No Shelter from Darkness (9 page)

“I'm going,” she said, sounding as bad as she looked. Beth heard her tramp away but she remained focused on the bloody carcass of the badger before her.

”Disgusting, right?” said Gibson.

“Yeah, disgusting.” She quickly covered her mouth again to keep the flies out and leaned forward for a closer look.

“Musta been a fox did this, I reckon,” said Gibson. “Big one, mind.” He prodded it once more, removed the stick, and then threw it to the side. “How come you didn't scream when you saw it? The other girls did.”

Beth hardly heard him; he was just a whisper, and she didn't look up even when he tutted in disappointment before walking off. She was alone then, trying to piece everything together.

The badger's mouth was slightly open, its sharp teeth bared in a pained smile while its black eyes stared vacantly. It looked like its small chest had been ripped open, from the throat down to the belly. It occurred to Beth that there didn't seem to be anything missing from it. If a fox had done this, then surely what she was looking at would be just skin and bones with all the meat and most of the guts consumed or taken. But the badger seemed mostly whole. Just … spread out.

And where was all the blood?

Bit by bit, she made the pieces fit and came to the only conclusion that made any sense: she'd sleepwalked to Victoria Park. She'd come to the lake, perhaps to get water in her fevered state, and startled the fox or whatever it might've been just as it was tucking into its kill. With the badger ripped open its blood spread and seeped into the ground. And on that ground Beth had unwittingly laid down.

It was the simplest answer. And hadn't Mrs. Humphries once said that the simplest answer is often the right answer? This was the perfect example.

Beth sighed. She closed her eyes and smiled at her absurd presumptions, at the misplaced guilt she'd felt. It was still a little discomforting to think she'd slept in animal blood, but she hadn't meant to, and to have an explanation for it made the world feel right once more.

As right as a world at war could feel.

*   *   *

Beth felt like she'd been released from a straitjacket. All morning she'd been tied up with a worst-case scenario that was, now that she thought of it again, ridiculous. Now that the restraints of it all had been removed, she felt free. She was able to enjoy the feeling of having energy to burn, full of enthusiasm which had been there all along, but of which she could only now tap into. The barrier had been removed.

She was clever enough not to let it show too soon. She'd almost skipped out from the trees earlier, stopping herself at the realization of how that would look. Joy over an animal's death. It also meant she couldn't tell anyone about what had happened the night before, or at least it would be easier not too. Likewise, it would also be easier to throw the bloodstained gown out and report it mysteriously missing than to try explaining it.

Beth carefully eased into her new happy mood. By the time the park had filled up with children, and those men and women who weren't away fighting or working, she was lying under the blue sky with her eyes closed and her hands behind her head. The grass beneath her was soft and felt real. Beside her, Mary busied herself with a trick Gibson had showed her. Every few seconds Beth heard her blow through the gap between her two thumbs, which held a blade of grass between them. Gibson was an old pro; he'd produced an odd, low-pitched squeak first time with ease. Mary managed to make a slight squeak twice following two searches for a thicker blade of grass, three times wiping the spit off her thumbs, and too many other failed attempts to count.

Beth heard another lungful of air being inhaled and waited for the inevitable raspberry, but instead Mary let her breath out in a deep sigh. Beth shuffled up to crossed legs and opened her eyes, squinting with her hand up as a shield. Mary had stopped attempting the trick, her hands dropped and loose in her lap. “What?” asked Beth.

“I think it's about to start. Here comes Mr. Nichols now.”

The school's headmaster walked to the middle of the newly painted six-lane track, the edges of which no one had yet overstepped. He clapped his hands and the sparse crowd grew quiet. Then the well-spoken man welcomed one and all to the fundraiser. Beth felt Mary prod her with an elbow, and followed her gaze to the corner of the track. It was Susan and her cronies.

“Everyone knows she's gonna win, what with you not running, and all,” said Mary quietly. Beth stretched out her left leg. She ran her finger up the wound. “You're thinking about it, aren't you?” asked Mary.

Beth shrugged. She put her elbow on her right knee and rubbed her neck, unconsciously tracing the slightly raised and completely
smooth tissue of her topmost scar. “Even if I wanted to, I can't. I'm not in the race.”

