*Everlasting*

A tear slid down her face as she closed the book. She carefully placed it on the shelf next to her bed and pulled the blanket up protectively and looked around at her sparsely decorated bedroom. The walls were white and her bed and wardrobe light pinewood. The only thing of note was a set of floor to ceiling bookcases filled to the brim with books. She picked up the one she had been reading again and looked at the cover. It seemed to mock her with the idyllic picture of the lake and farmhouse. She threw it away from her and it spun through the air bouncing off the wall and settling onto the carpet face up. She looked away with disgust.

            Poor Jesse, poor, poor Jesse. She let another tear drop onto the soft, green fabric of her blanket. She had that hollow sad feeling inside her that she got whenever she read something like that. Desperately sad, a lost love, crushed dreams. She always cried. She felt the need to talk to someone, to ask themWhy? Why was it written that way? Why didn’t she go back to him? Why?

            But whom should she call. She didn’t want to call him, her boyfriend. She didn’t actually like him that much but he had chased her and chased her and finally she relented, hoping to get him off her back soon. He was moving away next spring she knew so if she could just weather this winter she wouldn’t have to break up with him herself. He would break up with her first she knew, he wouldn’t want to have one of those long distance things. He thought she would suffer without him, he thought she loved him. She honestly couldn’t care less though, he was something to preoccupy herself with. To forget her last boyfriend who broke her heart and take her mind off school. He was big and had large arms that he loved to hold her with. She hated when he held her.

            But he was literary, she reminded herself; he read just as she did, devouring any book she could get her hands on.  The one she just finished was a reread; she had read it many times before, though the last had been near five years ago. Oh! How she needed someone to talk to! Her cell phone lay next to her. She studied it scrupulously, if she called him now he might think she was warming up to him, he might try harder to get her to love him. On the other hand she was dying to tell someone, and her other friends had surely never read the book. He almost certainly had. She regarded her phone again, she cautiously picked it up. She dialed his number.

            “Hello?” his voice was tired and slow; she had woken him up.

            “Have you read Tuck Everlasting?” Her voice only cracked once.

            “What, my dear?”

            “Have you read Tuck Everlasting?” she repeated, a bit impatiently.

            “Well, yes, though it was quite a few years ago. Why?” he sounded more than a bit confused. 

            She sniffed softly then let everything that was pent up burst from her, “Why does Winnie leave Jesse? He loved her! All he did was love her! He loved her to death when he was only seventeen and she eleven! And she squandered his water and then grew up without him! Why?” Her voice had rose in volume and pitch and all of the sudden she was crying, sobbing pitifully, huddled under blankets in her cold bedroom talking to her boyfriend she didn’t even like.

            “Are you crying? Why are you crying? Don’t cry! Dear, Dear, Winnie just didn’t understand, she was too young,” he said the words comfortingly. She imagined him in his house, on his bed, miles away wrapped up in that tartan blanket she had lain on with him a few times before. 

            “But what about when she got older, just like Jesse told her ‘When you’re seventeen, Winnie, you can drink it, and then come find us’ why didn’t she do it? She was old enough to understand then,” her words were choked with tears and her nose was running; she wiped it away with the back of her hand.

            “Her feelings just weren’t there anymore, her love for Jesse was six years old by then. Perhaps it went from a wildfire of intensity to just embers sitting in her breast. She probably carried around that faint love for the rest of her life. But I don’t think she was sad, Dear, remember Mae and Tuck saw that she was a mother and a grandmother on her grave. She found someone who loved her that she loved too. Maybe she didn’t like them at first, thinking about Jesse all the time but she grew to love him. She grew straight into his arms. She died happy I’m sure.”

            “Oh, Winnie did, I’m sure! I don’t care about her! She was selfish and unfeeling towards poor Jesse! Oh, poor Jesse!” She cried out, “he doesn’t get a respite with death, no, he has to carry around his despair for eternity! He’s Everlasting! He doesn’t get to forget it all when his body gives out. No! Poor Jesse gets to carry around the knowledge that Winnie left him up until today! Past today! His heart must be broken beyond repair, she left him.”

            “No, No, Dear she didn’t exactly leave him, she just never re-met him. She chose to be human and to have a life, Dear. It’s a question of human or not human, life or nonlife,” he said comfortingly.

            “Nonlife? Jesse was alive! He talked and walked and breathed andloved! He was alive. And how can you say he wasn’t human? He was just as human as Winnie! No, more human than Winnie ever got to be! Jesse was so sweet, so kind to Winnie, he loved her when he had only known her one night. He wanted to spend the infinity with her and she led him on, she left him hoping for near eighty years! Eighty years he hoped and prayed she had drank that water the second she turned seventeen. Eighty years he hoped and prayed she was just out there searching for him just as hard as he was searching for her. No if anyone in that story is inhuman and un-alive it is Winnie Foster,” She felt a smidge of outrage mingle with her anguish.

            “No, Jesse was not alive because to be alive you must die eventually and Jesse will never die. And because of that he, and all of his family too, if I am to be fair, was not human either. All humans die, Dear.”

            She was quiet, thinking this through. She still thought Jesse was human. How could someone so filled to the brim with life, love, and happiness be non-human? It couldn’t be true; her Jessehad to be human. He was just as alive as her sort of boyfriend she talked to now. Actually he kind of reminded her of her boyfriend, so eager and happy constantly. Like the world was a good place to live in.

            “Dear?” 

            “Yes,” she answered him.

            “You know I love you, right? No matter how you feel for me, I will always love you,” his voice was strong, like he was trying to push the message through all of the layers of her defenses and straight into her heart. 

            “Yes, I know. You’ve told me before,” She was suddenly exhausted. The entire day seemed to pile up behind her and she was suddenly tired. She yawned, “I think I am going to go back to bed.”

            “Ok, Dear, just remember, I love you Everlasting.”

            “Yes, goodnight.”

            “Goodnight,” He hung up and she set the phone down and settled back into her mountain of pillows and blankets.

            Maybe he wasn't so bad after all. 

Sveni

All of the sudden two figures appeared from the gloom. Through the mist they slowly came into shape, one large, one small. The larger of the two was a man, maybe early 30’s or late 20’s. He was wearing a floppy green fishing hat and an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt over a dirty wife beater and khaki shorts. His face was marred by a long pink scar running from his ear, across the corner of his lips, to his chin.  A pair of sandals made him look as if he had just stepped off of some California pier. 

            The other figure was far more menacing. Dirty jeans and laced up boots with a too small hooded sweatshirt and a cotton shirt peeking out the bottom. Bug eyes glared at her from the flat goggles of an ancient gas mask that covered his face. Sveni could tell it was a boy but she could deduce nothing else. The gas mask obscured age, race, or even hostility level. She would have to depend on the larger one. The mask wasn't the most terrifying part about the figure though, that title belonged to the wicked machete in his hands. It was two feet long and glinted terribly in the dawn. Sveni felt fear jag through her body like lightning; her breath left her body. But then all was better and she turned warily to the large man again.

The guy was a mountain of a man, probably six foot four or more. He was muscled all over and hairy as well, though his face was clean shaven which was unusual for the jungles they wandered through.  He had a terrible expression on his face, outrage, fear, confusion. But as he got closer then stopped to stare, it dropped off and he smiled at her, lips stretching wide, the scar disfiguring it grotesquely.

     “Well hello there!” he called in a Southern drawl, “We didn’t expect to see a fragile flower such as yourself out here in the wilds. Mind if I ask your name? Mine’s George. This here is Leon,” The dark boy jerked his head once in her direction. 

     “My name is Sveni,” she said warily, still keeping about 15 feet back from them. 

 George swept off his hat in an elaborate bow that was totally out of place in the jungle they were wandering through, “Nice to meet you Sveni! May I also be so rude as to inquire your purpose of being out here? It’s quite, quite dangerous you know.”

 “Yes, I know,” Sveni muttered, “I’m looking for my sisters. They lived out here a few years back to escape the sickness and I don’t know if they’re still here. I thought the time was ripe for an escape from civilization.”

 “Indeed, indeed,” George said, “The time is always ripe for a little disappearing act. That’s exactly what my companion and I have done. Off the grid, as they say!”

 Sveni looked at George’s companion, he hadn’t moved a single time since they had walked into the clearing. Sveni could almost believe he was a statue, or one of the dead. He had his hands clenched at his sides, the hand holding the machete stuck out a bit, but other than that he was perfectly symmetrical. The hood of his sweatshirt cast long shadows on his covered face and the mask gave him an insect like look. Sveni shivered involuntarily.

 “Where are you headed?” She called.

 “Good question! I’m heading out of the south, my dear, Georgia’s swampland is too much for this traveler. Head West, my children! To Washington, or California, or Mexico at least! One of those states,” George smiled widely, the scar wrinkling up awfully. 

 “And your friend? Leo, you said he was called,” Sveni inquired.

 “Leon, my dear. And he’s coming with me! Knows the path right well this one does, compass up in his inner workings, I’d say. But nothing so useful when navigating a hellhole the likes of this!”

 “Uh-huh,” Sveni muttered, she cleared her throat, “Have you met any travelers recently?”

 “Honey, other than Leon here, You’re the first breathing creature I’ve seen in weeks!” Sveni let out a sigh of relief, they probably weren’t contaminated then, “‘Cept for the gators of course. And the squirrels. We fixed up ourselves a mighty fine meal quite a few nights thanks to our fluffy tailed friends. Ever tried one yourself?” Sveni thought it odd to be asking about dietary habits at a time and place like this but granted George was a bit loopy and obviously Leon wasn’t providing much conversation for him.

 “Yes. They’re easy to catch and cook if you know how.”

 “Right you are! So how long have you, my sweet, been looking for those sisters of yours? I’m guessing a while if you’ve made it out this far.”

 “Yes, I’ve been trekking for about two months now. You’re the first people I’ve seen,” of the living, she thought but didn’t say it. Towns full of dead are not a part of cordial conversation. Rotten, festering bodies, swollen and infested with maggots. Men’s bodies. Women’s bodies. Children’s bodies. 

 Near the beginning, before she had learned the hard way, she had come across a little girl, freshly dead within the last week, clutching a ragdoll in chubby, bloated fingers. She had wanted to bury the child, give her a sleeping place below ground, rather in the middle of the street where she’d fallen, but knew better than to touch any of the dead. That was suicide. So Sveni had walked on but she could feel the vacant eye sockets of the hundreds lying about following her every move as she plundered what they would no longer need. Especially the child’s. Sometimes she still felt those two empty holes boring into her back. Innocent and evil. 

 “The first! Here that Leon? We’re the first she’s seen! We should get an award or something,” George nudged Leon in the shoulder and he simply nodded in her direction. George turned back to Sveni, “Mind if we come closer? It’s kind of rude yelling these words across a forest, if you see what I mean.”

 “Yes, that’s fine,” Sveni called and began to approach the two travelers. 

“Well, Sveni,” Georg said when they were closer, “Might you be interested in joining our little party? Granted Leon’s not much of a hostess but I’m sure we can get along fine if you can stomach my chatter. Never was one to stand for a silence.”

 “Er, I guess so,” Sveni looked at Leon, “Though I should warn you, I’m not so great company either.”

 The rest of the day went by fairly slowly, George talked incessantly but Sveni couldn't recall a single thing he said. It slurred into the lilting song of a southern accent, something Sveni had never gotten used to. She made noises of agreement where due and added those of disgust when they were fit. George seemed unconcerned by her silence and never demanded an answer from her. She supposed that came from spending time with Leon. The silent figure of the gas masked boy led the way, using his machete to slash away vines and the dense foliage. Sveni shivered, thinking of what that machete might do to human flesh. Midway through the day they stopped and sat down. George announced it was high time for a lunch. He rummaged around in his pack and brought out a giant bag full of leaves, nuts and berries. The berries had bled red juice which coated all the nuts, giving them a gruesome appearance. George sighed.

 “Ah, you were right Leon. Raspberries don't transfer so well in a backpack,” he reached in and pulled a fleshy leaf out. He popped it into his mouth and chewed, “Oh well, improves the taste I say.” He offered the bag to Sveni but she turned him down, instead she reached into her own pack and pulled out the last of the jerky she had found in an abandoned market. She watched Leon intently, knowing he would have to take off the mask to eat. He still hadn’t lowered his hood and she didn’t know how he could stand the heat out here. She wore only her shorts and the light pink blouse she had left home with two months ago and she was still sweltering in the heat. She chewed on her jerky and ignored the dampness under her arms and the trickling of sweat between her breasts. She only wanted to see Leon’s face. But he did not remove the mask. He shook his head at the bag George offered and instead used his machete to whittle a stick into a point.

 After the break for food they set out again. Just as they had before, George kept up a steady stream of conversation and Leon slashed violently at the foliage impeding them. Sveni started to notice that with company the jungle wasn’t nearly as foreboding, maybe though it was because all her wariness was used on wondering whether George or Leon were planning on killing her. Sveni doubted it as they probably would have done it already, but she couldn’t be too careful. One could never be too careful. Especially after Sveni knew all the things she did about the depths of human darkness. Her mind wandered after that. To gunshots and slumped bodies and sickness. Empty eyes and screamed words, drowning. But George brought her back with a question.

 “So what’s your story, my darling? You said you were out here looking for sisters? I want to know everything.”

 Sveni faltered, but then began, “My full name is Svenja Ulriksson. I lived in Sweden until I was nine years old, then my mother and I joined my father and sisters in America. The sickness hit two years after I got here. My best friend contracted it. I remember her wasting away. It was still in the beginning so people didn’t quite understand. Her parents thought they could cure her. Needless to say they couldn’t. She was gone within a week. I haven’t had a friend since. 

 “My sisters left a year after the sickness started, after my older sister lost her husband. Not to the sickness though, no. He met a completely different end. The bastard deserved it,” Sveni shook herself, “They only said they were moving down south. To the jungles of Georgia. Away from civilization. The younger said they would build themselves a house in the middle of the wilds and remain there until the sickness was gone. Marella always was a coward. She could never face her fears. But then again I’m not so good at it myself. 

 “I lived with my parents for the next six years. My mother taught me all the things I needed to know, the schools in New York had closed down when the sickness first broke out. They reopened briefly every now and again but honestly I didn’t care much for them. I generally don’t get along well with others. That’s what they always wrote on my reports in grammar school. 

 “But anyways, two months ago, I decided to look for my sisters. We hadn’t heard from them since the day they left. I don’t even know if they’re still alive or made it to Georgia. But I figured if I searched long enough I’d find them eventually. I packed my bags with all the food I could get my hands on and just left. I walked out of the house. I hitchhiked as far south as I could and then started wandering. I’ve been wandering ever since.”

 “Your mama just let you walk right out of the house? Won’t she miss you? And your daddy too? I’d never let so precious a girl out of my sight if I were your daddy,” George shook his head.

 Sveni let out a dry laugh, “My mama and daddy didn’t have much of a choice whether or not I left. We’ll just say they couldn’t care less either way. ”

 “Oh, that can’t be true. I’m sure your mama and daddy miss you greatly, my dear. They have a certain kind of luck to be blessed with a woman like you as their daughter,” George patted her shoulder. 

 Sveni just snorted, “Truer words have never been spoken.” George gave her a strange look but she simply nodded at him and looked ahead again. Leon was still forging the way, ten feet in front of them, giving no indication that he heard or cared at all about their conversation. 

     They continued through the jungle the rest of the day until they finally came to a small clearing where George announced they could stay the night. Leon left them to make a fire and came back a half hour later with a squirrel speared on the stick he had sharpened earlier. Sveni offered to skin it and once she had they roasted it over the fire until the fat dripped off and the air smelled lovely. As she turned the rodent over the fire she could feel Leon’s eyes boring into her. Through the mask she could just feel him dissecting her and laying her out to inspect. But whenever she looked up at him he looked instantly away and would begin to intently clean his machete. Sveni knew that he would finally have to take the mask off and she felt an odd tinge of nervousness. This man was one she had met only that day but for some odd reason she longed and feared to see his face. How would he look? Did he have blond hair or brunette? Perhaps red? Maybe he had scars like George. Grisly ones that made it hard to look into his face. How old was he? he must be fully grown since he was about six feet tall but was he George’s age or younger, perhaps older? He moved like someone in their prime but one could never know. People were always full of surprises. Sveni knew that. 

 At last the squirrel was done and she used her own knife to remove it from the stick and cut it into three equal pieces. The other two had disappeared, George saying something about answering the call of nature and Leon simply slipping away. She called out to them and both reappeared from the dark forest. It took Sveni a second to realize that the man standing next to George was actually Leon. Gone was the gas mask and the scrappy sweatshirt. He wore a dark grey t-shirt and had a bare face. Leon had delicate, feminine angles and heavy eyebrows. He had dark curly hair that was stuck to his forehead with sweat. His body was wiry and tattoos covered one of his arms. He had taken off his boots as well and approached her barefooted. He looked to be around eighteen perhaps. A little younger than her. She wanted to just reach out and touch his face, trace the lines of his cheeks and jaw. Sveni had always been captivated by beautiful things, they were few and far between, she found, but provided her immense comfort.  

 “Mmm, darling, that squirrel smells like quite the feast!” George settled himself on the ground and pulled over a piece of meat. Leon did the same, silent as ever. Sveni nodded to them and began on her piece of squirrel. The meat was hot and delicious, and she savored every bite. For once George was quiet, worrying his own meat with his teeth. Leon was staring at her. Now that he was close, Sveni could see his eyes were framed by long lashes. The fire made long shadows of his face and it seemed to stretch and morph in front of her eyes. Sveni could see the fat from the squirrel dripping off his lips and she suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable. Leon looked back down at his meal, never even acknowledging her. They finished the meal in complete silence. When they all had finished, Sveni wiped her hands on her shorts and stood up. She rummaged through her pack and brought out her water bottle and hair brush. She took a few sips of water, swishing it around her mouth in an effort to clean it a little then set down to brush her hair. Before she had left the city she had chopped off all of her hair. The long curls to her waist were gone, replaced with a cut short enough to be mistaken for a boy’s. The two months in between had seen her hair grow out past her ears and it lay fluffy about her head like a blond halo. The boys watched her intently, obviously unaccustomed to womanly upkeep. George lay back on his elbow languidly, using a small bone to pick his teeth. Leon simply stared at her, a strange expression on his face. 

When she finished detangling her mess of hair she went back to the fire with the others. George finished picking his teeth and flicked the bone away, spinning it through the darkness. He broke the silence.

 “Well, I don’t know about you two but I am dead dog tired. I’m hitting the sack if you don’t mind,” He cleared an area of the earth next to him then fetched his pack. As he laid down he winked once at Sveni and said, “Now you two don’t stay up all night talking.”

 Sveni smiled at him and Leon nodded once, not looking up from where he had begun to whittle another stick. Sveni sat a few minutes mind wandering, she wondered if it was safe to fall asleep with these two but eventually her sleepiness won over caution and she too cleared a small space and laid down with her head on her backpack.The last thing she remembered before she fell asleep was Leon looking up from his machete to stare at her across the fire.

