Where the Stars Once Lived

The past is a foreign country, they do things differently there. Things like smiling at strangers and leaving doors unlocked, throwing out half eaten cans of food and wandering beneath the open sky and sun. That’s gone though, lost to a time so distant that it feels like it never existed at all. Now, one must hide when they hear the slap of approaching footfalls against the earth and barricade all points of entry, scavenge for food from torn trash bags spilling with maggots and never stray from the cover of shadows. Because if one dares to do anything else, they take the risk of suffering a fate similar to my own.

We had always taken the necessary precautions, Kyo and I. Keeping safe by keeping to ourselves. Never taking any risks or acting reckless. Promising each other that we would endure and do whatever it took to keep on living. But months after the fall of humanity, all the days began to bleed together into one long struggle for survival and we were forced to do things that no one should ever have to do. Things that were once immoral but now necessary, like stacking rot-riddled bodies as though they were pieces of timber so we could sleep warmly pressed against them or ignoring frantic pleas coming from the other side of a door that grew and grew in crescendo until suddenly they just stopped. They were things that ate away at me and made the space beneath my ribs ache for the days of before. Over time, my restless longing made me impatient and dangerously willful. And that’s all it took. One careless moment to destroy everything that ever mattered to me because I thought nothing would happen since nothing ever did.
*****
We were walking in a sunless tree line when I saw it; a military issued tactical pack. It had been left in the middle of a street that was littered with garbage and corpses so brittle from the arid weather that their bones would crunch like dead leaves if you stepped on them hard enough. I started moving toward it without thinking but was stopped by the unyielding grip of Kyo. He said we had to wait and watch. But that’s all we ever did, and I was tired of it. And hungry. It had been days since our last meal. A can of sliced peaches and three strips of teriyaki beef jerky that had to have mold scraped from them. Just enough to keep us staggering to the next empty town brimming with barren shelves and picked-over pantries.

After finding an obscure vantage point, Kyo crouched in the dead underbrush next to a blackberry thicket full of nothing but thorns while I paced like a half-starved wildcat who just caught the scent of a hare. He snapped at me to stay still, but then tried to make amends for his tone by offering me the binoculars he had nicked from the hand of his inebriated father. Perhaps he thought scouting for possible threats would distract me from the savage snarls of my stomach. I swatted his hand away though and continued to gape at the bag packed with provisions.

Once the sun fell below the hills we could retrieve it, he told me with a weak lift to his lips. But that was still hours away. The thought of waiting so long made my insides twist and I grumbled under my breath that he was being overly cautious. Or maybe that’s just what I told myself to justify what I did next.

Dropping my tattered backpack in the dirt, I marched away from the forest of skeleton trees and toward the abandoned city. Kyo called out to me in a harsh whisper to return, but I pretended not to hear the voice that had always kept me safe. That taught me how to survive. I simply kept walking toward the decaying cul-de-sac as my heart thrashed wildly within my chest, reminding me that unlike the rest of the world, I was alive.

Staying low, I crept close and remained in the shadows of houses adorned with boarded up windows and unhinged doors that dangled like rotten teeth from cancer sick gums. When it came time for me to leave the safety of overcast, I hesitated before stepping out into the open. It felt wrong not to have Kyo by my side, his fingers tangled in mine. I wanted to turn and see if he was still watching from the leaf-stripped grove I had just left him in but knew the disappointed look on his face would have compelled me to go back. And I had already come too far for that.

The remains of a broken windchime pealed feebly in the distance as I continued to move forward with darting eyes and wavering breaths. Underfoot, a fractured sidewalk was stained with dull patches of vermillion that matched the discoloring of a battered baby stroller that had been turned over and forgotten. I skirted around it and crept into the street where my silhouette stretched skittishly over the rucksack.

It seemed so easy that I almost tipped my face up to the dying sun and laughed. As I slid the olive-colored straps of the bag over my thinning shoulders, the weight of the pack thudded heavily against my spine. My lips began to lift at the corners in a way that felt foreign as I finally turned to Kyo, but they faltered at the sight of his widened eyes and mouth.

Unsheathing the machete at my hip, I whirled around and hacked at the fingers of an infected hand reaching for my throat. The severed digits fell to the ground and rolled across it like bloated wax worms. But that did little to slow the progression of my attacker who continued to gnash rows of fragmented teeth at me. In an attempt to retreat back, I tripped over a discarded suitcase overflowing with flannel and a pair of red heels. Elbows breaking the fall and cracking against the pavement, my blade skidded out of reach. I flipped over to my stomach and crawled toward it, but as more of them emerged from the hollowed out houses I knew it was over.

My body curled inward, bracing itself for the claws and teeth that would soon break against my skin. But before a single hand corroded with disease and cankering tissue could draw near, Kyo was standing over me. I don’t know how he made it to me so fast or how he was able to cut down so many of them alone, painting the concrete around us with brilliant streaks of scarlet. I hadn’t time to wonder either, for he was hauling me up by my wrist and we were running through the streets before the last body even hit the ground. As we fled toward the darkening forest together, I looked back just once and had the nerve to anguish over my forgotten machete.

Once Kyo thought we were far enough away he spun around and started checking me for scratches and bites. His fingers shook unsteadily as they inspected every inch of my skin with tentative touches and thorough tenderness. It was like that time from before when he checked my jawbone for breaks after I received an uppercut from my stepfather. The only difference was this time the detection of an injury meant death. When he found not a single mark he sighed heavily and looked as though he were struggling not to cry, causing me to drop my gaze to my worn-out hiking boots now adorn with specks that spread like cherry blossoms across the leather. But then he started yelling. He demanded to know what the hell was going through my thick fucking skull and wanted to know why I would take such a stupid risk. I told him I was sick of all his rules and sick of always hiding. That we weren’t really living. This made him look skyward and yank a hand through the dark mop of hair falling across his forehead, causing the unwashed sleeve of his shirt to slide down his malnourished arm and expose raw skin mangled by scratch marks.

