His shoulders were slumped, his forehead lined with desolation. He took a few steps back.
“How could I live with myself, knowing that I left you here?”
I felt deflated myself, all traces of anger gone, and only extreme fatigue remaining in its place.
“You’re not abandoning me, Petr. I don’t want to go back,” I told him simply. “And I don’t think I ever will. I need to turn over a new leaf, and this is my chance to do it. I insist that you do what your heart commands, but youmustlet me do the same.”
I could tell he accepted what I was saying at last from the way he exhaled, the sound of it an ocean wave washing off a drawing in the sand. He nodded, eyes glistening, but his mouth set in a straight, unwavering line.
“I’ll see if some of the men wish to come out with me to bring back some food for you all,’ he stated simply. ‘Renata, I?—”
Deciding on an impulse, I marched towards him. He looked startled and a bit like he wanted to back away. Not caring, I threw my arms around him and kissed him on the lips for the first time in weeks. And for the last time ever.
The soft, nostalgic light fell on the whitewashed furniture and the uneven pine floorboards. Even the sundews and pitcher plants on the walls looked mild and soothing in its transformative glow.
I used to think I would grow old with this man.
“Goodbye,” I said.
“Goodbye.”
One more kiss on the cheek and he was gone from my life.
A short while later, I could see him walking across the sun-bathed, cobbled street beneath our window with Francois, the black Frenchman and partner of the gorgeous, pregnant Delphine. I watched them turn the corner and disappear out of sight. Although he was only supposed to go to the nearest grocery store with Petr and then come back, although it was clear from his care for her that he never would have abandoned Delphine, Francois did not return.
5
A NEW DAWN RISES
Two days had passed before we saw Delphine again. Despite her astonishing beauty, her presence was always like the ticking of a clock, only noticeable upon first entering a room and soon forgotten about. Perhaps that was why everyone but me seemed oblivious to her absence.
I thought about bringing some food to her room numerous times over those days. On each of those occasions, I stopped myself from doing so only to question my motives anew, incessantly arguing with myself.
How can she be so irresponsible?
She’s grieving. You can at least tell yourself that whatever happened to Francois took place after Petr had separated from him. That he’s alive and well and en route to Prague.
But she’s starving her baby.
It’s none of your business. Neither is it your place to judge.
When Delphine finally appeared in the common room again, her eyes were swollen, and she looked depleted and haggard. Before I had a chance to say anything, to suggest perhaps that she help herself to some of our meagre supplies, a loud bang sounded just outside the back window.
I crouched instinctively.
“That was a gunshot,” silver fox Henry said in his upper-class New York accent, putting down his old newspaper. “And it was damn close.”
Another shot reverberated seemingly all around us. We all got up and rushed to the dining room window, guided by where the sound had come from. Looking out into the cobbled street, which was narrower than the one in front of our little hotel, we identified the source of the noise immediately. There was a man, between forty and fifty, his dark hair peppered with grey. At his feet lay a fury—as we had taken to calling the infected—who used to be a young pale man. He was still twitching and bleeding from two gunshot wounds in his chest. Blood pooled between the cobblestones.
“Mon Dieu,” Delphine exclaimed, covering her mouth with both hands in shock.
But her source of distress probably wasn’t the dying infected. Seemingly out of nowhere, ten more cannibals appeared and approached the healthy man with the velocity of a bullet. Even through the shut window, we could hear their growling. The man fired and fired at them, but missed each time, and then threw the gun to the ground, clearly having run out of bullets.
“Maybe we can open ze window so he can climb in, non?” Delphine suggested.
“He’d never make it.” Dave shook his head regretfully.
“The roamers might, though. Not to mention, we have no idea what sort of person he is,” Henry added. “We cannot risk it.”