     Sveni’s dreams that night were terrifying. Images flashed across her head and there was terrible screaming in the background. She suddenly found herself in the past. She was standing in front of a door she knew well. She knocked on the door and it swung open revealing a wispy woman who hastily dried tears when she saw Sveni. Oh, Svenja, Maya can’t come out to play today. She’s… the woman choked on tears, she’s very sick. Sveni nodded. She asked if she could see Maya. I don’t know…I don’t think you should. Sveni pleaded with the woman and she finally relented, leading Sveni into the apartment and to the small bedroom Sveni knew so well. Inside, the room was dark and hot. It smelled sickly sweet and Sveni saw incense burning by the bed. But it couldn’t cover up the smell of death. Sveni approached the bed cautiously, there was a small mound of blankets that shifted uncomfortably when Sveni approached. When she reached the side of the bed the skeletal face of her best friend stared at her. Maya’s skin was taut over her nose and cheekbones and she had purple rings under her eyes. Red spots dotted her throat.  Her black hair lay matted and sweat beaded at her forehead. Sveni whispered her friends name and passed a hand in front of her eyes. Maya obviously did not see Sveni, her eyes stared off into the distance with a look of pure terror. Sveni took a step back. Min vän, min sjuka vän, she whispered in Swedish. Vad är det med dig? Är du dö? Varför är du så rädd? The English words simply wouldn’t come. Suddenly Maya gave a ghastly, rattling breath and Sveni couldn’t take it. She turned and sprinted from the room, through the living room where Maya’s mother sat on the couch crying and to the front door. She wrenched it open with all her might and burst into the hallway. 

 She ran farther and farther but the hallway never seemed to end. All she could see was the deathly face of her best friend and hear the gasping breath whistling down her throat. Sveni ran faster and faster, the doors flashed by her but none were the one she was searching for. Door 8b. Door 8b. She chanted it to herself as she ran but none of the numbers that flashed by were that. She could hear Maya’s gasping breath get louder and louder until it was roaring in her ears and she screamed and covered them with her hands, trying to drown out the sound of her best friend’s sickness. She dropped to ground, eyes squeezed shut, still screaming, hands pressed so tight to her skull it hurt. 

 Hands shook her and Sveni opened her eyes. She was laying by the embers of the campfire, hands pressed to her ears and mouth open screaming. George had his hands on her shoulders and was shaking her violently.

 “Sveni! Svenja! Wake up!” He shouted. Leon’s face hovered behind his, looking extremely anxious. Sveni removed her hands from her ears and sat up. She drew a deep breath and tried to calm herself. She was shaking terribly. George sat back on his haunches and shook his head at her. Leon stood directly behind him. 

 “Good God, Sveni, you scared me half to death. I thought a bear attacked the camp. Did you just have a nightmare?”

 Sveni drew a shaky breath and muttered, “Yes.”

 “Mighty terrifying nightmare I’d say then. Times like these’ll do that to a person. Want to tell me what it was about?” Sveni shook her head. She just wanted to forget it. She’d been trying for eight years to forget that day, she wasn’t about to start reminiscing now. Sveni felt embarrassment flood her body. Women her age didn’t wake up screaming from nightmares like a child. They especially didn’t start crying after them either but Sveni felt tears prickling her eyes. She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her palm and smiled at George.

 “Sorry to scare you two. I’m all right now. Go back to bed,” she said with as much cheer as she could muster. George nodded and lumbered back to his sleeping spot and immediate laid down. Leon took a quick step forward, laid a gentle hand on her shoulder then retreated, laying down with his head on his pack and his back to her. Sveni sat there a moment, the ghost of Leon’s touch still tingling in her shoulder, then she too laid down and fell into dreamless sleep.

 The next morning George was his usual chatty self as they ate a small breakfast of left over squirrel. When they set out Sveni tried her best to forget the dream from the night before but the rattling breath being drawn into dying lungs  was ringing in her ears. In an effort to drown it out she struck up conversation with George. He told her of how he used to live in a beautiful apartment in the poor part of Atlanta. 

 “Never was a prettier place, quite small but my Louise kept it sparkling clean. Never a speck of dirt or thing out of place,” George smiled, looking up at the sky through the overhanging branches, “Oh, how I miss that place some days. We had a yellow kitchen.”

 “Louise was your wife?” Sveni asked cautiously. It was never prudent to ask after people these days, but Sveni could never control her curiosity. 

 “That she was. And the most beautiful girl in the world to boot. Until the sickness wasted her away. Even on her last day I thought her beautiful without compare.”

 “They didn’t take her away when she got sick?” Sveni asked. Usually as soon as a person got sick they were taken away and left in one of the quarantine areas. In rural areas people had been known to leave the sick out to die of exposure. It was too big a chance to be infected yourself.

 “Oh, dearie, they tried. They tried to take my Louise away from me but I didn't go. When you love someone you never leave them. You hear me girl? You remember that, don’t you ever leave someone you love. No matter what they tell you. In the beginning, when she was still aware, my Louise begged me to leave. Said she’d hate herself if I got sick because of her. But I stayed with her. And when they came to take her away I barricaded the door and sent a shotgun blast through it as warning. Course that didn’t stop them. But by the time they’d gotten enough reinforcements down my Louise was already gone. I stayed with her to the very end, so when they finally came I opened the door, let them in and led them to her body. They wrapped her up and took her out. I watched her leave for the last time the apartment she so loved. I stayed one more night in there. It was so unbearable the next day I gathered all my things, said goodbye to the neighbors and left. After a bit I met Leon here and we decided west was the way to go. And here we are today. Our little group expanded by one more.”

 Sveni smiled sadly at him, “George,”she said, “I’m so sorry about your loss. But I’m grateful to be traveling with you and Leon.” Sveni had decided she trusted these two unlikely friends and had started to rather liked George with his unusual way of talking and never ending cheer. Someone like that was good for her. She needed some cheer. 

 “Never would have guessed we’d find you out here, not a likely place for someone so beautiful as you, dearie. But I figure you’re not poor company. At least I have someone to talk to. As you can tell Leon’s not a big talker,” George smiled wryly and Leon looked back at them. He had the horrid mask on again so Sveni couldn't tell his expression. She wanted to ask why he wore that mask. Why he never talked. Why he was so cut off from them but she knew it would be rude. Maybe another time, when Leon wasn't around.

 “Well I’m glad I can help in some way,” Sveni smiled at Leon then turned to George, “And I apologize I’m not always the greatest conversationalist.”

 “No, no, sweet!” George laughed, “You’re perfect the way you are! It’s a blessing to have you here. I could talk the ear off a rock, my Louise always said. You can tune me out as much as you like. And having you around will be good for Leon too. He needs someone like you around. Hell, we both do!” George laughed loudly and Leon suddenly turned around. Sveni and George stopped in their tracks. Leon had his machete up, pointing directly at George’s heart; Sveni noticed his hand was shaking.

 “Sorry, bud. I shouldn’t have said that,” George said apologetically. He gently put his hand on top of the machete and pushed it away, “It was insensitive. You know my big mouth, can never keep it shut,” George shook his head. Leon nodded and lowered the machete fully. He nodded again and turned around. He resumed hacking away at the jungle and George and Sveni followed. All was quiet for a long time after that. They ate lunch in silence. All three sharing nuts they’d gathered on the way. The gas mask lay on the ground next to Leon, not fully forgotten. Every now and then, Leon would glance over to check it was still there or reach over to touch it as if deriving some comfort from the feel of the slick rubber. He did similar with his machete which lay across his lap. Sveni could tell these two objects held serious meaning to him and she was curious as to what it was, but she was too afraid of the answers to ask. Such odd things to be attached to. Anyways, Sveni wasn’t sure he would even answer, he had yet to make a sound, let alone hold a conversation.

They passed through the remains of a small town the next day; the signs there welcomed them to Fargo, Georgia. It was a tiny little town, but it seemed no one had passed through in a while because there was almost no graffiti or vandalism. They walked down the main street and looked at the dilapidated buildings lining the street. They found a mom and pop grocery store and George broke one of the windows, letting them in. They feasted on bags of chips and canned beans, eating as much as they could stuff in their bodies. Sveni had learned by now that it was best to eat as much as possible when one had the chance. She spent a lot of her time eating squirrels and lizards, so when something prepared in a factory came along, especially in large quantities, she jumped on it. It felt so good to eat her fill. She ate can after can of food, beans and peaches and peas. They tasted so good. 

“Ah yes, my favorite days are when we find a fully stocked store!” George said, licking fluorescent orange cheese powder off his fingers, “Nothin’ like bein full for once!”

Sveni nodded, George and Leon were seated on the counter of the register and she was on the floor. Cans and chip bags littered the floor around them. Leon had taken off his mask and was spooning mandarin oranges into his mouth with his fingers. Sveni still didn’t quite understand him and honestly, he scared her a little. He wasn’t predictable, and behind that gas mask, he was entirely cut off. It was like he was distancing himself from the world. She also wondered if he was always this silent, but there was no way to ask George because the three were always together. No wonder George was so desperate for a little company though, the two of them made an odd pair before Sveni’s arrival.

“If ya’ll’re ready we can pack up our packs and start moving again,” George said. He slid off the counter and began walking up and down the aisles of the store, gathering food in his arms, “Make sure it’s light weight though, you don’t wanna be carrying tin cans around on your back!”

Sveni stood up and wiped her hands on her shorts. She followed George in between the aisles, picking up more jerky and candy bars. Leon remained on the counter, finishing up his oranges. When they had collected everything they wanted they left the store, ambling up the street. George had a pack of sunflower seeds and was chewing them slowly, spitting the shells out on the street. 

He offered one to Sveni and she made a face, “Ugh! No, thank you, I hate those”

George laughed loudly, “And here I thought you were just like her!” Suddenly, a million things happened all at once, Sveni began asking who George was talking about  just as Leon whirled around, machete raising from his side, George’s face took on a look of horror, and time seemed to stop. 

“SHUT UP! SHUT UP!” Muffled shouting, from Leon. He took steps toward George and Sveni and they stumbled backwards. Leon’s other hand came up and ripped off his gas mask, “SHUT THE FUCK UP!” His face was contorted in rage. Sveni had never seen anything more terrifying and grotesque in her life. Tears streamed from his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, Leon! I’m sorry!” George dropped the bag of sunflower seeds and they scattered on the cracked pavement “Leon! Calm down! Calm down! I’m sorry!”

Leon turned the machete to her, pointing it at her with an unsteady hand, “Who are you? Who the fuck are you?! Why are you doing this?” He screamed. Sveni shook uncontrollably, she’d never been so scared.

“I’m Sveni Ulriksson! Please, I never did anything to you! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please!” Her voice shook just as hard as her hands in the air, “L-Leon? Please, I’m Sveni Ulriksson, from Sweden.”

“Leon! She’s not her, leave the poor girl alone!” George said, “I see it too, but it’s not. It’s not her. She’s gone.”

Leon swiped through the air with his machete, then took off, rounding the corner and disappearing behind a building. Sveni dropped her hands and collapsed on the ground. Sitting down hard with relief. What the hell had that been? What the hell were George and Leon talking about. She needed to get away from these two immediately, obviously Leon was psycho, not right in the head at all. 

“Sveni, Sveni,” George said, dropping down next to her, “I‘m so sorry, I’m so sorry! I never should have said that. My mouth gets carried away from reality sometimes and I forget who I’m talking to and when. I’m so sorry, my flower.”

Sveni tried to control her breathing, in out, in out, “Vad i helvete?” She said in Swedish, “Vad jävla helvete”

“Sveni?” George asked.

“Fan, fan, fan,” She couldn’t stop shaking, “Vad i helvete. What the hell? What the hell, George?”

“I’m so sorry, Sveni,” He patted her shoulder, “I guess..” he faltered, “Sveni, i gotta tell you somethin’, my doe,” George took a deep breath, steadied himself, “I don’t even know how to say this.”

“What?” Sveni asked, “Tell me. Who were you talking about? Why did Leon do that? He’s insane, he’s freaking crazy, he’s crazy.”

“Leon’s got his reasons,” George said finally, “Before you joined us, Darlin’, Leon had a girl.”

Sveni looked up at George in disbelief, she couldn’t imagine silent, explosive Leon having a girlfriend. George continued, “He spent every minute doting on that girl, not that she deserved it. Violet was a mean, mean girl. Never met nobody crueler in all my days. But you see, Sveni, my doe, oh God, how do I put this? Sveni, you look just like her.” He blurted out the last sentence and lighting crackled through Sveni’s body.

“Oh God, the first time I saw you, my flower, I thought Violet Marsden returned from the dead. I thought for sure you were her, back to torment me more,” George stood up and dusted off his capris, “It must have been a nightmare for Leon, more than either of us can imagine. To lose her then you came… Ah, the poor boy. But it ain’t nothin’ you got control over. Please don’t let this change the way you think of Leon. He’s a good boy, he’s just hurtin’. He’s hurtin’ real bad. Please stay with us. I been really enjoying someone to talk to, I get to tell all my stories over again. I been real happy since you arrived, and Leon too, I can tell. He’s just struggling. Please don’t leave us.”

Sveni dropped her head to her hands, and shook it back and forth, “Vad i helvet? Vad jävla helvete?” She looked up, “Why was he so obsessed? How did she die?”

“It’s no good to be talkin’ out the dead no more, honeybee, let them lie. Let the dead lie,” George said with a sort of finality, “Keep stayin with us, Sveni, I like havin’ you around.”

Thoughts raced through Sveni’s head. Leon was insane, that much was true. Who was this dead girl, Violet? George seemed to dislike her, but Sveni couldn’t imagine what sort of person it took to make George hate them. A horrible person, a horrible, awful person, Sveni figured. What should she do? Leave? She couldn’t imagine striking out on her own again. Life was so much easier in a group, and the crushing loneliness she’d experienced on the trek down from New York was almost gone. She hadn’t realized it over the past five days, but she had gotten used to being around other people, something she’d never managed before. But after something like this, was it worth holding on to. 

Sveni knew she couldn’t sit here forever, so she stood up, letting out a huff of air she didn’t know she’d been holding. George was watching her with intense interest, as if he could will her to stay with the group. Sveni knew he enjoyed having someone else to talk to, and frankly she enjoyed talking to him. So she shook her head one last time and stood up. 

“Come on, Sveni,” George said, “Let’s go to California, let’s see the ocean.”

Sveni nodded and followed him down the road and out of Fargo. 

That night they stopped in a house. They’d been following a dirt road for miles through fields of wilted crops. They saw it from a ways off and Leon suggested they stay there for the night. By the time they’d reached it, the sun was well on it’s way down, and crickets were beginning to chirp. It was tiny little white, wooden building, there was a water pump out front that George tried and clear water gushed from. The window panes were dirty and one of the shutters was busted off it’s hinges. It needed a good coat of paint.

 While Sveni and Leon hid around a corner, George went up and knocked on the red door, calling out that they weren’t there to harm nobody. When no one answered, he tried the knob. Finding it unlocked, he opened it and called out to the other two that it was safe. It felt weird walking across the threshold, Sveni hadn’t had a proper roof above her in months. 

    The house was small but neat, with a massive refrigerator in the kitchen and blankets lain across the couch. Sveni started walking to the fridge but Leon stopped her.

“There’s nothing in there we can eat, it probably hasn’t run in years. Try the pantry instead,” And he walked to a door and pulled it open. There was a well stocked walk-in pantry behind it, with rows of boxes and cans. 

“Jackpot!” George cried and began pulling out cans and boxes of rice and pasta, “Just what we needed! Leon do you think you could make fire in that fireplace?”

As Leon went into the other room, Sveni found a box of pasta and put it aside along with some corn for dinner. The screen door banged open as George came back in from filling the pot with water. They placed it on the fire Leon had going and set about fluffing blankets and getting ready to spend the night. Something Sveni had noticed was that her sleeping schedule had changed dramatically in the recent months. In New York she had stayed up to all hours of the night reading her books, but here, as soon as dinner was over they went right to sleep. Most likely because they woke up so early. And of course the walking, Sveni was in the best shape of her life. 

Soon dinner was ready and Sveni sat down on the sofa with a plate and began her first dinner under a roof in a very long time. They had made pasta with corn and topped it with tomato sauce, something Sveni hadn’t had in a long while. The plates had little roosters marching around the edge, with broad leaves intertwined with them. George settled down on the couch next to her and Leon sat in a large plush chair. For once everyone was silent as they all began eating the food. The pasta was hot and tasted delicious.

When they’d all finished, George collected their plates and put them in the sink in the kitchen. It was funny how some habits never died, there was no running water here. Sveni highly doubted she, George, or Leon were going to wash those dishes. They were only staying here one night and there was no family coming home to this. The people who lived here were long gone, though Sveni didn’t want to think of where. 

George took one of the blankets and sat on the floor. Leon sat in the great chair and used a cloth to clean his knife. He had taken off his sweatshirt and sat shirtless and for the first time Sveni could properly inspect his tattoo. A massive purple and white flower sprouted over his heart. Smaller ones surrounded it and danced over his shoulder and down his arm to his elbow. Interwoven in the royal bouquet were leaves and glistening drops of dew. Rubies and sapphires glittered in between petals and leaves. It was a work of art and absolutely beautiful. 

Leon noticed her looking and she turned quickly away. He looked down at his tattoo then back at her, a funny look on his face. Sveni laid her head down once more on the armrest and shut her eyes. George began singing softly to himself, his deep voice was raspy and beautiful. Sveni dropped off to that and the sound of the cloth moving back and forth across the shining machete.

    When Sveni opened her eyes the next morning, light was only just beginning to stream through the wide windows. She sat up and looked around, George was laying on the floor, the blanket doing a poor job of covering his massive body. Leon was slumped sideways in the chair, he’d leaned it back and popped out a footrest. Sveni wandered back into the kitchen and saw that the other two had sorted through the pantry, laying aside usable goods and those that were rotten. Sveni grabbed their packs from the floor where they’d left them and began loading in the food. They’d eaten all the pasta the night before so she left out a bag of chocolate and almonds for breakfast. By the time she’d finished, she heard the other two stirring in the next room. 

    “Good morning, my pet!” George said cheerfully as he stretched and cracked his neck, “I’m too old to be sleeping on floors! One of these days I won’t be able to get up again!” 

    “Next time take the sofa!” Sveni said, “I can sleep on the floor, it’s no matter!”

    “That’s mighty sweet of you, my child, I might take you up on that,” George smiled and heaved himself off the floor, groaning. He joined her in the kitchen and looked around.

    “Looks like you’ve been busy all this morning, we’re a lucky pair, Leon and I, to have you watching over us.”

    Sveni smiled and opened the bag of breakfast, she offered some to George who took a big handful then started munching on them herself. Leon joined them, shirt and sweatshirt back in place.

    “Good morning,” He said and took a handful of almonds and chocolate then hoisted himself up onto the counter. They talked a bit about how beautiful the day was and how far they’d traveled. Leon supposed they had reached Alabama already. 

“We’ll probably hit Montgomery soon,” He said, “George, I think we should skirt it, like usual.”

“Why go around the city?” Sveni asked.

George answered her, “Cities are more trouble than they’re worth. I don’t know if there are still people or disease in Montgomery, and if there’s either life will get a lot harder.”

“Harder?”

“People don’t share their food and supplies near as readily as an empty house. They’re also filled with all sorts of unsavory characters. I can guarantee our safety out here and in the suburbs, but not at all in the cities,” George explained.

About twenty minutes later they left the house. They filled their bottles from the little pump, drinking as much as they could then filling them again. They walked out into the bright morning sun and worked their way up the drive and onto a dirt road. Leon pointed them west and they began walking.

That day was long and hot, but it seemed like most were. They trudged on for hours, crossing a small river by bridge and going through miles and miles of crops. Every acre they passed was trampled down and picked through. There was nothing to salvage from the corn or strawberries they passed. At least in Georgia they’d been able to pick peaches and peanuts. Here there was nothing. They stayed on a course that kept them well south of Montgomery, avoiding the dangers of other humans. About midday they stopped at another farmhouse, this one had formerly housed chickens. They stood in the shade of the massive coup and sipped on water they filled from a tap. 

