The Blood Will Dry

by Mary, Kate L.

  Overall, the group responded in a much more calm manner than I would have expected, but I attributed that to Melody. She knew what she was doing. There were some murmurs and a few tears, but for the most part people stayed quiet all the way to the end. Which was a big feat considering how many people were packed into this room.

  “What we need now are volunteers,” she said once she’d finished relaying all the important details. Someone started to stand, but she put her hand up. “No need to come up here. Instead, I simply want anyone who is thinking of going to stay after the meeting. That way we can talk it out and make sure you understand what you’re up against.” She paused and I held my breath, waiting for her to remind them that whoever volunteered for this mission might not be coming back. “We all know what these things are like, so we need to be prepared.”

  Melody spoke for a little longer before dismissing the group, and the people who couldn’t or didn’t want to stay began to file out.

  Bryan took my hand and gave it a squeeze as we waited for things to settle back down. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m surprised. I didn’t expect it to go this way.”

  “Melody has a hard shell, but she’s a good one. You’d like her.”

  I believed him.

  The group of people filing out gave way, revealing those who were left. It was only a few dozen, but enough to start with. We also had the militia, which was at least thirty trained men and women, and whoever Tyler and Daisy managed to bring back. Meaning we might just have the numbers.

  Melody crossed the stage to us while the people who had stayed behind moved to the front of the auditorium. Her gaze went to our hands, which were linked together in my lap, and once again I got the feeling she knew who I was.

  “I know most of these people pretty well,” she said, nodding to the group that was settling in. “You don’t have many cowards here.”

  “That’s good,” Bryan replied. “Because we’re going to need people who won’t turn and run when things get bad.”

  Melody nodded. “I tried to volunteer but the council shot me down.”

  I was shocked, but I probably shouldn’t have been. Melody was in her fifties, not too old, and she looked healthy enough. We saw people come in with platoons that looked a hell of a lot less capable.

  “We appreciate it anyway,” Bryan said.

  Melody shot a look the council’s way, but I couldn’t tell what it meant. “They say I’m too important. I don’t know. I don’t feel like I do much more than hold peoples’ hands.”

  “That’s important,” I said. “Not everyone is a leader. Some people need the security of knowing that someone more capable is there to help out.”

  She let out a sigh. “I guess.”

  Once everyone was settled Melody laid out the risks in plain English, which was another thing I admired her for. A few people bowed out when they realized we were making a lot of decisions based on educated guesses, but a good group stayed and that made me happy.

  When it was all said and done, we ended up with twenty-three men and women willing to put their lives on the line, not including the militia. It was a great start as far as I was concerned.

  We made plans to move out in the morning and the group headed out to say their goodbyes, leaving Bryan and me alone.

  I knew the house he’d grown up in wasn’t too far from the school but he hadn’t mentioned going again so I’d assumed he’d decided against it. But once we were alone, he shocked me by saying, “I want to go.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He nodded, but then paused so he could study my face. “Are you?”

  “I am,” I said, giving his hand a squeeze.

  We headed out hand in hand, crossing the street and moving away from the school. The vines in Oakwood weren’t nearly as bad as they were in the city. Things here were more like they’d been before Bryan’s militia had wrangled with the aliens. A few vines snaked across the streets here and there and up houses, but most of the original area was intact. They were so rare in fact, that I found myself wondering why everyone stayed crowded in the school. There were empty houses everywhere. Nice houses, houses that would have cost a fortune in the old world, and yet the survivors chose to live in the school.

  We crossed State Route 48, the main road that ran all the way through Dayton, and headed toward the golf course. Bryan’s family had lived on a massive estate just down the street from it and the country club, and it would take us less than ten minutes on foot to reach it. The closer we got, the more my heart pounded and the tighter I held onto his hand. I knew what I needed to do, what I wanted to do, but I was dreading it the same. Even more so because I hadn’t been here since Michael’s birthday party seven years ago. I had horrible memories associated with this place, but it had been my husband’s childhood home and I knew I was making the right decision, despite the pit that had formed in my stomach.

  The house looked different than I remembered. Not as big or as grand, although a lot of that had to do with time and neglect. The gate that usually crossed the driveway was open, almost as if it had been waiting for us to arrive, and even though I told myself I was ready for this, I found myself slowing down when we reached the driveway.

  Bryan stopped before walking through the gate. “You sure you want to do this?”

  “I do,” I assured him. “It’s just difficult.”

  “I know.”

  I tried to swallow down my own emotions when I realized how much harder this was for him, but it was impossible when I thought about Michael and what he’d given up for me. When I thought about what I was about to do.

  Bryan started walking again, still holding my hand, and I allowed him to lead me up the long, circular drive to the front door. The closer we got, the more obvious the signs of neglect became. A few windows on the first floor were broken or cracked, a shutter hung from the window above the door and a few others were missing altogether. The paint around the windows had begun to chip and the once meticulous garden had died and been swallowed up by vines. The grass had browned and withered, and in places was gone completely, leaving nothing but wet unfertile soil behind.

