[Fiction] What I Deserve

By Sophie Hermann

My weary arms ached as I hammered in the final nail. There wasn’t much I could do for the ruined fence, but my sorry attempt at fixing it would have to manage for now. The sun would soon be setting somewhere over the distant Oregon coastline, though the hundreds of miles of forest between here and there made it impossible to watch.

But sundown meant the start of another cold, late-autumn night, and I knew better than to risk it outside at this time of year. Admittedly naively holding out hope that a gust of wind was all that knocked the tired fence back down, I gathered up my tools and looked toward the south, briefly scanning my herd. The sheep seemed calm enough, but my nerves wouldn’t settle. Without thinking, I looked again, trying to detect any minute changes in the ewes’ behavior that could faintly signal danger. There was nothing, of course, but the tense feeling didn’t settle.

Times had been tough, and the men down in Burns said it wasn’t going to be getting better anytime soon. They made mention something about some economic panic caused by Harrison or the Londoners or some other fool. Whatever it was didn’t matter to me anyhow. It didn’t make much difference what was causing my problems, I lost sleep at night all the same. But it wasn’t like things had been easier before. Lately, it seemed we were always guessing to see if we’d make it through the month, squeezing together pennies just to put something other than sheep’s meat, milk, and cheese on the table. We were the only ranch around with a sizable enough herd left to keep a profit going, but that just meant the local wildlife would start to come for my lambs even harder just to feed their growing appetites. But I’d been trying my best to keep my worries to myself, making sure my wife didn’t notice whenever the herd got slightly smaller or the fence got slightly weaker. Especially not with how paranoid she’s been.

With a sigh, I turned to the east and walked back toward the house. The old log cabin sat quaintly by itself in the middle of our pasture, a thin fork from the Silvies River flowing some fifty yards behind it. Its front door faced the vast western forest now behind me, a mere two hundred yards of field and a rickety fence being the only things separating the darkness of the forest from my bed every night. But if that pile of logs could survive here for God knows how long, then so, I figured, could I.

As I headed up the front porch steps, I heard some excited clucks from the coop behind me. I figured my wife was once again tending to her flock. Though Paulie’d always claim to just be checking for eggs, I knew she’d grown attached. She’d even broken our rule and started naming them. She’d call out for some Maisie, Beth, or Mary-Sue when she thought I was out of earshot. But it was all well and good to me—those birds seemed disquieted by my presence. As if I ever could’ve done something to wrong a bunch of chickens.

The sturdy oak front door required some strength to move. Pauline claimed that it was built in the age of witchcraft and war and perpetual winter, back when folks were far more concerned with survival than they were about convenience. But now it was just a heavy obstacle between me and the warmth of my house.

I was greeted with a loud creak as I finally shoved it open, tossing my tools down with a sigh. There was a dark stain on the floor by the dry sink that I didn’t recognize, and I figured it must’ve been rainwater slowly seeping through the widening gap between the door and the wooden flooring. I hung up my hat and added “fix front door” to the mental to-do list. Great, yet another thing to do tomorrow.

I kicked the door closed with my boot and shut it, a smile slowly growing on my face as I thought about supper. The food hadn’t been fresh in a while, but I would’ve taken anything. It felt like I hadn’t eaten all day. Come to think of it, when did I last eat? What did I even do this morning? I chuckled to myself, shaking my head. You’re getting old, Jed, forgetting the day like that. Next thing you’ll be walking out of the house in nothing but your nightshirt.

I turned to sit at the table when I realized that our plates from last night were still there. I walked up to inspect the mess—the food didn’t look too rotten but the smell of leftover scraps slowly succumbing to the elements told another story. Without thinking, I took a step back and fought off the childish urge to hold my nose.

What the hell? Why didn’t she wash the dishes? This must’ve been sitting out here for hours!

I had grabbed the plates and was heading to the dry sink when I heard it. A bloodcurdling scream. Human. My whole body went numb—I hardly even noticed the dirty dishes slipping from my hands and shattering on the floor beneath me. In a panic, my head jerked towards the window just in time to see a few trees shaking at the edge of the forest.

“Pauline!”

I stumbled around like an idiot, lost for what to do. Come on, come on, think! She’s in danger, I have to go out there and fight. But fight with what? I don’t own a gun, and I don’t know what happened. If it’s an animal and I go out there unarmed, then I’ll end up just like the Thompson’s boy—buried by my own parents.