Suddenly George gestured them all still, “Ya’ll see that?” He whispered. When Sveni and Leon shook their heads no, he pointed to the edge of the farmhouse a few hundred yards off, “It’s a chicken. A real live chicken!”

Sure enough, pecking around in the dirt was a chicken. Leon motioned the others to stay and crept forward. The chicken disappeared behind the side of the house and so did Leon. A few seconds later came a mighty squawking that abruptly cut off and Leon trotted back up to the group, the brown bird swinging in his hands.

“Excellent!” George called, “We’ll have a mighty fine midday meal, today!”

Leon began gathering branches and George sat down to pluck the bird. Sveni wandered off to find more twigs for Leon’s fire. She entered the small copse of woods to the left of the coup and was rooting around in the leaves when she heard a noise. Sveni squinted through the trees, up ahead something was moving, something was clucking. She crept up, stepping over fallen branches and came to a group of at least fifteen birds, all pecking through the dirt. 

“Fan ja,” Sveni whispered to herself. She snuck closer until she was only a few feet from the closest bird. She remained dead quiet, breathing silently and hoping the birds couldn’t hear her heartbeat. Whenever she’d caught squirrels in the past, it’d been with snares; she’d never just pounced on an animal like a barnyard cat. She picked out the best bird. It was only three feet from where she was kneeling behind a bush. The chicken was brown like the first one but massive, obviously well fed. Sveni hoped that meant it couldn’t run fast. She counted down from three in her head and when she reached one she burst through the foliage and wrapped her arms around the bird, tackling it. The other chickens fluttered about, making a ruckus as Sveni wrestled with her bird on the ground. Before she could get her hands around its neck, it scratched her arm, but she soon got a grip and twisted with all her might. Just like earlier, the noise ended abruptly.

The other chickens settled down a few dozen feet away and Sveni looked triumphantly at the dead bird in her lap. She stood up, dusted herself off, and looked at her forearm where the chicken had raked her with its claws. It was oozing blood but nothing serious. She picked up the bird by its feet, shook it a bit to get some of the dirt off and set off back to Leon and George. When she emerged from around the coup, she saw George finishing plucking the last few feathers from Leon’s chicken. Leon was tending to a medium sized fire he’d built, setting up the small pot on a bed of branches. George looked up at her when she approached and let out a big belly laugh.

“Look at you, princess, look at you! A little dirty but if that’s not the biggest chicken I’ve ever seen, I’ll eat my socks!” He laughed again and held out his hand, “Here, I’ll pluck it for you if you chop up the first one. You see that, Leon? She disappears for ten minutes and comes back with a baby ostrich! That’s my girl! That’s my Sveni!”

Sveni handed him the chicken and settled down. She pulled out her pocket knife and clicked it open. She rinsed it with a bit of water, scrubbing brown speckles off, then set about gutting the chicken, something she’d never done before. 

“We can eat our fill tonight! No measly little squirrels or, God forbid, lizards for us!! Chicken! It’ll almost be like being back in civilization! I can almost picture Atlanta before all this Sickness nonsense began. If only we had some seasoning,” George lamented. George’s tone changed suddenly, and he began plucking the monster bird, talking to her about the things he missed.

“I miss my little yellow kitchen, right now, my doe. I miss seeing my Louise in her ruffle-y apron standing at the counter, singin’ to herself as she looked out the window. There was so much love in that house. Every time I looked at my Louise, I was reminded how I was the luckiest man on earth, yes, ma’am. Her smile was my sun, my moon, my stars. I miss our little sitting room, with the sky blue walls and our moss green couch. I miss the gardening books we had on the coffee table because we both dreamed of a day we could move to the suburbs and have a little garden of our own. I miss that little yappy dog that lived next door that drove my Louise crazy! She used to sit on the sofa, brewin’ and stewin’, coming up with ways to get rid of it. Do you think they’d notice if it suddenly disappeared? she’d ask. I miss walking to the Olympic Park and sitting on the benches, just enjoying life. I miss the skating rink they set up in there every winter. All the girls and boys spinning in circles. I miss spinning in circles with my Louise. Neither of us knew how to skate but, goshdarnit, we tried. Then we’d get hot chocolate. I miss seein’ my Louise clutch that mug in her mittened hands. This’ll be the first winter we don’t go ice skating together. I’m going to miss that. Oh, yes I will. There’s so much I miss about before.”

Sveni kept wiping her eyes but eventually drops of salt water dripped down onto the chicken she was cutting. She turned away so neither of the other two would see but Leon’s eyes caught hers and she saw his cheeks glistening too. 

“My Louise and I were married just short a year when we first heard about the Sickness from the west,” George continued, “We were so young, we didn’t think something like that could hurt us one bit. We were in love. And love makes people forget that everything ain’t sunshine, kisses, and Sunday dinner with family. But we had some happy years, yes we did. Some right happy years. But everything's gotta come to some end.” George looked up at Sveni then Leon and said forcefully, “And don’t neither of you forget, the ones we love are always alive in our hearts.”

Leon stood up abruptly from where he sat boiling water in the pot and walked briskly away, snatching his machete on the way. As he rounded the corner of the chicken coup George turned to her.

“He’s probably off to hack away at some defenseless trees. Poor, lonely boy,” he then turned back to his plucking and was silent. Leaving Sveni to cut the chicken with damp cheeks.

    it was 

They decided to give themselves the day off, to rest in the neat farmhouse and gorge themselves on roast chicken. George was delighted to find jars of spices and jam inside and made them strawberry jam glazed chicken. Sveni figured it was pretty good for what they had. They lazed about in the warm sun and chatted. Leon was silent. He’d not reappeared for a good hour after storming off. By the time he’d returned, Sveni and George had polished off the first chicken and were starting in on the second. 

They found a pond in a field behind the house and kicked off their shoes, wading in. George tried to splash Leon to better his mood, but Leon just growled and stomped away. Sveni wondered why Leon was reacting so badly to George’s statement. Perhaps Leon had lost someone he loved. She thought back to the third day with George and Leon when Leon had threatened George with his machete. It was something about Leon’s old girlfriend. She wished she could remember. 

There was definitely something odd with Leon. He looked at her half the time like she was some satan sent curse, then the other half of the time there was interest, caring. She didn’t understand. And he rarely addressed her. He would talk to George all right, but rarely more than a word to her. And she’d never seen him smile. Sometimes she second guessed her decision to join these two, but what else could she have done? Wandered around Georgia for eternity? Try to find sisters she had no intention of staying with? No, this was her best option. And anyways, George’s incessant talking took her mind off her own problems. 

They decided to catch a few more to bring with them, but George warned that they wouldn’t keep for long so they should only catch two for that night. Sveni got a chance to practice her pounce again and this time caught a moderately sized hen. She killed it quick and didn’t get a scratch on her. George was still out catching chickens when Sveni went back into the farmhouse, chicken in tow. She laid it on the kitchen counter and proceeded through the house. There was a bookshelf with all sorts of novels in the den. She perused it for a few minutes then picked one out with a bright red cover. She sat down on the sofa and began reading. It was good while later when George finally rejoined her. It was already getting dark and Sveni was starting to have a hard time reading. 

Out the window something was flickering, Sveni looked out and saw Leon with a fire again. He must have gotten one of the chickens from George because he had one turning on the spit they’d made earlier. She couldn’t smell it but she was starting to get hungry again, despite eating so much earlier. There was only so much food they could scavenge from abandoned supermarkets and find in the wild. Especially since most of it had been gone through already. 

Dinner that night was quiet; they ate the two more chickens in silence then went to bed. Sveni slept on a pull out chair that night, giving the bedroom to George and the sofa to Leon. George had tried to insist but she insisted. Anyways, Sveni didn’t much want to sleep in the bed, it was a bit too eerie. Sleeping on these people’s sofa was odd enough. It was like she could almost still feel them there. 

 It felt oddly quiet in the house, despite Leon and George’s talking in the next room. 

Sveni was still getting to know the two men she traveled with. They had been traveling in a far different way than Sveni had before. Sveni had known only little about surviving alone outdoors. In Sweden, she’d lived in a village outside of the city in a big meadow at the end of a winding road. She knew how to weave daisy chains and start a campfire.  They relied far more on survival skills than Sveni ever had. Leon knew just about everything about surviving in the wild. He could start a fire in less than five minutes, something that took Sveni at least fifteen but often twenty. He’d made a fire now and Sveni was trying to cook dinner.

She had brought the flour and salt from the farmhouse in hopes she could make a bread of sorts. After the fire was made, she set off into the trees to find a suitable rock. After a deal of searching she found a flat rock the size of a dinner plate and lugged it back to where they had made camp. She rinsed off the dirt with a little of her water and set about making dough. She mixed the flour with water then, pinch by pinch, the salt. She kneaded it then spread it on the stone, placing it next to the fire. 

    Leon came out from between the trees holding a squirrel by the tail and inspected her work, then said, “How did you know how to do that?”

    “I survived on my own for quite a while before I met you two,” Sveni replied, “I know how to bake bread and catch food. I wouldn’t have made it this far if I didn’t”

    “I wasn’t saying that,” Leon corrected himself, “I was asking where you learned all of this, did someone teach you?”

    “Not really,” Sveni said, “My father used to take me and my sisters camping when I was very little. I learned a lot from that. Also trial and error in the past few weeks. But not too much error, that’s dangerous.”

    “Let me see what you have in your pack,” Leon demanded. 

    “I’m kind of busy!” Sveni said gesturing to the dough in front of her and the fact she was covered up to her wrist in it.

    “Please?”

Sveni sighed, leaving the dough on the rock and picking bits off her hands to clean them before handling her equipment. She rubbed her hands together one last time and stood up, grabbed her pack and sat back down to unpack it. Fire starter, tarp, rope, first aid kit, mirror, extra socks and a change of clothes, she even took her pocket knife out of her pocket and laid it on the ground in front of Leon. He nodded at all of it as she laid it out then when she was done, asked why she didn’t have a saw.

    “Saw?” Sveni asked, “What would I need saw for?”

“Seriously?” Leon asked, he reached into his pack and pulled out a long piece of plastic which he flipped open to reveal a serrated saw, “How did you make shelters? or feed yourself?" 

“What?” She asked, she’d managed to do that just fine without a fancy piece of equipment.

“How do you get wood for campfires? You need a saw to cut wood for campfires or shelters,” Leon said and demonstrated by sawing through a hunk of wood that they were sitting next to. 

“I did all of that just fine without, I just looked on the ground for wood and spread my tarp between branches with rope,” Sveni said, a little hurt that between the bread and the saw he didn’t think her capable of living on her own.

“Yeah, but it just makes it easier. You did a real good job of packing this stuff,” Leon said, gesturing to everything, “Though you probably didn’t need a signaling mirror out here… but still a really good job”

“Thanks,” Sveni said, it was the longest conversation she’d ever had with him and the nicest too. Usually he treated her with fascinated distance or simply ignored her, “How come you know so much about camping? Did you go a lot as a child?”

“Yeah,” Leon aquiessed, “I went camping with my brothers when I was little, so I learned all of this from them.”

    Sveni smiled at him and Leon gave her a half smile, an approximation of one, and sat down to begin skinning the squirrel he’d been holding. George reappeared some time later and brought with him some roots he found. He set about chopping them as Sveni finished kneading the bread and laid it on the rock to bake. 

    About a half hour later she collected water from the stream they’d been following, boiled it, then put in the roots and squirrel. By the time the bread was ready so was their stew. Sveni they all ate it directly from the pot, it was thin and mostly tasteless but still good. Sveni missed the taste of the chicken though, it had been such a reminder of the 

    “Sveni?” George said out of the blue, “I got a question for you. Now you don’t gotta answer this if you don’t feel like it. I just wanna know…” He trailed off and Sveni nodded to him, letting him know it was ok to continue. Up ahead, Leon slashed through thick foliage but Sveni could tell he was listening.

    “Now we both know in times like this people don’t just go wandering through the wilderness. It’s far too dangerous, there’s Sickness everywhere and the dead too. There’s a reason you left home, not just to find your sisters, I reckon either. Because you joined us easy enough and we ain’t wandering around Georgia where you said your sisters were. No, we gone far away. I ain’t asking you to tell me all your secrets. I’m just askin’ if, when you left home, you wanted to find these two sisters? Or if you actually got two sisters in Georgia?”

Sveni felt oddly breathless for a second then gathered herself, she figured George would ask her this sometime. Why she so willingly had abandoned her pretense of finding her sisters. And of course why she had never spoken of them again.

“Yes, I got two sisters, just like I told you previously. Ina and Marella. They really did go off to live in Georgia, just the two of them, about 8 years ago. I don’t know if they’re still there, if they survived this long,” seeing George’s look she revised, “Oh, I’m sure they did, they were both wicked intelligent. They flew through high school and university, plus they knew how to take care of themselves. Ina, the older, she was always taking care of everyone around her. Marella too. They left a few years into the sickness, didn’t I already tell you all this?” Sveni asked.

“Yeah, you did,” George said, “Then why aren’t you still tryin’ to find them? Rather than trekking west with us?”

“Because they don’t want to see me.” Sveni said simply, “They won’t ever want to see me again.”

“Now I’m sure that can’t be true!” George protested, “They’re your sisters! They love you!”

“When we were little I was always tagging around,” Sveni began, “Marella’s ten years older and Ina twelve. For a little while I was their baby doll, they dressed me up, showed my off. Then I turned five and wasn’t cute anymore, just annoying. Tagging along everywhere, wanting to see whatever they were doing. That was really the end of our relationship.” 

George nodded sagely, “I’m sorry, my dear. Sometimes people outgrow you or leave you behind and there seems to be no reason. I’m sure your sisters still love you very much and would’ve still liked to see you. But that don’t mean we’re not mighty glad you’re here with us.”

Siege of Limoges battle of Agincourt

Sveni wandered up a set of stairs to the top floor. There was two bedrooms up there and a bathroom. She entered the one on her left first, swinging open a wooden door covered in keep out signs and bearing the names Eva and Nora in curly pink letters. There was a bunk bed taking up most of the room. It had a blue bedspread on the top and a green one underneath, neither bed was made and instead looked as if Eva and Nora had simply woken up one morning and never come back. 

Sveni knew they had gotten Sick though. There were stains on the worn carpet next to the bottom bunk where someone had tried, and failed, to clean up and rust colored flecks on the wall from splatterings of bloody vomit, the last stage. Vomiting up blood that, over the course of a few hours, turned to blackish sludge. Eva and Nora were gone. You didn't recover from the Sickness. They must not have been quarantined with the rest of the Sick. But Sveni figured that this far out into rural OOOOOOO it would be pretty easy to hide though. The two girls were lucky to have someone who took care of them during it, as someone obviously did. The quarantine camps were rumored to be awful, people languishing around in beds, waiting to die and a few government doctors worn too thin trying to study the disease. They hadn’t found a cure yet. 

The rest of the room was occupied by a desk covered with piles of clothes, knickknacks and papers. Drawings were tacked to the wall behind the it. The entire third wall was covered in a collage of photos. Sveni stepped through the doorway to examine them. They were dusty and curled but she could see about three quarters contained a girl with shoulder length dyed red hair. She was probably sixteen and the she seemed to enjoy cheer, her friends, and a small fluffy dog. Sveni thought of herself at sixteen, restricted to her apartment, intermittently schooled, and quiet. A very different life than these photos. Though who knows how long before the girl’s Sickness they were taken. It could have been years. In the rest of the photos was a girl about thirteen with long mouse brown hair doing similar activities to her older sister. There was only two photos of the girls together but they were both in the center and featured the girls clutching each other in a hug, smiling massively. She wondered which one was Eva and which one was Nora. 

Sveni felt creepy all of the sudden looking at the pictures of the two sisters. Especially in the room they spent their final hours in. Sveni turned back around to look at the stain. Someone had tried to clean it but gave up halfway through, either from grief or their own Sickness. Sveni glanced at the open closet but decided against rifling through it, most likely because she would feel weird taking clothes from someone whose face she'd seen. 

They set a new rule that day, don’t check the beds. 

It was sweltering hot and Sveni was more than ready to be out of Mississippi. They knew they’d reach the river soon, they’d been following the roads West, in hopes of finding a bridge. Honestly Sveni was tired of rivers. there were too many of them. They came across one every few day and when they did they had to walk up and down it until they found a bridge. It was getting tiring. Sveni knew they were getting close because she could hear the water. Probably only an hour or so away. George was talking nonstop about how much he missed cooking.

    “Granted, my Louise was a far better cook, but man I could make a mean casserole! Green beans and bacon and mushrooms and chicken, boy! I miss that! You chop the green beans…”

    The sun was a blanket over Sveni, as they trudged through a deserted intersection. Sweat was dripping off her forehead and sliding down in between her breasts. Why was it this hot in September? Well, she thought it was September, it’d been a long time since she’d seen a proper calendar. 

    “And curries! I love making curries! From scratch too, I’ll have you know. Here’s the secret, brown sugar! Yes siree! Don’t seem like it but every good curry cook knows that a real curry needs brown sugar in it. Just a pinch, mind you, but a good pinch,” George winked at her and continued, “Now I usually like to make my curries with chicken in them, but they taste just as good without for those herbivores out there…”

    They moved at a miniscule pace it seemed like. Leon, up ahead, still had his sweatshirt on and Sveni couldn’t understand how he hadn’t yet collapsed. All she wanted was to be out of this sun. For the day to end. But then tomorrow would come, and the next day, and the next. What was the whole point? It didn’t seem like they would ever make it to California. Days and thousands of miles stretched out in front of her and Sveni couldn’t see the end of them. But George could, it seemed, and Sveni trusted George. So she kept walking. 

    When they finally reached the bridge, they stopped for a moment, descending the rock embankment and resting in the shadow of it. Sveni leaned up against the massive support and took a deep sip of water. It was lukewarm and not at all as satisfying as she hoped, but it still quenched her parched throat. She kicked off her shoes and stuck her feet in the slow moving water. George joined her a few seconds later, sighing as the water flowed over his feet. 

    “Feels heavenly!” He said, “what I wouldn’t give to just swim around for a while!!”

    “Why don’t you?” Leon said. He came up behind them and pulled off his sweatshirt then his t-shirt, Sveni saw it was soaked with sweat. He kicked off his shoes and unbuttoned his pants, pulling those, then his socks, off. He waded into the water to his waist, “Come on!”

    George too discarded his shorts and the Hawaiian shirt he wore every day. He joined Leon in the water, and gave a whoop of happy laughter. He fell backwards into the water, sending up a massive splash. Sveni watched them for a second before the heat overcame her and she pulled off her blouse and shorts, stepping from rock to rock until she had joined them in the water. George was right, it did feel heavenly. Sveni sat down in the cool water then dunked her head under, enjoying the rush of water over her face. The bridge provided lovely shade and the water wasn’t moving very fast. George was paddling around in circles, giving a shout of laughter every few seconds. Leon had laid onto his back and held on to one of the pylons, so as not to float away.

Sveni’s ears were under water and she could hear the rush of the water. There was something else there too, but Sveni couldn’t pinpoint it. It was almost like singing. She tried to ignore all other noises and focus solely on it but it was too faint. Sveni was concentrating so hard her head slipped under water for a second, water flowing into her nose. She coughed and sneezed, then settled back down, but the singing was gone. There was only the sound of the river, flowing out to sea.

