. Five after. Ten after. Fifteen after.
Lena settled Brandon back onto the bed on the other side of the room. She felt worried; but surely, he had to be coming? What was she feeling if he wasn’t?
Twenty minutes, come and gone. Twenty-five. Thirty.
Very suddenly, Lena felt sick. He wasn’t one to be late. He wasn’t coming. She turned around to get Brandon; she wanted to spend all the time she had left with him.
Tomorrow, she would leave him at the first hospital she found.
But then there was a noise—a crunching. A stepping! Someone was coming up the front steps! Lena spun around and went back to the door and looked out the window.
Her heart leapt for joy as she threw the door open, smiling from ear to ear. He was completely wrapped from head to foot, only his eyes barely visible between the hood of his jacket and the scarf wrapped around his face.
“Griffin!” She practically shouted, unable to contain herself. It was over; it was finally over. She lunged in and hugged him, but he seemed more interested in Brandon, still lying on the bed, so she let him go. He wandered over to the bed and stared down at the small child.
“God, Griffin, I don’t think I’ve ever been happier to see you! I felt you coming—it was the strangest thing. I mean, we’ll talk about that later. Right now, you probably just want to know about…Griffin?”
He was still just standing there, staring at Brandon. He reached down and picked him up roughly, and Lena lunged forward. “Jesus, Griffin! You’ve got to be careful with him! He’s just—What the hell are you doing?!”
He turned around, Brandon held against his side with one hand. In his other hand, there was a small handgun, held awkwardly because of the gloves he was wearing, pointing directly at Lena. She hesitated, and backed up a few steps.
There was a loud pop and Lena jumped. Her eyes were still locked on Brandon, but somehow she felt like she was watching the blood pour out of her lower abdomen. She felt frozen in place, standing across the room, watching herself bleed to death. What transpired over the next few seconds felt like it took ages to execute. Rollin set the gun on the bed, took his scarf off, and used his teeth to remove the glove on the hand that wasn’t holding Brandon—who, by this time, was screaming. Lena had never seen his eyes focus so easily, and so intently, as when they met with hers in that moment.
He picked the gun back up, and he was towering over her, pointing the gun directly at her chest. She was lying on the floor; Rollin pulled the trigger again and she felt…She couldn’t breathe, something was crushing her chest…
And after the ringing of the second bullet was gone, there was a sucking, gurgling noise as Lena tried to grasp for breath.
It is yours? He asked, pointing the gun at Brandon. He used his foot to nudge Lena’s. Is this the child? Your son?
The world was spinning and darkening with each second she tried to breathe, that horrible hissing gurgle emanating from her chest as Brandon screamed. Her ears were ringing.
Brandon… She mustered, hardly able to keep her thoughts straight. Brandon, it’s okay, it’s going to be…
Suddenly, something warm sprayed across her face, and the floor next to her shook. She couldn’t see Rollin anymore. She couldn’t see anyone. Brandon, I’m here…
There was a cold hand under her shirt, pressing hard down on her chest; it startled her eyes open. Grif
fin’s face was floating over her. Brandon…
He’s fine. Can you breathe?
Lena was confused…Griffin?...But, Rollin…? No one…no one can know the truth about Brandon…Promise me…
And then the world was shifting and turning again. She thought she could hear someone calling her name. Whoever it was, she thought he sounded an awful lot like Ben Collins.
Lena!
“Pneumohemothorax. Her lung’s collapsed. We can’t do this here, I need equipment. We may need a hospital!”
Lena!
“Get the shower curtain! Help me lift her!”
Lena!
“Now help me lift her! Keep that over her chest—no, keep your hand over the other entrance wound or she’ll bleed out!”
And that was all. The world was swiftly warm around her, and there were no sounds, and only the one bright light overhead.
*****
Lena opened her eyes. Somehow, something was still crushing down on her chest, but when she looked she couldn’t see anything. She was in a large room, in a large bed, tucked under warm covers as someone sat gently humming a tune next to her. She looked over. It was Alexis Alarid; her family had been one of the first to be weeded out during the killing spree.
Alexis stopped humming when she saw Lena looking at her. She smiled. “You’ve been away for quite some time now.”
Lena tried to respond, but her chest ached so horribly. Where is Brandon?
Alexis’s expression faltered. “The baby?”
Where is he? I want to see him! Her urgency must have been apparent, because Alexis sprang to her feet.
“I don’t think…It’s not allowed.” She said, taking a step back. Pain ripping through her body, Lena swung her legs over the edge of the bed and started to get out of it. Alexis’s eyes went wide. “You cannot! You’re not allowed to be up! I—I’ll get him for you!”
And she darted from the room. To Lena, she was moving so fast that she looked like a blur of color; she felt like she was going to vomit. She lifted a hand to her chest, where the bullet had ripped into her, but the skin was completely smooth and unmarked. Looking back up at the door Alexis had disappeared through, she squinted, trying to decide if she had rejoined the world of the living, or if she was elsewhere. Her brain was fuzzy…Alexis was dead. Had been dead for several months, like the rest of her family. And Lena had just sent her to get Brandon.
“Alexis!” Lena called, mustering her strength and staggering to the door. Her legs shook and cramped like they hadn't been used in weeks. “Alexis, wait!”
She grabbed the door handle and threw the door wide open, bracing herself against the frame. An empty hall, full of doors. A portrait of Serafina Perry was on the opposite wall.
Where was she? In her head? She was usually more creative than this…
There was a commotion off to her left, and she turned to see Alexis moving quickly toward her, a bundle in her arms and a man in a white coat chasing after her.