I covered my mouth with a hand and tried to hold back the deep, wrenching sobs pouring out of me. It took Kyo a moment to understand what I was reacting to. Once he did though, his brown eyes welled up with an emotion that I’d never seen in him before and something deep inside me shifted and broke. Over and over, I said that I was sorry and that it should have been me, not him. But Kyo had always looked out for me, even when we were children. Ever since that first day we met on a deserted playground, both trying to escape homes that never wanted us, he had put me before him no matter what the consequences. So rather than scream at me and say that this was all my fault like he should have, he cupped my face in his hands and said with a toothy grin that everything was going to be okay, that he’d be okay. And even though we both knew that this wasn’t true, I pretended to believe him.

After brushing my tears away with his thumbs and placing his lips gently upon my forehead, he took hold of my hand and we continued to walk, for there was nothing else for us to do but keep going. Kyo hummed softly to me a Johnny Cash song that I liked from before while tightly gripping my fingers in his. Holding me as though he would never let go.

The muted light of the sun had finally begun to fade as we stumbled upon an old farmhouse that looked as though it may have once been white but was now paint-stripped and grey. After a quick scan of the area, Kyo stopped and unburdened me of the backpack that I had risked everything for. He flashed me a playful smile that I hadn’t seen since the virus broke out and then proceeded to pull my hand to his mouth. Brushing his lips lightly across my bruised knuckles, he asked in a gentle tone if I happened to be in the mood for a picnic.

We spread out one of our threadbare sleeping bags that permeated the air with the scent of musk and then spilled the contents of the tactical pack across it. After each selecting a few canned items, we shared a meal of beef stew, kidney beans, and pears with syrup so thick that it coated the backs of our throats. During our meal, we talked about the things from before that we missed the very most, even though Kyo usually didn’t allow us to speak of the past; I settled on lake day sunburns and soda fizz while Kyo said drive-in movie theaters on warm summer nights.

The moment felt so normal. Good even. I actually started to think that the festering gashes running down his forearm and already swelling with infection was from something else. Something innocent like the tiny claws of a hyperactive kitten that would just need a few days to heal. We didn’t know though how quickly the sickness could spread or how it would turn him into a whole different breed of feral.

With our things repacked, we began to walk again hand in hand. But as we were passing a broken window that overlooked the kitchen of the farmhouse, Kyo’s fingers slipped from mine and he fell to his hands and knees. I called out his name and asked if he was all right in a voice that fell so softly it reminded me of raindrops.

Kyo’s hands ripped at the dormant grass as he told me that I needed to run. But ever since we were five years old it had always been him and me and I said I wasn’t going anywhere. Arms shuddering, he grabbed a jagged piece of windowpane until the palm of his hand gushed with hot blood that steamed when it hit the frozen ground. Jarring tremors clawed their way up his backbone and rippled over his skin like pond waves. He told me to stop being so damn stubborn and get the hell out of there. But I had never been very fond of listening and instead moved closer.

As the tips of my fingers pressed against his shoulder, Kyo reared around and stabbed me with the fractured glass within his grasp. I fell back against the cold, hard earth and he leapt on top of me, snarling and spitting as though he were a rabid dog. I begged for him to stop, but when a flailing hand closed around my throat, I knew he wasn’t my Kyo anymore.

Tears spilled from the corners of my eyes as I unclasped the sheath at my hip and thought about that first day on the playground when a little boy with freckles walked over to me and asked if I wanted to be his friend. Gripping the handle of my blade, I continued to remember how I told him yes without any hesitation. I pulled my arm back while recalling how he boldly stated that I had made a good choice because he planned on loving me forever. And though I knew he wouldn’t understand, I whispered those same words to him before thrusting my knife forward and doing what needed to be done.

With dead leaves tangled in my hair and the coolness of the forest floor bleeding into my skin, I crawled over to Kyo’s side and placed my head upon his chest. I waited for his arms to wrap around me and the resonant beat of his heart to slow the frantic flutter of my own, but the moment I rammed my bowie knife into his skull, those too became things of the past.

I wept softly as I listened to the frail rattling of Kyo drawing in his final breath. He held onto it longer than needed, like he were afraid of what would come to pass if he let it go. But before he did, his fingers knitted with mine and he whispered, “It’s okay Rya.”

And then he was gone.

A guttural scream broke from me and shattered the silence as though it were made of glass. They will have heard. And they will come. But none of that mattered anymore. Sobs racked my thin frame as I used crimson-caked fingers to dislodge the shard of glass that Kyo plunged into my stomach. After throwing it into the dead of night, I rested back against him one last time. Fingers knotted into the wet fabric of his shirt, my blood spilled around us and abated the cold like the waves of a sun-cooked sea as I turned to where the stars once lived and ash now fell. Gazing up into the darkness, I thought not of when we slow danced in an October downpour over streets that looked ablaze from the fallen foliage of autumn, nor our first kiss that made my lips tingle like sunlight and taste of night sky, but of the time when my stepfather beat me within an inch of my life. I had woke in a hospital bed with Kyo by my side. He promised me then that he would protect me at all costs and though my whole body ached from bruises and breaks, I had never felt more loved than in that moment.