It’s a lie, but does she see it? I don’t know. I think Suzie might. Her eyes have narrowed, just a little.
“Are you sure?” my sister asks me, zipping up her coat. They have found Maria a huge parka to put on, it falls almost all the way to her knees. I wonder who it belonged to.
I nod, keep smiling. “Yup. Five minutes.”
Cathy has tears in her eyes again. I don’t know what’s happened to her, she never used to be like this. Then I remember what she has been through, how difficult these last few days must have been. I have to give her some grace. After all, I’m never going to see her again.
She hugs me, pressing so hard all the air is squeezed out of my lungs. “You’re so bony,” she tells me, wiping her eyes. “We’ve got to fatten you up!”
“I look forward to it.”
“Here. I found it upstairs.” Cathy takes out a long silk scarf printed with colorful butterflies. She holds it up and begins to tie it around my head, being gentle with the wound there, wincing in sympathy as she tightens the knot. “There,” she tells me. “Like Rambo.”
“Thanks, Cathy.”
I don’t hug her again. I’m afraid if I do, I won’t let go, and then I won’t be able to do what I need to. It’s hard enough as it is. I watchthe three of them leaving, heading out into the dark, heads bent to the wind.
I hear Suzie say, “Five minutes, okay?” as if she is timing me. Maybe she is. It’s long enough, either way.
Maria looks back at me as I stand watching in the doorway a moment longer. She is knee deep in snow, her mouth open, breath whipped away by the wind. Overhead, the sky is clear, a vast cathedral arch, spiked with stars. I wonder if I am doing the right thing. Maybe I imagined it. Maybe I got it wrong.
But then she smiles, and I see it there, under the surface.A monster in the skin of a man.Her eyes are limpid spheres full of yellow liquid, and I slam the door before I can see any more. I have to get ready. I have to go out to the generator. That’s where the petrol is.
They march in single file, a small straggling line heading into the deep and haunted woods. Cathy tries to talk to the girl—Maria, Hazel had called her—but after a few stunted conversations it becomes clear she isn’t going to get anywhere. Maria walks like a baby deer, all long, ungainly legs, seemingly close to falling over with every step.
“You want to hold on to me, hon?”
Maria looks at her. Her eyes are watering, her nose reddened with cold. Cathy thinks she looks miserable, and she doesn’t blame her. It’s a miserable situation all round, really. Besides, she’d prefer not to have to talk, to be honest—she wants the space to think.
Cathy has been weirded out ever since Hazel told them she wanted to stay behind.Five minutes, she’d said, but something about it has given Cathy a bad feeling. Over the last few days, she’s learned better than to ignore those bad feelings, the ones that feel like abad bout of food poisoning coming on. The cats, the camera, even Scout and the way he’d felt intangibly different—all these things serve as a reminder to Cathy that sometimes her gut was the compass she’d needed to follow.
“Hey. Cathy, hold on!” Suzie’s voice breaks through her thoughts.
Cathy turns, looking back down the slope to where Suzie is standing with Maria, half-collapsed into the snow. “Oh shit.”
Cathy starts making her way back down toward them, slipping on the compacted surface. Maria is making a hacking noise at the back of her throat. A coughing fit, maybe. She must be unused to the exercise, the fresh air.
“I’ve got you, Maria. Hold on.”
Cathy puts a hand on the girl’s back, feeling the knobs and bumps of her protruding spine even under the layers of clothes.Poor kid, she thinks as the girl takes in a great whooping inhalation of air. When she lifts her face toward them, Cathy flinches. Maria doesn’t look right. Her eyes are flared open, panicked. Her face is twisted as though she is in pain.
“Maria? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
But Maria does not reply. Her mouth yawns in a wide, silent scream as her hands scrabble at her throat. Her eyes bulge, swiveling in their sockets. The distress in them is almost too much for Cathy to bear.
“Fuck. She’s choking. What do we do? Suzie, what do we do?”
Suzie moves behind Maria, sliding her hands around so she can lock her fists beneath Maria’s rib cage. She thrusts her fists in and upward, jerking Maria off her feet with the force of the thrust. Then she does it again. And again.
“Has it worked, Cathy? Is she breathing?”
Cathy takes a look at Maria, who is raking her fingernails down her face, dragging white furrows into the skin. Her lips have taken on a dull, bluish hue.
“No. Do it again.”
At that, Maria pulls deliberately away from Suzie’s grip, stumbling forward, hands outstretched. She slides down the trunk of a nearby oak, collapsing among the moss and gnarled roots at the base. Maria’s eyes are streaming as she hooks her fingers into her mouth, prizing it open. She gags.
“What is she do—” Cathy begins, but then the words dry up in her throat.