Their Loss

First

It hung loosely around her neck. He wasn’t sure if it was his place to tighten it. They decided it needed to be tightened. They had talked about it. It was uncomfortable. The whole thing was uncomfortable. Her neck had gotten so slender that it looked comically huge draped around it. Like her dad's necktie when she was a toddler playing work.

She wasn’t sure why she picked him. She was glad he did. He wasn’t sure why she picked him. He was glad she did.

Neither was sure who made it her decision to make the decision in the first place. Was it hers?

Sure, there weren’t many people left.

Sure, she had no one else but him. Not really. Not anymore. But it didn't have to be him. Not now. Not anymore. There were others who offered to be the one for her. Other options. But was that true? Was running together an option? They knew they could keep going for a while, until something better came along.

It was getting hard to wait for something better. A promise that was constantly on their lips. They never talked about better anymore. It seemed pointless. Things had not gotten better in months. Before they made the decision that he’d be the one up on this roof with her, they’d decided that it was silly to keep trying for something better. Childish. They weren’t children anymore.

He had to be honest with himself. She picked him because she liked him and felt comfortable. That scared him. She picked him because he was the only one she wanted up here right now.

He knew that’s why she picked him as well. They could be safe. Up here, in this moment, they could be safe. They could do this how they wanted. Slow or fast. He thought fast would be the best way to get it over with. He hoped she understood.

He put his hand on the small of her back. He drew a deep breath. He thought he didn't need to tighten it. It was fine how it was. He didn't say anything. She didn't say anything. They’d said what they wanted—what they needed to before they got up here. Before they got to this point. At this point there was only one thing left to do. So he did it. He just pushed.

Gravity did the work for him. She hurtled off the wall and down the side. She didn’t say anything. She didn't scream or shout. The coil of rope next to him started unspooling until there was a thunking tautness and a quick snap from below. He looked down. The rope wasn’t moving. He knew she wouldn’t fight it. That she’d understood the danger she put them all in. But he thought, for a dangerous second, that it wouldn’t work. That she’d … he wasn’t sure,

slip out?

crash through the window?

Run?

As the film "Lifetheycouldhavehad", life if she’d made it, if none of this would have happened, if she hadn't been seen, unwound in his mind. He stopped himself.

“Its done.” He shouted as much for the men on the roofs behind him as the ones on the road. “She was the last one.”

His voice was breaking. “We have no more.” The adrenaline from the act was not enough to tamp down the overwhelming wave of sadness.

No one moved. He raised his voice louder and it helped to give the pain somewhere to go.

“I said she was the last one. Move on! We got nothin here for you.”

The men on the road had turned to leave. Did it work?

He felt a large rough hand on his shoulder behind him. He must have come up after the shouting. He hated him for not being there. For not being the one to do this.

“Come eat,” he said.

At the thought of food he dry heaved. There was nothing to come out but acid and bile. He hadn’t eaten since . . .

Then

Don followed them down to the café that served as the canteen. Each man he passed on the way made it a point to thank him, or apologize, or to nod without looking him in the eye like some, some acknowledgement that what he was asked to do was vile. They redoubled their condolences with Jack, a step behind him.

By the time they reached the café, they could see a table was set for four. Don and Jack sat down. Jack could not bring himself to wait. Don didn't stop him.

Diane came from behind the curtain that would have been the door to the kitchen if they hadn’t burned it last week. Ted was trying to comfort her. By the time they made it to the table, her crying had turned into that small sharp inhale of her rebuilding strength.

“Thank you,” said Ted, “Thank you, Don. That was a very brave thing to do.”

He stressed “brave” but that word made no sense. Don stared through Ted.

“And more importantly,” Ted continued, not realizing no one cared what he thought right now, “it worked. They left. We are safe again. Word will spread that we have no more women here, and that . . . that we are not worth the trouble of raiding.”

She was brave. She agreed to be dangled from the wall as a ward against the evil that existed on the road outside of town.

Don chewed quietly as Ted turned his head between Diane and Jack.

“Thank you both for allowing us to…” Ted didn't have the word. He had so much time to think about what to say here and still didn't have the word.

“-Murder her.” Don said matter of factly as he pushed himself away from the table. “Thank you for letting us murder your daughter so—so other people wouldn’t murder all of us. Maybe. Maybe wont murder all of us. Before we starve. Or, or murder each other…”

Don looked at Diane and thought—for a moment—she knew this was all pointless. At the same time, he could see he was upsetting Jack, who was barely keeping it together.

