and I hear the screaming and growling of the monsters inside the house, I know my best bet is in the shadows—somewhere I have avoided for a long time now. I climb on the bike, sitting on the saddle, and I take a deep breath before pedaling away quickly. I stick to the shadows as much as I can until I am at the front of the house once more, and I pedal as fast as I can around the island of grass and down the long, gravelly road, following the trail of blood left by Sarah earlier today, staying in the shadows.
I look back at the house when I reach the bottom of the road. The noises coming from inside the house are loud and obnoxious as the monsters break and destroy everything we had come to cherish so much. I say goodbye to our peace, our sanctuary, and our supplies. It was good while it lasted. But nothing ever lasts forever. Not anymore.
At the bottom of the gravel road, I turn onto the main strip of blacktop that was once a perfectly good road. As time has passed and the elements have taken their toll, the roads have begun to crumble and crack. They are dangerous to drive on at night, the giant holes left in some of them almost begging for you to drive into them and crash. I start to pedal quickly, the sound of screeching and smashing still echoing down to me from the house. I feel sad that we have lost that home, sadder still that Lilly didn’t get a few more days of peace there. But our supplies are my greatest loss. The food that we have had to leave behind. I had known it would happen—I had prepared, packing the car with water and food rations to last over a week—but the loss of the food left behind is still acute.
I look around, my heart sinking when I don’t see my car. I have been left behind, and that should hurt more than it does, but I am just glad that Lilly is safe. I will mourn my loss when I am safe. I see Sarah’s beat-up car up ahead, the hood still crumpled around the base of a tree where she crashed. The car is in worse shape now than earlier. The monsters have torn the metal apart trying to taste the blood. I pedal to the side of it and stop, taking a second to witness the destruction. Blood is still pooled around and inside of it—Sarah’s blood from earlier today. It is dried and hard now, yet to the monsters it will still smell fresh. I feel stupid for not realizing that it would attract the monsters to us. Stupider still for not being prepared for them or packing our things and leaving before they came.
And as I hear the soft whimpering of Lilly coming from underneath the wreck, I feel stupid for ever trusting that woman and allowing her into our lives.
Chapter Eleven.
#11. Hold tight to that which you love.
I let go of the bike and drop to my knees, seeing the tiny form of Lilly underneath the car. I can’t make out her face, nor her arms or legs, but I know that it is her. I know her cry. It is like a brand on my heart and soul.
“Lilly!” I whisper and reach under. My fingers graze her hair and she shrieks and backs away. “Lilly!” I whisper again, more urgently.
Her eyes open, almost glowing in the darkness under the car. And she reminds me of a cat.
“Mama?” she asks, her voice so soft, so scared. Almost as if she is afraid to believe that it is me.
“Yes. Come quickly.”
I don’t have time to ask Lilly where Sarah is or why she is hiding underneath the car, but anger, raw and hot, burns in my stomach at the thought of Sarah leaving behind my Lilly—my Honeybee.
Lilly scrambles out, blinking away her tears as she looks into my face before burying herself in my arms. I scoop her up and squeeze her tightly, kissing her hair and breathing in her life. Sobs work up my throat but I push them back down. There will be time for that, but not now.
“We need to go,” I say, and Lilly nods against my neck.
I pick up my bike and straddle it, all without putting Lilly down. Because I will never let her out of my sight again. Her little legs and arms tighten
I look back at the house when I reach the bottom of the road. The noises coming from inside the house are loud and obnoxious as the monsters break and destroy everything we had come to cherish so much. I say goodbye to our peace, our sanctuary, and our supplies. It was good while it lasted. But nothing ever lasts forever. Not anymore.
At the bottom of the gravel road, I turn onto the main strip of blacktop that was once a perfectly good road. As time has passed and the elements have taken their toll, the roads have begun to crumble and crack. They are dangerous to drive on at night, the giant holes left in some of them almost begging for you to drive into them and crash. I start to pedal quickly, the sound of screeching and smashing still echoing down to me from the house. I feel sad that we have lost that home, sadder still that Lilly didn’t get a few more days of peace there. But our supplies are my greatest loss. The food that we have had to leave behind. I had known it would happen—I had prepared, packing the car with water and food rations to last over a week—but the loss of the food left behind is still acute.
I look around, my heart sinking when I don’t see my car. I have been left behind, and that should hurt more than it does, but I am just glad that Lilly is safe. I will mourn my loss when I am safe. I see Sarah’s beat-up car up ahead, the hood still crumpled around the base of a tree where she crashed. The car is in worse shape now than earlier. The monsters have torn the metal apart trying to taste the blood. I pedal to the side of it and stop, taking a second to witness the destruction. Blood is still pooled around and inside of it—Sarah’s blood from earlier today. It is dried and hard now, yet to the monsters it will still smell fresh. I feel stupid for not realizing that it would attract the monsters to us. Stupider still for not being prepared for them or packing our things and leaving before they came.
And as I hear the soft whimpering of Lilly coming from underneath the wreck, I feel stupid for ever trusting that woman and allowing her into our lives.
Chapter Eleven.
#11. Hold tight to that which you love.
I let go of the bike and drop to my knees, seeing the tiny form of Lilly underneath the car. I can’t make out her face, nor her arms or legs, but I know that it is her. I know her cry. It is like a brand on my heart and soul.
“Lilly!” I whisper and reach under. My fingers graze her hair and she shrieks and backs away. “Lilly!” I whisper again, more urgently.
Her eyes open, almost glowing in the darkness under the car. And she reminds me of a cat.
“Mama?” she asks, her voice so soft, so scared. Almost as if she is afraid to believe that it is me.
“Yes. Come quickly.”
I don’t have time to ask Lilly where Sarah is or why she is hiding underneath the car, but anger, raw and hot, burns in my stomach at the thought of Sarah leaving behind my Lilly—my Honeybee.
Lilly scrambles out, blinking away her tears as she looks into my face before burying herself in my arms. I scoop her up and squeeze her tightly, kissing her hair and breathing in her life. Sobs work up my throat but I push them back down. There will be time for that, but not now.
“We need to go,” I say, and Lilly nods against my neck.
I pick up my bike and straddle it, all without putting Lilly down. Because I will never let her out of my sight again. Her little legs and arms tighten
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