The faint sound of lambs bleating drifted through the thick log walls. It’s no better if I’m burying Paulie, either. I’ve got to do something.

Frantically I grabbed my hammer off the floor and threw the door back open, the force of it knocking a cold candle over. I ran towards the chicken coop and shouted my wife’s name, but there was no reply. All I could hear were the panicked noises coming from the herd, the ewes working to corral the lambs together behind them. Wind came whistling out of the forest and sweeping through the field, muting all other sounds for a moment and sending a chill right through me.

Bursting into the small coop I searched desperately for her, yet there was nothing save a half dozen hens and a couple of eggs. The chickens scattered at the mere sight of me, stirring up feathers and dust in a thick cloud. When everything settled, I could see them all huddling together in the corner, clucking something at me that I didn’t want to hear. Slamming the door behind me I sprinted for the forest, the branches now disturbingly still.

“Pauline! Pauline!” I screamed. Nothing. I tried a different tactic. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Please, baby, reply!”

At the edge of the forest, I stopped short at the wall of trees, the fence in front of me blocking the way. I squinted into the woods, but it was so densely packed that I couldn’t see more than ten feet in. Breathing hard, I hopped the fence, but some hidden fear I couldn’t place kept me from running right into the thicket. Instead, I listened closely for her voice; she had a unique way of talking. She spoke with kind, simple words, but they would always come out with a grated sound. With age, her tone only got more tired, and each day seemed to cause additional strain. I hated to see her tired, but I couldn’t run the ranch alone. I needed her to be alright.

Everything was quiet as I inched closer to the forest, holding my breath in complete silence. There I stood waiting, listening for her reply.

#

Two Years Prior

“Jedediah?” Pauline’s dark eyes looked up at me as I stood awkwardly at the door. My hands shoved in my pockets and my back slouched, I could barely stand still.

Sheepishly I squeaked out my reply, “M-mornin’, Pauline. I’m sorry to bother you, I just needed—”

“My daddy’s out back, I’ll fetch him for you.” She drew back into the house, beginning to close the door. My heart jumped. Scared out of my wits, I reached for her arm, seizing it with shaky hands. She shot me a look and I let go, stepping further back on the porch.

“I’m sorry I… that’s not what I meant to… I mean I didn’t wanna…”

She crossed her arms, eyeing me suspiciously. Her face unamused, she slowly reopened the door. “Spit it out, O’Neal.”

I took a deep breath and sighed, hearing my heart beating in my ears. My face red as a tomato, I snatched my hat off the top of my head and clutched it in my hands. “Miss Pauline, I apologize. I didn’t mean to impose, really. I just… I know I only met you once, but I can’t keep you outta my mind. And, well, I came over to see you.”

An eyebrow shot up. “See… me? Is that it? Is that really what you came all the way down here for?”

I nodded; my eyes focused on the ground. She must’ve thought I was such a fool for skipping work and wasting her time like this. I had come for a visit with high hopes, but now I began to pray that I’d get out of this place alive. If her father found me talking to her like this, then not even the power of God could save me. I almost flinched as she came closer, joining me on the porch. She shut the door softly behind her.

“Well now, we’d best get going. I wouldn’t want you to be getting back too late.”

I finally met her gaze. She had a smug look on her face and was smiling her perfect smile. Not one foot away from the prettiest girl in the world, and there I was looking dumb as rocks.

She took my hand. “I said ‘let’s go’, not ‘let’s stand around’. Come on!”

#

Tightening my grip on my hammer, I broke through the stoic line of trees. The wind’s quiet whisper began to die down as I crept deeper into the forest, goosebumps spreading across my arms. I kept my ears trained for Pauline’s call, but all I could hear was the crunch of dead leaves and the snapping of branches underfoot.

“Honey, if you can hear me, say something!” My cold breath bloomed in foggy spirals before me and just as quickly scattered into the breeze. The sun’s dim light shone through the few and far-between gaps in oak, just barely managing to illuminate the way. I wouldn’t have light for much longer and my search would be hopeless at night. But if I didn’t find her soon, I had the creeping feeling that I never would.

I couldn’t find my lantern this morning, but maybe if I looked again…

I glanced back and could just barely make out the empty house which had shrunk to a tiny size by then. I stopped and considered going back for my lantern, wondering how much time I’d lose from running all the way back. That, and how much harder it’d be to resume my search after getting back to the safety of my cabin.

Snap!

My head reeled around in the direction of the noise, but my body stayed frozen in place. “Pauline?” I asked and waited an agonizing few seconds for a reply. Nothing.