“You can’t have him outside of the room! He’s not—Oh!” He said, looking up and seeing Lena standing next to the portrait of Serafina. “You’re not supposed to be up…”
Alexis was shoving Brandon into her arms. He was asleep; Alexis had her arms around her shoulders, steering Lena back into the bedroom. She tried to force Lena back into the bed, but she refused. She set Brandon down and started unwrapping him. He was completely unscathed, from the tips of his toes to the blond hair on top of his head. Except that someone had given him a haircut.
He woke up and started crying, his face turning scarlet. Lena immediately lifted him into her arms, pressing his head into her shoulder. It’s okay…It’s okay…I’m here, it’s me, I’m here…
She turned to Alexis. “He needs a bottle. He’s hungry,” she said hoarsely, and Alexis was running out the door again.
She settled back into the bed and snuggled Brandon into the crook of her arm. Alexis was shortly back with a bottle, and Lena started feeding the baby in her arms. He looked skinnier than she remembered him, or possibly taller. Likely both. Alexis continued to stand over them at the side of the bed.
“I’m sorry…” Alexis started. Lena only glanced up at her before returning her gaze to Brandon. “He is…I mean, he is who Griffin says he is?”
Lena tried to close her eyes inconspicuously, and fought the urge to shake her head. She had no clue what Griffin had said, but only saw it creating problems for her if she contradicted whatever it was. “Yes. He’s who Griffin says he is.”
Alexis took a step back, then came back to the edge of the bed, her hand pressed to her mouth as she stared down at Brandon with tears in her eyes. She kissed her fingers and then swept her hand across Brandon’s head before turning to leave the room.
My sweet little Brandon… Lena whispered. Are you okay? Did you miss me?
It felt good to have him in her arms again. In her mind she had only been gone for those few seconds; the time she remembered from falling to the floor until waking up. But in her heart, she knew the two of them had been apart for almost too long.
Brandon was almost halfway done with his bottle when the door opened again and two people stepped in.
Lena barely had to look. He was skinnier than she remembered, too. Older. But still dressed just as well, still with the arrogant jaunt in his walk. The cat was trailing in behind him—it had grown two little nubs out of its head, the start of what would someday be the magnificent horns she had seen on the skeleton in Daray’s office. It looked more like a demon than a cat now.
“Get out.” She said simply.
But Griffin didn’t move, and neither did the doctor.
“He’s eating?” The doctor asked, stepping up to the bed. “We haven’t been able to keep him eating.”
“Maybe you’ve been doing it wrong.” Lena said sarcastically, taking another painful breath.
“And you? How are you feeling? Breathing trouble? Any abdominal pain?” The doctor looked as though he were going to start checking her over, but stepped away instead when Lena glared at him.
“Not in front of him.” She said, nodding at Griffin. She readjusted Brandon in her arms.
A tense moment ensued as Lena glared at Griffin and he stared impassively back at her. Some quiet words were exchanged, and the doctor bowed out and left the room.
Griffin raised his eyebrows as though he were having to deal with some manner of unnecessary social etiquette. “You’re in quite a mood. One might think you’d show a little more gratitude.”
“I told you six. Not one after six, not six-fifteen, not six-goddam-thirty, Griffin! Where the hell were you?!” Brandon jumped in her arms when she started yelling, but otherwise just seemed happy to be seeing her again.
“I was there at six. I was there at five.” Griffin said simply, turning to lock the door and then strolling over to the bed.
Lena could hardly stand to do more than give him an icy stare. “It didn’t look that way from where I was, on the floor bleeding to death!”
“Calm down!” Griffin said in an annoyed tone of voice. “It was necessary.”
“Your being late, or my getting shot?!” Lena seethed.
Griffin took a moment to answer. “Both.”
Lena was taken aback. He was completely serious. “I’m sorry. What?”
“You should be sorry—I saved your life! I had to prove to them that you weren’t in league with them. I had to prove that the New Faith and the human-borns were really out to kill you.” He didn’t look worried, but he took a step back anyways.
It took a moment for Lena to process what he had just said. She very gently set Brandon off to the side, near the center of the bed. Griffin had let her get shot. He had arranged for her to get shot. The image of Brandon dangling from one hand as Rollin used the gun to shoot her flashed before her eyes.
“Come here.” She said, her voice shaking.
“No.” Griffin said simply. “You told me—no, you begged me—to fix the situation, and that’s w
hat I did. No one would have taken you back unless they knew you weren’t secretly aligning with the other side, so I leaked the message you sent hoping he’d show up—it was just too tempting. He’s been on a non-stop massacre since January, when you called me. The old faith thought you had gone into hiding and taken the child with you as a favor to your old friends with the New Faith. And speaking of your old friends, because he saw it was a matter of public safety, Jason Rivera offered a bounty on your recovery with the child. Rollin graciously accepted the challenge. Rivera called it a start to better relations with human-borns. So I knew he would show. Two birds with one stone. I could have tried to bring you back without proving anything, but it wouldn’t have changed anything—no one would have trusted you here. They probably would have killed you both outright. So there you have it, princess, I’ve fixed it as best I can, but I don’t think anything can save us the damage you’ve caused since leaving.”
Lena was trying to get up. She steadied herself against the headboard. “You let him shoot me! You sat outside and just waited for him to come in and shoot me! You bastard—you let him shoot me twice!”
“The first shot was bad. I think he was having trouble with the glove. He’s developed a trademark of chest shots. Hypoxia is a bad way for us to go, and he knew it. I had to let him take the chest shot—people found it very touching that you suffered the same as the rest of the victims had.” Griffin was now sitting in a chair across the room, watching her attempt to keep standing despite the pain that squirmed in her intestines. He was half smiling. “You know, I never thought you could have lost any weight. What the hell have you been up to these last few months?”