“Like I said, you can take my place,” said Mary, her face lighting up.

“Mum would kill me. She told me not to.”

“How's she gonna know?”

Beth hummed to herself. How would she know? “What if she's right though? What if I still need to rest?”

A short distance away the announcements were over and Mr. Nichols presented the first race. The younger girls started to line up at the beginning of the track, while the younger boys—Oliver among them—started to group together to the side in waiting.

“How do you feel?” Mary asked Beth. “I mean you were a bit out of sorts earlier.”

Beth sat up straight. For the first time that day she was able to answer that question truthfully. “I feel great. Absolutely fine.”

“Well, then,” said Mary with a smile. She stood up and held out her hand for Beth to take. “We'd better get you changed.”

Beth had the familiar feeling of butterflies in her stomach. She was going against her mother's wishes, and yet, at the same time, was about to do what she loved. It was all heightened by the thought of having the chance to try and take back her imaginary crown from Susan. Smiling, she took Mary's hand and allowed herself to be led away.

*   *   *

Beth limped out from the trees as if her plimsolls were full of stones. Mary emerged behind her, so much happier now that she was out of Beth's shorts and in her summer dress instead. With her being only a bit taller than Beth, it was a fairly good fit, though Mary's slighter frame was evident.

Beth collapsed on the ground and began pulling off the ill-fitting footwear.

“What is it?” asked Mary.

“Your shoes are too small.”

“And these shoes of yours are a bit roomy.” Mary picked up the discarded plimsolls. “Socks?”

“Socks,” confirmed Beth as she got to her feet, feeling all the more liberated despite the threadbare heels and the odd toe poking out. It wasn't an uncommon sight.

“At least the shorts suit you.” Mary stifled a chuckle.

“I couldn't believe it when Mum bought them,” said Beth. “Even second-hand, there must've been shorts cut better than these.” A whistle blew, and Beth looked up to see her brother disappear down the track. He was a half decent runner himself, missing out on third place by only a whisker. The older girls started to line up. “Wish me luck,” Beth said back to Mary.

“You don't need it,” Mary said, starting on her way to the side of the track with the plimsolls and Beth's gas mask in hand.

Beth stepped up to the starting line and into the one remaining gap, beside the tallest girl. It was Susan Pullen, who glared down at Beth. “What're you doing here?” she asked angrily. “You can't race.” She was almost snarling.

“Mary had to drop out, so I thought I'd give it a go.”

“B-but that's not allowed.” Susan turned to the side of the track where Mrs. Humphries stood, and raised her hand. “Miss? Miss.”

“What is it?” said the teacher as she walked over. She looked angry and flustered that something might not be going according to plan. “What's so important you need to make a scene?”

“Miss, it's her,” Susan pointed a thumb toward Beth without looking. “She's not allowed to race.”

“Elizabeth?” The surprise on the teacher's face was clear. “I thought you were sick?”

Beth saw the smugness on Susan's face. “I was Miss, but I feel a lot better now.”

“Where's your mother?” The teacher looked around. “Where's Mary?”

Beth took a breath and glanced up at the sky, trying to think of what to say.

“Miss, it's my ankle.” Mary came limping from the side over the track. “I fell down the stairs this morning. I think I might have sprained it.”

“Oh. Well, where's your mother, Elizabeth?”

“She's at work, Miss,” continued Mary. “She said it was okay for Beth to run though. Gave her a full bill of health this morning, she did.”

“Is this true, Elizabeth?”

Beth held her breath and gave a shallow nod.

“Well, I suppose if there's a place free it would be a shame to waste it. Don't you push yourself too hard, though.”

Susan huffed. “But—”

“Miss Pullen. Am I going to have to remove you from the race altogether?”

Susan closed her mouth and stood up straight. Mrs. Humphries retreated to her side of the track while Mary went back to the spectator's side, having already taken a couple of steps before remembering to limp. Feeling flustered for the upset she'd caused as much as for having Mary lie for her, Beth tried to compose herself and ignored the subtle sneer from her foe.

