Page 6 of Everything Under the Sun

“He will,” I said sharply, and left it at that, as if there was no argument to be had on the matter.

I stepped out of the cave and to the edge of the rock slope. I could see the forest at a better vantage point being higher off the ground, and in the daylight. But I couldn’t see much aside from trees, and the rocks descending in a scattered, perilous pattern below me. I could faintly hear trickling water somewhere nearby. The air felt drier than usual, choked by smoke lingering in the air like a stubborn fog that had reluctantly lifted.

I thought of my father, wanted to believe that he was still alive and would come for us soon. But a part of me feared Sosie was right. A part of me feared that finally, after six years, the moment when I’d become an orphan, had come to pass.

Standing at the edge of the incline, I looked down at my filthy toes poking from my sandals. Absently I studied the dirt around them, the tiny rocks jutting from the ground. I watched a beetle scuttle past my foot and disappear under a leaf. But I was barely conscious to any of it; mostly I saw only my mother’s face, recalling the last moment I had with her, as if it had all been a sign of things to come.

One year after The Fall…

“You’re very special,” Momma began. “You’re my girls. And I want you to be safe in this new world. Always safe. But it’s only going to get harder. Do you understand?”

We didn’t understand, really, but we sat next to her, silent and attentive so we could at least try.

Momma placed her hands within her lap; her delicate fingers disappeared beneath the folds of her long skirt. Her porcelain face appeared downcast and nervous; her tired blue eyes, framed by soft, blonde hair, were wrinkled at the edges, not by age so much as by pain and suffering—the very sight of her like this put me on edge.

Momma looked up from her restlessly moving fingers wedged between her knees. “There are some important things you both need to understand before I’m not here anymore to teach you.”

I swallowed nervously.

“What is it, Momma?” I asked with reluctance. “And what do you mean when you’re not here anymore? You’re not old. You won’t be dying anytime soon.” I wanted to believe my own words, but in the deepest part of me, I felt a growing sadness. I knew there were other ways my momma could die, and that all of them were more likely to claim her before old age ever had a chance.

Momma motioned for me to scoot closer and I did with haste, not wanting to be anywhere else but next to my mother. And we sat together, the three of us, with Momma in the middle, so close I could smell the pear-scented shampoo she’d washed her hair with last.

Momma’s shoulders rose and fell under the long, thin sleeves of her button-up shirt as she sighed and prepared the words she was about to say.

“Don’t let them take your body,” she began. “Run as fast as you can to get away. And if you don’t get away, you fight them. And if you have to, you kill them. You hear me?” I felt my mother’s hand tighten around mine, nearly crushing the bones in my fingers. “And if all else fails…” She paused, looked out ahead, a vision or a memory passing over her eyes, momentarily stealing her awareness. Finally, she added with terrible grief: “We’re all better off dead if all that we have left is taken from us. We’re all better off dead…”

Momma committed suicide a week later.

“It’s happening,” I said under my breath, pushing my mother’s face out of my mind. “My God, it’s happening…”

I wiped a stream of tears from my cheeks and sniffled back the rest, resolved to rid my thoughts of the memory, and of the frightening images that always accompanied it. I swallowed hard and raised my chin high, trying to reel my strength back in.

“We’ll wait here like Daddy said,” I decided. “At least until tomorrow. I’m sure he’ll come before it gets dark. But we’ll give him until the morning.”

Sosie said nothing.

And we waited. Two hours. Four. By midday, dark clouds rolled in, but so far nothing came from them. We engaged in no conversation—it took more than one person talking to constitute a conversation and only I ever did any talking.

By late afternoon, I was starving. But thirst was a far greater concern, and the heat of the day was only making it worse.

“Come with me to the stream,” I said. “We need water. I would bring you some here but there’s nothing to carry it back in.”

“I’m not thirsty.” Sosie never looked up.

“You have to drink.”

“I’m not drinking the water, Thais.”

“Stop being stubborn.” I clenched my fists with frustration. “You have to drink. Now let’s go.” I bent over and reached for her arm.

Sosie’s head snapped around.

“You’re being stupid!” she barked, her blind eyes straying. “We have no way to sterilize the water, and I’m not drinking it, so leave me alone.”

I felt stupid because Sosie was right.

“Then I’ll make a fire,” I said smartly, trying to come back from my mistake.

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