“Paulie?” I asked again, my voice quieter than expected. No longer able to contain the nervous energy, I started to fidget with the hammer in my hand. I think it came from the east. I slowly walked over to the source of the sound. The forest was hushed. I kept expecting to hear some response, some noise, anything, but it was as if I was the only thing alive for miles. It was quiet. Why is it so quiet?

Pauline always had a whole host of worries about the forest, worries that now crept into my mind. Bears had long been at the top of that list, and finding that poor lamb torn up in the field a few weeks ago didn’t help ease her fears. But it’s not a bear, I know it’s not a bear. It’s nearly December for Chrissakes, they’re all in hibernation by now. She was seeing things; bark always looks scratched up from a distance, anyway.

I was mere feet away from it now, whatever it was. Breathing deeply in, I practically jumped as I peered around a tree and into a small clearing. Nothing was there to greet me, and my unease subsided into muttering embarrassment. I spotted a broken twig on the ground and knelt down to inspect it, not realizing that my hands were shaking.

Large tracks led away and deep into the nearby brush. It must have been some big animal that slinked away from my calls, and I at once second-guessed every bit of knowledge I had. These don’t look like bear tracks, I’m sure they’re not. But if I’m wrong…

Pauline.

The worries flooded my mind. What if that’s what happened to Pauline? That’s why she’s not answering. Because she can’t, because she’s already… no. She’s not. She can’t be. There’s no way, I would’ve heard it, would’ve seen it, seen something. There would have been some trace. So, even if… then there’d be something left here, and there’s not. There’s not a damn thing. 

I’ve got to keep looking.

I sighed and stood back up, trying to shake off the new-found stiffness in my body. The fading light started to make the trees look the same. I was losing my bearings. I turned to look for the house but, from this deep in the woods, everything was blocked by trees and I, of course, ran out without a compass. At this rate, Pauline would have to be the one saving me from getting lost out in the dark by myself. I looked around, hoping to somehow recognize a landmark in this vast wooden ocean. It was as if I had wandered into no-man’s land and was being surrounded by enemy soldiers, each so hardened by their time at war that they’d grown a coarse shell of bark.

Something to the right caught my eye and I walked over to examine it. To my surprise, it was a path just a few feet away from where I’d been standing that stretched further into the forest. I couldn’t quite see how far it went in either direction, and every step I took toward the west seemed to spawn in a denser and darker cover of foliage overhead. I didn’t remember there being any trails nearby, so if anything, this was likely made by whatever animals roamed here. But strangely, there were hardly any other tracks on it, despite it looking fresh. The only prints appeared to be a set of long, oval markings pointing back the way I came, and if I didn’t know any better, I would’ve guessed they were men’s shoes. But that was impossible; no man lived out here other than me, and I was certain that I’d never gone in that direction. I peered closer to the ground and examined the trail further, sure that it was some trick of the light. But as I looked, I could find no other explanation, only that the tracks seemed to be a day or so old.

Standing straight again, I scanned the path. It was made of unnaturally flattened ground that seemed to have been formed with some sort of sweeping motion. Almost as if something had been dragged along the ground through here and deep into the woods. Like a predator carrying its prey.

I shook my head, trying to shake away the thought. Alright Jed, time to be rational. This is the only clear path I’ve seen, so maybe Paulie saw it too. Maybe she’s got bigger feet than I remember and these are her shoe markings leading back towards home. Maybe she escaped or is playing some trick on me and there was never really any danger. Maybe she ran back and is already there waiting for me, laughing and thinking I’m silly for all this worrying.

I leaned back against one of the thousands of Ponderosa pines that blanketed the next few hundred miles of land, stretching most of the way from here to the Pacific Ocean. I wiped the sweat from my brow and without thinking, I felt for the lighter in my pocket, craving the comfort of an old friend.

I don’t know what happened for sure, and yet I jumped to all these conclusions. What did I really hear? A scream? Naw, it was probably just that old gate creaking again, I never did grease it properly. It’s so bad I’m sure I could hear it from all the way out here. I’ll catch hell from Pauline for that one, she’s been on my back about it for weeks. Hah, to think that some animal could’ve gotten her. When her temper’s up, I’ve got better odds against a mountain lion.

The bark was cold on my back, and the nearly freezing temperatures were beginning to send numb ice into my hands and feet. My thick, fur-lined coat had kept me relatively warm, but a dreadful shiver crept into my bones.

