The People I Died For

The first time Maya Bennett died, her mother was wearing the pearl earrings her father had bought her for their twentieth anniversary. Maya remembered them because Evelyn had touched one absently while refusing to open the shelter door. “Mum.” Her palms slipped against the metal. “Please. Just open it.” Behind her, something scraped its way up the stairwell. The dry clicking came first, irregular and wet, like a mouth struggling to form words. A Gallowers had found the building. Maya's arm was bleeding. Her backpack hung from one shoulder, its strap torn where she'd dragged a stranger from beneath a collapsed sign. Inside were two bottles of water, a torch, painkillers and a little radio. She had given away most of her food three streets earlier. She had always given things away. “Evelyn, open the door,” Adrian said from inside. For one foolish second, Maya thought he would help her. He appeared behind her mother, pale and breathless, his dark hair falling across the scar near his eyebrow. He wore the silver watch Maya had saved for months to buy him. “Adrian.” Her voice cracked. “Move her. Please.” His gaze dropped to the blood on her sleeve. “Are you bitten?” “No.” “Are you sure?” “I'm standing here bleeding, Adrian.” She let out a sharp, disbelieving breath. “I would know if something had bitten me.” “Maya, don't snap at him,” her mother said, like they were still arguing over dinner plates. It was such an ordinary reprimand that Maya almost laughed. The previous evening, Evelyn had made rice and stew on a camping stove. She'd saved Maya the best portion, complaining that her daughter looked like she hadn't slept in a week. For a few minutes, sharing a meal in the dim shelter, Maya had believed that the end of the world might finally make them a family. Then Daniel had complained about being hungry. Evelyn had given him Maya's portion. Now he stood behind her, wearing Maya's jacket and carrying her backpack. “That's mine,” she whispered. Daniel glanced down, unimpressed. “You weren't using it.” “I'm outside in the cold.” “And I'm inside.” He shrugged. “What do you want me to do, freeze for you?” A violent bang shook the stairwell. Everyone flinched. Maya pressed both hands against the door. “There's water in the bag. Medicine. I can help. I can cook, clean, whatever you need. Just let me in.” Evelyn's expression softened. “Oh, sweetheart.” Maya nearly broke at the sound of it. Her mother stepped closer to the door. For a moment, she looked like the woman who used to sit beside Maya's bed during thunderstorms, smoothing her hair until she fell asleep. Then she glanced back at Daniel. “Your brother needs that place more than you do.” “And I don't?” The words came out harder than she meant them. Evelyn's fingers tightened around the handle. “You've always been resourceful. You'll find a way.” The clicking grew louder. Maya turned to Adrian, voice low and urgent. “Tell her to open the door.” He looked past her towards the stairs. He had always been good at finding reasons not to make difficult decisions. “There's no room.” “There was room when I paid for your medicine.” Her throat tightened. “When I gave Daniel my savings. When you called me at two in the morning because you needed help.” “Maya—” “Look at me.” He did. “Did you know they weren't going to let me in?” His silence lasted barely a second. It was enough. “I tried to fix it,” he said, almost pleading. “That's not what I asked.” “I didn't have a choice.” “You always have a choice.” She stared at him, something cold settling in her chest. “You just didn't choose me.” Something unfolded at the top of the stairs. The creature was unnaturally tall, its thin frame bent forward beneath taut, greyish skin. Hooked fingers curled around the railing. Its blackened teeth showed when it opened its mouth. Daniel stumbled backwards. Evelyn pulled him away from the door. “Go,” Adrian told Maya, the word rushed and almost gentle. She stared at him. “You're telling me to go?” “There's still a chance you can get out through the back.” He sounded desperate. Almost sincere. She wanted to believe him. That was the humiliating part. The shelter door began to close. Maya lunged forward, but Evelyn caught the handle from the other side. For a terrible instant, their eyes met through the narrowing gap. Her mother's lips moved. I'm sorry. Then the lock turned. Maya ran. She made it down half a flight before the Gallowers reached her. She swung her torch at its face and stumbled over a fallen chair. Hooked fingers tore through her sleeve. She fought until her strength gave out, dragging herself behind a broken vending machine as blood ran down her arm. Her fingers closed around something hard in her pocket. A brass key. The number stamped into its head was 997. She had seen it three nights earlier in her mother's study, tucked inside an envelope beneath a stack of insurance papers. Evelyn had snatched it away before Maya could ask what it opened. Later, Maya had heard her mother on the telephone. Payment confirmed. The clicking stopped outside the vending machine. Maya curled her fingers around the key. She had spent her life believing that if she made herself useful enough, generous enough, good enough, someone would eventually choose her without needing a reason. She had been wrong. The creature's shadow stretched across her shoes. Her last thought wasn't a prayer. It was a question. What had they been preparing for? Then the darkness swallowed her. ∗ ∗ ∗ Maya woke to her alarm. She bolted upright, knocking her phone onto the floor. Sunlight spilled through her curtains. A ceiling fan turned lazily overhead. Outside, a neighbour was arguing about the price of fuel. There was no blood on her arm. No broken vending machine. No clicking in the stairwell. Her hands shook as she grabbed her phone. September 3. Thirty days before Blackfall. She had been given another chance. The realisation brought no relief. Maya sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the floor while the memory of the shelter door replayed behind her eyes. A knock sounded. “Maya? You're awake, darling?” Her mother stood outside holding a mug of tea. She wore a pale blue house dress and had no pearl earrings. She looked younger than Maya remembered, though this version of Evelyn had not aged a single day since the morning Maya had died. “You didn't answer your phone,” she said. “I thought you were ill.” She reached to touch Maya's forehead. The tenderness nearly undid her. Maya stepped back. Evelyn lowered her hand, frowning. “What's wrong?” “Nothing.” “Don't give me that face. There's rice in the kitchen. I'll warm some for you.” She set the tea on the dresser. “And Daniel needs fifty thousand today. His registration is due. You know how he gets when he's worried.” There it was. In her old life, Maya would have apologised for not sending the money sooner. “I'm not sending him anything.” Her mother blinked, then laughed softly, like Maya had made a weak joke. “Someone woke up determined to be difficult.” She picked up the mug and held it out again. “Drink this before it gets cold. We can talk after breakfast.” Maya almost took it. “What day is Adrian coming for dinner?” “Friday.” Evelyn's smile returned easily. “Why? Are you finally going to let me help you plan something nice?” “Cancel it.” The smile faltered. “Maya, have you two quarrelled?” “I don't want to see him.” “Then tell him that yourself.” Evelyn's tone sharpened a little. “I'm not going to carry messages between two adults.” It was a reasonable response. An irritatingly reasonable one. Evelyn left the tea on the dresser and walked out. Maya opened her laptop. Northbridge Emergency Logistics advertised private transport, disaster planning and emergency supply management. A banner at the bottom of its website announced that its public emergency-preparedness programme would close to new applicants on September 30. Three days before Blackfall. Her phone vibrated. Daniel: Mum said you're sending the money. I already promised them I'd pay today. Maya deleted the notification. Then she opened a notebook and wrote three things. 997. Northbridge. Passenger list. Her family had been preparing before the first attacks. She didn't know how much they knew, or why she had been excluded. But she had thirty days to find out. This time, she would reach the door before it closed.