The whole scene felt like she was in some idyllic countryside, shaded by willows and with starlings soaring in the blue sky. Sveni laid back like Leon and closed her eyes. She could almost forget the cracked pavement and crumbling bridge in the abandoned city that surrounded her. Instead she was in that meadow, the warbling stream around her, and the sweet smell of grass floating through the air.

When finally, Leon cleared his throat and announced they should probably keep moving, it felt like a tragedy. Sveni opened her eyes again and the ceiling of weeping willows trailing their long branches disappeared. Instead she was looking up at the dirty concrete underside of the bridge and the air smelled like pollution. She turned over and swam a last few yards, then got out the water. 

“Dunk your clothes in the water,” George said as he gathered his, “It’ll help keep you cool.”

Sveni picked up her blouse and shorts, soaking them in the water before pulling them on. It was a little uncomfortable at first, her shorts took forever to wiggle into, but when she’d laced up her shoes and stepped out of the shade of the bridge, back into the sun, she was grateful. The three of them dripped a trail back up to the street and began their trek across the Mississippi. 

a nights tale   book on medival children

    Sveni heard them at night, long after George went to bed and Leon stopped cleaning his machete. They would start their chorus and invade Sveni’s head. She could feel them in her head, in her bones, in her blood. That was the worst, in her blood. It begged to be set free, to drip, to flow, to cascade. The Angels sang for it constantly, imploring her to simply liberate it from the confines of her veins. So she began doing just that. She used the knife on her little multi tool to loose it and each time she watched the world swallow her blood and her as well.

    The first time she did it, she watched the blood drip from the crook of her arm onto the mossy earth. It seemed to swallow it and suddenly something in Sveni swooped and she felt lightheaded and somehow blurred. Like someone had blended her with the world around her. Each drop that sunk into the earth was a piece of her connecting. The Angels seemed to scream their song, but she still couldn’t pick up what they were saying, it was like being on the other side of a glass barrier. The dropped her multi tool, and collapsed backwards onto her sleeping bag. the sky around her shifted and the flames in the fire grew, fed by her life. They reached up, up, up, and formed an arch above her. The campfire Leon had built earlier in the night embraced her and as more and more blood dripped from her arm, the world collapsed around her and she fell, up and up, into the night sky. 

    Sveni woke up the next morning before the other two. Her entire arm was covered in crusty, dried blood and the moss next to her bag was brown with it too. Sveni chipped away the majority of the blood on her arm and then rinsed the last bits off with her water bottle. The cut was deep but not too large. She flexed her arm and winced as the wound stung. She hoped George and Leon wouldn’t notice. But it had been such a… such a lovely feeling. For one second her blood sang, but then it was silent again. 

When the other two woke up, Sveni was already ready to go for the day and had laid out the leftovers of trail mix and candy bars they had found the day before. She had brushed out her hair and cleaned her teeth. She was fully ready for the day, but there was a still a part of her caught in last night. Why did the Angels and the earth want her blood? It had soaked right into the earth, she had felt it rejuvenate the Angels. They wanted it, they needed it. Sveni needed to feel like that again, floating, shimmering. 

Two nights later Sveni did the same, this time on her stomach. Sveni could feel the Angels telling her that this was better, less conspicuous. The blood beaded and Sveni dipped her fingers in it, everything was blurry and the Angels screamed. Sveni stood up and smeared the blood on a tree near the campsite. She felt like she was in a trance, everything was slow motion and beautiful. George’s snores faded and for once Sveni wasn’t worried about Leon. It was just her and the Angels. And her blood. She pulled wide leaves off a bush at the base of the tree and when she fell into her sleeping bag she pressed them onto the blood on her stomach. 

Her days stretched on in a sort of half awake state. The only time she felt alive was when her blood was flowing and the Angels screaming to her. She could hear them sometimes during the day too, now. She’d suddenly stop and cock her ear, positive she could hear their beautiful chorus. Causing George to cut off what he was saying abruptly and Leon to stare at her strangely. Sveni’s stomach never let anything heal, save for the first cut on her arm. The ones on her stomach she reopened each night, adding another friend to the lines that marched up and down her pale flesh. They comforted her and sometimes she felt herself unconsciously stroking them through her blouse. Every night she stoppered the blood with leaves after the Angels had their fill. She made sure Leon and George were fully asleep too before she let herself sink into dreamland, she knew they wouldn’t understand. The Angels were hers, no one else’s. 

Sveni fell asleep that night on the four poster bed in the master bedroom. It had gauzy white curtains hanging around it and when Sveni let her blood free she felt like she’d floated up into a cloud. She was made of air, an empty vessel with shining crystal eyes. The clouds of gauze wrapped her up in their silken touch and caressed her skin. The Angels sang to her and her drops of blood were art on the white down comforter. Snow white, rose red, she was magic and mystery and a fairy tale. She sunk into blissful unconsciousness still clutching her multi tool. 

Sveni was jolted awake brutally. Sveni didn’t know if it was someone shaking her violently or the high pitched keening which woke her but her eyes shot open as she was yanked from sleep. 

“Violet!” Leon screamed, “Violet! I told you not to!”

Sveni flopped like a rag doll in his grip, her teeth clacking together. She tried to struggle away but she couldn’t get loose from his death grip on her upper arms. 

“Vad händer? Vad i helvete?” Sveni yelled, “LET GO OF ME!”

Leon dropped her and backed away, Sveni sat stunned at the edge of the bed, George came running in and stopped in the doorway, horror on his face. Sveni looked down. There was dried blood everywhere, her blouse was soaked with it and there were blotches of rust red all over the down comforter. She must have gone deeper than she meant and fallen asleep before hiding everything.

“I told you not to, Violet, I told you not to. I begged you! Why’d you do this? WHY?” Leon screamed at her, tears streaming down his face.

“Leon, it’s Sven-” George began, but Sveni interupted him, her face hardening.

“I’ll do whatever I like,” She said sharply, “It’s none of your damn business what I do.”

“You’re hurting yourself!” Leon wailed.

“I don’t give a fuck!” Sveni stood up and glowered at him taking a step in his direction, “It’s none of your business!” The Angels began their singing and Sveni felt like she were glowing white hot.

“Violet…” Leon moaned, “You’re hurting yourself.”

“Leon,” George began.

“You aren’t in charge of me!” Sveni’s voice rose, “I can do what I want! I could fall apart into the earth in a million pieces…” 

Leon slapped her. Sveni screamed in surprise and George leapt forward, grabbing the boy.

“DON’T YOU NEVER DO THAT AGAIN!” He bellowed, “Leon, don’t you never hit a woman, again!!! That’s not ok! You don’t never hit nobody else, you hear me, boy? You hear me?”

All the anger seemed to leave Leon and all there was left was pitiful sadness. He wrenched himself from George and fled the room, exactly how Sveni imagined a Hollywood princess would. All the bones in Sveni’s body disappeared at that moment and she collapsed backward on the bed, clutching her burning cheek. George rushed to her and just kept apologizing. Sveni couldn’t help but think of that day in Fargo, Georgia, three weeks beforehand. 

    “What the hell is wrong with him, George?” Sveni interrupted, “There’s something really really wrong with him!” 

    George continued to assure her but he wouldn’t touch her. Sveni suddenly remembered she and the bed were covered in blood. 

    “He’ll never hit you again!” George promised, “I’ll make sure of that. He never should have touched you, but why’ve you done this, child? Why are you hurtin’ yourself?”

    “It’s none of your business!” Sveni snapped.

    “Oh I know, my dear. You gotta understand that Leon was just worried about you, about Violet.”

    “Worried about me?” She asked, seething mad, “Why the hell is he worried about me? You don’t rattle around someone you’re worried about!”

    “Oh, I know that, lamb, but he’s got his reasons for acting like that, I’m not sayin’ it’s right!” George said forcefully, “It ain’t never right to hit or hurt someone else. It ain’t never ok.”

    “Why the hell is he calling me Violet, George? What happened to her? Tell me, George!”

    “Sveni, you know I told you that you look just like her right? Every time I look at you it’s like seein’ that bitch a few years in the future, by no fault of yours. Imagine for Leon, he was in pieces after her death, he wouldn’t move, he was catatonic. Then he finally starts pullin’ himself together, movin’ on, as best he can. Then you emerge outta nowhere in the jungle. You just popped up. Man I was terrified for one second, I thought Violet’d come back to tyrannize us again. For Leon, it must have been a dream then a nightmare, spending all that time next to you. As if it were her traveling with him but really not. Then this mornin’, seein’ you like that…”

    “How’d she die, George,” Sveni demanded, “Tell me how she died.”

    “You gotta understand, Leon went crazy now because Violet had little red lines on her stomach too. She was mad as a hatter, Violet was, cracked, batty, screwy, touched. She had all these delusions and so on. Well Violet had those red lines on her stomach too, marching along left and right. It drove Leon wild! He always tried to get her to stop but she never would. She talked about her blood all the time.”

    “But how’d she die, George,” Sveni insisted. It was making her sick hearing about Violet and her blood. She didn’t want to be like her. 

    “I’m gettin’ there, doe. No matter how hard Leon tried to get Violet to stop, she never would. She’d throw these fits and screech and throw stuff. We’d been traveling around the south, the Florida beaches and all, Violet wanted to see the West coast so we were heading up from there, gettin’ ready to make this trek we’re on now. Violet kept gettin’ more and more erratic. We were in central Florida, stayin’ in this house there. For once she was a bit clear headed. We ate a real nice dinner and talked about goin’ to the ocean the next day and all. She seemed to be doin just fine. We all gone to bed and the next morning I wake up to howling. The most heart breaking, desperate sound you ever heard. I run downstairs and there’s Leon, clutching Violet, shaking her, screaming at her.”

    “What’d happened?” Sveni asked, she felt more and more nauseous as the story went on.

    George sighed, “Violet’d taken Leon’s machete and cut herself two bracelets and a necklace.” 

    Sveni covered her mouth, revulsed.

    “She was limp and cold, the machete still in her hand. Oh God, what a way to die. Leon was sobbing and shaking her, the sun streaming through the kitchen window. Oh god, I’ll never get that image out of my head. It was such a beautiful day,” George shook his head, “I didn’t know what to do. We couldn’t bury her, but I didn’t want to just leave her there, not on the floor like that. There was so much blood. I’ve never seen so much blood. Leon was completely nuts. I couldn’t get him to stop calling to her, clutching her. I took the machete out of her hand and Leon snatched it from me, it was the only time I ever touched the damn thing. Finally, I took her from him and I carried her upstairs and I laid her on the big master bed.

“People say the dead look like they’re sleeping, but not Violet. She was white as a sheet and blood clumped in her hair and absolutely covered her. She was ghost white and rust red. Her neck was mangled, and her arms swung as I carried her and flopped as I set her down. Oh God, I never want to see another dead girl. She was so light, like half of her left when the life had gone from her. Granted, she’d gotten so skinny over the months beforehand, she rarely ate, just cried and cried. At the time I’d thought good riddance, and thought her constant bawling was an annoyance, but seeing her there I felt so sorry for her. She was so small in that bed. Her legs under Leon’s tshirt were like little sticks. Her knees so big. Her arms were like reeds and her eyes were so large. They wouldn’t stop staring at me, Leon hadn’t let me close them downstairs. She looked so young. So goddamn young. 

“Leon had followed me upstairs and was leaning limply against the bed, sobbing. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t have no clue what to do. I left the room. I went downstairs, through the kitchen, past the puddles of drying blood, out the door. I picked flowers and grass and leaves and carried them back inside and up the stairs. I laid them on her body, all that earth, she was so obsessed with the earth, being part of it. I laid all that earth on her then I left, again. I got more and more flowers. I pulled up flower after flower, handful after handful of grass and leaves. I brought them up and laid them on her body until the poor girl was covered and I didn’t have to look at her dead face anymore. 

“We sat there for a few hours, Leon never stopped his crying. I gathered all our stuff and packed the bags. I brought up Violet’s pack and laid it next to the bed like maybe she’d get up in a bit and decide to rejoin us. She was just a mound of flowers and flora. Finally, around mid-morning, I grabbed him by the arm and dragged him, wailing, from the room. He was listless, I had to haul him down the stairs. I grabbed both the bags on the way out and Leon struggled and screamed and begged me to let him go back to her. If I hadn’t had a good grip on that boy’s arm he woulda run right back up those stairs and stayed by her side for eternity. Never eating or movin’ until he withered and decayed too. He woulda died right alongside her. I think in a way he did. 

“I dragged him out the house and down the road. He was just wailin’ and pullin’ at me, trying to get back to her. When we were out of sight of that house he collapsed onto the ground. I let him cry for a while. Then I dragged him back up, and down the street we went. I was afraid he’d run away in the middle of the night that night so I stayed up to watch him. Same with the next night, and the next. He was lifeless, She was such a big part of his life. She had been for years. Then she was gone. And Leon didn’t know what to do. 

“Then you arrived. Looking just like her, out of nowhere. But you couldn’t be more different. I ain’t sayin’ what he did was right, but I think when Leon came in to wake you up this morning in this big bed, he saw somethin’. You’re covered in blood, layin on a big white comforter. He probably saw Violet there, not you. He saw Violet, dead and bled out as he last saw her. In that grimy house in central Florida. That’s why he reacted like that, my doe. It was nothin’ you done. It was Violet. It’s always Violet.”

Four days after Leon slapped her, Sveni had yet to acknowledge his presence. She steadfastly made dinner for herself and George, held vibrant conversation, and acted as though there were only two people in the westward headed band. She looked through him and stubbornly ignored the odd habits he performed ritually. Sveni raged at Leon internally, no one, no one, slapped her or mistreated her like that. She would not allow it. Her choices were hers to make and no matter what that damned Violet Marsden had done, it gave Leon no right to lay a single hand on her. 

After George had told her about Violet’s death she’d gotten up and cleaned herself off. George helped her wash her blouse. It hadn’t all come out but it was good enough. Sveni hung it up to dry on the back of her pack. She’d put on her other blouse and they’d left. Sveni hadn’t bothered to clean the sheets on the bed. Anyone else coming through could assume the worst. 

She and George had been walking for about an hour, just the two of them, when Leon finally rejoined them. He was waiting at a street corner, leaning against the pole of a sign. A dead street light lay in the middle of the road, red and yellow glass sprinkled around it. Sveni kicked at it while George talked to Leon in hushed tones. Five minutes later the three of them set off, Leon taking a wide lead of the other two. Sveni couldn’t tell how Leon knew they were going to pass through there but he then again he seemed to know the way to California just by looking around him, so it must not have been too hard to figure out which way George was going to take. 

She'd never admit it, but internally Sveni wondered what Violet was really like. Was she as near her twin as George said? From what she gathered, Sveni took her as a hardened bitch who made life hell for the other two. But why did Leon love her so much then? Sveni could never see George arbitrarily hating someone, but Leon was no fool either. Violet was a riddle Sveni couldn't solve, and her violent death made things even more complicated. So Sveni spent her days masking her confusion with hate for the silent member of the group and exaggerated cheerfulness for the other.

George spent his days shooting worried looks between the two sides of the war and trying to act as if nothing were amiss. He tried to bring up the third member of the party as often as possible but Sveni either ignored him or acted as if she'd never heard of him. He seemed concerned for Sveni but also wary of Leon. He talked to the former often but he was treated with silence or a sinister wave of the machete. There was no communication with him to be had. Still he led them, through abandoned suburbs then out into the jungle again. 

Leon himself was as silent as the day Sveni met him and led the group through the thickening jungle. He caught his own meals at night and slept a distance from the group or on the far side of bedrooms but Sveni could feel him watching her intently into the night, until she fell asleep, as if making sure she had no privacy to continue destructive habits. He resisted George's insistence that they give each other privacy and would silently make a sleeping place in the same vicinity as Sveni. Oddly, he always ensured she had the bed, or the least threadbare couch, often giving George second best and leaving himself with the cold floor or no blankets. Sveni ignored him through all of this, anger still boiled right under her surface.

She was unsure if she made the right decision, staying with the two men, but something drew her to them and she couldn't bring herself to leave. Normally a fairly compliant person, Sveni felt her independence swelling from the time she left New York. Now, here in the untamed wilderness of the south, she found herself doing things she never thought she would. When she pulled the trigger in New York she never thought it would be a direct path to cooking squirrels and sleeping in abandoned homes. And twenty-something days after she met two men in the middle of South Georgia, she never thought she'd feel so close to them. She hadn't considered anyone a friend since Maya, many years past. 

    But here she was.

    

    It was two weeks before Leon said a word to her, said a word at all. He hadn’t spoke or made a single sound since he’d hit her. Sveni had kept up her anger towards him the whole time, it was easy when he ignored her too. But eventually she knew he was going to have to speak again and she couldn’t stay angry forever. But she would be wary, she would always be wary of him now.  George was still worried about her she knew. She could tell. But he also seemed really concerned for Leon too. 

    They were sitting down eating dinner. Sveni had snared a squirrel and so had Leon. She had prepared and cooked both, she figured she’d left him out long enough. She was still angry but the fire in her two weeks ago had gone from a roiling boil to now a simmer. It was difficult to completely ignore someone you spend twenty-four hours a day with, seven days a week. It was also difficult to travel as if there were only two people too, as much as she hated to admit it, Leon added quite a bit to the group. He’d been doing his part recently, but since Sveni hadn’t accepted any of his help, she and George had to make up for it. She’d also realized she was far, far slower at making fires. She’d fallen out of practice after never having to make one. Leon had always done that. 

Dinner was good enough, but Sveni really missed junk food. They hadn’t passed through any small towns or human areas in a long time; that meant no raiding grocery stores or houses they stayed in. It had been a steady diet of squirrels, rabbits, foraged plants, and, when they got really desperate, lizards. Sveni was so tired of it, she wanted canned corn and sausages and ravioli. The cheaper the better. She also wouldn’t mind being full for once. There was never enough for them out here, she was always at least a little hungry. 

Tonight’s squirrels were good enough, not too skinny but definitely not fat. They were cooked like always, simply on a spit over the fire, another thing Sveni was getting tired of. She was tearing meat off the bones with her fingers, trying not to burn them. At least the food was hot, she thought. And in a way she liked squirrels. At first she felt bad, eating the small animals. They were so fluffy and cute. 

    "Tell me about the day you left home," George asked her abruptly.

The day she left? Sveni felt her blood running in the veins beneath her skin, it bubbled and rushed through her wrists and neck. It felt hotter than ever before and her cheeks flushed and more blood screamed through the crooks of her elbows and behind her knees, desperate to escape. She looked at her hands and they shook, dirty fingernails trembling in the air. They clutched for something sharp but caught only air, unlike her lungs which, no matter how much air she pulled in, were starving.  She gasped in and her vision zoomed forward and she saw the trees around her bending, melting. They reached for her and intertwined their twigs and branches with her skin and wove into her hair. 

She heard the singing again, louder than ever, it sounded like Angels. It wasn’t one voice but many, in a chorus, singing something over and over and over. It was heavenly, the most beautiful melody she’d ever heard, but it was terrifying, and she didn’t know why. It called to her blood and it beckoned it. The Angels wanted it. The singing begged her blood to free itself. The Angels sang and sang and sang as the trees danced and she melted into the earth, entwined with every piece of life around her. 

    Just as soon as it started it left. Her vision cleared, the trees receding, and her lungs drank in sweet scented oxygen. Her blood stopped singing in her veins and fell back into its slumber. The Angels quieted. Sveni felt dull again, half alive, unlike the two seconds before where everything in her was alive and crying out for release. She looked up from the bare, dead, skin of her arms to see Leon and George staring at her intently. 

    "Dear, are you ok? Frankly, you're scaring me." 

    Sveni stared at them blankly.

