Running Scared

I sit at the mouth of the cave, a blanket pulled taut around my shoulders to ward off the cool night air. It had been a busy day for everyone; they had all gone out to scout for food further afield, that is all except for me and George.

For a split second, I could have sworn rage had flitted across George's face when he was told that he'd be the one to stay behind with me but it had disappeared so fast that I thought I must have imagined it.

I had felt tense all day, my chest growing tighter and tighter the longer that Grahame was gone. My nerves were like an elastic band where as the day wore on, some invisible force was pinching it between cruel fingers, stretching it until I could have snapped with the pressure. I couldn't sit, I couldn't stand, I just paced the cave, probably driving George mad until finally, finally, they returned covered in sweat and dirt, clutching a deer carcass between them.

Grahame had recounted their day to me. He said that they'd split into two teams, that he was with Margery and Stephen, how they'd had to hide for a while because they'd heard noises in the bushes and they couldn't decide if it sounded human - that is, until Margery had had enough and crept out, only to discover the deer grazing nearby. They'd spent the rest of the day tracking it and they all looked worse for wear when they had trudged back into the cave.

My relief that they'd returned safely and with a meal that wasn't rabbit was so strong that I'd volunteered to keep watch while they rested. I could tell Grahame wanted to say something but I'd already ducked out of the main cavern before he had the chance.

Besides, now that I know that Grahame is here, uninjured and only tired, I was grateful for the chance to take a moment of peace, to watch the breeze flutter the leaf curtain and stir up strands of my hair, for it to kiss across my face and soothe me.

Lazily, without even thinking about it, I trace circles around and around my belly. April was coming to a close and I was fast approaching my sixth month being pregnant. On a whim I tilt my head down closer to my stomach, as if to hear the baby better, feeling foolish but curious. Recently I'd started feeling a sort of fluttering and of course, I'd panicked. Grahame had consulted the book, even though I'm sure he knows it off by heart, and assured me that it was natural, that it was the baby moving around. He was so happy he looked giddy with it. I was a lot less enthusiastic.

He'd sounded wistful, his hand pressed against my stomach, as he said, "I wish I could feel it too. It takes a little longer for everyone else to feel it."

"Well, if you ever get the chance, you're welcome to try pregnancy out and experience it for yourself. My breasts are so heavy, they feel like they're going to drop off." I'd scathingly responded and he'd floundered at that. I'd had to press my grin into the palm of my hand.

Grahame had told me to talk to the baby, for it to get used to my voice - he frequently mutters to my stomach and the whole time it seems like I'm eavesdropping on Grahame's conversation with my own body - but up until now, I didn't know what to say to it. Gently, I rap my knuckles against my belly, not sure what to even do. Is it possible to hate a mother before even entering the world itself? I'm sure the baby will hate me.

"Um, hi - I mean, hello?" I whisper uncertainly, pushing myself to continue now that I've started. "I'm the, er, carrier of you, I guess. I hope you're growing to your satisfaction, that your hair is coming through nicely?"

This, too, I learnt from Grahame. Toenails and hair, all starting to sprout on the baby. All of it happening, right inside of me. If I think about it too long, it starts to freak me out.

I wait for a few moments for a response but there's nothing. I ease up from my position and rest my head against the wall of the cave in resignation and, surprisingly, disappointment.

"How are you getting on?"

I jump at the sound of Roger's voice, I hadn't heard him approach. How long has he been watching me? He shuffles closer and lowers himself onto the floor, stretching his leg out in front of him.

"My apologies, I didn't mean to scare you."

I shake my head dismissively at him. "It's fine, I was just...um - "

He holds up a hand to stop me and gives me a small smile. "You don't need to explain, you just want to get to know your child. It's exciting, the early days. Terrifying too, mind."

"You sound like you're speaking from experience." I say cautiously, wary of potentially crossing a line. I know nothing of Roger's past, for all of these past few months living with him. It's not my business to ask.

He's nodding repeatedly, his eyes taking on a far off look, as if he's caught up in another place. It takes a minute for him to focus back on me but when he does, even though he's still smiling, his face suddenly looks older, sadder.

"Aye, I was lucky enough to be granted permission for a child. I had my own business, providing fish for the city - we lived right at the ocean, one of the best views. The business stretched back decades in my family, way before all of the world started disintegrating into what it is now. I was unbearably rich." he adds bitterly.

I don't know what to make of this. That Roger had a son or daughter, that he'd been well off enough to have the choice of a child. Something must have gone terribly wrong for him to end up here, in the woods, miles from his home and the sea and his work. I stay silent, letting him make the decision of whether he wanted to carry on talking.

