Mad Demeter ~ Lane Howard

Her sigh fogged the mirror’s last clear spots. Kaide wiped the condensation away, revealing once more the hazy portrait of a woman with heavy bags under her eyes, heavy lids above them. Her lips rested somewhere between a sneer and a frown. Her short hair was still mostly a dark slick from the shower, although brief hints of fuzzy brown were frizzling out. Simply put, she looked hungover, but she hadn’t been drinking. Not last night.

Whatever. The respirator would cover most of it anyway.

☙☙☙

Even though the seven o’clock sun peeked out from behind the horizon to bathe the verdant world below, the mid-May morning was notably cold.

The city was quiet, save for the joyful chirps of morning birds and the rodents milling about the mossy weeds. There was also the rhythmic bouncing of the mask that hung lazy around her neck. It buffed into the bottom of her view, but she hardly noticed. It was hard to take stock of anything but the overwhelming green.

It began with a grey-blue skyline, the clouds framed by the forests that sprouted from the tops of skyscrapers. The sides of these structures were covered with vines so thick she could barely see the steel walls beneath them. The streets were much the same. The roads were barely recognisable. There were only a handful of vehicles scattered around. All were buried under carpets of rust and moss. Walking through it all was like plunging into a jungle. Even the potholes were full of the clearest blue water – half were home to glimmering fish. Kaide had to be careful where she stepped.

And, of course, there were the trees. Oaks, pines, willows, and maples all growing together with little care for the strangeness of their gathering. And, of course, there were the trees. Fruit trees, too – apples, peaches, cherries, pomegranates – every one of them in bloom. Layers of flowers grew over the trees so thick that it seemed they flowered from the bark itself. And just like the trees, these were all different breeds. Some even sprouted different petals from the same stems. Kaide ducked under one that split to produce both a daffodil and a tulip.

If she didn’t know, it could’ve been paradise. But grim reminders bubbled up through the veneer like a cancer. One tree’s roots almost looked like a leg. Another had a branch in the middle which bent like only an arm could. Yet another had knots that she might swear looked like a face pulled tight across the bark like skin over a drum.

Kaide paused to put the mask over her mouth and fasten its straps around the back of her head. She breathed deep, listening to the stilted whistle of air through the filters.

It was fine.

She was okay.

They were just trees, she told herself.

A light wind sighed by, rustling the leaves and pulling her hair, carrying with it a sweet smell that Kaide instinctively turned to face. That left her staring down what had once been an alley, but now seemed like the hollow of a fallen tree, given the mushrooms crowding the walls and the dank roots crawling through it. At the end of the alley, there was a very, very sick man.

He sat on a stump – completely naked, although she couldn’t see anything from the waist down because he was budding with flowers. All along his skin, there were knots in the flesh. Some were dripping pus and blood where they split under the pressure of the twigs twisting out. The flowers thinned out around his chest, breaking into arms that branched aloft, pointing in the air, palms up. But his face was the worst.

Blue lilies and red roses sprouted from his eye-sockets like a snail’s eye-stalks. And on the pale remnant of the face, she could plainly see the smile. He had that same raptured grin they always did. Like heaven itself was flowing through their veins.

Kaide jerked her gaze away and pressed on faster. She hoped that man would fully turn soon. She didn’t want to have to walk past him every day.

That thought snapped in her head like a trapped fish.

What an awful thing for her to think. He wasn’t a monster, he was a person, just like her. Just like Lav. He probably had a family, or had at one time. Silly as it was, Kaide prayed for him to forgive her. She then prayed his family would be okay. If they were still around to be okay.

For the rest of her walk, she tried her best not to look at any more of the trees.

☙☙☙

The factory’s sterile lights shined against the layer of polycarb over her face. The visor was cumbersome, but the rest of the hazmat suit was even worse. She felt like an astronaut wading through the bottom of a sewage tank, her every movement thick and heavy and crinkling against the rubber pseudo-skin.

A few other employees dotted the assembly line. Their plastic-covered hands worked at chicken corpses, flipping them into place so that the machines could properly dress, cut, and clean. Everyone she passed engaged in the same brief interaction. She’d walk by; they’d greet her with a nod; she’d dress them down in search for any flaws, any laziness, anything potentially hampering to the butchering; they’d shoot back a wary gaze, some shuffling a step or two out of her way. There were few exceptions to this routine. There was an understanding that didn’t need to be said: she’d let them do their jobs, maybe overlook a few small transgressions here and there; they’d tolerate her presence. Everyone got it.

Almost everyone.

One employee in particular – a stained man dressed in oversized clothes and an apron – was presently standing at a conveyer belt. His left hand absentmindedly separated cuts of meat onto other tracts. In his right hand was a large, flaming red apple. He brought it to his mouth and bit down. Kaide cringed at the sound of his teeth crunching through flesh.

“Davis!” she spurred and walked over.

He followed the familiar ritual of flicking a cautious glance her way, though the procedure was broken by an obviously rhetorical question, “Hey, how’s it going?”

