So Long

I sob when I see her.

I’m not a crier; I didn’t shed a tear during the Great War, not even when my girlfriend died in my arms. She was neither the first nor the last.

But I just spent the last decade peering into every corner of the continent. I stopped thinking the words “what if” around year five, and I started drinking my way through the looted liquor stores around year eight.

So, when the girl appears around the corner of the half-bombed grocery store, I fall to my knees and cry until there isn't a drop of liquid left in my body.

“Um—hi.”

She has short, uneven hair and a face covered in dirt. She wears pearls everywhere—around her neck, her wrist, her ankles, even on a pretty thumb ring. Her eyes are green and bright, and there’s something else there—panic? Fear? I can’t blame her. I probably look insane.

I think I am insane.

“I’m not sure you’re real,” she says, sitting down across from me and crossing her legs. “I might be talking to my imagination right now. Wouldn’t be the first time.” She laughs wildly and I wince; it’s been a while since I’ve heard the sound.

I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand and hug my arms around my body. I don’t want to meet her gaze, but I also can’t look away.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen anyone,” she says. She speaks in a light, dreamy voice, as if she looks at the world in constant wonder.

“What’s your name?” I ask. I shouldn’t do this. They never turn out to be real. But she’s just so—so here.

“Pearl. Pearl Smith.” She touches her necklace.

“That's...fitting,” I say.

Her green eyes sparkle. It’s hard to look away from them. “What’s your name?”

I haven’t had a name in over ten years. “Um—John. John… Smith.”

She suddenly touches my elbow and I flinch away from her.

“Sorry,” she whispers. “I just—I don’t know if I’m dreaming or not.”

 “It’s ok. Sorry. Go ahead.” I swallow hard.

She slowly reaches forward again, toward my face, and her pearl ring glints in the sun. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen another person’s hair before,” she breathes as she runs her fingers through my hair. 

This has to be real. Nothing has felt that good since before the war. The fingertips sliding across my scalp—

“Ouch!” I yelp as she plucks a strand from the roots. “What was that for?”

“It’s just been so long since I’ve seen another person’s hair before,” she repeats in that light, dreamy voice. She holds the piece of hair so close to her nose she goes cross-eyed.

I shrug. “Well, you’ve got to be real if you can pull out my hair.”

She gives her head a small shake and tosses the hair to the side.

“Where have you been, Pearl Smith?” I ask.

“I live over there.” She points behind the grocery store. “People always wander through here.”

I stiffen. “P-people? You’ve seen others?”

“Only a few. It’s been so long since I’ve seen someone, though. A few years.”

“I haven’t seen anyone since the war.”

“Not one?”

“Zero.”

She frowns at me and touches her necklace again.

“Those are pretty,” I say, nodding toward the pearls.

She glances down as if surprised she’s wearing them. “I started collecting them after the war. I guess I just wanted something nice after all the—the ugly. These ones are from my mother. They’re all I have left of her.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yes, well, everyone died eventually, so I suppose it’s not all that sad.” 

I don’t know what to say, and neither does she, apparently, because we both just look at each other.

“I guess I still don’t know if this is real,” she says. There’s still that fear in her eyes, so I smile at her.

“Wow,” she says, eyes wide. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen a smile.”

“I know what you mean. I don’t think I’ve smiled in years.”

“You should do it more. You have a very nice smile,” she says, staring with wide eyes.

“Um—thanks.” My cheeks warm and I laugh to hide my embarrassment.

It happens fast—faster than when my girlfriend was hit all those years ago, faster than the bombs that careened toward the cities. One moment she’s just sitting there, looking at me so innocently that a warmth starts to spread through my body.

And then she’s plunging a knife into my chest.

I scream. It’s burning, burning, burning more than the fires that came after the explosions. There’s a ringing in my ears.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen blood before.” Her words bounce around in my head until they’re all I can hear. It’s been so long since I’ve seen blood before it’s been so long since I’ve seen blood before it’s—

She’s pulls out the knife, which only stokes the flames. I gasp and something gets stuck in my throat; I can’t seem to get enough air.

“You—you—” I choke out, but I don’t know what she is; all I know is that my chest is on fire, and I can’t breathe, and everyone I know is gone. Who is going to help me?

I press my hands over the wound and fall to my back. The tears start to fall as I stare at the sky.

“It’s been so long since I’ve killed someone. I wasn’t sure if I remembered how.”

She stands over me, planting one foot to my left and the other to my right. She smiles.

“Why?” I rasp. “Why?”

She kneels so she’s straddling my chest, right over the wound, and leans down until her nose is inches away from mine. The necklace swings forward and I stare at it—really stare at it. I scream again.

They’re not pearls. They’re teeth.

“My collection,” she says dreamily.

She shoves the knife into my mouth, and the world goes black.