Paulie’s best coat was ripped.

I oughta check things out just to be sure. I flicked the lighter open and shut over and over in my hand, my nerves calming from a boil to a simmer. It’s a path, I’ve got a hammer, I’ll be fine.

I returned my aged silver companion to its pocket and patted it for good luck. Turning to the heart of the forest, I began to move forward, painfully aware of every yawning tree’s groan and flickering animal’s dash.

I hadn’t made it fifty feet before that nightmarish scream returned again. This time I was sure it wasn’t the gate, and it sounded close. I started a frantic dash along the path, sprinting to her as fast as I could. “Hang on, Paulie! I’m coming for ya! I’m—”

Suddenly, my foot caught on something sticking out of the previously clear dirt path. Unable to react in time, I tumbled helplessly towards the earth and landed face-down with a violent thud.

#

Six Months Prior

I awoke to the sound of Pauline’s singing voice, her confidently out-of-tune rendition of “Daisy Bell” gleaming in through the thick log walls.

“Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do. I’m half crazy for all the love of you.”

I sat up, stretching my arms as far as I could. It was a small cabin, only two rooms in total, but we’d managed to make it our home for now. I threw on an outfit, barely half awake, and hummed along to myself as she finished her song with an ear-splitting high note.

“On a bicycle built for two!”

Lumbering into the kitchen with a half-haggard smile, I took my seat at the table. Steaming hotcakes and sunny-side up eggs appeared before me along with coffee in a shining tin cup. Pauline sat down and began to rave once again about her expanded collection of pots and pans; I began to eat while nodding along. I had gotten some new tools and a fresh set of boots from the wedding, but I didn’t really care about all that. The greatest gift imaginable was sitting in the chair opposite me, and I was hoping to have another on the way soon.

My wife’s razor-sharp eyes caught my gaze, and I knew in an instant she could tell I hadn’t been listening. She put her hand over mine and faintly smiled, but beneath the surface, she was hardened and cold. She had figured out what I was thinking, not that we hadn’t shouted about it countless times before. “Darling, we’ve only been married six months. Can’t we just enjoy a few more quiet mornings like this together?”

Setting down my fork, I sandwiched her hand in between my calloused palms. I didn’t want to argue so early in the morning, but I also didn’t want her to take my silence as an agreement. “Paulie, you know I love these mornings with you. And that’s exactly why I wanna share them.”

Her young face lost some light and gravity tugged harshly at her smile. Her dark eyes, which turned to a light hazelnut shade in the sun, now seemed almost like twin caves that had surrendered themselves to darkness and shadow. I watched with grief as her gaze orbited around my head somehow looking everywhere except at me.

Afraid to lose my wife, I pulled her a little closer, “Just think about it—everything the same way as it is right now except for a few extra seats. And sure, it’d be a bit louder ‘round here, but the sound of people you love isn’t just noise. It’s music.”

She focused on me now with a face full of doubt. “This family ain’t no band, Jed.”

“But we aren’t a family yet. Once we have a few kids you’ll see—”

“When will you see that I’ve made up my mind?” She cut in.

I could sense her anger, but kept at it, “Wouldn’t it be nice to have a few little ones running around? They’ll help you with your chores, I’ll teach them the ropes, and together we’ll make a real legacy here. Pauline, do you really want it to be just us all alone in this cabin for the rest of our lives?”

She snatched her hand away from mine and stood defiantly, the chair squeaking against the floor behind her. Without a word, she stacked my plate on top of hers and set the cups and silverware on top. She walked over to the dry sink, setting the stack of dishes in the basin. Pauline’s father had recently installed the sturdy wooden ledge upon which the sink sat, yet another present for his darling daughter thinly veiled as a wedding gift. Pauline grabbed the empty bucket tucked in neatly under the ledge and started for the door.

“Paulie, come on. We’ve gotta talk about this.”

“No, we don’t. This conversation is over.” She unlatched the front door with her free hand and shoved it open with a leaning push.

“It’s not over, I’m not done speaking.”

“Well, I am.”

Fledgling dawn light cut a thin line into the room, splitting our table in half. I sat in my chair, anger and frustration stagnating all thoughts.

The door shut with a slam.