    "I think we should take a small break. It's lunchtime anyways!" George said, and sat down where he stood. Sveni looked around her,  willing the trees to touch her again. She walked to one and laid a hand on the bark, she could almost, almost, feel the life in it. But not quite. So she walked back to George and sat down next to him, opening her pack. Leon still stood where he was, gas mask bug eyes boring into her. The machete was clutched tightly in his whitened hands. Eventually he took quick steps to the group and sat down, stabbing the knife into the earth. 

    While George and Sveni ate last night’s lizards, Leon stared hard at Sveni. While she was used to his odd habits and long looks, she was not used to George doing the same, which he was certainly doing. He kept watching Sveni as she touched the rocks and dead leaves on the ground around her. She buried her fingers in the earth then tasted the dirt that clung to them. All she wanted was to feel the life that flowed through her earlier. She'd never felt that way in her life. Never had Mother Earth spoken to her like that, pulled at her heart, and pulled at her soul. 

Who was that singing? Were they really Angels? They sounded like it. It was the same singing she’d been hearing since the Mississippi River, but this time it was there with her. Before it’d been faint and unintelligible, now it was here, surrounding her. She still couldn’t understand what the words were, repeating over and over. Why had she never heard that before? Why had it come so suddenly? Was it George’s question? She wanted to feel that alive again, she hadn’t felt that way ever before, not in years at least. 

    She was so caught up in the feelings of earlier that when George put a hand on hers she jumped and snatched it away. 

    "Sveni," he said kindly, "I ain't one to meddle, but I'm real worried. What just happened? I hope it wasn't my questions; I go too far sometimes."

"No, no," Sveni assured him, and her voice sounded loud and high pitched, " don't worry! I'm fine, just a little light headed, maybe I'll sit a while. I'll catch up with you."

George nodded then signaled to Leon and the two stood up and Leon grabbed his machete and in the same swing cut a large branch down in front of him. George gave one more glance to her and followed. 

When she was sure the two had disappeared into the brush, she frantically reached into her pack and rummaged around until she came to her pocket knife. She clicked it open, admiring its blade. Then she sank into a dream.

Sun filtered through a window framed by draped lavender curtains. It illuminated a young woman with a curtain of long blonde hair leaning over a bed. Under a quilt patterned with light blue flowers and ivy, the shape of a slight person was visible. The standing girl reached out her hand but then let it drop to her side again.

"I don't think it's good," Sveni said, "Mamma, I think you're sick."

"What are you talking about, Svenja?" The woman in the bed said. She had white-grey hair that was lobbed to shoulder length and mussed around the pillow. Her face was gaunt and a sweat bead rolled down her temple. She breathed heavily and every puff of air hit Sveni's nose like rotten meat. Deep red spots dotted her throat.

"Mamma, you're sick. So is Pappa. They're going to take you away. You're gonna die."

"Stop that talk, Svenja. You won't let them take us away. We're not sick! It's the flu," the woman answered sharply. Sveni hovered by the bed, she tapped her fingers against each other and shifted nervously.

"It was that damn boy. That bastard is the one who got you sick," Sveni said angrily, "He killed you. He's fucking killing you, Mamma."

"Luke?" The woman asked with surprise, "It wasn't him! Let the dead lie, Svenja. Just because he got sick doesn't mean he gave it to us."

"He killed you because I wouldn't be his. I hate him! He did it on purpose!" Sveni yelled.

"Stop it!" The woman said abruptly, then her voice softened, "He was in love with you Sveni, he wouldn't want us to get sick."

"It was his fault," she said again and she tapped her fingers even faster. Her toes joined in and her eyes darted across the gaunt face in front of her, "Mamma, you're sick. You're going to die like all the others have." 

"Shut up, idiotic girl!" The old woman snapped viciously, "This is the flu and nothing more. If you say another word about the damned sickness being in this house, I'll send you out to where the sickness really is. Ina or Marella would've never given me this grief, bless them."

"Mamma, don't say that! Don't send me away! Please!" Sveni leaned forward to plead, tears forming. 

"Oh why did my lilla gumman leave me!" The woman wailed, "if I could just see them one more time."

"Mamma, I'm still here with you," Sveni said, "I'll take good care of you."

"You won't let me suffer?" The woman asked, then added, "With the flu." 

"Suffer?"

"Yes! Fever! Chills! They aren't a walk in the park, Svenja!" The woman huffed.

Sveni looked worried, she leaned over and inspected the woman. She was silent for a long period of time. When she spoke again it was very softly.

"I won't let you suffer, Mamma," she patted the woman's forehead and walked out of the room. She stood in the doorway of her own room for a very long time before she lifted up her mattress and grabbed Ina's last gift. The one her parents had never known about. The one Ina gave her the day before she left, when Sveni was only twelve years old. She'd hidden it since then. Kept it safe, never used it. Ina said she hoped Sveni would never have to use it. But when a girl has no older sisters to keep her safe she needs a gun. Sveni held it in her hands and made her decision. 

She walked into the living room where her father slept. He was laid out on the sofa, a flannel blanket pulled up to his feeble chin. When she walked in he opened his sleepy eyes.

“Svenja, my dear,” He rasped.

Sveni aimed. She pulled the trigger. The room exploded.

From the next room Sveni's mother began screaming. Sveni walked into the bedroom and stood over the bed.

"Svenja, NO!!!" Her mother screamed and Sveni pulled the trigger again.

Go into a house, bodies in the beds

Finds herself acting more and more like violet... Going crazy, cutting, bossy, angry, seeing things

They’d fallen into a habit, George often went to bed first, falling asleep in one of the chairs or in a bedroom. Sveni would sit out on the sofa, watching the fire and covertly watching Leon clean his machete. It fascinated her now, that machete. She wondered if every time Leon drew the cloth over it he saw himself wiping Violet’s blood off of it. She could almost see Violet’s blood on it. The way it glinted in the firelight, it turned it almost red. 

    This night was no different. Tonight he was next to her on the couch, she was sitting next to him, pretending to read a book she’d found.  Sveni must have read the same sentence ten times though because the edge, the gleam, it kept distracting her. George had gone to bed in one of the bedrooms, complaining of a headache. Sveni had found some cinnamon in the cabinets of the house and tried to make him tea. It was bitter and disgusting but George drank it and thanked her heartily. She watched Leon clean his machete, gas mask next to him on top of his folded sweatshirt. He’d reach down and touch the mask every now and then, reassuring himself it hadn’t been lost. When he finished he put the machete on the floor too, next to his mask. 

    “Why do you watch me every night?” Sveni jumped a mile, the book flying out of her hands and landing with a thump on the floor.

“What?” She asked, turning to Leon.

“Why do you watch me clean it every night?” He repeated.

“I don’t watch you!” Sveni protested. But Leon shook his head.

“Don’t lie, I can see you. You spent twenty minutes reading that same page.” 

“I did not! I-It takes me a while to read things in English!” Sveni lied, she could feel her cheeks grow hot, how dare he accuse her of watching him! She was looking at the machete, not him. The narcissistic fool.

“Whatever, my mistake,” Leon said, and ran a hand through his dark curls, then noted, “You’re blushing.”

Now Sveni really turned scarlet and Leon laughed, the first time she’d ever heard him do so. It was odd, and it didn’t seem to fit him. He was always so somber. So quiet. But she couldn’t help it and a second later she laughed too. They both fell silent and Sveni looked back at the fire, but she could feel him looking at her. He took in every single detail of her face, looking for something, searching. Maybe he found it because a second later he touched her cheekbone and Sveni jumped again. Leon whipped his hand back to his lap and stuttered an apology. 

“S-Sorry!” He muttered, “It’s just, you look.. you look…”

He left off and it was Sveni’s turn to search his face. She knew what he was going to say. He called Sveni by her name. He thought, he wished, Sveni was her. Leon would always love Violet, no matter how many months, years, decades, she was gone. What was so addictive about Violet? Leon looked back at her and she saw nothing in his brown eyes. No intense emotions or soul changing revelations, they were just his eyes, watching her. And he was just a boy, sitting next to her. He lifted his hand again and, this time, when he pushed back her hair behind her left ear, she didn’t flinch. She just watched him. 

“I don’t get it,” He whispered, “I just don’t get it. Why? Why are you here?”

Sveni didn’t know the answer. If everything had gone right, she’d still be in New York, in Sweden. But she was neither of those places and she didn’t know why. So she stayed silent. Leon touched her face again, running his fingers across her eyebrows, her nose, tracing her chin, her lips.

“I miss you,” He whispered, and kissed her. 

Something cracked like a whip inside Sveni, lightning or electricity. She melted, she blended, she exploded. The Angels started singing, clearer than ever and she was no longer on the sofa. She was everywhere. She was in everything. She was the rain pattering on the roof, she was the dust molecules floating through the air, she was the fire dancing in the fireplace. All she heard was the singing of the Angels, like honey in her ears. She tasted Leon, salty from tears. She saw the milky way spinning above her, light years closer than she ever thought it was. It collided with the house, with Leon, with her. She zoomed through the cosmos and vapors. Every star that brushed her skin burned like acid and she felt like screaming. But all she did was press into Leon. 

He grasped at her and she teetered, swaying until a final star brushed her brow and she collapsed backwards, taking Leon with her. There was a high pitched keening and Sveni realized it was coming from her blood. It was begging her to be free. She couldn’t breathe again, she couldn’t seem to pull oxygen into her lungs. Above her Leon morphed into pure matter. She was being sucked into a black hole and her mind was utterly lost. 

She felt Leon’s hands going one, two, three down the buttons of her blouse. They broke apart for a moment, the blouse coming between them, but before she could gather her sanity, they were together again. Touching. Sveni wondered how she ended up here, but then she stopped wondering. 

Sveni woke up a few hours later, well, she assumed it was. The fire was gone but it was still dark outside. The rain had stopped. She sat up, pushing Leon off of her. The sofa was cramped with the two of them on it. She looked around then stood up, wiggling the rest of the way out from underneath his dead weight. She considered putting on her clothes that were lying on the floor but decided against it. Her blouse looked sad, crumpled up on the floor next to her underwear. Sveni walked through the kitchen and opened the door, stepping outside. She wandered to the front of the driveway, then leaned against the crumbling brick mailbox. 

The clouds were rolling away into the distant east, and she could see a half moon, making its way west. It would be light soon. There was life teeming all around her, frogs croaking and lightning bugs just beginning to re-emerge after the rain. But this time she couldn’t feel any of it. It was just there. It was cold outside and Sveni wished she’d put her clothes back on, but it wasn’t like there was anyone around to see her. It was just her. Sveni couldn’t quite process what had happened. It was so odd. Leon hadn’t even said her name, he’d just said Violet’s. Violet, I miss you. Violet, I love you. His voice was breathy. Sveni looked at the moon again, at the stars arched above her, at the tinges of light to the east. Sveni touched her lips, her hips, her thighs. Was this what you were supposed to feel? Utter indifference?

She stayed outside, watching the lightning bugs fade and listening to the frogs silence. When she heard the first note of birdsong she walked back inside. Leon had put his clothes on again but was still sleeping on the couch. Sveni pulled all her clothes back on and curled up on the adjacent sofa. She thought for a few minutes, thoughts zipping from one thing to another. What should she say later? Should she say anything. She didn’t want George to know. He’d be disappointed in her, she knew it. But eventually her thought slowed and she dropped off almost immediately. 

When she woke up an hour or so later to George's banging around in the kitchen she knew he knew. It was the way he was walking, looking at her as she opened her eyes, the way his mouth curled downwards a minimal amount. George knew things like that, he must have known this was coming. She sat up and stretched. Then joined him in the small kitchen.

“Good mornin’” he said, a little less cheerful than usual, “I heated up the left over beans from last night.”

“Yum!” she said, a little more cheerful than usual. 

"Violet," Leon whispered, and buried his face in Sveni's hair, "do you love me? Do you love me like I love you?" 

"I do. I love you, I love you, I love you," Sveni whispered back and Leon laughed and pressed his lips to hers hard, searching for life in her. They broke apart after a long moment and Leon looked at her face, then ran his hand across her face, down her neck, skimming the buttons of her blouse. 

"You're so beautiful. I don't care what they told you, you're perfect like this," he shook his head, " I can't think of anywhere I'd rather be than with you in my arms and on our way to a new start. In California! Will you be happy there? Tell me you'll be happier in California, Violet." 

For a single moment, Sveni forgot to pretend, "Happier? What is happiness? I think I've forgotten."

"Don't say that!" Leon cried and gripped her shoulders tight, "you told me you were happy with me! Just a few months ago, how can you have forgotten that feeling? Doesn't me loving you make you happy? Doesn't leaving Boston make you happy? How can you say you've forgotten happiness when you're surrounded by so many blessings?" 

Sveni sat up and disentangled herself from his lap. She got up and, ignoring his pleas, sat in an armchair across the upturned coffee table.

"I could live in a Queen's castle with the queen's court and I would still be unhappy," she said haughtily and turned from Leon to look at the embers in the fireplace. 

"That's idiotic and childish, Violet, and you know it," Leon snapped. 

"Get out. Leave me alone," Sveni said, her voice was deadly quiet and full of poison, "Don't ever talk to me that way." 

"Violet please!" Leon begged, "I didn't mean it. Forgive me, I love you! I just want you to feel the warmth in the world. You're always so sad,Vi. I want you to be happy as you make me. I'm so sorry, Violet!" Leon got up. He moved to where she was and covered her neck and face with kisses. 

Sveni pushed him away, "You don't understand, Leon. You can't. You've never felt this way before. It's like you're sitting outside on a hot day and you're sweating and thirsty. There's a large pitcher of lemonade in front of you and everyone else is pouring themselves glasses. They talk about how refreshing it is, how wonderful it tastes. You want a glass for yourself but no matter how hard you try you just can't pour a glassful. You watch the others, their technique, their form. How they grasp the handle and tip the pitcher. But every time you try you mess up. Then you realize you don't even have a glass to pour the lemonade into. It's hopeless. You're hopeless."

Leon looked at her a long moment, then hugged her tightly. Sveni struggled to push him off but he held her fast, "I love you, Violet. Whether you love yourself or not. I hope someday you see how happy you make me."

Leon settled back down on the couch and it wasn't until Sveni knew he was fast asleep that's she got up and joined him, placing his arm over her body and snuggling up close to him. She fell asleep wondering if this was as wrong as it felt. 

Sveni dreamt that night. It wasn't much of a dream though. Just darkness, and a voice. A voice that said her words like Leon did. In her dream, Sveni sat up. There was nothing there. Just black, only black. 

"Sveni is such an ugly name," a voice said right next to her. She jumped when it spoke, and whipped her head around to peer intently into the black, desperate to see the girl speaking.

“Who are you?” Sveni asked, but the voice ignored her.

"I far prefer Violet. A flower. The striking purple perennials that were made into ink so Saint Valentine could write his love letters. The Greeks regarded them as the most royal of the flowers, representing love, lust, modesty, and beauty. And what is Sveni? What is a Sveni? Nothing! It means nothing! It's not even a real name!"

"It's short for Svenja!" She protested, "It's a Swedish name!"

"Swedish?!" The voice said, "Is that why you talk so weird? I can barely understand you, your accent is horrendous! I don't know how Leon and George can stand you!"

"They don't care," Sveni said weakly, "They've never said anything about it. And anyways, it doesn't matter what my accent is, I speak English perfectly! My father taught me when I got here. So leave me alone!" Sveni got shakily up to her feet, and walked away, hands out in front of her because of the dark. 

"Leon hates you," the voice said, just as close as always, "He hates you because you aren't me. You look like me, but you're different. The opposite. Every second Leon spends with you he hates because he's so close to having me again, but you're in the way. Sveni is in the way. He calls you by my name, treats you how he treated me, tells you he loves you. It's all a game, though, he's wishing it were me. When he wakes up in the morning with you in his bed, he hates himself. Hates that he fell for your tricks again. He's disgusted it's you holding on to him and not me. Poor Leon, he loved me so much he would put up with someone like you, just to pretend he's still with me." Something pushed her and she stumbled to her knees, hands catching on the slick black ground. 

Sveni wanted to wake up, she didn't like this dream. She wanted her vision back, she wanted her sanity back. She wanted the voice to leave. 

“They say you look like me, it’s a lie. Just like the cygnet and the swan are the same species, only separated by a few years, you and I are made of the same components but only one of us is beautiful. The difference is you will never grow into what I am. I don’t understand why the other two don’t get it, you’re nothing like me. You’re weak where I was strong, clueless where I knew, idle where I acted. You’ll never hold the power I did…”

“I want to wake up now,” Sveni interrupted her, “You’re cruel but you’re right, I am the opposite of you. I could never be as self centered as you. George was right! You’re a horrible bitch and I’m done with you.”

“A bitch! You idiot, no one calls me that! Wake up if you want to, I don’t care,” the voice said in outrage, “It’s said dreaming of violets bring good luck and success. I wish neither of those on you. I hope you meet an end just like mine!"

When Sveni opened her eyes it was still dark outside. The fire had burned down quite a bit and it was mostly embers. She pushed Leon’s arm off of her and sat up looking around. George was snoring a few feet away, his body a dark mountain that slowly rose and fell. Next to her, Leon looked much more peaceful than he did anytime he was awake. It was a horrible dream. She shook Leon awake.

    “Leon, Leon!” she whispered urgently.

    “What?” He sat up groggily, rubbed his eyes, “Are you ok? What happened?”

    Sveni felt suddenly like an idiot, waking him up for nothing, but she went on anyways, “Do you hate me?” 

    “What?” He asked, obviously confused, “Of course I don’t hate you.”

    “You don’t?” Sveni asked, “Not at all? Not even a little bit?”

    “God, no,” Leon answered, “You’re everything to me.”

    Sveni sighed in relief, she knew it was just a dream, not real, not real at all. It still felt good to hear Leon reassure her.

    “How could you think I hate you?” He said soothingly, laying back down. He pulled her down too and wrapped his arms around her pulling her close to him, “I love you, Violet.”

When she was positive Leon and George were asleep, Sveni started crying. Silently she shook and let her tears drop into her lap. Why were things going this way? Nothing turned out right ever. Not for her at least. She was so hopeless, so empty. She could feel it distinctly, where there once was something there now was nothing. Suddenly Sveni stopped crying and wiped her face. She stood up and walked into the kitchen. Sveni went through the cabinets, all of the sudden so hungry. There had to be a way to make herself whole. She had to fill herself with something and she was hoping that there was food she could use. As she opened empty cabinet after empty cabinet, she grew angrier and angrier. Finally she came across a tall bottle. Sveni instantly knew what it was. She lifted the bottle out the back cabinet and read the label. 

"Gold Star Arctic Hare," she read to herself. She twisted the cap off and took a small sip. The vodka burned her throat and she made a disgusted face. She put the cap back on and walked into the living room. She slid the bottle into her pack and zipped it up. 

When she stood back up, tiredness hit her as a wave and she trotted back into the bedroom and got into bed, snuggling herself up to Leon who stirred slightly. 

As he pulled her tight again and pressed his face into her hair, he whispered, "I love you, Violet."

"I love you too, Leon," she whispered back and she could still taste the vodka on her tongue. 

The next morning Sveni got up when the dark was still reaching its last fingers across the sky. Leon was still fast asleep and he looked younger than ever. For a second Sveni was very aware how three years younger looked. The gas mask was next to a lamp on the dusty side table stretched with a canopy of spiderwebs. Leon’s machete lay next to it. Sveni ran a finger over the blade but didn’t let it cut her. She left the room and went downstairs and into the kitchen. George was waiting for her. He looked worried. 

