Leaves Underfoot

She ran barefoot over the hard and flinty earth of the forest, holding the baby close to her, looking around for where to go. The land was largely uneven where she went, yet out of it grew many types of trees that choked the ground with dusty knotted roots and overhead the sun was warm and high and rising and bore down through the leaf cover as though in pursuit. On all sides were lindens and sessile oaks and curling junipers that dug deep into the soil and held onto it jealously, and the lindens were full of cream-colored flowers that gave a honeyed smell. And as she ran their low branches caught her by the hem of her frock, so she pulled hard until they ripped through the linen and she was free to run again.

In time she made it to the bottom of a bluff that led up to more woodland and there were large rocks in the way but she did not hesitate. She did not know where she was going and had no destination in mind but still she had gone at full speed whenever she could. She ran with a fear for those she had left behind and a fear for the baby as well, and both were great fears that filled the chest with an urgency. Then she clambered over the rocks and up to the head of the bluff, and with her new movements the baby began to stir. He did not cry at first but after some time he looked like he was about to and then the woman could no longer put it off. She searched quickly for a near tree and in its shade she stopped to catch her breath and to coax the baby. She bounced him gently, singing to him and rocking softly, and he cooed at her, and she could not help but smile at him, at his gay little eyes and nonsense babbles. She could feel his tiny hands and he was very warm in those hands and limbs and more so in the small round belly covered in swaddling. On his head he had fine hairs that were thin as spider silk and they glowed nearly golden in the sunlight and in that same sun he sneezed and laughed a cherub’s laugh and she felt much better hearing it. Then hoisting him onto her shoulder she checked the soles of her own feet which were bloody where they’d been cut in the running and briefly she dusted them and winced with the pain. In that moment she felt great exhaustion and she wanted to hide somewhere out of sight and wait for everything to pass. But she knew she could not and, gathering the baby in her arms, prepared to set off again.

When she had gone more distance she could feel the shape of the land rising underneath her and soon it was an exertion to climb the new hills while carrying the baby. On the sunny side where they were now there were fields of lady ferns and yarrow which grew over the rocks and the corpses of trees and in that sun they had grown well and plentifully. Then she reached the top of the hill and could see far over the trees, and the ground before her dropped down and leveled out slightly and there were broad mountains in the distance that rose up with a glinting in the sun and stood high against the deeper forest and the midday sky. At that altitude she stopped to look around and did not recognize anything. It was a vast green nothingness. Breathing hard the woman stayed longer to soothe the baby and held and humored him and patted him softly on the back, and when he calmed she brought him over the top of the hill and down the other side, further into the forest.

At her speed they had not gone a long way before there was an abrupt change in terrain. On the way down the gentle incline of the hill she had started to run and was sure of her steps, but before she reached the bottom she slipped and felt the ground give way under her and then she was falling, sliding steeply on her heels, shielding the baby and squinting through the rushing dust. She felt her calves skid against the rocks and the rough sod and there was much pain in the skidding, and when she had come to a rest she found herself dusty on the shelf of another ridge overlooking a clearing and a shallow pond. At one point the pond may have been a full lake but the water had retreated and now on one side was a glade at the foot of the far hills under the bare light of the sun. She descended the ridge, and even before she'd seen the pond close up she could smell it and it was a damp peaty smell that reminded her of the rains that came down hard like a flood and went away quickly.

Carefully she came up to the edge of the clearing and watched for movement. The pond was a modest size, split into two deeper pools mated by a shallow bridge, and the pools were no more than a few meters at their deepest, where the water was mirror-flat and a dense fertile green. A piddling creek fell down the ridge to the pond from much higher inland, and on the windward side there were large jutting rocks leading up to the glade and the far hills under an open patch of sky. The woman quieted herself and listened painstakingly but all that was clear to her was the tame little flow of the creek and the insects which were constant and ubiquitous. But at the very least she could not hear anything else or even see anyone and because of that her heart lifted a little and she felt a flush come to her face as if she had been on tenterhooks until then. With new verve she carried the baby up in her arms and maneuvered roundly out to the grassy edge of the water, and when she could still hear nothing she waded in and wiped the dust and blood from her feet and bent down to cup some of the water with her free hand and splashed her face with it, and it was cool and refreshing. Then she came out of the water and set the baby down in the shade by the rocks, where she could see him. With both hands she pulled up her sleeves and came back in to wash more thoroughly, and she knew they could not stay in this place for long but she reveled in the respite. It was a good peace. She wrung the wet parts of her clothes and looked out beyond the trees to the great green hills and then she heard him start to fuss again from where he lay in the shade. She stepped out, still dripping, and went to him, cradling him in her arms and bringing him back toward the pond and into the sun. In the open she whispered to him and let him squirm against her, and in response he burbled dearly. A small wind came through the clearing and she felt a little cold in the wet frock. Then from the glade there was a loud crack which cut through the forest, and when it did it swallowed all other noise in the echo.

Almost instantaneously the woman’s jaw and throat exploded where the bullet entered and it ripped all the way through her neck and the back of her skull. The sudden impact flung her body forcibly to the grass, right up to the water, and for a few more seconds she was still alive but she could not breathe or scream, and so she writhed and struggled feebly and managed several wet gurgling coughs that grew weaker as she bled into the mud. Somewhere she had dropped the baby and from her place on the ground she could hear him crying, loudly and clearly. She wanted to get up, to go to him but realized her body would not let her. With open eyes she stared up at the wide glade, at the bright hills beyond it. She could not feel pain, she could not feel anything at all. She heard the baby crying again, louder and louder. Then she was dead, and she could not hear anything anymore.

Minutes later there was a stir through the brush on the green and sunny part of the hillside and a soldier clad in muted forest colors came through the glade and clambered down the roots and the jutting rocks onto the level floor of the clearing. He had slung a long gray rifle over his shoulder and, checking his surroundings, dusted himself and stepped into the warm daylight out toward the pond. Standing at the edge of the water he looked to where the woman lay and examined her head and her throat and her small form under the wet front of her frock and the pond muck where it ran dark with blood. He turned and spat into the water. Pulling his sidearm from its holster he cocked back the slide and, aiming briefly, fired twice into the baby and the crying stopped. Then he re-slung the rifle over his shoulder and moved on through the clearing, where, behind him, more soldiers began to emerge from the forest into the day sun, crushing leaves underfoot.