Davis was a tall man, but she stared boldly up at his face, her arms folded at the indolence in his tone. The view from the visor blurred his nose into his mouth. She knew the effect was worse for her, though: when someone else looked from the outside in, they only saw a warped reflection of themself. It tended to make people uncomfortable. It had no effect on him, though.

“Where’d you get that?” He shrugged. His teeth tore into the scarlet ovary again and she winced.

“I dunno, the parking lot. Why do you care?” The confirmation of her fear choked her like a noose made of her own intestines. A wet, acid heave threatened to boil its sickly way out her lips. She brought the bile back by biting her molars so hard blood leaked between her teeth.

“Jesus, dude, get rid of it.” While not exactly the nicest request, she didn’t exactly care. Even through the visor, she could see Davis’ features flashing a note of surprise that quickly died into a lazy smile.

“You’re kidding, right? You-”

Kaide jabbed a gloved finger at the loathsome man. He noticeably flinched, took an unconscious step back. “At best you’re going to get salmonella, and at worst, you’re contaminating everything you touch. Throw it away, you’re putting everyone at risk.”

He rolled his tongue over the yellow chunks of flesh stuck in his bottom teeth, deliberately slow, as if he was weighing his next move. As if gauging how far he could toe the line.

“Right… risk. That’s funny of you to say, cos’, like, if you take off that mask everyone in here’s dead,” Davis said.

Kaide abruptly turned away, storming off into the depths of the factory. “Go fuck yourself!” she shouted, cringing at the cracking of her voice. “And throw that piece of shit away, while you’re at it, you fucking…whatever.”

She heard the drum of fruit smashing into a trashcan. It was a light comfort.

Kaide took her break a bit early by slipping into the bathroom for just a bit, and – after making sure it was empty – stripped the stupid suit to wet her hands in the sink and massage them over her face. When she’d finished, she stared into the mirror. She forced herself to breathe slowly. After mantra-ing over and over again that she was not going to cry at work, she finally began to believe it.

☙☙☙

Kaide breathed a sigh of relief as she stepped into her apartment. She was immediately met with the sound of a sizzling pan, the smell of crisping bacon, and an unkempt teenager leaning on the counter, drinking a glass of water.

“Hey-y-y, Lav,” she lilted with a smile. He murmured out something that was probably a hello. Kaide opened the fridge, dropped in the beer she’d got on the way home. After a brief retreat into her bedroom to toss off her work clothes, she was back in the kitchen, pulling Lav into a hug. He squirmed a bit at first, but seemed to quickly realise she wasn’t gonna let go; and so, he gave in.

She broke the embrace, then hit him with the classic, “How was your day?” He gave a noncommittal shrug: his favourite kind of reply. She pushed further, “Did you go to class?”

Again, he shrugged, but this time followed it by itching at the bandage over his left eye. The gauze wrapped over his nose and ears, disappearing under a mop of longish hair that hadn’t been combed in a while. The bandage matched the myriad of band-aids stuck seemingly randomly over his face. But the antiseptic cleanliness harshly opposed the filthy hoodie he wore. It was an old, musty, fraying thing with the logo of his old boxing gym fading across the front. Though she was annoyed he still wore the grody old thing, she couldn’t bear to throw away what thin vestiges of his past remained in the present day.

“Y’know, I can’t really go anywhere,” Lav quietly said with an edge of sarcasm that was dulled by the self-satisfied look on his face. Clearly, he found himself quite funny.

Kaide, however, did not. She smacked him on the arm, both to reprimand his silliness and to stop him from itching. “Uh-huh. You know what I mean.” Again, the kid just shrugged… which decisively meant he hadn’t watched the online lecture.

“Lav…” she exasped, pausing partly because she didn’t want to vent too much of her frustration, but mostly because she was surprised just how thick her voice was with a tone that wasn’t anger, just disappointment. The brief moment made her reflect on things.

It’d been a long day. His had probably been longer. Sitting in the dark, alone, nothing to do but scroll through the dying internet or sit and think about his… condition.

Maybe she could let this one go. Just for today.

“Don’t let it become a habit,” Kaide warned with the stern-but-soft-voice all parental figures had to adapt eventually. She went on to more happily say, “I know you’re about to eat, but I’m starving, so I’m gonna get some takeout. You want anything?”

Rather than voicing a reply, Lav bent to the oven and pulled it open, revealing a plate inside. Like the frying pans above, the plate had bacon and eggs on it. Unlike those above, these were already cooked.

“It’s probably cold… sorry about that. I thought you’d be home earlier.”

Kaide’s heart fluttered like a bird pressing against the wired cage of her ribs. If the food was three days old and covered in mold, she wouldn’t have cared. She’d happily eat. Because it might as well have been prepared by a five-star chef.

“Well, thank you. Smells like yours is about done, too. Throw it on a plate and let’s eat.”