#

My own heartbeat crashed and clanged in my head, each beat banging off the side of my skull and slamming back into me. It was so loud that I covered my ears with my palms, but of course, that did nothing to stop the deafening sound. I pulled my hands back and tried to sit up, but every movement stirred my raging headache in a newly painful way. I finally managed to prop myself up against the sturdy trunk of a tree and waited for my vision to stop swimming. Not that I’d be able to see anything anyway; the entire forest was now wrapped in the velvety blanket of night. The sun was long gone, and I had no way of telling how long it’d been.

My headache dying down, I fumbled around for my lighter. The temperature had taken a dive while I was out, and my uncooperative fingers were only symptoms of a larger problem. Frostbite was unforgiving this time of year and if I didn’t get out soon I wouldn’t be getting out at all.

I finally managed to get a hold of my lighter and struggled to flick it on, its years of service becoming more and more apparent. Finally getting it to work, I sighed with relief, sitting there for a moment to let the yellow flame warm my numb fingers. Regaining sensation slowly but surely, I noticed a strange patch of discoloration on my right pointer and middle fingers. Panicking at the thought of frostbite, I shifted the lighter to focus the flame. Expecting to see tell-tale signs like white skin and bumps, I soon became surprised. It’s… black? Dammit, that’s even worse than I thought, I’m going to lose these fingers. No, no, wait, it’s more of a dark red. Is my hand bleeding? I don’t see any cuts. It must be something else.

The realization hit me swift as lightning. I reached up towards my right ear and discovered it being much warmer than I remembered. Using what little light it gave off, I tried to examine the path with the lighter’s small glow. Sure enough, cradled in a small indent in the dirt was a slightly deformed rock no bigger than a fist. I must’ve hit my head on that and bounced off. Almost looks like my big ole’ melon managed to dent the thing. Figures.

Lying a foot or two beyond the crash site was the hammer which I must’ve let go of during my fall. Even further out were a few stray specks of blood, though I couldn’t wrap my mind around how they’d traveled that far, let alone in that direction.

I shifted my investigation to the opposite direction, trying to find the evil rock or plotting root that had caused me all this trouble. To my shock, I found nothing other than a lantern lying right in the way of the path. It appeared to be in good condition despite the obvious boot marks from where I’d trampled over it at high speeds. Though I didn’t have the faintest idea of how it got there, I wasn’t going to refuse more light. I leaned over to pick it up, trying to stretch my left arm towards the handle, but a surge of pain shot through my shoulder and forced me to swiftly draw my hand back. Agh, darned thing’s acting up again. I can’t catch a break.

I planted the lighter in the dirt before me and tried to soothe my burning shoulder with my right hand. I could still feel the metallic bullet shell underneath my skin, an ugly scar being all I had left to show for it. Even so, it’d been feeling off the whole day, and I’d finally managed to mess with it at the least convenient moment. I guess that’s what I get for being careless with it. Or really, that’s what I get for not listening to Ma when she warned Johnny and me about touching Grandpa’s hunting rifle.

Slowly trying to stand, I was forced to lean an elbow against a supporting tree to keep from falling over. Settling for a low crouch instead, I reached for the lantern, careful to use my right hand this time. Successfully retrieving it, I was glad to find it in working condition. I set the lantern aglow with my tired lighter, which I then flicked closed and sent back to my pocket.

I could now see a wide circle of orange around me, but the expanded light didn’t show me anything new. I was still in the same, empty forest that I remembered from before, just now with much worse visibility. I should head home, right? I’d be crazy not to. I waited absently as if something would respond. As always, there was nothing.

A cool breeze made its way through the leafy canopy and brushed the dirt off my shoulders. I clutched my jacket, remembering with a frown how much warmer the house was. I shook my head and finally managed to stand up. I can take the cold a while longer, but can she? What good is the house if I’m in it all by myself?

Feeling crazy, yet somehow quite content, I turned away from the direction leading back home. I tried to attach the lantern to a belt buckle before discovering that the handle was oddly broken, almost as if it had been tugged hard or shaken apart. No matter, I’ll just hold it. It’ll do me good having the flame closer to my hands, anyway.

I walked over to the hammer, picking it up and shoving it in my free pocket. I caught sight of the bloodstained ground as I went, thankful that nothing had caught the scent of it while I was passed out and tracked me down. I shuddered at the thought. Ay, it’ll be fine. If there was anything dangerous in here, then I’d already be a dead man. I’ve just gotta find Paulie and head back home, simple as that. If I’m lucky, I won’t even miss a day’s work.

