Page 11 of What Blooms in Barren Lands

“I need you to do something,” Petr said finally, straightening up and wiping his face on his sleeve. “I need you to call the infection hotline back home. I need you to report Dad and Pavel before they turn. Because of Mum and Pavel’s kids ... I tried several times, I really did. But I just ... I couldn’t bring myself to say the words.”

“Of course.” I nodded, the words catching in my throat.

My innards turned into thick liquid that rose up my throat. I remembered with guilt all those family visits I had avoided, using this and that excuse. I tried with all my might to conjure up grief as well, but from so far away, the fate of Petr’s closest seemed as real to me as would the death of a character in a book.

I couldn’t meet Petr’s eyes.

And still the hideous moth of detached excitement beat its wings inside my chest, burnt black though they were from theflames of sorrow. Suspended in the air, circling in fascination above its impending doom, not caring how many of its peers had already perished in the fire. I was powerless to stop its treacherous flight.

“Almost half of the world’s population gone, just like that,” Dave exhaled incredulously one afternoon.

The day outside the windows was flat and dully grey. Rain had been pattering against the glass panes for hours, drowning out the occasional gunshots, shouts and explosions from the world beyond our confines. A world that was starting to feel about as distant and disconnected from our sphere of existence as the world on the television screen.

Once again, we all had spent most of the day watching the news in the common area, sinking into pastel-coloured armchairs. Even the vulvar orchids seemed unexciting in the dim light.

“And to think that just a month ago everyone worried about overpopulation ...” I exhaled after holding my breath during the news report.

“Not anymore,” Kevin said grimly, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose.

“I’m going to make a call,” Petr announced, getting up.

He sounded nervously distracted, like he had been paying no attention whatsoever to anything that went on around him. He had been fidgeting with his mobile phone the whole day, almost like he couldn’t bear to look away from its screen for more than a few seconds. Minutes before his sudden departure, it hadvibrated in his hand, presumably announcing the receipt of a message.

I stayed seated for a few more minutes, lost in my thoughts and indifferent to what was being said around me. Paying attention to nothing but the voracious worm that was carving its way through my heart, feeding off unformulated suspicions and unacknowledged clues. It was on its impulse that I stood up shortly after and followed Petr upstairs.

He had locked himself in our room, and as I hadn’t brought my own key card, I could not get in. I could, however, hear his side of the conversation through the shut door. Confirming what I had simultaneously feared and known all along.

“Just the thought of never seeing you again, never hearing your voice, never being able to tell you how much you mean to me ... I can no longer ignore it ... not fair to anybody, even Renata ... we will be together, I promise ... I love you ...”

All those lone, long calls of the past couple of weeks suddenly made much more sense. As did his lack of interest in intimacy. The endless hours spent at work. The gaping distance between us, ugly and indecent, like a deep gash in the tenderness of flesh.

He emitted a heavy, pained sigh once he hung up, sounding much like a sob. I gave him a few moments before knocking.

“Petr ...”

“I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Petr ... I heard.”

The door opened to reveal his flushed, tear-streaked face, brows and lips sagging with guilt. I half expected him to berate me for listening in on him, but he just stepped aside, letting me through. We sat on the bed beside each other, breathing, neither knowing how to start.

“I didn’t cheat on you,” Petr said at last. “For what it’s worth, I didn’t cheat on you in the physical sense. I kissed her once, inthe heat of a moment, but I ... tried my hardest not to wrong you.”

“I know you did,” I said quietly.

Fresh tears welled in his hazel eyes. Mine were surprisingly dry; I only felt numbed with fatigue.

“Do you want me to sleep somewhere else?” I offered. “I don’t think there is a vacant room, but I can ...”

“No, don’t worry about that.” He waved his hand. “We need to stick together now, get through this. But Renata, once all this is over ... once we get back home, and if she’s still there ...”

“You’ll want to be with her,” I finished the sentence for him with a kindness in my voice that even I was surprised to hear.

“I’m so sorry.” He was crying now in earnest, but definitely not disagreeing with me. “I tried, I really did ... I tried my best.”

“I know you did, dear.” I sat closer to him, strangely composed and detached, stroking his hair like I would a child’s. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, love.” Tears of my own finally stung my eyes, but my voice remained soothing and calm. “Trust me, I understand. I wouldn’t want to be with me either.”

I stared resolutely at the melee of colourful, carnivorous plants against the dark blue of the tapestry, willing myself not to start screaming.