☙☙☙

She stared into the screen, barely noticing the movie. The TV was too muddled up anyway, like someone had poured water over it.

Kaide had a blanket fuzzed up around her spot on the couch. One of her arms was wrapped tight around a pillow that helped to muffle her intermittent sniffles. The other hand was holding a beer can. There were more on the coffee table. A few were full; most were empty. Nothing in particular had spurred the drinking. It’d just been a long day.

The flickering TV was her only light. The living room lamps were all off, and the window to the balcony was still taped up. She supposed she could take the cardboard off and let the moonlight in – but then she risked forgetting, and thus, risked spilling sunlight on Lav. Then he’d get worse, and it’d start growing, until he ended up like the people outside, and he’d… then…

She buried her face in the pillow, hating herself for thinking such awful things. It’d be fine. Everything would be fine. Lav would be fine. She’d be fine. They’d just keep on like they were now. They’d be fine.

The more and more she repeated it to herself, the less true it sounded.

Kaide dug her fingernails into the meat of her palm. She finally mounted the strength to lift her head again. When she did, she was met with the blurry shape of a teenage boy standing beside the couch.

“Uh, I needed more water, so I… um… are you okay?”

A plastic smile smacked across her face. ““I’m fine, sorry, this movie just really gets to me.” The lie made her feel like a dented trash can. She hated lying to him. Especially when it was for his own good.

Lav glanced at the screen, watching for a few moments. “Isn’t this… Fight Club?”

“Don’t judge my taste.” The stupid joke brought at least a little genuinity into her smile.

He didn’t seem to think it was funny, though. The concerned look on his face made it painfully obvious he wanted to help, but had no idea what to do. He wasn’t wearing his hoodie anymore – just a tank-top, exposing his arms, and all the damage on them. His left hand was completely covered in a rough, tousled bark, the fingers twisted and immoveable. There were little buds from his wrists to his shoulders. A few were already flowering into white and blue lillies.

He shifted back and forth on his feet, looking like he was about to leave. But, instead, he said, “Can I watch, too?”

“Sure,” Kaide murmured, and scooted over. He sidled next to her inside the blanket cocoon. The bumps on his arms and neck dug into her side, but she couldn’t bring herself to mind. A streak of paranoia told her to send him back to bed, otherwise he’d see if she got upset again. But she didn’t feel like being upset anymore, so it was probably fine.

Kaide took a sip of her beer. Watching her, Lav asked, “Lemme try?” Despite herself, Kaide laughed. “Ab-so-lutely not.”

She half expected that to be the end of it, but he wasn’t dissuaded. “Oh, come on, I’m thirsty. Just a sip?”

“Sure,” she teased, just to mess with him, before finishing, “When you’re twenty-one.”

“Aw, that’s stu-upid,” he mock-pouted. “Cos’ like, there’s no way you didn’t drink underage.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. I actually stopped drinking when I turned twenty-one, because, out of the blue, I had a six-year-old to take care of – but you don’t know anything about that, right? Besides, it’s my job to keep you from making the same mistakes I did.”

“Okay, well, with how much water I drink, any alcohol’ll probably get flushed out of my system, like, immediately.” He seemed so convicted in his reasoning that she couldn’t help but air out a laugh again.

“That’s not how that works.”

“Well, I’d know how it works if you let me try some.”

“Lavender! Drop it!” She said more seriously, invoking his full name like an omen.

Though, admittedly, her beaming smile undercut the threat’s solemnity. A trickster’s grin curled Lav’s cheeks – that same look he always had right before saying something truly stupid.

“It’s not going to live to my twenties, just let me try it now while I still can.”

As soon as the words left his lips, they broke Kaide.

As if in slow motion, she felt her face twist from playful joy into wailing agony. The bridge of her nose scrunched, her eyelids dipped like the lip of a pond giving way to a flood of tears. The deluge left her a knotted ball of slippery impulses: hug him- slap him- hide it- leave. With no proper way to get the emotions out, she whimpered pain and shook her head.

Lav tried his best to comfort by wrapping his arms around her while softly repeating, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” There was little sense of impact – it probably didn’t help that he was crying, too.

“Every single day, I wish it had been me,” Kaide shakily breathed without knowing why, without really thinking. “I wish you were asymptomatic, and it was me turning into… I just wish it had been me.”

An image hit her. An image of a woman waking up every day to walk into the adjoining room and carefully water a twisted tree growing up to the roof, its roots splitting into a mattress. The tree would have open arms and messy brown leaves. The tree would be covered in white and blue lilies. The tree would be named after a flower.

Another rumbling sob threatened to choke out her throat. She couldn’t let it. Not for herself, but for him. “You’re going to be fine. You are going to have a good, long life. I promise.” She didn’t have the strength to doubt herself.

“You’re a good mom,” Lav murmured.

He didn’t say anything more. He didn’t have to. That alone was all she’d ever needed to hear, and all that she needed to believe herself when she again said, “You’re going to be fine.”

No matter how impossible that promise really was.