No Good Deed

Her temperature had dropped but she didn’t seem to be getting any better, she still slept all day and struggled to do anything more than eat a small bite of food and drink a little bit of water every couple of hours. “She should be getting better” the voice in his head said.

He had used almost all the painkillers and antibiotics he had left but still she struggled to get out of bed.

“You have done all you can” one of the voices said to him

“You shouldn’t have done anything” the other replied

Leaving a glass of water and a small plate of food beside the bed he made his way outside. An overcast sky greeted him, not that there was any surprise in that. Cold and frozen in the winter and spring, less cold and barely thawed out in spring and summer, that’s how the seasons worked now. After ten years of this he didn’t really think of four season anymore just the two, bad and really bad. He made his way into his garden and the rows of veg and fruit planted sixty beds deep. He went to the first bed to find sad shrunken things straining for that burst of brief sunlight they desperately needed.

Grabbing his tool from where he had left it he got to work, removing the weeds that seemed to have sprung up overnight. “While the good things struggle the weeds thrive” he thought to himself. One bed done another fifty nine to go. So much space, so much land and all with that massive house in the middle. A ten room mansion. He snorted as he bent over the second bed. People used to protest that other people owned homes like this, they had taken to the streets and even slept on them for weeks they had been so angry. Now he doubted there was even enough people left to fill all these fancy buildings everyone had been so angry about. It all seemed silly now.

His back and knees where aching by the time he reached the thirtieth bed, sitting down to rest with his back against the bed he took a pull on his water skin.

“We will struggle next season if this is all the food we manage to pull up” the voice said.

“You say that every year and we always find a way to manage” he replied

“There might be enough for us but definitely not for her you shouldn’t have brought her in” the other voice said.

“I had to” he said.

He didn’t know why but he knew that he had needed to bring her in. He knew that he should stop using the little medicine he had left on her, but deep down he knew that he wouldn’t.

Back screaming and knees crying out in pain he finally got to the last of the beds, the ones placed beside the big steel gates into the property. That was where he had found her, collapsed on the road just outside the gate. He bent down to finish the bed

“Stop”

He turned and seen her standing 20 paces away, his crossbow pointed at him, his last arrow notched.

“Stand up” she said

He stood

“Drop the weapon” she said

“It’s a trowel” he replied his voice crackly and sore

“Drop it” She demanded

He dropped the trowel and instinctively raised his hands over his head. She didn’t look weak or sick now, in fact she was standing strong, and her arms looked steady as she pointed the crossbow at his chest. She started at him a moment not saying anything just looking him over.

“It is you” she said finally

He didn’t say anything, she was staring at him with anger and relief on her face and he didn’t know what to say. He had thought he was in her early forties but now he could see, with her face so much more alive that she was much younger. He should have known people aged fast these days.

“Do you still have any of her things?” she said

“Her things?” he said confused

“The things you took, do you still have any thing left? I checked the house but there was nothing”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about, I think you’re confused, I don’t know you I-

“You know me!” She spat at him “I spent all these years looking, asking begging, doing…doing just to find you don’t fucking say you don’t know me”

“Try and reason with her” one of the voices said

“Get her angrier, angry people make mistakes” the other urged.

“You have something of hers left, you can’t have got rid of everything.” She said almost pleading.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about” he shouted, his voice growing angry. “Take what you want and leave I won’t come after you”

Gesturing wildly with the crossbow she screamed “Come after me! You won’t be coming after anyone ever again.”

The crossbow bolt was pointed wide of his chest way off to the left.

“Now!” the voice urged

He quickly dropped his hands and reached the gun he always kept in a holster at his back. He only had a few bullets left but he would only need one. In one smooth motion he drew the gun clicked off the safety and took aim, but people aged fast these days and he wasn’t quick enough. He felt something slam into his chest and throw him onto the ground before he could get his shot off.

He didn’t feel the pain until he lifted his head off the ground and could see the bolt sticking out of his chest. Then the pain washed over him, pinning him down. He managed to turn his head to the left and see the gun lying there, he couldn’t even reach for it the pain was so bad.

A hand reached for the gun, he tried to ask for help but couldn’t get the words out. He was rolled over onto his side and he felt the holster being pulled from his belt. Slammed onto his back he could see her face, as a triumphant smile spread across her it. He could see it now, it was the smile that did it. One of the brief rays of light broke through and landed perfectly on her face, and then she reached down and ripped the bolt free from his chest. She fit it back into the crossbow as he felt the blood spread out from the wound, and then as a cloud passed over she turned and left him there.

He was dying, there was no need to wait around. She could just leave him he couldn’t do anything. She had already checked the house but maybe something would be in that big shed of his, something had to be there. It was just a gardening shed, everything neatly organised seeds in their place, tools in theirs. She took the shed apart, smashed and broke everything desperately looking for something. There was nothing.

She stormed back outside, he was dead now the eyes staring blankly at the grey sky. She rummaged through his pockets, inside his jacket her skin crawling at touching him. Nothing. She was about to give up when she caught sight of a chain of gold round his neck, the chain under his coat and two or three jumpers. Quickly she reached down and undone the chain, tears already at the corner of her eyes.

The gold heart shaped locket, he had taken it that night just after all this had started. The night when he had locked her in her room and all she could do was listen to what he had done. When she had finally got out the room he was gone and so was a bunch of their stuff, but he had left the corpse. He hadn’t left her anything else though except the memory of his face. She should have thanked him, the hatred of that face had kept an eleven year old girl alive while adults, dropped like flies around her.

She began to gather her things to leave, she couldn’t stay in his house, when she remembered the photos in the locket, had he kept them? She clicked open the locket. The photos where still there, they had faded but you could still make out the faces. There she was as a young girl, nine or ten she couldn’t remember. No scars on her face though and her hair was long not shaved like it needed to be now. She looked at the other photo and paused, then she looked down at the body, then she screamed up at the endless dark clouds the tears still running down her face.