Her Worst Fear
But, she understood that there was something worse than death. And, now, here they were. Her worst fear.
Maggie stood at the kitchen island and stared down at the meager harvest. The ever-present knot in her belly tightened. She did her best to ignore the worry and set to the task at hand. The rhythmic thud of her knife against the cutting board soothed her nerves as she chopped the carrots for canning.
"Maggie?"
Her knife fell to the cutting board with a clatter. Pieces of carrot scattered across the island, and one rolled over the edge and onto her left boot. Maggie looked up, hand to her chest, and saw Joe standing in the doorway with a crossbow hanging from his right hand. One look at his face, and she understood that the carrot harvest was the least of her worries.
"What is it?" She asked, but she didn't want to know.
Joe stood in the doorway with an uncharacteristic hunch to his shoulders. He avoided her gaze as he shifted from one foot to the other.
"Just tell me, Joe."
"Okay, but keep in mind that the sun will be setting soon."
"JOE."
"We lost Billy."
He said it so quietly, she almost missed it. Almost.
"Shit." Maggie closed her eyes and took a deep breath, holding the edge of the counter in a white knuckle grip. Maybe if she kept her eyes shut, her troubles would disappear.
She opened her eyes, and Joe still stood there, filling the doorway with his 6'5" frame, looking like a lost giant. She sighed and loosened her apron strings with trembling hands.
Everyone in this ragtag commune played a part in their survival. But, Maggie was the one with a farm upbringing, and this was her family property. They looked to her for guidance. The heavy load of responsibility, and guilt, suffocated her. She could feel the weight of it every moment of every day.
She hung her apron on the hook next to the fridge and moved to the adjacent mudroom, where she grabbed her jacket and a loaded crossbow.
"Alright, let's go." She opened the back door and stepped into the cool November air without looking back. Joe would follow. He always did.
On the back patio, Maggie shivered and pulled her light jacket tightly to her body. Winter always surprised her like an uninvited guest at a party, especially here in North Carolina, where the winter temps were mild during the day but dropped low in the evenings.
She glanced at the sky. Joe was right; the sun was low. She checked her watch, 4:30PM, about 50 minutes until sunset.
Joe put a hand on her shoulder. "We should wait until morning."
She shook her head. "We'll be quick. I need to see."
Maggie set a brisk pace down the path that wound its way through her grandmother's homestead. She knew this land like the back of her hand. Ten years away didn't erase the memories. You could take the girl out of the farm, but you couldn't take the farm out of the girl.
They walked without speaking, but they did not walk in silence. The evening was alive with noise. Trees rustled. A cow mooed. Chickens clucked. Usually, the familiar sounds would calm her, but tonight nothing could.
When they reached the pen, she saw Billy immediately. He lay on his side, motionless. Only two, he hadn't yet grown into his full size, but he was still massive.
"Oh." Maggie let out a soft moan, dropped her crossbow into the grass, and fumbled with the latch on the pen. Joe pulled her aside and took over. The moment the gate opened, she rushed over to Billy.
She pressed her hand to his side. Beneath his shiny black coat, he was still and cold. She bit back a sob. This was the third animal dead this week. On Monday it was Mildred, one of her goats. On Wednesday, it was Penelope, a pig. A lifelong animal lover, and a vet in her old life, Maggie always named her livestock. She started the habit as a child, to her father's dismay.
"Who or what..." Joe trailed off. He knew what.
She stayed there, kneeling with her head bowed. Not only was losing Billy a big blow to their survival-- they had slaughtered the other bull a few weeks prior-- and Billy was meant to be their breeder now. But, she had raised him from a calf, and this loss made her heart ache.
Blinking back her tears, she looked up at Joe. "Did you check for wounds?"
He nodded grimly. "He's like the others. No open wounds. Maybe a broken neck."
She knew after Mildred, but she couldn't deny it anymore. Even a bull as small as Billy weighed a ton or more. Only one thing was strong enough to take him down without leaving a mark.
She became aware of how exposed they were out here in the pasture, so far from the house. She looked at the sky; it was a masterpiece of orange and pink. The sight should have brought her pleasure. But those days were gone. Instead, her fear blossomed into terror.
"We need to move. NOW!" She said, moving quickly to her feet.
Joe was already on the other side of the gate, retrieving her crossbow. He pushed it into her arms, and they took off at a jog. The farm noises took on a sinister quality. She stumbled when a bleating goat startled her. Joe was right. They should have waited until morning.
The house came into view just as the sky transitioned into shades of lavender and violet. The snap of a twig from beyond the pear trees stopped them in their tracks. And something else. Was it singing? The melody sounded familiar, but there was something off about it. Dread gnawed at her insides.
From the corner of her eye, Maggie saw Joe pull his crossbow up to shoulder height.
"Run, Maggie. I've got your back."
She hesitated, but he shoved her forward.
"Go!"
Maggie spared him one last look. No more hunched shoulders. He stood at his full height, on high alert. He could handle himself. She hoped.
Her limbs were heavy with fear, but she forced them to move, arms pumping furiously and boots thumping heavily against the dirt path. She needed to get to Rachael.
