Natural Selection

by Elizabeth Sharp

  MY MOTHER’S SOBS broke the silence. She cradled my father’s head in her lap, running her hand through the fringe on the sides of his head. “Hold on, baby, you have to hang on for me,” she sobbed. My breath caught in my throat, and my heart dropped into my stomach.

  I fell to my knees and crawled to their side, taking my father’s hand. “Daddy?” I said, sounding more like a little girl than the woman I was now. “Dad, you have to hold on.” Blackness overwhelmed me, and I was drowning. I couldn’t swim against the currents of pain pulling me under—I didn’t know if I wanted to. “Don’t you leave me! Please, Daddy!” He feebly tried to raise his hand to me, but it flopped back. He took a final ragged breath before the light in his eyes went out. I knew my father was gone.

  Pain overwhelmed me. Collapsing on his still chest, tears poured from my eyes in an endless stream. I couldn’t breathe from the pressure in my chest. Every breath hurt like I was inhaling powdered glass. A hand gently cupped the back of my head, and I groped for it. Threading my mother’s familiar fingers with my own, we clung to my father’s body.

  Body. My father was a body. He’d never hug me or call me girly again. He wouldn’t walk me down the aisle at my wedding, or see his grandchildren. All the things he would never do overwhelmed me, making it hard to think of anything at all. I couldn’t imagine my life without my father, and I wished I could lay next to him in that living room and die myself. I had no idea how to begin pulling the shattered pieces back together. All I could feel was loss and the sharp ache of a loneliness that would never go away.

  Hands were pulling me away, but I struck out at them. I needed to be with my daddy. Why wouldn’t they leave me alone? But the hands were persistent, and I was pressed into the familiar solidity of my brother. I let my grief overwhelm me as I sobbed into his chest. The strength drained from my legs, but he held me up. I cried until I didn’t think I could have anymore tears, yet still they came. Finally calming to soft, sharp inhales, I turned my face up to look at him and saw tears streaking down his face. He clung to me as desperately as I was clinging to him.

  From somewhere deep inside, I found a reserve of strength and was able to hold myself up, but I still wasn’t ready for the reality of the situation. I took a step back but didn’t attempt to leave my brother’s arms, gathering calm around me like a cloak. Keeping his arm around my back, I stepped so I stood next to him. I lay my head on his shoulder and surveyed the scene around us.

  Sariah was holding our nearly inconsolable mother with her chin resting on her copper hair. I remembered my mother holding me that way so many times. Crooning softly, Sariah swayed kissing the top of her head and rubbing her back. My heart broke all over again. How were we going to go on? How could there ever be joy again? I looked into my mother's eyes and felt a little stab of fear at how blank and dead they were. She didn’t move. If fresh tears didn’t keep pouring out of her, I might have worried she was gone too. Would she ever recover from this loss, or would she be an empty shell without him? Grief threatened to overwhelm me again, but I shoved it down, clinging to the strange calm like a drowning man to driftwood.

  Nate stepped in the door, and I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. He looked so helpless, like he wished there was more he could do. He’d been at our house plenty over the years and knew our father well. I was sure he felt the loss sharply—even if it was different his grief was as real as ours. My family would get me through this—I knew that. Looking at Nate now, I thought about what it must have been like for him to go through it alone when his parents died. This must be bringing back so many painful memories for him. I gave him a watery smile which he returned. His hand stretched towards me for a moment before curling into a fist and falling to his side.

  Monica made a chuffing noise, snapping me back into the moment. We didn’t have time to grieve. We had to finish what we came here for. I used the eerie calm to focus on what needed to be dealt with. Evelyn was still unconscious in the other room. Her psychotic mother had blood running down her face, and she made noise like she was choking on it. One of us needed to check on Peter to see if there was anything that could be done for him. And we had to figure out what to do about Dad.

  I knew we couldn’t leave him here or let some stranger take him away to be mutilated and filled with chemicals. The thought of his body being preserved unnaturally made me ill. I wouldn’t allow it. I wondered how Gaia were supposed to be buried, but quickly dismissed it knowing my mother was in no condition to explain. Right now we had to set a stage for the humans, so the Enforcers wouldn’t get involved. With a glance to all the tired, defeated faces I realized no one else was going to take charge. Taking a deep breath, I let myself feel one last pang of sadness before shoving it all down.

  “Nate, Xander, you take Monica into the kitchen. Find the zip ties she’s so fond of using and fasten her to one of the chairs. Sariah, you need to get Mom home. She’s a mess, and I don’t think she has the strength to deal with this. I need to figure out what we’re going to do about Dad’s body and Mr. Matthews.” My sister looked at me with pride in her eyes. She nodded and bent her head to speak to Mom. I watched them shuffle out of the house with a lump in my throat I couldn’t swallow. Unable to stand the sight of his lifeless face, I covered my dad’s body with the blanket off the couch—pain threatened to explode my chest.

  My brother hefted Monica over his shoulder and Nate opened drawers in the kitchen. I glanced around the living room at the mess, books and trinkets tossed about carelessly. Thank God it was all superficial.

  My eye fell on a strip of paper on the floor. My body went numb as I slowly walked across the living room towards it. My hand was cold as I picked it up. I knew what it was the moment I saw it, but it wasn’t until I held it in my hand that I truly believed it. Sariah primped and posed for the camera as I craned my neck trying to see what was happening beyond the camera. It was the pictures from the photo booth. I wondered if my nosiness might have saved my life. My face was mostly hidden by my hair and Sariah. Had she known my face wasn’t clear? There was no way she truly believed the photo hadn’t printed. I could only imagine the emotions Mrs. Matthews felt as she grabbed the strip of paper, but Sariah would have known. So why didn’t she say something? Trying to shake it off, I tucked the pictures into my pants pocket.

  Kneeling next to Peter, I checked his pulse. It was weak and thready, but there. The urge to kick him was strong, but somehow I resisted. I looked around trying to figure out how to explain what happened when my eyes fell on the outlet just above him. “Which of you boys knows something about electricity?” I asked. Xander raised one eyebrow at me. His mouth twisted as if he was trying to figure out what was going on in my head. Nate’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, as if he was worried about the dark places my thoughts had gone. Their expressions made me laugh, but it sounded hysterical even to my own ears, so I choked it off. “I think I know how we’re going to sell this to the cops,” I told them with a smirk.