‘You’re serious? You want me to marry a pig farmer who knows how to use his pig poke to protect me? Really?’
‘I’m just saying you should pick a man who knows that he’s not worthy of you and who will dedicate his life to provide for you and protect you.’ He presses another piece of gauze next to the first one. I wince again. ‘And make sure he’s kind to you and treats you with respect in every way. Otherwise, he can expect a visit from me.’ His voice is hard and unmerciful.
I shake my head as he rips off another piece of tape. I don’t know whether to be mad at him or to joke with him.
I move away from his touch, hoping that might take the edge off my confused emotions.
Raffe sighs. He reaches out and runs his fingers gently along the last piece of tape that he put on my bandage.
I wait for him to continue. When he doesn’t, I wonder if talking about what’s happening between us makes any difference at all. Maybe what I really need is a little space to figure things out. I grab the sword and a can of tuna and head out the back door.
10
Outside, I stand in the sun and let the warmth soak into my bones. I take a deep breath full of the scent of rosemary and slowly let it out.
My dad used to say there’s magic in the warmth of sunlight. He used to tell us that if we close our eyes, take a big breath, and let the sun soak in, we’ll see that everything is going to be okay. He usually said that right after Mom had a day-long freak-out session of yelling and throwing things around the condo.
Hell, if Dad’s technique can work for one of Mom’s marathon fury sessions, then it should work for the apocalypse. Guys, though, that’s another matter. I’m pretty sure that Dad wouldn’t have a technique that could handle what’s going on with Raffe.
There are tiny yellow flowers dotting the hillside of the island, reminding me of the park that we used to go to with my dad before he left us. The only thing out of place is the small group of monstrous scorpion-tailed beasts and the little stitched-up girl with bruises all over her body.
Among the tall grasses, my sister puts a bandage on a monster’s finger as if it were her pet instead of a biblical locust designed to torture people in true apocalyptic style.
Beneath her oversized T-shirt, I know that Paige’s ribs stick out in clear lines. It hurt to see them this morning when I put her to bed. She has circles around her eyes, and her hands are nothing but bones as she plays nurse to the monster.
She sits in the grass beside her pets. I’ve noticed she sits every chance she gets. I think she’s conserving energy. I think she’s starving to death.
I have to force myself to walk toward them. No matter how much time I spend with the locusts, I can’t get comfortable around them. As I near, the locusts fly away, much to my relief.
I sit beside her on the grass and show her the can of tuna. ‘Remember the tuna sandwiches Dad used to make for us? They were your favorite before you became a vegetarian.’ I pull open the pop-top can and show her the pink fish inside.
Paige leans away from the can.
‘Remember how Dad used to plop the tuna onto the bread and make a smiley face with it? That used to make your day.’
‘Daddy come home?’
She’s asking when he’ll be coming back. The answer is never. ‘We don’t need him.’
Wouldn’t it be great if that were true? I’m not sure I’d come back if I were him. I wonder if he thinks of us.
She looks at me with doe eyes. ‘Miss him.’
I try to think of something soothing to say, but I just don’t have it in me. ‘Me too.’
I pick out a piece of tuna with my fingers and put it up to her mouth. ‘Here. Try a piece.’
She shakes her head sadly back and forth.
‘Come on, Paige.’
She looks down at the ground like she’s ashamed. The hollows in her cheeks and between her collarbones scare me.
I put the tuna in my mouth and slowly chew. ‘It’s good.’
She peeks at me from beneath her hair.
‘Are you hungry?’ I ask.
She nods. For a second, her eyes dip down to the bandage on my shoulder. It’s spotting with blood.
She looks away as if ashamed and gazes up at the locusts circling above us. But her eyes keep drifting back to my bandage, and her nostrils flare like she smells something good.
Maybe it’s time for me to go.
I’m putting the can down when I hear an animal calling. It sounds like a hyena. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard a hyena, but my bones recognize the sound of a predator in the wild. My hackles rise on the back of my neck.
A shadow jumps between the trees to my left.
Another shadow leaps between branches, then several more.
And as the next one jumps closer to the nearest tree, I see the shape of teeth and wings.
Hellions.
A lot of them.
The trees around us begin to boil with shadows leaping from tree to tree, getting closer. The mad hyena laugh keeps up its steady call as the mob of shadows leaps toward us.