  Thankfully, Bryan didn’t seem to notice the worn appearance. Or maybe he was just used to it after years of traveling the country. He went in without pausing, pushing the unlocked front door open and pulling me with him as he stepped into the foyer.

  The house was as magnificent as ever, even if it had been ransacked and was now covered in dust. The people who had come inside searching for supplies had left the house in disarray, but the mess couldn’t take away from the intricate woodwork or expensive light fixtures. Their efforts at taking the house down a few notches were overshadowed by the wall to wall hardwood and the spiral staircase, by the elaborate banister and windows and fireplace.

  “It’s still beautiful,” I whispered.

  Bryan nodded, but I saw it when his Adam’s apple bobbed. “It is.”

  I slipped my hand out of his and went into the living room. I remembered being here and staring at the pictures lined up on the mantel. I remembered marveling over the childhood pictures of Michael, and how I’d later compared the memory of them to Cassidy’s smile.

  I found the pictures right where they’d been seven years ago, a pleasant surprise that eased some of my dislike for Bryan and Michael’s parents. I was glad to discover that they hadn’t thrown their son’s pictures away the second they turned their backs on him. Maybe they’d thought he would eventually return, that he’d come to his senses and leave me. Maybe he would have, it was impossible to say.

  The one I wanted was on the end. It was Michael’s senior picture. In it he was at Carillon Park, surrounded by green grass and a clear, blue sky. It was the old world and he was my old love, but it was something I needed. A memento of the past. Of the man I’d once loved and lost.

  Bryan watched wordlessly as I slid it into my backpack. His expression was hard to read, but I knew he had to be feeling torn. I would have ass
ured him that my heart now belonged to him, but I knew the next thing I was going to do would say it all.

  I turned to face him and held out my hand. “Come out back with me.”

  He didn’t speak when he slipped his hand into mine, or when I pulled him toward the back door.

  A light mist was still falling when we stepped out, and the backyard was a brown wasteland thanks to the aliens, but it didn’t matter. The tree I remember was still standing, even if it was dead and entwined with vines. I stopped under it and looked up at the now bare branches, remembering how green it had been the last time I was here, how back then it had represented a part of Michael’s childhood to me.

  “When I was here Michael told me how he used to climb this.”

  “We both did,” Bryan said.

  “It’s the perfect place.”

  I dropped his hand and knelt next to the tree. I didn’t have a shovel, but it didn’t matter. I was used to being dirty by now and the hole didn’t need to be deep.

  I sank the fingers of my good hand into the damp earth, scooping it up and tossing it aside until it was wide enough. It was no more than six inches deep, but it would do. This was mostly symbolic anyway.

  Once I was ready, I set my backpack on the ground and pulled out the box, and then turned to Bryan. “Come here.”

  He did as I asked, kneeling beside me, but he was still silent as he watched me set the box on the ground. The lid was still on and I knew he had to be wondering what was inside, but he didn’t ask. He didn’t say anything as we sat side by side, staring at the box and the hole I’d just dug.

  I took the lid off and set it on the ground, revealing the onesie with the delicate purple flowers. “This was Cassidy’s.”

  Then I told him in detail what had happened that day. How I’d gone out to the car to get this for my daughter, how that tiny decision had changed my life forever. How it had saved me while it had doomed Michael.

  “I think I’ve blamed myself a little. I didn’t know what was going to happen, but if I’d let him go out to the car, he would be alive now. Not me. It’s made it harder to move on, but I’m ready now. I’m ready to let the blood dry. To bury the past.”

  I looked up so I was holding Bryan’s gaze, and then slipped my wedding ring off my finger and set it in the box. Nearly six years had passed since I’d put it on, and the skin beneath it was pale and wrinkled from the constant dampness in the air.

  When I put the lid on the box, Bryan covered my hand with his. “No. Don’t.”

  “I’m ready,” I said, slipping the box out from under his hand.

  I set it in the hole and began to cover it. Bryan helped me, scooping mud into the hole until the box was no longer visible. I’d thought that watching it disappear would hurt, but it didn’t. Instead it gave me a sense of peace I hadn’t felt before. A sensation that I had come to terms with my loss, had accepted the fact that the future was open to me.

  When we’d pushed all the dirt back into the hole we patted it down, erasing all evidence that it had ever been there to begin with. I wished that I had a marker or something to put down to honor my husband and baby, but I didn’t and I knew this simple act was enough.

  I sat back but didn’t stand, instead turning to face Bryan. “Michael is my past,” I said, taking his hand. “I will always love him, will always hurt that he was taken from this earth so suddenly, but he’s gone and I’m ready to accept that. I’m ready to move forward. You are my future.”

  I pushed myself up on my knees and pressed my lips against his. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me back with a passion that hadn’t been there before. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized he’d been holding a part of himself back, but I could feel the difference now that he wasn’t. Could feel him give himself completely to me. Could feel how much he’d needed to know that Michael wasn’t hanging over us anymore.