Ted started to stand up as if to stop him. Jack placed that large rough hand on Ted’s saying, no no. Let him go. Let him deal with this.

Don left.

Later

He knew where he was going. He wanted to get her off the wall. He wanted to hold her one more time. He wanted to tell her he was sorry. He wanted to tell her it worked. It worked for now.

He made his way back past the same clumps of men. Each man he passed on the way made it a point to thank him (again) , or apologize (again), or to nod without looking him in the eye (again). He brushed them off as best he could.

Once he was out of sight of the canteen, they started looking out the windows. They were mostly motionless. Still threats looming. Mothers had their arms over the shoulder of daughters. Sister held their sisters tightly. The women he may have saved. One placed her hand on the glass as the other hand wiped a tear from her dirty face. He hesitated in front of her. She’d been their best friend at the beginning of this nightmare, coming to town with them.

They knew he could have picked her.

Her growing belly made the choice for him. Danica would never let a baby go instead of her. She had a reason why she, rather than each other woman here, should be the one over the wall.

He refused to dwell on it. He knew where he was going. He wanted to get her off the wall. He wanted to yell at her. He wanted to tell her she ruined this by being seen. He wanted to tell her it wouldn’t work and they’d all be dead by the end of the week. He wanted to ask her if she made the right choice. In him. In her.

He didn't hear her behind him. But by the time the sound of her sharp inhales, she caught up with him. He knew he had to let his anger go.

Diane’s small hand found the small of his back. Did she know? Did she know that was the last place he touched her daughter before he ended her?

“I’m sorry,” he said looking forward. He slipped his arm around her to support himself as much as her. “I’m so sorry, mom.”

“Its okay.”

“It isn’t

“I know. But it will be”

“It wont”

“Stop”

“I cant. I killed her.”

“I know. But we are all dying Donnie. She just died sooner than we wanted.”

With that he stopped. He didn't have the energy to fight with her. But he wanted her to know—

“—I tried to talk her into running away. Leaving all of you here to face them.”

“I know. She told me. She also told me that she was tired of us running.”

Of course she told her mother that he was a coward. That he had packed their bags last night. That he was willing to leave them.

“I love her”

“I know, Don.” She waited for him to look at her. You did something Jack and I couldn't do. Something she couldn't do alone.” When he didn’t she grabbed his chin. You did something awful. But it was the least awful. And it may have worked. Even if it didn't work, it bought us another night to plan.”

“Plan? We don’t have a plan.”

They reached the bottom of the fire-escape.

“Do you really want to go up there?” she asked.

“I don’t want any of this.” He pulled down the ladder. “Want went over the wall with her.”

Before

When it was just the two of them on the roof, when they were alone again, he was able to breathe.

It was the first full breath he’d taken since she came flying back, saying she’d been spotted. Her shin was bleeding. What? The morning she said, they’d be here in the morning. She emptied out her bag, food enough to keep the town going for another few days. And hydrogen peroxide. And . . . and she was so excited about what she had brought back that she didn't hear Jack saying, shouting, Morning! They’d all be dead by morning. He’d rushed off to find Ted. Don and Danica were alone. She brushed her hair aside,

“They saw me.” She was beginning to show emotion. Uncharacteristic emotion. “They will know there is at least one woman here. And they—”

“—We will leave.” he said, talking over her.

“They wont care. They’ll kill everyone looking for me.”

“So.”

“So no one should die because I got sloppy and seen.”

“I wont let them take you.” He started to protest.

“Don’t be stupid. I wont let them take me.” She laughed.

“Its agreed.” he said.

“Its agreed”

“We will leave in the morning.”

“You’ll kill me in front of them and they’ll leave us alone,” she snapped.

Now

He snapped back. He could feel his breath. He could feel her snapped neck. The heart-shaped locket he got her at the mall ten years ago was pushed in by the rope. He was able to unclasp it. He flipped it over to see their names etched into the back. Over Diane’s protest that it looked tacky, she’d worn it to the wedding. Like a grave stone, it had the date they started dating with a dash.

He’ll have to find someone to put the end date in.

After

He put it around his neck and looked up one last time before going back down the fire escape. There, out on the road, unmistakable even with the blinding noon sun, there they were.

It hadn't worked. It was a waste.