On Beth's left was Natalie; she would probably finish in the middle of the field behind Audrey, who stood on the other side of Susan. Beatrice stood on the left end of the starting line, and Kimberly on the right. The spectators on either side had no idea of the seriousness of the competition and continued to chat away amongst themselves. They would no doubt cheer half-heartedly once the whistle was blown, but they weren't as deathly silent as Beth thought they should be.

Mr. Nichols fumbled for the whistle hanging from his neck, while Beth's gut turned with anticipation. Her adrenaline had already started to make her anxious. She held the back of her neck while tilting her head from side to side.

“Ready!” bellowed the head teacher. The girls all put their left feet on the line and poised themselves for the inevitable.

“Set!”

Beth heard nothing but the thump of her heart once, twice. The whistle was blown. She leant forward and her ears pricked up when she heard Mary's voice above all others, yelling, “No!”

Beth's right foot, having left the ground, swung beneath her, but as it crossed the starting line it stopped, abruptly. Fractions of a second passed while Beth looked down to see Susan's left foot planted on the grass in front of her. Beth tried to save her balance, but her body was too far forward. It was too late. Susan removed her
foot, and the damage was done. Beth fell forward to the ground, like a poorly executed dive into water. She'd managed to get her hands out in front, but she still had to close her eyes as her cheek skidded along in the turf.

Beth looked up and spat grass. She could smell the soil on her skin and her cheek stung. On either side of her, the field of runners made leaping strides away from her. The last of them was Susan, who had plenty of distance to make up the second or two she'd spent ensuring Beth didn't even start.

But the fire of anger within Beth that Susan herself had ignited began to rage, and her resolve gripped her and made her body tense. The field was already several strides ahead in a race that continued to play out in slow motion. Beth's hands, stretched out in front of her, clenched into claws and she dug her fingers into the soil. She pushed herself up, pulling her left leg forward and under her. Her toes dug in, and she pounced forward like a jaguar into a flat out sprint, throwing bits of grass and soil up behind her.

The world slipped away. The spectators weren't just silent; they weren't even there. There was nothing but Beth and the track before her. Even her competitors were a blur.

Except for Susan.

She was as clear as the day was bright and she was Beth's only target.

With each stride she felt the impact reverberate through her legs. She didn't have to think; it was as though she were possessed. Her breathing was regular, coming in time with her strides. Even her heart beat in tempo.

Up ahead, the rest of the field was nearly halfway through the hundred-yard dash. Beth was about ten yards behind the straggler. Susan was no longer trailing, having already moved up into fourth ahead of Kimberly. With her head straight and eyes forward, Beth watched as she took third and then passed Natalie into second. Only Audrey stood between Susan and first place now.

Seconds ticked by and Beth took fifth from Kimberly, and almost immediately fourth from Beatrice. Third place was in her sights, leaving the two stragglers behind and catching the frontrunners. With barely twenty yards left, Susan came level with Audrey, while Beth passed Natalie.

Nineteen, eighteen, seventeen.
Susan took the lead with only fifteen yards to go.
Fourteen, thirteen, twelve.
Beth caught up with Audrey, who was panting and fading fast.
Ten, nine, eight.
Audrey was put into third.
Seven, six, five.
Beth was on Susan's heels, and she pushed herself harder and harder.

Four.

The finish line trembled in Beth's sights.

Three.

Susan began to dip her head.

Two.

Beth was sure she was level.

One.

Beth leant her body as forward as she could without stumbling, while her blood pumped, her legs burned and her lungs ached. Below her, a flash of white interrupted the blur of green. For better or worse, the race was over.

She couldn't hear anything. Not a cheer, not the thumping of her feet as she came to a stop. Nothing except the pounding in her ears. She doubled over, gasping for air. Never had she exerted herself so much, but she needed to know what had happened.
Have I done it?
Beth turned her head and saw Susan doubled over just behind her, though it was hard to tell what that meant. Worldly sounds began to return to her, in particular the cheering and clapping of the people spread out around the track. Then Susan lifted her head, red and glistening with sweat, and with contempt strewn across her face. Her misery could only mean one thing. Mary ran up to confirm it. “That was bloody brilliant!”