“Good morning,” She said awkwardly.

"Sveni, dear," he said, "I don't know what you think you're doing with Leon, but I can tell you now it's not a good idea."

"What do you mean?" Sveni asked him innocently. She had a very good idea what he was talking about and it settled in her stomach, hot and burning. 

"Your tormenting him, dear. You don't know it. You don't see it. But I do. Are you going to stay with him forever? Are you never going to leave him?"

"What are you talking about, George?" Sveni testily asked, the innocence dropped.

"I mean that he sometimes forgets you're not her, and when you reach your sisters or wherever the hell you're heading towards, you're going to leave Leon and I behind. And that's going to end his life. And you and I both know it," George sighed and Sveni felt the ball of guilt start to morph into anger. He had no right to tell her what to do.

"Sveni, dear," George continued, "You're not Violet. You'll never be her, thank God. But Leon doesn't know that and it's going to end bad."

"What?" Sveni said, outrage growing in her, "you're saying I don't know what I'm doing? Can't I make my own decisions? Can't I analyze consequences for every situation and choose the one that suits me best?"

"Now that's not what I meant, and you know it!" George countered.

"I'm twenty-one years old! Don't you think I can make my own decisions! I'm not your child George, I'm an adult!" 

"Now, now, you're my friend Sveni" George said softly, "I know you're not a child. But Leon is. Or he still transitioning from one into an adult. And he's been traumatized recently. He's not in his right mind and I don't want neither of you two gettin hurt." 

"What?!" Sveni shrieked, "I don't deserve to be loved? I don't deserve someone holding me? Am I not worth it? Am I not worth your precious Leon?!" 

"You know that's not what I meant, dearie. But Sveni," George hesitated, "he's not in love with you, he's in love with who he thinks you are."

Sveni shrieked again and a tumble of obscenities flew from her mouth.

"He's in love with Violet, and you know it! He calls you her name. I've heard him do it. It's poison for both of you Sveni. Look at yourself! Look at what you're doing right now. You've gone wild. You're turning into her! And this time you're going to take Leon down with you."

“Stop! Stop! Stop!” Sveni screamed and clamped her hands over her ears. Upstairs there was thumping and the sound of Leon yelling. 

“Sveni,” George said earnestly, “Think about what you are doin here… think about if this is right.” With that, George turned and headed toward the kitchen door. As he was leaving Leon burst into the kitchen half clothed and holding his machete, “Violet!” He yelled then shook himself a bit, lowering the machete, “Sveni what’s wrong? George, what’d you do to her?”

“I didn’t do nothing but tell her some of the hard truth,” George said flatly, turning back around.

“Truth? Truth about what? You leave her alone!” And Leon grabbed Sveni and pulled her in close to him. She tried her hardest not to cry and buried her face in his shoulder.

“Don’t you see? Don’t you see what you’re doing, Leon!” George yelled. Sveni flinched, George was terrifying when angry. His mountainous figure shook and he raised a finger and gestured wildly at Sveni and Leon, “Look at her, she’s going crazy! You’re doing this to her, you turned her into Violet!”

“I did not!” Leon bellowed.

“Yes, you did! That’s Sveni! Not your selfish bitch of a girlfriend who never cared about you or anyone else but herself! That’s SVENI, you idiot, why can’t you see what you’ve done to her!” 

Leon took quick steps toward George and waved his machete in front of his face, “Shut up, SHUT UP! You don’t know anything about Violet! Don’t you dare talk about her like that! She’s not selfish and she’s not a bitch, she’s perfect and I love her!”

“You talk about her as if she was still here! SHE’S DEAD, LEON! D, E, A, D. Dead and gone! And you call her perfect but look at what she did to you! Look what she’s doing to Sveni!” George thundered, completely ignoring the eighteen inch knife in his face.

Leon lost it, “SHE’S NOT DEAD!!! She’s not fucking dead!...” Sveni couldn’t take it anymore. The sound was bouncing around in her head, reverberating and rolling over and over. 

“STOP!!!” She screamed and she pushed between the two, “Stop now! STOP STOP STOP!”

The two fell silent, Leon dropping his machete to his side and George backing away.

“I’m so sorry, my sweet,” George said softly, “I lost myself, I should never have yelled like that in front of a lady.”

“Just stop talking!” Sveni kept her hands clamped over her ears and pushed through George and out of the room. She ran through the living room into the front foyer and out the front door. She pounded her way across the wild yard and the cracked streets. She saw a coyote sprint into the brush a hundred yards ahead of her. When she reached the top of the street, she sat down on the pavement and suddenly the tears came. She cried harder than she could remember in a long time. What George had said kept repeating itself in her brain. Was she turning into Violet? Leon liked her the way she was. She’d never felt so close to a person in her life. The thing that kept nagging at her mind though, was whether Leon liked Sveni, or if he liked the parts of Violet that were in Sveni. Her mind whirled. She went in circles. The sun rose higher and a deer emerged from the brush to munch on a lawn down the street. Sveni imagined it’s life, back home with its deer husband and deer babies, safe in the woods. The visions of the happy deer family and its home in the woods swam across her vision and she started crying even harder. The grass petted her legs softly and she could hear the vague singing again and it soothed her. 

Sveni had no clue how much time had passed but she had stopped crying an eternity ago. The singing was gone and the grass was back to its monotonous waving in the wind. At the very end of the street she saw two figure, one bigger, one smaller, emerge from the house. They made their way up the street and to her, the bigger one leading. When they reached her, they stood perfectly next to each other, looking at her as if waiting for her to speak. Sveni looked up at the two, shielding her eyes from the sun. George looked embarrassed, he wouldn’t look at her directly and kept averting his gaze to the flowers and the grass all around her. Leon had the gas mask on again and for all Sveni knew he was staring at her. The creepy bug eyes bore into her. She waited. 

“My gentle flower,” George began finally, “I really am sorry for the way I yelled back there. And for those things I said to you. You’re a grown woman, and you can make whatever decisions you please. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

“Don’t yell at me again,” Sveni said and George blinked in surprise, “But I forgive you now.”

George nodded and clapped Leon on the back, “Off we go, then!” he said cheerfully. Leon slung Sveni’s pack off his shoulder and dropped it to the ground in front of her. She heard the slosh of the Arctic Hare inside and once more she felt the burn of it in her throat. Sveni stood up and picked up her pack, following the other two. Her mouth tasted like fire. She’d never had a sip of alcohol before last night. She’d never had the desire to turn into a violent idiot like Lars, her sister Ina’s husband. Sveni remembered being very small and newly in America, and seeing Lars stumbling around like the jerk he was, complaining about how no one appreciated him.  Two years later Ina married him in the first panic of the sickness. Within four years he’d drank himself to death, ending his days on the bathroom floor of their apartment, suffocated on his own vomit. He was certainly no loss. After him Ina and Marella drew closer together and left the far younger Sveni behind. Sveni attributed all these happening to the alcohol and had therefore never touched any. She had never wanted to until last night when the bottle found her. 

The three soon traveled beyond the dusty town, the neighborhoods gave way to long driveways and big rundown houses. Stores were farther and farther in between and, even when they searched them, held little food or supplies. They ate canned corn for lunch in an eerie supermarket. Two cans had rolled under the shelves and were forgotten by looters before them. After that they continued walking west, the sun a hot mantle over them.

“By now we gotta be in New Mexico,” George said at one point. Sveni agreed, they’d been walking toward the mythical West Coast for almost six weeks now. At least she thought it had been that long. Sveni really had no way of knowing, but George said he kept track and almost six weeks was what he said and Sveni believed him. 

Other than the occasional remark by George, all three were silent today. The morning’s events hung heavy over them and no one could seem to move past.

***

Just as the night before, Sveni waited until George and Leon were asleep. When she was positive that both were deep into their sleep, she undraped Leon's arm from over her and got up. She unzipped her backpack and pulled out the Gold Star Arctic Hare, it sloshed around looking just like water. She sat down a ways from the fire and unscrewed the top. She put the bottle to her lips and turned it skyward. The liquid flowed over her tongue and down her throat. It burned into her stomach and she felt throughout her body. Sveni pulled the bottle away and gasped, coughed. She felt a fire in her cheeks. She took another giant gulp of the drink and fought the taste of the vodka. The burning it started in her seemed to fill whatever had been missing. Already she felt like the world was a little funky. There was something a little off about everything. The faint singing she'd been hearing the past few days was back, and this time it was louder. Sveni took another sip of the vodka and stood up unsteadily. She had to find where it was coming from, she had to find whoever it was that was following her. She set off into the scrubby brush, taking another sip. The singing grew louder and louder and Sveni felt her body pull at her. The cactuses came alive just like the trees had and their thick arms swayed in time to the music. Sveni began dancing, moving her arms as if underwater. She twirled around and a large saguaro reached down to place a crown of sweet-smelling white flowers in her hair. She giggled and took another deep pull from the bottle. Oh she felt it now, she felt like she was walking on the clouds, swimming in the ocean, navigating space. The singing grew louder and she knew she was getting closer. She could almost tell what they were saying. Almost. Sveni danced her way through the brush's gentle movement. They reached out branches and twigs and caressed her cheek, clutched at her hair, begging her to stay with them. 

"I'm sorry!" She called, "I have to go!" They're calling for me! Jag är ledsen! Förlåt mig! Du är så vacker!" She twirled past the bushes and cactuses and deeper and deeper into the desert. She leapt off the ground a few times and hung there, suspended in the air. She drank more and more from the liquid lava, letting it harden into rock in the holes in her heart. She followed the music to a stream that pooled in the cool sand. As she approached it dozens of small animals scurried away and she begged them not to leave but they did so anyway. The singing here was the loudest, it emanated directly from the glassy surface of the water. Sveni fell to her knees and tipped over, bottle sloshing. She righted herself and looked into the water. There, in heavenly chorus, were a multitude of angels. Gathered around the surface, looking back at her, more beautiful than anything she could ever imagine, they shone with a terrible, glorious light and they fought their way to look at her. They were all singing and finally she could hear what they were saying.

"Violet! Violet! Violet!" They sang, thousands of voices strong, "Come back! Come back! Come back!" 

"How?" Sveni asked, "What do you want me to do? I'm Sveni, not Violet..."

"Violet! Violet! Violet!" They chorused.

"I'm Sveni!" She repeated, and took the final bit of vodka from the bottle. The Angels kept chanting the other girl's name, over and over. It drilled into Sveni's head, every syllable hammering at her being. She didn't know what to do anymore. She was in another body, detached, the alcohol made her wobbly. But it was tumbling around in her head. Why was Violet torturing her like this? Suddenly, the wind in the brush picked up the chorus.

"Violet! Violet! Violet!" Everything sang. Sveni clapped her hands over her ears. It was everywhere, she was everywhere. Violet, Violet, Violet.

"I'm SVENI! SVENJA ULRIKSON! SVENI! SVENI! SVENI!" She screamed and clapped her hands over her ears but it did no good. The singing was inside of her, in her bones, in her blood. Violet's name flowed through her, Violet's being surrounded her. She felt her everywhere, wrapped around her like a blanket. Violet had her trapped like a mouse. She felt tiny, cowering under the towering presence, the massive shadow of VIOLET. 

Sveni collapsed sideways, laid on her back looking up. The grasses snatched her hair and planted it in the sand. The bushes wound around her wrists and pulled them to the Earth, the bottle still clutched in her left hand. The kingly saguaros knelt by her, reached to her.

“Violet! Violet! Violet!” The desert chanted. She was everything, she was the bushes and the cacti, she was the desert, she was the way Leon looked at her, she was the pity in George’s voice when he spoke to her.

“Violet! Violet! Violet! Come back!” The earth chanted.

She felt sick, she ripped her hair from the earth and turned her head, vomited. 

“I’m not Violet,” She cried, tears pouring down her cheeks, “I’m- I’m..”  

She couldn’t remember. Violet! Violet! Violet! 

The Angels changed their chant, “Bad! Bad! Bad! Violet! Violet! Violet!” The grass pulled her hair, the vines holding her wrists tightened until she cried out. The great saguaros placed needle after needle in her cheeks and arms as Sveni screamed as loud as she could. Above her, the moon melted and dripped down to fall on her like hot wax. The Angels sang their enticements to her, to Violet. 

"STOP STOP STOP!!!" She screamed, tears burning, and she ripped her hand from the bushes’ grasp and with all her might threw the bottle into the pool. As the surface of the water broke the singing swelled out. It grew louder, no longer an insistent whisper it was a full chorus and it washed over her like a tidal wave. They screamed the name, her name. She dropped her hand and the bushes once more held her fast. Violet closed her eyes and gave up. Let the bushes and grass and moon and sound cover her. She dropped away, defeated.

A voice called a name. She wasn't sure it was hers or the imposter's. They repeated it, yelling over and over. 

"Sveni!" They called much closer, "Sveni! Where are you?" The imposter.

Footsteps, then suddenly, hands grasped her, shook her, "Sveni! Are you ok? What happened?" Sveni opened her eyes, Leon leaned over her looking frantic. His eyes were wild and he wasn't wearing his shirt; he looked crazed. He turned around and yelled behind him, "George! I found her!" 

George came running up, bursting through the scrub. 

"Sveni! Child, you scared us! Where were you?" He dropped to his knees next to her.

Sveni's head was pounding, she sat up then promptly turned and retched, much to the horror of the other two. She looked around her, the stream was gone, the empty vodka bottle sat in the sand fifteen feet away from her. She felt her cheeks, there were no cactus needles puncturing them. Her blouse was dirty and ripped at the neck but there were no moondrops covering it. 

"Sveni?" Leon asked, "what happened?"

Her mouth was as dry as the desert around her, "What?" She croaked.

"Sveni, you disappeared! We woke up and you were gone. We've been looking for you for twenty minutes, calling your name!" Leon looked more concerned than she'd ever seen him. 

George chimed in too, "What happened Sveni? Why are you out here?" They hadn't noticed the vodka bottle then. 

"I went for a walk," she said and George's face morphed into incredulity.

"Walk?" He exclaimed, "you were passed out in the sand fifteen minutes from where we were camped! That's not a walk, you come back from a walk. Why are you out here?"

"I don't know. I went for a walk," Sveni insisted,  "I just wanted to see what's out here."

"What's out here?" Leon asked, "There's just brush and desert!"

"I-I thought I heard..." Sveni trailed off 

"Sveni," George asked her, "You were hearing things?"

"Shut up!" Leon snapped, "don't you try that."

"I probably imagined it. I didn't hear anything," Sveni said. Maybe the Angels were a dream, but as soon as she thought this she knew it wasn't true.

"You heard nothing Sveni," Leon said forcefully, "You just went for walk, right?" 

"I just went for a walk," she repeated in monotone.

"Then how the hell did you end up here, Sveni," George insisted.

"Stop, George," Leon said sharply. George just shook his head and stood up. Sveni saw him glance at the vodka bottle then back at her, though she wasn't sure. Leon grasped her hand and pulled her to her feet. Sveni swayed and clutched Leon's shoulder in her other hand. Her vision wavered, the desert tempered with black, and she bent over and emptied her stomach onto the sandy ground. 

“Sveni!” Leon yelped and hopped back to avoid being splashed on, “Jesus, what’s wrong with you?"

She retched again, losing her balance and tipping forward. Leon yelled and George caught her by her arm where she hung in his grip, limp. George put his other arm under her legs and swung her up into his arms.

"Put me down!" She screeched and flailed her arms.

"What the hell are you doing? Calm down!" George grunted, struggling to not drop her.

"Sveni! Calm down!" Leon danced around her puddle of vomit to snatch one of her flying wrists. 

She wrenched it from his grip, "Let me go! Put me down!" She screamed. She hit George with her fists, pummeling his chest and trying to slip out of his arms. He held her tight though, as he turned to walk through the brush, no matter how she struggled, it was as if he were holding a child's doll. 

"You stop this immediately, Sveni," George said harshly, his flowery language gone, "This is nonsense. You're not walking yourself back to camp so you might as well not be difficult about this. I never would have expected this from you. You've always struck me as a sensible girl." 

Sveni went limp again, fist falling motionless, and without her permission tears began pouring from her eyes. Before Sveni knew it she was crying loudly. George murmured soft words, but Sveni saw him exchange a look with Leon. It was a terrifying look to her, it was one that said what do we do? What do we do with her? 

Sveni was losing herself. Every tear that slid down her face was a drop of her sanity. She watched them drip off her nose and soak George's t-shirt as he trudged back to the camp. She couldn’t handle this anymore. She wanted to be back in Sweden with her family, before the sickness, before all this. She wanted to be back in her sweet little house outside of Stockholm. Where linneas and forget-me-nots carpeted the ground and ivy creeped over the door. Where she, age six, gathered armfuls of the sweet grass and flowers and dropped the bundles, laughing, into the laps of her mother and sisters. And they cooed and her father would swing her up in the air around his head and she’d laugh so hard she’d hiccup. Where did that Sveni go? And why was she now replaced with this foreign machine with no feelings, no emotions but sadness. There had been no flower fields in New York, no gardens to play in. Just desolate brick buildings and miles and miles of concrete. And pretty soon after they got there, the sickness too. Which brought something new into Sveni’s life, fear. And now the ghost of a girl she never met haunted her and the two with her. I deserve better than this, she thought. 

    They walked.

Something that Sveni had wondered about for a great deal of time was the scar on George’s face. It began just next to the middle of his left ear. It ran across his dark cheek, split the left corner of his lip in two, and left off on his chin. It was still pink and puffy, obviously still relatively new. It also looked as if it had been never  been stitched up properly or taken care of by a real doctor. 

“She was ravin’ mad at this point. She talked to herself and that damn machete. I told Leon over and over, get rid of that knife, but he never would. He never fucking would. She went real crazy one night, screaming and flailing. Crying out that was gunna use that knife on herself, again. But for real this time. Leon was trying to calm her down, stroking her hair and whispering in her ear. But all she’d scream about was her Angels.”

“Angels?” Sveni interrupted.

“Yes, my doe, Angels,” George sighed, and shook his head, “She talked about them constantly. These Angels living all around her. They would tell her things, she said, things about us. She would tell you things about yourself you never even knew, but only the bad things. She’d tell you something and it’d get you thinking, am I really like that? you’d think about it for days, and she’d gloat, oh, you could almost feel her smirk. All these things the Angels told her. She knew how to control people, she did. By the time I met her, she’d had Leon wrapped around her finger for years. He’d do anything she told him to, and now he’ll do anything you tell him to.”

“I’m not like her!” Sveni protested immediately, “I’m not Violet!”

“I know, I know, child, I wasn’t saying that!” George said soothingly, “All I was saying Leon’s got a… misplaced feeling when it comes to you. Now, don’t you get mad at me, but we both know he ain’t all right. He calls you Violet, talks to you like he talked to her. That’s just wrong, you got some real bad luck girl, and there’s no way around that. I can’t tell you how much you look like her. It’s like we can’t escape. Leon and I’ll never escape. Once you met Violet, she never really leaves you.

“Back to that night though. We were in the north Florida area. We were all livin’ in this ramshackle farmhouse, mind this was before Violet took it to her that we all had to see the ocean. I mean before she insisted. So Violet’s sitting on this plush chair in the living room, rocking back and forth, jabbering to herself, tears dripping from her eyes. Leon’s got his arms around her, as best he could, bless that boy, and he’s stroking her, murmuring to her, petting her. I never knew what to do in situations like that. I’d tried to get involved in other times but Violet didn’t take to kindly to my meddling.