"Her name was Alice." he tells me softly, staring out into the trees, past the curtain of leaves, squinting as if the sun was out. I hastily look away, realising that I'm trespassing on a painful moment for him. I can't ignore the movement of him lifting a sleeve to his eyes even though I wish to.

"She was a funny thing, too gentle for these times, forever laughing and chattering away. Maybe it was my own fault, I should have raised her to comply with the rules..." he mumbles. "I was falsely secure in my situation, I thought that because I had money, we were untouchable."

I have an uneasiness about this story, a dread building up in me. I pat my stomach constantly in a comforting gesture but to who? Myself? The baby? Roger turns back to me, his face ablaze with emotions I will never be able to comprehend, not even for the rest of my life.

"She came to me one day, distressed, told me that a man had been harassing her for days about wanting to marry her. She didn't want him though and I told her not to worry, that he was just trying to frighten her; I know my daughter and I know that she was in love with one of my employees, he helped gutting the fish. I saw her at my factory, always giggling with him. It was dangerous, how open they were, how obviously smitten they were with one another. I knew it was safe on my property though, I trusted my workers implicitly. No one breathed a word. He wasn't rich, they could never truly be together but as long as it didn't go too far, I was happy to let her be happy."

I don't even dare breathe, I feel stuck to the wall. Roger's voice becomes thick, like he's trying to hold back a sob.

"We ate breakfast in the cafe and she kissed me on the cheek before I left to attend to my business. I don't even remember what she said to me before we went our separate ways, she was supposed to be heading home. I got back just as the streets lights came on. I'd missed dinner so that I could catch up on some work I'd fallen behind on so I hadn't been able to eat with her. Before I even stepped foot in the building, I knew something was off - call it a father's intuition. When I got in, she wasn't there. She was always there when I got back from work, she liked to sit by the open window and listen to the waves. Her seat was vacant, the window was still shut. I don't even think she made it back home after I left her at the cafe."

"Of course, I went straight to see the mayor of our city first thing in the morning. I couldn't go out that night she went missing, we have a curfew in case anyone wanders too close to the sea and falls in and drowns. They switch the streetlights off at eight, see? Enforcers wouldn't have let me get a foot outside my building, there's always one stationed at every ground floor, just in case. I had hope though, hope that the mayor would help me. I was a main supplier to the city so we were acquaintances, we went back twenty years doing business together."

Roger's face shuts off then, darkens with fury. When he speaks, his words fall hard like stones

"When I got to him and explained what had happened, he went all quiet. I got that feeling again, that something wasn't right. He poured himself a glass of water, kept his back to me the whole time before going to sit at his desk. He gave me a funny look. I'll never forget what he said to me next, not until I'm dead in the ground. He looked up at me, stared me right in the face and said, 'But Roger, you don't have a daughter.'"

"Oh, Roger, I'm so sorry." I say, hushed and horrified. I glance down towards the main cavern, wishing Grahame were here. A fat tear had leaked from Roger's eye and he hastily wipes it away.

"I got back from the mayor's office to find her room emptied. Someone had broken in and stolen it all away. There wasn't a single thing left of her, it was like she never existed, a whole life just gone. I asked everyone, every person who worked in my factory, if they'd seen her. I asked her beau, the one she was so keen on and you know what he said? What they all said? They'd never heard of her. Now, I know what happened, see? It was that man who had been bothering her. I underestimated him, I didn't realise how influential he was. He must have been pretty high on the food chain, to all but erase my daughter."

I watch Roger struggle to his feet, using the wall to keep himself steady. He dabs at his face a few more times with his sleeve and stares down at me, his gaze flickering down to my stomach. Automatically, I protectively wrap my arms around it.

"My Alice, she had the most exquisite golden hair - curly, it was, like her late mother's. She had a beautiful face too, like a cherub's." he tells me, slowly beginning to move off back to the group. From here, I can just make out the flicker of flames. "You know what the worst part is? I started to believe them. All I've got left of her are my memories but I start to forget even those now. Just the littlest things, too, like the shape of her nose, or the expressions of her face. It's those little things that keep me up at night. I just want you to think about that. They'll find a way to hurt you, even when you think you're safe."

Roger limps off, leaving me feeling cold and afraid as I peer out into the forest, drumming my fingers nervously against my belly. When George eventually comes to relieve me from the night's watch, tapping my shoulder to bring me from my reverie, I don't even talk to Grahame as I lay down beside the dying fire.

That night, I dream fitfully of a girl with golden hair and rosy cheeks, of her face eroding away like sand in a timer until nothing was left.