Transparency

Philip left the farmhouse on a Sunday morning, carrying a handgun and a hunting knife. He vowed not to return until he’d gotten more information about what was happening out there.

He still hasn’t come back, and it’s been three weeks now.

In the last couple of days, Eva has become certain that someone is lurking in the woods on the perimeter of the property, and she’s pretty sure they aren’t looking for shelter. Whenever she opens the door a crack to check for any sign of her husband returning, she thinks she sees movement in the trees, someone ducking out of sight. She doesn’t dare go out there to see if she’s right.

But one gray morning when she slowly and carefully looks outside, there’s a pile of torn-up paper on their doorstep.

It’s a letter, or it was before someone ripped it up. Now it seems like an expression of contempt. Maybe even a warning. The cold feeling that settles over her isn’t because of the autumn air, and she swears as she gathers up the torn pieces.

The house still smells of oatmeal, an odor she’s grown to detest over the months that they’ve been shut inside.

“We got something. But someone else got it first,” she says to the people in the kitchen. Her brother Bruce looks up from his instant coffee. His wife Maggie, who’s never been a big fan of Eva’s, glances away from her sewing for just a moment. Her expression never changes.

“What happened to it?” Tasha, a neighbor who showed up at Bruce’s farmhouse shortly after Philip and Eva did, looks baffled.

“I don’t know.” They’ve gotten anonymous threats before, but nothing ever came of those. And those weren’t torn to shreds.

Tasha gets up to look at Eva’s handful of paper.

“We’ve got nothing but time today, hon. Maybe you could piece it back together? See what it says.” Tasha’s always upbeat, even when there’s nothing to be upbeat about. Her warm brown eyes make Eva feel a little less chilled inside.

“We probably have some scotch tape somewhere,” Bruce murmurs. “Down in the basement in my office.”

“Well, that’s something,” Eva says. “Let me go check.”

She moves carefully down the dark stairs into the musty-smelling basement. Over the last few days as Eva has spoken of lurkers in the woods, they’ve discussed the idea of concealing themselves down there, trying to create the impression that the house has been abandoned in case anyone really is watching.

As she approaches Bruce’s closed office door, she hears giggling. The kids like to hole up in there. Tasha once said that something about the setup reassures them; it’s cozy and familiar and still smells faintly of Bruce’s aftershave.

Eva opens the door. When she sees what’s happening, she shrieks.

Patrick’s found the scotch tape. He’s taped the tip of his nose to his forehead so he looks like he’s got a pig snout, and he’s shining a flashlight under his chin. His cousins Rochelle and Zane and Tasha’s son Jamal are collapsed in fits of laughter that break off at Eva’s interruption.

“Dammit, Patrick!” Eva marches over to him and grabs the roll of tape out of his hand.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Patrick says, looking away from her. She notices for the first time that he’s got a faint scruff of reddish facial hair growing in, as if this entire experience weren’t already making her feel horribly old.

“How many times do I have to tell you? We can’t waste a single thing in this house. Not one thing. Once we’ve used it up, there might not be any more for a long time.” Or ever. The fear she felt upon discovering the torn letter boils inside her. Her voice gets louder, and the kids flinch away.

“Everyone was scared,” Patrick says, still not meeting her eye. “I was just trying to get them to chill.”

“And here you are wasting tape and batteries. Are you going to go into town to get us more?” She’d never actually let him do that, but he doesn’t need to know.

“I was just trying to help.”

“Use your head for once,” she snaps. “That would be a big help.”

She storms back up the basement steps, her heart pounding in her ears. She hates yelling at Patrick or at any of the kids, but she thinks she could scream herself blue in the face and they still wouldn’t get that this is serious. This isn’t some kind of demented summer camp that’s going to end in four weeks.

“What was that all about?” Bruce asks. He and Tasha are still at the kitchen table; Maggie’s somewhere else.

“Patrick found the tape. Today of all days, he decided it was a toy.”

“Oh, hell,” Tasha says.

There’s still a lot of tape on the roll, and Eva’s grateful for the small break. She makes herself some of Bruce’s bitter instant coffee in a pink mug that states “NO SUGAR, THANKS — I’M SWEET ENOUGH!” and sits down in the spot that Maggie recently vacated. With shaky hands, she spreads the pieces of the letter out on the red-and-white checked tablecloth.

“It’ll be like putting together a puzzle,” Bruce says.

“I never liked puzzles,” Eva mutters.

She ties her dark hair up on top of her head to keep it out of her face while she’s working. Bruce and Tasha watch intently at first, but their attention wanders; Bruce gets up to inventory the pantry contents and Tasha opens her laptop and tries getting into ResistNet, which she hasn’t been able to reach in two days.

The first word Eva puts together is Dear. It’s in black ink and it’s definitely Philip’s neat, squared-off handwriting. She carefully places the transparent tape over the word to keep the pieces together.

The next word she reassembles is hope. Something inside her feels like a faint ray of light is piercing the darkness.

Patrick slinks into the kitchen, slumping like a dog that’s been scolded.

“What is that, Mom?”

“A letter from your father.”

“What?” Patrick’s head snaps up. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I wasn’t sure before.”

“Why’s it torn up like that?”

“I don’t know. Someone might be messing with us again. Now help me put it back together.”

Patrick takes the seat next to Eva. As if he has an instinct for spotting his own name, he pieces together the word Patrick almost at once.

Eva gets love you. She squeezes Patrick’s hand when he finds Eva. Her eyes well up when she reassembles for me.

Eva is the first one to put together an entire phrase, and the words shatter the lighter mood in the kitchen at once.

Run as soon as you get this

“Oh shit,” Patrick whispers. She doesn’t bother chiding him. Bruce and Tasha are back at once, hovering over their shoulders. When they see the words, they immediately help piece the rest of the letter together.

Dear Eva -

Whole city is gone. No hope of rescue. They know you’re there. Run as soon as you get this and don’t wait for me. I love you and Patrick always.

Phil

Eva takes long, shuddering breaths as Bruce races for the go bags in the hall closet and Tasha yells for the kids to come up from the basement right now.

“How the hell did they find us?” she says. “We were so careful.”

“I told them.”

Everyone turns to see Maggie standing in the doorway to the kitchen. Her dark brows are knotted together and she folds her arms and raises her chin as she looks at them.

“What the hell, Maggie? Why?” Bruce says, his face going bright red.

“They see everything. They’d have left us alone if you all hadn’t started poking around, asking for trouble. And I’m not going down with the rest of you.”

“Jesus, Maggie!” Bruce is spluttering now. “The kids!”

“They said they wouldn’t hurt the kids.” Maggie’s voice breaks a little at the last word.

Eva jumps to her feet. She is going to grab the biggest and sharpest kitchen knife, and then she will plunge it into the spot where Maggie’s heart would be if the bitch had one.

But then they hear it: Footsteps coming up the front porch. Heavy footsteps. And lots of them.

“Mom?” Patrick whispers, deathly white under his freckles.

And then Eva screams as something outside smashes into the front door and the wood splinters.

(The story continues in “New Year’s Day.”)