  He somehow managed to get me to my feet without breaking the kiss or hurting my shoulder. We were still kissing as we made our way to the house. The door was open, making it easy to get inside, and we didn’t bother shutting it. I felt suddenly desperate to be close to him. To feel his skin against mine and the warmth of his body, and I could tell that he felt the same way.

  We only made it to the living room before he was undoing my pants. He pushed them down as I worked on his. We were frantic in our need to undress, so much so that I barely noticed it when he got my sling and shirt off. Keeping my arm against my chest had almost become second nature to me, so it barely slowed us down as we moved to the couch, naked and still kissing. Bryan’s hands roamed while I held onto him with my good arm, afraid that I’d lose my balance in the frenzy. He only pulled his lips away from mine so he could sit, and then his hands were on my hips and he was pulling me down. I straddled him, sinking onto him as his mouth once again found mine.

  The sex was frantic with need, but it wasn’t about lust. It was a celebration of where we were, of the fact that we’d found one another, of the need to feel another person. The need to be close at that very moment.

  When we were finished I curled up next to him on the couch, careful not to disturb my arm, and basked in his warmth. Almost as if he was unable to stand the thought of not touching me, he ran his hand up and down my back, leaving goose bumps behind in the wake of his touch.

  After a few minutes, his hand slid over to my side, touching the scar left behind by the bug’s claw. “I can’t believe how fast this healed.”

  I looked down at the pink circle. The skin was barely pink anymore, but I knew the scar would always be there.

  “It’s hard to believe,” I agreed.

  His hand moved lower, over my hip and down my thigh, stopping on my knee. It had been really long time since I’d paid attention to those scars. There were so many of them, and in the soft light that filled house, they suddenly looked dark against my skin.

  “What are these from?”

  I swallowed, remembering and hurting all over again, but knowing that I could talk about it now. I could say the words out loud. “After the first blast, after I realized the mall was gone, I crawled across the parking lot so I could look down into the crater. I was in shock though, and I didn’t even realize I’d cut my knees on the debris until a couple days later.” I stared down at them, at the dark lines that covered my knees and lower legs. “I didn’t realize how bad they were.”

  Bryan shifted so he could lean down and press his lips against my right knee, and then my left. When he looked up he said, “They’re beautiful. Just like you.”

  The rain was steady when we left the next day, but not even wet feet could dampen my mood. I felt lighter than I had in years. I’d put the past to rest, I had a real future in my sights, and we were bringing more than fifty people back from the Oakwood settlement. My only concern was that we weren’t going to have enough claws to arm everyone, but at this point it was better to have too much man power than not enough.

  Despite the steady rainfall we made good time, and when we made it back to our street the sky hadn’t yet blackened. Meaning we’d make it home in time for dinner.

  Seeing how much the vines had grown while we’d been gone gave my mood a pause, but all I had to do was look at the group of people with me to reassure myself that things were going to get better. We could take these bastards down now.

  The scowl Anderson greeted us with was the only thing that could really penetrate my optimism. “We’ve been searching the city for claws left behind by the bugs, but we’ve only found a couple more. Right now we only have enough to arm twenty-six people.”

  That wasn’t even enough for the volunteers from our settlement, let alone the men and women Bryan and I had brought back.

  “We need to figure out a way to get more,” I hissed. The group that had come back with us had moved to the bunkroom, but I kept my voice low anyway. There was no point in causing a panic. “If we don’t, these guys will leave. They came under the impression that we would be able arm them with weap
ons that actually work against the bugs.”

  “Exactly what do you suggest I do?” Anderson snapped. “Poke the hive again and see what happens?” His gaze moved to Bryan. “We all know how that worked last time.”

  My mouth scrunched up, but before I could say anything Bryan stepped between us. “We’ll figure it out. There’s a way, I know it.”

  I exhaled, pushing my annoyance out, and Anderson did the same. We weren’t pissed at each other, just at the black cloud hanging over us when we’d thought we would have clear skies from here on out. Well, mostly clear. Nothing with these alien assholes was going to be easy.

  “We’ll regroup in the morning and talk it through,” Anderson said. “Hopefully, Tyler and Daisy will be back by then and we’ll have a better idea of how many men we have. For now, get some chow and get some rest. I need everyone ready for action.”

  Bryan and I did as we were told, grabbing a quick meal before heading up to my room. It felt more like our room now, but I hadn’t yet had the nerve to call it that. Mostly because it implied that we were going to win this war, and right now there were still too many hurdles to overcome.

  Once inside Bryan lit the candle while I unpacked the pictures we’d taken from the house. Maybe it should have bothered me that he’d wanted one of his parents, but it hadn’t. My memories of them were clouded by that one day, but they had raised Michael and Bryan, and despite how much I’d hated them back then, they must have done something right.

  I set the pictures up on the desk, putting Michael’s in front, and stepped back so I could look at it. In the picture he looked exactly as he had when we’d first met, but the more I stared at it, the more I realized my memories of him had altered over the years. I’d forgotten that his smile was slightly crooked, about the cowlick at the top of his head that refused to be tamed. His hair was blonder than Bryan’s too, although that could have been from being out in the sun, something we no longer had.