I ventured on into the pitch-black void before me, the lantern shining ahead and providing only a mere few feet of guidance. Bristling leaves hanging from splintered branches shook at my step, each one more spiked and harsh than the last. Aside from occasional flashes of movement in the shadows, the world around me was cold and watchful. The quaint light from my lantern emanated just enough to dust the trees in a ghastly orange glow, making the shadows long and stalky. Each time the flame faltered inside of its thin glass shield, the entire forest would appear to shake and shiver as one. It was as if the fire I carried was corrupted, and all that it touched was absorbed by a voracious orange beast. The light’s hunger seemed to grow larger and larger as I went, almost as if it would be the only thing left by the time morning came.

Spotting a strange marking on a tree I stopped, holding the lantern as close to it as I could manage. In disbelief, I could only gape wide-eyed at the massive claw marks before me, carving the poor tree into a disheveled heap of bark. Something big had been there. And, by the red stains that streaked along the trunk, I could tell it had eaten. But it wasn’t a bear. It was far worse than that.

Without a second thought, I whipped the lantern around, breathlessly staring into the pitch-black void behind me. Working hard to control my shaking, which I pretended was from the cold, I looked deeply for any sign of something. The skittering flash up in the trees, the reflection of green eyes against the lantern’s flame. Yet, no matter how long I searched for, I couldn’t find any trace of it. I knew there was nothing there, so I turned back and kept walking on. But as I turned, a quiet rustle of leaves to my right made me straighten my back and walk a little faster.

I know I swore off guns but damn, I could really use one right about now.

Soon my thudding footsteps began to echo off in the distance, and I knew I was getting close. I began to jog, anxious to find whatever was waiting for me at the end of this path. And to get away from the trees. They like to climb.

All at once the pines beside me shied away, opening up the mouth of a sizable clearing. I wandered in, sure that this had to mean something. The ground here was solid and resolute, inviting me further in with every step. I glanced up and for once in what felt like years could finally see the sky. It was a cloudless, soldierly arc comprised of the absolute deepest shade of navy blue adorned with brilliantly shining gemstones all arranged in the most delicately random way. I paused with my eyes staring up towards the heavens, completely caught up in the magic of it all.

Of all the times I’ve lived under this sky, I don’t think it’s ever been more beautiful.

Pauline would love this.

I closed my eyes, letting go of the view. A cold breeze blew across the back of my neck, and without thinking I stepped further away from the trees. I was now almost in the center of the clearing, and the path seemed to end in this empty place. I went a little way further, squinting to peer into the dark crevices that tried to hide under steep trees. Every sense of rationality told me that it was a failure, that nothing was here. Yet, something inside of my mind wouldn’t quit. Pauline had been here; I just knew it. It had to be true. My thoughts went shooting off in a thousand different directions, but my gut pulled me towards just one.

I inched further into the clearing; my eyes trained on the furthest wall of trees. There couldn’t have been anything there, I knew that. It was nothing but shadow. Pauline wouldn’t have been able to hide in that dark space, she’s too tall. It was just my silly mind, but I had to check it out, had to see it, had to—

Wait. What is that?

“Pauline?” I whispered, a strangling sense of unease catching hold of my throat. There was something there, I could see it now. But it wasn’t Pauline; it was too thin, too short. Too man-made.

Is that a… shovel?

I got as close as my heart could bear, the lantern’s reach just barely hitting the metallic figure. It was sticking straight up, planted firmly in the ground with its handle reaching for the high leaves above.

Why—how is that here? It doesn’t make any sense; we’re the only people around for miles. And this… it looks just like ours. But that’s impossible.

“Paulie?” I shivered. Eerie silence whispered quiet dangers into my ears, the voice so low yet so close that I fearfully grabbed my hammer and took a swing at the nothingness around me. My chest began to rise and sink rapidly, barely keeping up with my heartbeat’s sickening pace. My hands shook violently, and I took a step back, dropping the hammer. I fell to my knees and kept a death grip on my lantern, my eyes unable to focus on anything. A panic so feverishly cold sank into me that I started to believe my heart would explode.

I’m going crazy I’m going crazy there’s nothing here I’m losing my mind I need to get out of here I need to go back I can’t do this I can’t I’m not—

…

Why isn’t there any grass there?

My breath stopped as my eyes locked onto a raised patch of dirt before me. It looked fresh, maybe a day or two old. The shovel had been planted on top of it, merely a symptom of the disease.

#

Ten Hours Prior

The stream flowed softly as I stooped down to fill the large bucket, a cool mist rising up from the water to greet me. I had always thought that living so close to the Silvies would help break up the constant barrage of forest around us, but somehow the trees still managed to reign supreme by the river’s edge.