“It was summer but we were still having a rough time. There aren’t many grocery stores to loot down in the country. And these farms were mostly deserted. We’d met a man and his elderly mother a few days before that when we were out exploring. They gave us some food and such but I didn’t want to keep going back to them begging for more. The house we were staying in had a few provisions, but we’d been there a week and there wasn’t much left. I’d been telling them for days we had to leave. We were s’posed to leave that night, but there’s Violet having one of her meltdowns. 

“She was mumbling about her damn Angels, and tellin’ Leon they had a task for her. She just kept saying ‘I’m not ready, I’m not ready.’ The whole scene got to me. Violet, center of attention as always, Leon, doting on her, me, trying to keep everyone alive in this goddamn wasteland. I’m not proud of it, honeybee, but I lost my temper. Boy, did I start shouting and yelling. Telling her to snap out of it, stand up, we’re going! Both her and Leon looked at me like deer in the headlights. Then her face changed, it curdled like milk in the summer sun. She spit her words at me with the most venom you’ve ever heard. She said, ‘Shut up, you…’ well I’ll just say she called me something you should never call a man, or any human for that matter. Even Leon gasped at what she’d said. 

“I was dead calm. Then I marched over to her, snatched her arm and shook the bajeezus out of her. I yelled at her then, called her horrible names. But the she-devil deserved it. She was screaming and screaming. Leon too. He leapt up and tried to push me back, this was the first time either of them saw me lose my temper. When I’d yelled all the anger out of my body, I dropped her arm and she flopped back into the chair. I turned and started walking out of the room She started shoutin’ that she was going to kill me so I turned around again to shut her up. When I did, she leapt from her chair, snatched Leon’s machete off the table and that was it. She took one big slash across my face.

“It felt like fire erupted on my cheek. Leon tried to take the knife from her but she slashed again and luckily, only got my shirt. I’m not proud of this, doe, but I backhanded her so hard her head musta rang for a week. But you gotta understand, she would’ve killed me. Her eyes had been wild, I could tell she was seein’ me die. Hoping for it. She fell down and Leon wrestled the knife from her. He shoved it into my hands telling me to take it and leave, leave, leave. He had to hold her down because the bitch was throwing some sort of psychotic fit, convulsing and screaming like she was being murdered. There was blood pouring down my face, so I left. Went into the upstairs bathroom and got it the shower. As washed off I felt the split skin of my face and thought of how disappointed my Louise would have been with me. 

“When I got out, I washed my blood from Leon’s knife and went into my room. I got a sewing kit and some first aid cream and tried to stitch myself together as best I could. It was a long night that night. My face burned and so did my heart. I layed there in my bed all night, door locked because I was afraid Violet’d kill me if I didn’t. She brought out the worst in everybody. She had a way of pulling the darkness out of you, and if you didn’t have any she’d plant some there. I’d never raised my hand to a living being before that. I never got in schoolyard fights, even when they made fun of how big I was or the color of my skin. I was always calm, cool, collected. But Violet wore me down so much, planted so much hatred in me, that I did something I swore I never would.

“For the first time, I was glad my Louise was gone, because I’d never have been able to face her again. Not after hitting that girl. Oh she’d be so disappointed in me. My poor Louise, my poor, poor Louise. She didn’t marry this man. This isn’t who she married,” George broke down in tears. He put his head in his hands, “What did she make you into, Georgie.”

Sveni was silent.

Sveni had gone to sleep a long time ago, under the shade of the shelter George had built. It was odd at first, sleeping during the day and walking at night, but Leon said that’s what they had to do in the desert and she trusted him with that at least. She didn’t stay awake like she normally did with Leon that night, they were out side and anyways, Leon said he was going to go see if he could find some extra water. It was ridiculously hot outside during the day. Water was proving very difficult to come by lately, they’d drank out of numerous rivers and even found  case of bottled water a while ago. They’d been drinking that. George hauled it on his pack, one of the few things he was good for anymore. All he did nowadays was stare at Sveni and make side comments to Leon about her. He rarely addressed her directly anymore. 

Sveni woke to the sound of talking. It was Leon’s voice she heard, a little ways off talking to George. 

“There’s no way we can do that George! She’d go ballistic!” He was saying.

“Well let her, there’s not enough out here. I knew there was desert but not like this. We can follow the suburbs only so far. I don’t know how many more pockets of desert we can go through. This is rough, Leon. Rough. Look at how skinny you are, look at her! She’s rail thin. I’m worried,” George replied.

“What do you want us to do, then? Go back? I can’t go back to Boston,” Leon sounded worried, almost scared.

“I’m not sayin’ we go back, I ain’t never going back to Atlanta, that’s for sure. But maybe we go back to Mississippi? Arkansas? Those were nice states.”

“We couldn’t do that to her. She’d crumble. You see her, all she wants is to get to the ocean. We can’t stop,” Leon was firm.

“She’s crazy, Leon. Now don’t you protest!” George said when Leon made a warning sound. Sveni could imagine him reaching for the Machete, and what the hell did George mean by she was insane! Bastard. He continued, “You know it too. She’s having fits, seeing things. Hearing things. You know it too. She needs help. She’s gone positively insane.”

“She may be positively insane but I’m positively, insanely in love with her. Honestly, I don’t know who needs more help,” Leon sighed. Sveni imagined him looking at her wistfully with love in his eyes. He always had love in his eyes when he looked at her.

“She’s got some real bad stuff goin’ on Leon,” George’s voice jolted Sveni out of her imaginings, “She’s real broken and she needs some heavy fixing, something love alone can’t do.”

“George, listen to me, I love her broken soul, and ugly heart. I love her worn-out strength and her almost-gone hope. I love her name and I love the sound of her voice, cracked and sad. I know she’s broken but I love her so much, she doesn't need any fixing." 

“Don’t be like that, Leon,” George said.

“Don’t be like what?” Leon said savagely, then softened, "I’m sorry George, you know,it wasn't supposed to end this way… we were supposed to be happy."

“And we will be,” George said, “Let’s just get us to California. Maybe then everything will turn right again.”

Leon sighed, and there was the rustle of the two of them laying down. It was followed soon after by George’s colossal snores. Sveni thought about what they said. Was she crazy? No. It was just George being horrible, and now he’d half convinced Leon that was true too. She’d have to be extra sweet for a few days. To prove the two of them wrong. No calling George an oaf, no bullying Leon. Well maybe a little, he had called her insane. And she WASN’T insane. The two of them were jealous that they couldn’t hear the Angels. That they hadn’t been picked by them to hold their secrets. Sveni had been picked, she was special. It was something the other two would never have. Sveni fell asleep thinking of how she could punish Leon for saying those hurtful things about her. 

They couldn’t find anything but lizards to eat so Sveni began to cry. 

“We’re going to starve!” She sobbed and Leon abandoned the unneeded fire to prop her up after she collapsed to the ground in misery. He made soothing sounds and patted her back as tears dripped from her eyes. She wiped her nose on the back of her arm and leaned back into him.

“You can have my portion too if you want, Violet,” he said, but she only wailed louder.

“I don’t want lizards! I hate them!”

Leon pulled her hair out of her face where it had stuck to snot and tears. He took one of the elastic hair holders from her limp wrist and gently pulled it into a ponytail. When George snorted and busied himself with the fire it set her off into a string of expletives, she screamed them at him, suddenly in hysterics. She heard the Angels and their singing and 

    They finally crossed into California. It was so wonderful. Sveni cried when they saw the sign and ran to it, clutching it. She dropped to the ground and laughed and cried together. Leon joined her and dropped his pack. 

    “We made it, Violet, we made it!” He said to her and dropped to the ground with her. He clutched Sveni and she wrapped her arms around him too. They were so close. They were in California, the land of dreams. Everything would be okay. Everything would be fine. They were going to see the ocean. She’d made it so far, from the east coast all the way to California. She’d live like a queen now. 

George trudged up, and looked at her tears and shaking coldly, “Come on, get back up.”

He made a motion with his hands, “We still got a ways to go, and we just stopped for lunch!” He walked past them up the road. 

“Asshole!” Sveni muttered to herself.

“He just wants to keep going,” Leon said, wiping away her tears with his hands. He stood up and hauled her to her feet where she swayed a bit then steadied, “Come on, let’s follow him.”

“Tell me a story,” Sveni said, “I’m so bored. I just want to be there. Tell me a story, Leon.”

“What story should I tell?" Leon asked. 

"Any. Just entertain me for God's sake," she said. 

Leon thought for a while, they meandered further into California, still a couple hundred feet behind George. Finally he said, “I know one. It's a long one though. And you already know it.”

"I don't care,” Sveni said, “just as long as it's good.” 

“I like it,” Leon said. Then he began.

"He saw her for the first time as winter ended. The snow that had lain on the ground for so long had turned to grayish mush. It was still cold, but not that cold. He had on the thin orange jacket with a soccer ball on the lapel and his winter boots. 

“His mother had him by the hand, dragging him through the grocery mart. She was perusing the onions and tomatoes. Picking one up, turning it, checking it. She was always so meticulous, very clean. She made him and his little brothers clean their rooms every Tuesday after school and Friday too. He looked around, bored with what she was doing. He wandered a few feet away to the front of the store. Through the sliding glass door he watched people slog back and forth outside. Everything was grey and brown and muggy. Suddenly, a flash of white and he saw her. 

“She was sharp and bright as she danced back and forth in the slush. She had yellow boots and polka dot leggings under a ruffled pink dress. She had a matching yellow slicker on too. White blond curls danced through the air as she leapt and twisted. She was stomping in the puddles and kicking water into the air. The people around her gave her a wide berth and grumbled as the cold water droplets hit their legs. He couldn't stop watching her. 

“She suddenly turned and looked at him. Her face split into a massive grin, sunlight on the dreary day. He thought he might die at that moment. Her hair had a clip in it, a pink butterfly with fluttering wings. It looked like it had been made to perch there on her right temple. Everything about her was incredible, her wide set eyes, cloud fluff hair, the yellow slicker that, he saw now, had a tear on the right lapel. It all seemed like it was supposed to be there. She was supposed to be there, just for him.

“Through a fog he heard his name, then his arm jerked as his mother grabbed it and dragged him back to the produce section, berating him for running off. He tried desperately to see her through the doors again as his mother led him through the store, hand on the cart now as he’d wandered off earlier. When they left he searched everywhere for the girl but she'd moved on. In the car, he pressed his face to the window, nose squished up, and scanned the roads they passed looking for her, but she was gone. He thought about her for months but didn't see her again for years. 

“He saw her for the second time in early summer. It was different this time. The first time was snow, the second time, fire. There was Sickness in the city. Three people had died and panic was spreading. People took to the streets and screamed and cried and destroyed what wasn't theirs. He saw on the news images of buildings, broken glass, smoke rising, and police marching. It wasn’t as if this were anything new, the sickness had been around for almost three years. But now it was where he was. Reports floated in over the past few months of empty cities on the west coast. Not towns anymore, but cities. Everyone had either left or died. This scared him. The thought of empty streets and row after row of homes with no one living in them.

“He went out into the city again, walked for an hour and a half from his house to watch the people. He wanted to wander the city and watch the excitement. It seemed so far from the sleepy row of houses in the mild suburb he lived in. He had always liked the city, Boston was old and dignified. The doting great aunt of the East Coast. Not the most important city, but still a timeless one. This time he wore a black t shirt and jeans. He was bigger too. Second tallest in his seventh grade class. 

“He stayed on the outskirts, nowhere near the real mayhem. His mom didn't know he was there. She was sick, or maybe Sick. He didn't know. She was limp and wouldn’t get out of bed. He’d been feeding her and caring for her for a week now. She wasn’t doing well. Today, the school had called, said they were sending someone to the house, since he and his brothers  hadn’t gone in so long. 

“So he'd snuck out, it was eleven at night. He wandered back and forth in alleyways and watching people sprint back and forth. Police sirens blared in the distance. He was suddenly very scared, he wasn't sure if he should have left his house. Especially on a night like that, an especially dark one it seemed. 

“He heard the tinkling of glass from the alley over and peered down it. It was lined with boutiques and light danced off jags of broken glass in one of the shop windows. He heard peals of laughter from inside like fairy bells. He crept closer until he could look inside. And suddenly he was in the grocery mart again. She was dancing between displays, snatching scarves and blouses shoving them into a massive leather purse. She stopped to compare two wispy dresses. Her hair was longer now, falling in curls down her back. She faced away from him. She dropped the purse on the ground and laid the dresses on a small table piled with jewelry. She twirled again and then slipped off the dress she was wearing. He felt his cheeks redden and he turned away. Embarrassed. 

“When he looked back she'd pulled on one of the dresses she was looking at earlier. A filmy pink one that floated around her knees. She picked up the purse and stuffed the other dress into it. He had to be closer, he had to see her details. He finally moved, stepping through the glass window and into the shop. She whipped around as his feet crunched on broken glass. 

“‘Who the fuck are you?’ She demanded and her voice was like honey but stung like a bee. 

“All he knew how to say was,’The boy from the grocery mart.’

“All of the sudden the smile was back. It broke over her face and she laughed a bell laugh again. The same one he saw on her face years ago through the sliding glass door and that he'd heard just a moment ago. It was the most wonderful thing he'd ever heard in his life. 

"’Were you watching me?’ She said. And when he tried to stutter out a no, she laughed again. He was closer now and could see that the dress was too big. It was made for a woman and she was a girl. Slender and milky pale. Her hair was still white blonde and he could see now her eyebrows, arched above long lashed eyes, were almost as colorless. She looked washed out, too light, but God was she beautiful. There was a crash behind him, and he stumbled forward. Out on some street nearby and someone shouted ‘Fire!’ He was so close to her now, if she reached out her arm and he reached out his, they could touch. She said something about savages and spit on the rich rug covering the floor. 

“‘What are you doing?’ He asked her. 

    “‘What does it look like?’ She asked with her voice that slid across his body and made him shiver,’I’m shopping.’ She snatched jewelry off the table, crystals and silver glinting in the night. She stepped towards him and he breathed her in but then she went past him, picking up a brick as she stepped through the window. He turned and followed her, through the window again. He stepped out into the street just in time to see her heave the brick through the window of the shop three down. An alarm went off but she just slipped out of her shoe and used it to clear away enough glass so that she could duck through. He hurried down the street and followed her into the next shop. where she picked out a purse and filled that too. She ignored him completely as she went down the street, shop to shop, and he followed her. When she’d gone through the whole alley, she had three purses and he was holding all of them. 

    “‘Goodbye,’ She said, and took the purses and set off down the street. He watched her leave until she turned a corner and was gone. No more. He wandered home and slipped into bed and thought about her for hours. He went out the next night again. The next and the next. He searched for her down alleys and streets, avoiding the riots that were intensifying. His mother got sicker, got the red spots on her throat, the death mark. He told no one. When the school called again, it was to announce that there would be no school anymore. He sent a note to her work, saying she was quitting. He spent every night searching.

“On the fifth day he found her. She was at a shoe store, pulling boots on her feet. She’d gone through the window again. Empty shoe boxes were littered around her, and shoes were thrown around. The shoe wouldn’t fit it seemed and she let out a short scream and threw it against the display of teeteringly tall stilettos.

“ He made a noise and she turned, ‘You again, it wouldn’t fit. Fucking useless store doesn’t have my size.’ She stood up and he noticed she was wearing a dress he watched her take from one of the shops. She was just as perfect as always. She came towards him and opened her small pink mouth to say something but shouting outside cut her off. They turned to the storefront and the yelling got louder. she snatched his hand and pulled him to the back of the store, she leapt behind the counter and they went into the storeroom where she headed to the back door. She unlocked it and pulled him out into a back alley. Down the alley she flew, pulling him with her. She dropped his hand and ran as the smell of smoke filled the air. He ran as fast as he possibly could. 

“He followed her down alleys and streets, he wasn’t sure she knew where she was going. When the shouting died away and the flickering of flames and smoke died away she slowed down and stopped. He bent double, huffing and trying to catch his breath. She started laughing again, through her own pants and gasps. 

“‘What fun, fun, fun!’ She screamed, ‘Come with me,’ And she grabbed him by the hand again and led him through street after street until they reached a tiny house on the outskirts of the city. He recognized the area, it was only a ten minutes drive from his home. The house was small and painted light blue with white shutters. The steps up to the front door were crooked and there was a full ashtray on the top one. She pulled a key from a black ribbon around her neck and unlocked the front door. She went inside and beckoned him in, putting a finger to her mouth to tell him to be quiet. 

“The kitchen they entered was untidy. Not disgusting, but just messy. She beckoned him to a table and he sat down. He looked into the living room that connected to the kitchen and saw piles of clothes stacked on the sofa. He recognized some of them from the shops. She was at the kitchen counter making something. She turned around and put two mugs on the table. He took a sip and made a face, coffee. She opened a tin of cookies and took one, nibbling on the edges. 

“The whole thing felt surreal, he thought. He’d dreamed about her for years and here he was, in her house, drinking from her mugs, eating her cookies. She was beautiful underneath the florescent lights. But she seemed out of place in the tiny, one story house that reeked of cigarettes and neglect. It was so different than the home he shared with his mom and three brothers. She seemed like the type who would live in a mansion somewhere, with butlers and maids surrounding her. She flung the rest of her cookie into the sink and stood up, he shoved his in his mouth and stood up too. 

“‘Um,’ He stuttered, ‘I think I need to go home soon…’

“‘Fine, lead on,’ And she gestured grandly at the door. He began to head out but faltered for a moment as she followed him.

 “‘Well?’ She said.

“‘Nothing,’ And he walked went out the door and down the steps, with her trotting after him. Down the street he went, he was pretty sure he knew how to get back to the main road. It took a few tries, she snickered behind him but offered no help, but he finally found the road he was looking for. He walked for about a half hour but he reached home just as the very first rays of light were coming up in the east. She had followed him the entire way there. At his front step, he turned around and stuttered a goodbye, unsure of what to say. She laughed at him again with her fairy laugh and leapt forward on her toes. She pressed her lips to his startled ones then danced away, spinning and leaping. Down the street she went, he watched her until she was out of sight. Utterly perplexed. Finally he touched his lips and went inside the house, just to fall into his bed and into sleep immediately. 

“He woke up after a night of dreaming of her and her cherry lips just to count down the minutes until he could walk to her house again when the city slept.”

    They stopped in a medium sized, two story, shaded home in what the signs called La Habra Heights. Sveni could almost smell the ocean. It’s all she ever wanted, to run into the waves and be free. And she was so close, so close, so close. They would reach it tomorrow. Leon had told her that morning. The Angels had been screaming at her so she’d had to shut her ears but she could still hear them so Leon had held her tight. He told her only a few more miles, only a few more miles. Tomorrow they’d be there. But tonight they were staying in this crumbling home. 

There was so much vegetation and overgrowth that Leon had to cut through to the front door. Sveni could see the Angels glinting in its surface, their singing buffeted her ears. She almost, almost got lost in it but held herself together. George was staring at her so she sneered at him until he looked away. The idiot. He’d always hated her. And she always thought he was below her so they were even. She pulled her hands from her ears when Leon put his machete away and they walked in. 

This must have been one of the first areas hit the Sickness and abandoned because everything was disintegrating. The couches and tabletops were dusty and graffiti was sprayed all over the walls. Sveni traced an expletive with her fingertip then dropped her pack. She wandered through the house trying doors until she found the master bedroom. It didn’t take too long, it was a too small house. If only George had listened to her when she said she wanted to stay in a mansion. She knew they were around here somewhere. She’d seen them in magazines back in Boston. She figured they could stay in this shack for one night. Tomorrow she’d make them find some beach mansion. To stay in, to live in. Because they’d done it. They’d made it. All the way to the ocean, just like she always knew they would. Just like Leon had told her they would. 

