Fractured: Tales of the Canadian Post-Apocalypse(55)

Mira had brought soup and bread. She supervised the community farm operation, and her monthly grain allowance made the bread possible. She’d brought additional provisions as payment, which Zara, ignoring her hunger, packed away.

The soup and bread stirred up memories of her old life: a house in the suburbs on fall days like this one, before the shadows, before everything fell apart. Zara fed Sid and made minimal conversation with Mira, so they shared the uncomfortable silence together. Mira told her what she required and took out another parcel.

Zara unwrapped a corner of it and slipped it back.

“I saw your son,” said Mira. “And you travel a lot. I thought this would help on the long nights.”

“Thanks,” she said, and watched Mira relax slightly.

“He doesn’t come every night,” she said. “Maybe once a month.”

Zara poured the remaining soup into a jar and wrapped the last slice of bread. She carefully placed both of them into her bag.

“Has he attempted to communicate?” asked Zara.

“No,” said Mira. She fiddled with the handle of her lantern. “I see him sometimes, if I look out our window. I intend to talk to him. It’s just that if the kids see him, I’m afraid they’ll go out after him, and…”

“You’re right,” Zara said. She unpacked three thick candles. She had carved wards for summoning on them.

Mira looked out into the darkness. “Miguel died in the early days. He was up at Fort Mac, working on the rigs when they attacked.”

Zara took out the lighter and lit the candles. Zara remembered the War. Sid had been an infant. In the chaos, Zara had learned to channel the gift the light carrier had passed on to her.

“The last thing I remember saying to him was that I wished we’d never met. I should’ve stopped him.”

Zara had starved in the early years. She watched as the shadows took the weak and dying, the young and old. Protecting Sid and feeding him were the first lessons she learned when they attacked.

“Will he be able to understand after all this time? Will he know that I’m sorry?”

Zara looked up at the stars. By the time their light reached anyone close enough to see, the star was already dying, swallowed by the darkness.

“Pay attention,” Zara said. “When you see your husband, talk to him, but don’t give him anything. Don’t let him touch you, don’t touch him in return. And don’t cross the wards.”

Mira nodded and looked out at the street.

The shadows had begun to gather, but none of them would be visible yet to Mira.

Zara placed three candles in front of her and Mira. The lights from the houses dimmed to pinpricks as the shadows arrived.

? ?

They came soundlessly, as a wave of darkness and cold that swept away colour and shadows cast by the feeble lights surrounding them. To Zara, they appeared as forms. Children, their bodies forever at the moment of death, and their parents walked alongside them. All the colour of their clothes had been washed out, their faces clear of expression.

Mira stood in front of Zara at the edge of the circle, holding a candle. She would only see the formless darkness until her fears made the shadows coalesce into something real.

The smell of sulphur that accompanied the shadows pervaded their circle, and a sudden chill cut through Zara’s jacket. Sid sat with his back to the empty storefront. He had seen this too many times. Zara checked her pockets again to ensure that the empty jar was there and ready. She had wound rags tightly around her hands in preparation for the worst.

“Call him,” Zara said.

“Miguel,” she called. “Miguel, it’s me, Mira. There’s something I need to tell you.”

Zara had chalked a set of wards in a circle around herself, Mira, and Sid. Another warded circle was drawn in front of this area for the shadow. Zara took off her jacket and wrapped it around Sid. The dress she wore underneath had hundreds of wards sewn into the fabric. At this hour, they glowed softly with an inner pulse of light.

A shadow drifted over and stood in front of Mira.

“Wait a moment,” said Zara. “Lift the candle to your height, and you’ll see him.”

Mira gasped. “Miguel, is that really you?” She began crying. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t stop you.” Miguel wore the overalls and hardhat from the day he died. Mira wept and spoke gently to the night.

Zara looked away. These moments cut too close to her own life for comfort. Seeing them, Zara remembered Kirk and the day he had returned, turning on her and Sid. She didn’t want to offer this option to people, but it was the only way they could exorcise their past.

Mira screamed, breaking Zara from her thoughts. Miguel’s shadow had drawn Mira into an embrace, smothering her. She had stepped across the warded line, Zara’s candle at her feet and its flame put out. The shadow dragged her farther away from the wards. Miguel’s shadow laughed. It was a high and empty laugh that dragged across Zara’s heart.

Zara fumbled with her lighter, running after Mira. She clicked it but the flame didn’t catch.

As soon as she stepped out of the warded area, shadows surrounded her. Her dress glowed, weakening the shadows, but it wasn’t enough. They enveloped her, till she could only see the blackness. Her throat constricted, the pressure on her chest restricting all movement. It was like this the first time. The first time she had fought back. The shadows had taken away all of the light, but they couldn’t take everything. Not Sid. She clicked the lighter again. This time the light flared.