My task done, I stood and left the thought behind me, water splashing at my boots as I carried the bucket back across a worn-down tract of dirt. I always did tend to overfill it, but today’s poor attempt took the cake. It was all worth it, though, so long as I could give Paulie a bit of a break. She’d been working especially hard lately, though living a third of a day’s ride away from civilization will do that to you. Especially if it’s with a fool like me, and for nearly a year, too.

The sun was already half gone by now, the horizon trying its best to swallow it up whole. Not that I needed the sun for much longer, anyway; I’d already finished all of the day’s tasks and was eagerly shuffling on home. Reaching the front door, I set the bucket down and leaned my shoulder against the stiff wood. With a gentle shove, it wobbled open, with Pauline calling out a friendly greeting from inside. “I’m back with the water, sweetheart,” I called, picking up the bucket and lugging it in, turning left. Careful to spill as little water as possible, I made my way to the dry sink at about one inch per hour.

Pauline laughed, “Well if ya do it like that, it’ll take all day!” She shut the door and appeared beside me, grabbing the sides of the bucket. “Here, let me.”

“No, no,” I protested, “You’ve been cooking, I got this.” I crawled on and finally arrived, though my destination was only about a foot from the door. Bending my knees slightly, I slid the bucket under the ledge and let go with a sigh of relief. Looking back to the door, I realized that I’d left a trail of water behind me, but I decided to leave it until after dinner. “There, Paulie. Enough water to last a lifetime.”

“Thank you, hon,” she smiled, kissing me on the cheek. “Now go sit down, supper’s ready.”

I nodded and collapsed into my chair, my back painfully scolding me for its frequent neglect. Pauline gingerly placed a plate down in front of me, and the unsurprising smell of salted mutton greeted my stomach as an old friend. After pouring me a cup of milk, Pauline took a seat. I swallowed nervously, “You know, Paulie, when I was in town, I ran into Homer at the post office.”

My wife barely looked up from her meal. “Oh? What did my dad have to say?”

“He said he’s been missing you, of course,” she grinned softly, and I continued, “And he’s wondering when we’ll come visit.”

“Well, I hope you told him we would soon, you know how he gets.” I nodded, and she added, “How’s about we make a trip over the holidays? Or would it be too snowy to travel by then?”

“I think we could manage it alright.” I paused, unsure if I should keep going. Pauline tore away at her food, unbothered. Happy. But this was for the best, I knew, she just had to come around to my perspective. So, I swallowed up my nerves. “But, if we’re going over at Christmas time, we’d better bring your family a good gift, us being guests and all. I think I have an idea that your whole family will love. Plus, the gift I have in mind would be a gift for me, too, so you wouldn’t have to get me anything this year.”

She slammed her fork down on the table. In an even, low tone, she stared down at her plate, “Jedediah, I thought we agreed not to discuss this at mealtime.”

“Well, when else am I supposed to discuss it, then? You refuse to talk to me about it, and I’ve been getting frustrated, Paulie. We’re married, we need to work this out like adults.”

Her fiery eyes met mine, “Is using my own father against me something an adult would do?”

“He brought the idea up to me; I’ll have you know. He told me he wants grandchildren. In fact, he thinks that this behavior of yours is quite shameful, especially coming from a woman who was raised in a family of twelve!” Her expression narrowed, and I could tell she was getting upset. But that was fine, as long as she’d start arguing back. I was sure that if we had a conversation, she’d understand. I had a fat chance of getting her to talk, though, unless I said something she just couldn’t leave unanswered. “So, tell me, what is it? Do you not want a family, or do you just not want one with me?”

She sighed. “Don’t be like that, Jed, you know what the answer is. I’ve told you time and time again, I don’t want children—especially not now when the money’s down.” She paused, almost somber. “I want to live a life with you, isn’t that enough?”

“Pauline, what about what I want? Have you ever considered that? Do you really think I’d keep dragging this argument on if I wasn’t committed to the idea?”

“I know what you want, but you know that I’m on the exact opposite side. We can’t both win on this, someone needs to give. And I’ll be damned if that person’s me.”

She leaned back in her chair, eyeing me, almost begging me to challenge her. I did. “Well, I’m not moving on this either, Paulie. And I’m not about to live out the rest of my life alone in the middle of dead-end Oregon!”