The master bedroom was tiny too. It had a bed with a yellowed comforter. Sveni fluffed out the comforter and turned her head as dust flew. She flopped back onto the bed, not even bothering to take her shoes off. 

“We made it, we made it, we made it,” she whispered to herself. The Angels sang back to her that it was almost time, but she ignored them. She had to see the ocean first. There were years she had to spend here. Living in some dead starlet’s mansion, spending every day in the ocean, being doted on by Leon. Ah, she could get used to that. She had time to answer the Angels.

Sveni heard Leon calling her from the kitchen. She got up again and trotted to where he and George had gone through the cabinets. Sveni picked up a box of pasta and opened it, looking inside. A beetle buzzed out and she dropped the box, jumping backwards. Pasta scattered on the floor and two more beetles scurried under the cabinets. 

“Disgusting,” she said and turned away to look in the living room, leaving the other two to make dinner. George chattered with Leon in the kitchen as Sveni fluffed out the blankets, checking for bugs, then settled onto the sofa. She pulled something out from underneath her and inspected it. It was a TV remote. Sveni pointed it at the massive flat screen affixed to the wall, out of place in the modest home. She clicked the power button a few times but nothing happened, there hadn’t been electricity here in years, she would place money on it. Sveni laid her head on the armrest and shut her eyes for a few moments. 

“Sveni?” She opened her eyes and George was standing in front of her, holding two plates, “Sveni, my flower, we made dinner, want some?”

She sat up and looked out the window, it was totally black outside, she must have fallen asleep. It was bowtie pasta. 

“I hope this isn’t the same box as the bug one,” She said testily.

“No, it’s a new one,” Leon said, he plopped down next to her and began eating his pasta with a plastic fork.

“Fine then,” Sveni said and she reached out as George handed her the plate and a fork of her own. The pasta was bland and desperately needed salt but she was just happy that they was something to eat. For a while in the Arizona desert she’d been a little worried, there weren’t many stores or houses. And the water situation had been terrible. But now they were here and there were houses everywhere and soon she’d be in a massive mansion and when the food ran out there they’d just move to the one next to it. 

“Tomorrow I want to find our mansion,” Sveni said. George looked up from his food.

“Sure now, Sveni,” he said, then added, “But don’t you want to go to the ocean first?”

“Of course!” Sveni said, “But after that I want to find our new home.”

“I almost can’t believe we’re here,” George said, “I’ve never been to the west coast before, but here we are, here we are.” He scooped up the last bit of his pasta with his spoon and set the plate on the floor next to him. He stretched his hands up to the cieling and yawned heavily.

Leon spoke up, “I can’t wait to see the ocean, can you, Violet?” He turned to her and she nodded through a mouthful of pasta, “And a house? What sort of house are you looking for?”

“A big one,” Sveni answered, “One fit for a queen. All those Hollywood stars had houses with three swimming pools and a fireplace in every room. I want that, and a massive driveway and bedroom with the softest sheets and a massive TV. I’ll live like royalty!” She giggled and slumped back in her chair, dreaming of maids and money and all the things she could have now that they’d reached California. 

“Don’t we all,” said George to himself.

“The difference is I actually get it!” Sveni fluffed her shoulder length blond curls, and when Leon stood up to take his plate to the kitchen she handed him hers as well.

“You’re one lucky girl then, Sveni,” George picked up a threadbare blanket and began heading up the stairs, Sveni hoped not to the master bedroom. He was halfway up when he turned and spoke again, “We best be up early tomorrow, we should get Miss Hollywood Starlet here to the ocean as soon as possible.”

And with that he trudged up the last of the stairs leaving Sveni to glare at his backside. 

“He really should watch the way he talks to me,” she huffed, turning to Leon, “Why do you let him treat me that way, Leon?”

“Oh, he doesn’t mean it Violet,” Leon kissed her grimace, “He’s just having some fun.”

“Well I think it’s horrible,” she turned away from his kisses, “And if you really loved me you wouldn’t let him talk to me like that.”

“Violet what can I do? Talk to him? I will tomorrow, I promise. Now forget about grumpy George and kiss me,” He pulled her in again and this time she kissed him back, “I love you, Violet,” He whispered.

“Mmhm” Sveni muttered, she couldn’t stop thinking about the ocean, ocean, ocean. 

“Do your Angels still talk to you, Sveni?” Leon stopped then asked, tentatively.

Sveni looked at him warily, then answered, “Of course! They’d never abandon me! They sing to me the sweetest songs. The most beautiful words. But I only saw them that one time. They hide from me otherwise.”

“In the machete,” Leon stated. Sveni looked at him with terror, he knew. How did he know?

“Do they talk to you too? They’re mine!” she raised her voice, “They’re not yours! How do you know? How? Tell me, now!”

“N-no! You told me, Violet! You told me!” He stuttered. 

“When?” She demanded. 

“I don’t know, a while ago. You were having a… having a breakdown,” Leon reached for her and she let him caress her cheek. He always got so pathetically frantic when she was mad. And she supposed she could have told him at some point. No wonder he wouldn’t let her play with the machete anymore. Even though she’d been the one to get it for him. 

“Fine,” Sveni said, “I must have told you at some point,” and she kissed him first this time. He tasted like he always did, of sweat and desperation. All Leon wanted was her love, her touch. 

Suddenly Leon stopped, and looked at her, really looked at her, “Why’d you leave, Violet? Why’d you go?”

“What are you talking about?” She asked, confused.

“Why’d you leave me in Florida?”

Sveni sighed, “I didn’t leave you, Leon. I won’t leave you,” At least not until the Angels called her, she thought.

“I’m so glad I found you again,” Leon whispered, “I will always be here for you, Violet, not even death could keep me away from you.”

“Death?” Sveni said sitting up, “No one’s dying, ok?”

Leon shook his head vigorously, “No one’s dying! No, that’s what I meant; we’ll be together forever. Like we were supposed to!” 

Sveni hated it when he talked like that, like the future was so certain. Like everything was going to be all right. Because sometimes it wasn’t. She’d learned that. The Angels had taught her that. 

As if the previous talk of the Angels had awoken them, Sveni heard them singing from the next room. She drowned it out with talking about the ocean again. When she fell silent, Leon took off his shirt and Sveni traced the flowers that blossomed on his heart. Her flowers. 

Leon kissed her again and this time she meant it when she kissed him back. 

They reach the west coast, walk through abandoned suburbs. Will reach LA and the ocean the next day. Sveni fully loses herself. Is Violet. falls asleep in bed with Leon, leads into below

6 months ago

Violet de tangled her body from Leon's and slipped out of the bed. She pulled on her underwear which were lying forgotten next to the bed and grabbed Leon's tshirt. As she freed her long hair from the shirt, she leaned down and kissed Leon. 

"I have to do this," she whispered, and brushed her fingers on his lips, gently, so he didn't wake up. She looked to the bedside table where the singing was coming from. It gleamed in the moonlight and the Angels that were in chorus were reflected of the surface. 

"I know," she answered it, "I am. But I don't want to say goodbye to him. Maybe he could come too?"

The Angels sang their answer and Violet sighed.

"I'm going to miss him worshipping me," she said morosely and grabbed the machete. Violet padded out of the room, the machete in her hand swinging by her side. The worn, musty carpeting reached up around her toes and she glided past the room where George's snores melded with the singing to create a symphony of sound that left the taste of chocolate in her mouth. She reached the stairs and the Angels, as they'd done once before, surged from the machete blade and grasped her in their millions of hands. They cradled her and carried her down the stairs into the living room. There they placed her once more on the ground. They beckoned her into the kitchen and Violet could see through the windows that the trees had come alive for her tonight. She stepped to the big window over the sink and watched the life outside. The trees reached their branches toward her and twisted and danced to the Angels' songs. Their roots swam through the earth and knotted and unknotted. The grass rolled in waves carrying flowers toward her, gifts. 

"Now!" The Angels sang, and Violet tore herself away from the show outside and looked down at the machete. Leon's machete. 

"I'm going to miss his devotion," she told them. 

"Now! Now!" The Angels screamed and their voices resonated in her blood, "Violet, NOW!" 

    “You say he’ll love me more now?” she asked, “He’ll always be thinking about me? Forever? He’ll never have anyone else?”

Violet sighed, looked once more to the trees outside, looked to the Angels, looked to the stairs, looked to the machete. She placed the blade on her left wrist and turned the point so it pricked at her skin. By now the Angels' screaming song was deafening. In one movement Violet drew the blade up her arm and opened it. She gasped with pain as her blood sprung free. She switched hands and quickly drew a matching line on her right wrist. Blood ran from her body and the Angels were a tremendous clatter as they snatched at it. 

"FINISH!" They shrieked at her. Violet's vision shaded from the pain and she clutched the machete. She didn’t know if she could do it. It hurt. It hurt so bad. But the Angels were a crescendo of noise egging her on, telling her it was the only way, she was so close, so goddamn close. Her left hand clutched her neck and pulled the skin taut. She raised the machete and drew a burning line across her neck. 

Violet felt her feet leave the ground. Her head cracked against the floor. Everything was dripping and swirling and black. There was something about the pain, it's blindingly, white, cold shock, that genuinely comforted her. She felt herself slip and slip. Violet thought of George, always chattering, yet sadder than her in his own way. She hated him, he never subjugated himself to her, never was entranced by her, like everyone else was. She thought of Leon, saw him as he was back in Boston. Sprinting after her down the street, in his empty house, in his blue bed, saw his hands burning themselves into her body. She saw his green eyes praising her, following her, loving her. Everything Violet did Leon loved, and that unconditional approval was what she needed to survive. Violet thought of herself. No matter what she said, the only person Violet had ever loved, had ever truly, deeply cared about was herself. Violet, dirty, twisted, and laying on the kitchen floor of this house in central Florida in a sea of blood and the tides lapping at her edges. This wasn't how she was supposed to look when she died. She didn’t look holy, she wasn't a goddess, not lying in the puddle of her own blood as the Angels screamed her name. There was a reason Leon worshipped her and George feared her. She was smarter than them, more beautiful than them, more commanding than them. She was better. The Angels had told her that. They'd been telling her that for as long as she could remember. She never knew true silence. The Angels were always screaming at her, their incessant singing always ringing in her mind, their melodies her daily companion. Every good thing Violet had got she deserved. Every setback was a tragedy. A girl like her deserved the world. And what had Violet gotten? A less than perfect life in a crumbling world. She deserved so much more. And now Violet knew, for the first time in her life, she was a piece of poetry. Written perfection. And her last stanza was ending, the last line resonated in her head. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

Violet thought of herself as the Angels screamed their song louder than ever. Violet knew they were gorging themselves on her blood, finally had what they wanted. The Angels put their hands on her again and pushed her down down down. She slipped between the tiles and into the cool earth and then there was nothing. 

Absolutely nothing.

Eden Wan

Louise would be thrilled with the weight I've lost out here! She was always nagging at me to eat healthier, to forego the fries! She always said I looked like the pregnant one!”

“No! sveni laughed, “Did she really?”

“Oh yeah! I’ve always been a hefty fellow! well rounded, I like to say!” He laughed loudly, “even when it looked like she’d swallowed a watermelon, Louise called me her “pregnant wife” 

“I didn’t know you had a baby, George!?” Sveni asked, but as soon as the words left her mouth, she realized her mistake. The child wasn’t here anymore obviously. Louise was gone and George never would have left his child behind. So it must be gone, like Louise, “I’m sorry!” She began.

“Yeah, My louise had the prettiest little…” George swallowed hard, “My Louise and I were so excited when we found out. We’d been married three years. We always knew we wanted a little baby, I wanted the noise and happiness and little socks spread around the house. One day I was in the kitchen cleaning up from dinner and I heard her shout my name from the bedroom. My Louise is on the ground sobbing and o’course I run to her, ‘What’s the matter, what’s the matter, Flower?’ and then I realize she’s laughing too and smiling and she thrusts one o’those little pregnancy sticks in my face and it’s got two little blue lines and I start crying too. 

    “Oh, the next eight months were some of the best of my life. We was so excited. We got a little white crib and stuffed animals and little hats and onesies and bottles and we even spent and got one of those fancy strollers so Louise could go strolling in Piedmont park with the rich women. We stayed up late every night talking about names and I talked to her stomach and sang our little baby every song I knew. They can hear you, ya know? One day we were out at the convenience store and she starts yellin at me again, ‘Georgie! I felt him move! I felt him move!’ She was positive it was gunna be a little boy. Soon I could feel the baby too.

 Louise got bigger and bigger, til  she looked like she had swallowed a basketball. We were ready, we took parenting classes at the community center and got a baby carrier too. One night Louise woke me up in the middle of the night and said, ‘I’m ready, I’m ready, he’s ready, Georgie!” So I called up my cousin and he drove us to the hospital. Everything was fine, everything was good. Except Louise was hurtin’ real bad. So bad she couldn’t walk. 

“The nurse came and got her and looked inside her belly. She kept lookin and lookin then she left. No words, just left. I was holding my Louise’s hand and I told her not to worry, don’t worry. Then the nurse came back with a doctor and he looked and looked. Then he told me and Louise that there was no baby anymore. No heartbeat, no life. The baby was there but not the life inside it.”

“No,” Sveni whispered, “Oh no, oh no, please say it wasn’t that way, George.”

“Louise was too far in too, so they sent her in to the birthing area. We were both sobbing, ‘We’ll try again’ I kept telling her but we both knew it wasn’t true, we’d put all our love into this baby. I wanted that baby, not another, not one who would come later. I wanted that baby, the one in my Louise’s belly. Louise gave birth, they gave her drugs so it’d happen faster and when the baby came, they gave Louise a perfect little girl. Louise held her and sobbed and I climbed in bed with her and my Louise and I looked a our perfect little daughter who didn’t cry or breathe and I felt like my whole life was slipping away from us. 

“Why did that happen? Couldn’t we have loved her enough? Louise was so good through her whole pregnancy too, she never did none of the stuff they tell you not to. Not one sip of alcohol or unpasteurized milk. She took vitamins and ate vegtables. We did everything right, so why couldn’t we have our daughter?

Sveni’s eyes began leaking and she just kept shaking her head. 

“We stayed in the hospital for a while after that, Louise had to go through tests and bloodwork and all sorts of torture. She wouldn’t talk or even look at me. She just laid in her hospital bed, limp and despondent. The only noise she made was crying. Me too. When they let us go, we went back to our apartment filled with all the wonderful baby toys and the crib and little pacifiers. The fancy stroller mocked us, how could we ever have thought about Louise jogging in Piedmont Park, how could we ever thought we’d get there? it was such a dream, but one that, it seemed now, we’d always somehow known would never happen. Our little girl was a dream, she always seemed too good to be true. And she was, she was too good to be true. 

“I’m so sorry this happened to you,” Sveni said, “you never deserved any of this. You deserved to see Louise jogging with that stroller, you deserved to sing lullabies to your little girl, you deserved all those baby clothes and little socks, you deserved all the happiness you could have had, you deserved your little girl.”

“Thank you, my dear,” George said, and smiled a sad smile, “We’ve all got our bad times. I know we all suffered a mighty much. I’m sorry you got stuck out here, so far from your momma and family.”

Sveni lost it, she started bawling, “I’m sorry I left home, I’m sorry about my parents, oh my poor parents. I’m sorry Leon’s miserable. I’m sorry he feels so alone. I’m sorry I can’t do anything about any of this. I’m sorry I only made things worse. Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“Now don’t you go sayin that,” George said and patted her back, “Everything happens for a reason.”

“Above all, I’m sorry this happened to you, George,” Sveni said, tears escaping the corners of her eyes and dripping off her nose and cheeks. 

“Don’t you worry, my sweet,” George sighed, “It ain't no big deal.  When your world comes to an end, you just gotta start looking for another world.  And that’s just what I’m trying to do here.”

Make note of accents, George southern, Leon Boston, Sveni Swedish New York.

Traveling through orange groves 

When the world ends I’ll be here to hold your hand

SURVIVAL realistic

George gets angry, starts screaming at sveni/ violet to leave, violet get out

-She swore on her life that she wouldn't tell, but the thing was, she thought, she was going to die anyway.

Looking up at the night sky, sometimes you feel so tiny and powerless, yet oddly comforted, because it means your screw ups don't mean so much after all.

She fell, up and up, into the night sky.

Our bodies were sprinkled through galaxies destined to one day meet again. 

"I can't follow you through your darkness; you're drowning. All I can do is drown with you."

nosebleeds, 

Sweetie

Darling

Child

Dear

Honey

Bun

Muffin

Flower

Star

lamb

Duck

She was being swallowed by a sea, a vicious, vengeful sea. She lost herself in the dark depths that were raining down on her. And all she saw was herself through someone else.

"I'm sorry you thought I loved you."

"We've made mistakes. We've failed, okay. We've failed a lot. But here we are, we did it. Look, please, just look at what we've accomplished!”

The scent of death clung to every twisted tendril of her hair like the sparkling tears on her dark eyelashes and the blood dripping from her fingertips.

An empty amusement park has a distinct kind of creepiness that one just can't explain.

Her Skin Sloughed off her flesh, then that too fell away until only bone was left.

"You know, sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.”

"Well, I try to cater to my audience.”

George’s singing

“I wish I’d known then that I could never go back, that I would leave and never see any of that again. I wish I’d known the world was going to end,” she sighed.

“I wish I could believe in something bigger than than what I see in front of me, the trees, the sky, the moon, the dirt. But I don’t. I don’t even know if there’s such a thing as the ocean or cities full of people. All I remember now is this. Sometimes it feels like the world is empty save for us three. It’s been so long since I’ve seen anyone living, breathing, trying. It’s as if everyone really has died and we’re the only three left. The survivors of some catastrophe.”

    “But there was a catastrophe, Sveni,” Leon said, “the Sickness… three quarters of the population…”

    “I know that,” she interrupted, “it just feels so empty now, so useless. There’s no point to the world, there’s nothing left. There’s no reason to do anything, to be good or bad or helpful or hurtful. 

    He pulled her into his lap and she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck and buried her face in his neck. It was a few seconds later when she realized she was crying. Sobbing, and bawling. She didn’t know why, it was like the earth was too much for her, she felt like Atlas, a massive weight on her shoulders but no way to put it down. It was suffocating her, drowning her. She wanted it gone, she wanted it gone, gone, gone. All she could do was cry and wish everything was ok. All she wanted was to be finally happy but she knew she never would. She always messed things up before they got there. 

    Leon rubbed her back and whispered to her that everything was going to be ok, stop crying, stop crying please. But she couldn’t. All she could do was sob and wish things were different. 

Tattoos “Do you remember when I got the first one?” He tapped the flower over his heart, “We were sixteen. It was in that grungy little shop on Carmelo Avenue.”

    She nodded thinking hard, trying to remember. It was like there was a film over those memories, like she’d only been alive for this trip. There was no before. She couldn’t even remember parts of the trip, it scared her sometimes. The parts before George, those were so hazy. She felt like she had fog in her brain. Every other thought was drowned out by the singing she heard almost constantly now. 

    “Remember, they were the only ones who didn’t check that I was eighteen. I told them I wanted a violet, the most beautiful flower in the world. The guy just shrugged and said to come back in a few days when he’d designed it. It was perfect, exactly what I had wanted, exactly what I had hoped for. You said you loved it too, you said it let everyone know I was yours.”

    “I still love it,” She said and tapped at it with her finger.