Don't Call Me Dead

17. Home

"Do you think he'll like it?"

I step outside and sit down on the doorstep next to Marvin. Lately, we've been keeping the door open. Since I have cleaned the hut, and thrown away all the unnecessary stuff, the atmosphere inside has become much more tolerable, and the ventilation helps to keep it that way.

"Let me see." I accept the half-finished wooden toy and look it over, while he plays with his carving knife, turning it round and round in his fingers. He's good in making things from wood. The crib he's made last month looks like we've bought it from a furniture store.

"It's big enough, so he won't swallow it," I say, examining the toy rabbit. "He could use it as a teether when his teeth will start to come out. You'll just need to polish it real good."

"Sure."

He leans over and pecks me on the cheek. Then we just sit there looking at the clearing and the trees surrounding it, and at the fading sky. The late afternoon air is warm, and the swamps don't feel as much like a trap as they used to. They feel a bit like home, actually. I used to kick myself every time I had such thoughts and remind myself it's not home and I can't feel that way.

Lately, I've been forgetting to do that.

"I'll go check on Harry," I say, standing up.

"Sure," he says. "I'll finish the toy."

In the hut, Harry is still asleep. He's lying on his side, his thumb in his mouth, his blanket crumpled at his feet. He's been growing so fast. He'll be crawling around soon. The crib is decorated with flowers and butterflies I drew with colored markers. The ones we've got from Gia's backpack. She liked to draw. But she won't need them anymore, so why not use them?

I smooth out the blanket and cover Harry's feet. There's something so peaceful about him sleeping. About this whole life in the forest, with Marvin taking care of our every need. Waking up and going to bed to the sound of birds and the rustling of leaves, and...

Marvin's voice comes from the outside. At first, I think he's calling for me, but then I realize that he's saying something, then pauses, then says something else. As if he's... talking to someone?

My heart stops, then starts beating rapidly as I approach the window. I glance out, and my breath catches in my chest.

There's someone standing on the clearing. It's a young man...no, a teenager. He holds a dog on a leash with one hand, and a rifle with another. I recognize the dog even before I recognize the boy.

It's Jack. Jack and Brownie.

In the few months that had passed since I have seen him last, he's really shot up. He's probably taller than me now. Although he's still shorter than Marvin, who is approaching him, saying something. I watch them, feeling lightheaded, sudden ringing in my ears preventing me from making out what he's saying. I can tell that his tone is friendly and soothing. Jack answers and lowers the barrel of his gun.

Brownie is sitting by Jack's feet, looking alert, but not aggressive, watching Marvin come closer, still talking. All the while, Marvin's right hand remains behind his back, clutching his carving knife.

I must warn Jack. But what about Marvin? What about Harry? The crib, the toy rabbit, the peaceful evenings in the forest, the things we've been doing together? The cozy home I have turned the hut into. Marvin's hand smoothing Harry's hair. Family's the most important thing. What about making it work?

Marvin makes another step, and yet another, and all I can do is watch.

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