Pauline was enraged, “Alone? Alone? So, I’m not enough for you, is that it?”

“Why can’t you just give me this one thing?” I yelled.

“Why isn’t me saying no good enough for you?” She shouted back.

She rose up out of her chair, and I followed suit, “Because that’s all you ever say! No, no, no! Would it kill you to at least tell me why you’re so against this?”

“I have! And why would I even try when you never listen to me? This whole marriage is all about you, and I’m so sorry that I don’t want to bring kids into it just so that they can be my responsibility while you sit on your ass all day!” I frowned, trying to deny that she’d hurt my feelings. But she kept on going, “Look around! What about this place screams family to you?”

“Well, if you hate it so much here then why don’t you just leave? Run back home to daddy if you can’t handle a little bit of hard work for once in your life!”

“Fine, maybe I will!” She walked to the door, plucking her coat off the rack and pulling it on. Just as she unlatched the door, I walked over to block her way. She pushed me away with unexpected ferocity and slammed the door open, starting to walk out without a second thought.

Not thinking, I grabbed her right arm. “Pauline, you get back here right now!” I pulled her back, and she lost balance, slipping on the wet floor. She spun around and fell, hitting her head on the strong dry sink ledge. With a horrific thud, she fell to the floor. She didn’t say anything, just lay on the ground with a strange twist in her neck and a scarlet pool of blood forming underneath her.

“Pauline?” I began to tremble and knelt down at her side, shaking her limp body with all my strength. “Pauline! Pauline! I’m sorry baby, please, just answer me. Paulie, please! Just tell me you’re okay. Please… please…” I broke down into a sob, rocking myself next to her. It must have been hours that I sat there, but to her, it was no time at all. My beautiful wife was unbothered, just resting on the floor in peace.

#

Kneeling motionless in the grass, I let go of the lantern and it tumbled to the ground, the flame blowing out. Is she really… gone?

Everything started to come back to me in waves: how the lantern was on my belt and the shovel was in my hand. How she was on my shoulder until my wound acted up, so I was forced to put her down. I didn’t want to, but I had to. I had to drag her.

I shivered, my eyes fixed on the grave before me. It can’t be true; I won’t believe it. But if it is then I… how am I supposed to… I can’t do this without her.

How I had buried her there underneath the stars. How I had run home fast enough to break the lantern’s handle. How I kept telling myself that it wasn’t real, that she was off doing chores somewhere and that she’d be back. How I slept for hours, and by the time I’d awoken, I’d convinced myself it was all a dream.

How it wasn’t.

My hand reached down towards my pocket, shakily reaching for the old lighter. Please, no. She can’t be gone; it was an accident. It was just an accident. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I flicked it on, the lighter’s silver casing bright against the moonlight. I slowly rubbed my thumb over the long worn-down engraving. “P & J”.

Behind me, that same old scream echoed out for the third time. But this time, it didn’t sound like Pauline anymore—it sounded more like an animal’s yowl. She was right, something had been stalking the herd, I just didn’t want to believe it.

In a panic, I whipped around to see two yellowy-green eyes reflecting back at me against the lighter’s flame, slowly stalking towards me in the darkness. Startled, the creature flashed its massive white fangs at me before leaping back into the cover of trees. There was no denying it now, I was stuck with a mountain lion. Those screams… how could I be so stupid? I must’ve been tracking it this whole time. And it’s probably here because it smelled Pauline.

The thought made me gag, but I tried hard to focus. I didn’t have much time. I knew the cougar was circling me, climbing through the treetops to pounce from behind. My mind raced as confusion, grief, and terror all vied to have top mental priority. What do I do, what do I do? Fight it with the hammer? No, too small. The shovel? I glanced at the tool, still standing in the same spot. No, I’m not touching that. But I also can’t outrun the thing, and even if I could, what then? What would be the point?

A gust of wind flew in from above, easily blowing out the lighter’s flame. I tried relighting it, but the old thing had finally run out of fluid. Darkness now filled the clearing, clouds starting to cover the moon. Without her, there is no point. A terrifying snarl sounded somewhere off to my right. This is it.

I turned back to Pauline, resting a hand on the raised dirt mound. I knelt there motionless for a while, the mountain lion closing in on me. But in that moment, I was only afraid of saying the wrong thing. There was a low growling from up above and I closed my eyes. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered, “But I’m here now, darling. I’m here.”

Sophie Hermann is a beginner writer out of Colorado who wrote a short story for her creative writing class.