As she barreled past the greenhouse toward the patio, the back floodlight turned on. The door opened, and Rachael stepped outside.
Her heart clenched. What was she thinking? They never left the house after sunset. It was rule number one.
"Get back inside!" She ordered.
Alarmed, Rachael did as she was told but remained in the doorway, staring wide-eyed.
"Mom? What's wrong?"
Maggie just waved a hand at her. Just a couple more yards.
She slammed into her daughter at full speed, almost knocking her over. Gasping for air, she pulled Rachael tightly to her.
"Mom, what's happening?"
Maggie shushed her and peered outside, careful to stay inside the doorway. Where was Joe? He should have been behind her. She searched the pathway for his unmistakable silhouette, but it was empty.
"Joe?!"
Silence. Even the animals are quiet, Maggie thought with a shiver that had nothing to do with the weather.
But then, more singing. Much closer.
"...beautiful dreamer, wake unto me…"
Maggie's breath caught. She knew that voice. She knew that song. Lora.
"...gone are the cares of life's busy throng..."
It was Lora's voice. But, it was all wrong. Too low and slow, transforming the song into more of a taunt than a lullaby. Maggie shuddered.
"Rachael, go to your room."
"No. Tell me what's going on."
Maggie turned and looked up into her daughter's eyes. Lora's eyes. Thirteen years old and already taller than Maggie. She was the spitting image of Lora with her pale blue eyes and silvery blond hair.
"It's your mother. She's here."
Rachael's skin was naturally pale. Another gift from Lora, along with the freckles that dusted her nose. Sometimes when Maggie looked at her, she wondered what the sperm donor contributed. The little bit of pink that Rachael did have, faded from her cheeks at Maggie's words.
"...waiting to fade at the bright coming morn'..."
"Please, Rachael. GO."
Rachael didn't budge. "That song. She used to sing it to me."
"I knew you would remember me."
Maggie whirled around. There on the other side of the patio, pale skin luminescent in the darkness, stood Lora. Joe hung limply from her left hand, half-sprawled on the ground, a dark stain spreading down the front of his shirt.
Lora was tall, but she shouldn't be able to hold up a man Joe's size with one hand. Not if she was human. But Lora hadn't been human in ten years, and Maggie was to blame.
It was when Rachael was one that they first heard the whispers. Vampires. They laughed it off. But people kept disappearing. Businesses shut down. By the time Rachael was two, NYC was under strict curfew. No one could go out after sunset. Wooden stakes, crosses, and holy water could be found at CVS checkout counters. The government never acknowledged it was vampires. But the police carried crossbows.
One night, when Rachael was three, there was a knock on their door. It was too late for anyone to be out and about, and they hadn't had company in months. Maggie looked through the peephole and was shocked to see her parents standing there. They hadn't visited once during her ten years in NYC.
They wanted her to come home with them because it was safer on the farm. That was true, and she might have gone. But they only wanted Maggie to come. They didn't recognize Lora as her wife or Rachael as her daughter. Maggie lost her temper and kicked them out.
Lora was upset with her. It was after curfew. It was dangerous to be outside at that hour. Maggie told her to go after them herself if she was so concerned. And Lora did. That's who Lora was.
Hours passed. Lora didn't answer her phone. Maggie tried the police, but they were no help. She didn't sleep. At dawn, with Racheal in her stroller, Maggie searched the neighborhood. After three days, she took Rachael home to the farm, where she could keep her safe. Her wife was dead. And it was her fault. She needed to do better by Rachael.
But, she understood that there was something worse than death. And, now, here they were. Her worst fear. Lora. Turned. How would she protect Rachael from this?
Lora beamed at Rachael. "Why don't you come here and give mommy a hug? I've missed you."
Rachael whimpered. "What did you do to Uncle Joe?"
"Him?" Lora sneered, dropping Joe to the ground. "I'm your family."
One moment she was at the other end of the patio, and the next, she was right in front of them.
Rachael yelped in surprise, and Maggie placed herself firmly between them. She was almost touching Lora. Nothing but a transparent, magical barrier between them. Maggie stared into her wife's eyes, transfixed.
"Hi, Magpie." Lora smiled sweetly.
Maggie's heart skipped at the endearment.
"Come on, Magpie. Let me in. We can be a family again."
Maggie didn't respond.
Lora leaned in close, lips to the barrier by Maggie's ear, and whispered, "I forgive you."
Maggie almost fell for it. She yearned to have the burden of guilt lifted from her shoulders. And she missed her wife. She leaned toward Lora, just a tiny bit.
"Mom, NO!" Rachael yanked Maggie backward, just as Lora's hand went for her throat.
Lora clawed her hand against the invisible barrier and snarled like an animal. Maggie first noticed her fangs, then the blood. Joe's blood. She stared at her wife in horror. No. Not her wife. Not Lora. Not anymore.
A tear slid down Maggie's cheek as she pulled up her crossbow and lined up her shot.
"Forgive me," she whispered.
She closed her eyes and pulled the trigger.
About the Creator
Amanda Walter
I was born, raised, and still live north of Boston, MA. When I'm not at my day job, I spend my time playing board games with my family, tending my garden, listening to audiobooks, bingeing too much television, and writing.
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