Page 13 of What Blooms in Barren Lands

“Look, I’m sorry that there isn’t more food?—”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Petr interrupted me, defiantly.

“Well, just that you are always a bit bad-tempered when you’re hungry,” I replied cautiously.

“I’m bad-tempered because we cannot just keep sitting here waiting for help! Nobody is coming! Nobody’s running this city anymore. Nor this entire country, by the looks of it.”

“You’re probably right,” I agreed, having myself been following that very same train of thought for some time. “We will have to act. Perhaps try and leave the city. But could you please wait just a couple more days? I don’t think I can go anywhere like this.” I gestured in the direction of my abdomen.

I was on the strongest day of my period, which was a significant complication considering that I had expected to be back home before its arrival, and as such, brought an insufficient amount of sanitary supplies with me on the holiday. I was obliged to sacrifice two of my T-shirts to serve as makeshift sanitary pads. Upon exchanging one for the other, I washed the soiled one thoroughly in cold water and left it to dry before reusing it.

“I want to try and make it back to Prague.”

Petr fixed me with a look that said he was in no mood for discussions. I felt as if he had knocked the air out of me, my chest aching like in the aftermath of a physical blow. I looked wildlyaround the room, almost beseeching the wide-leafed monstera plants and flytraps on the dark tapestry for help.

“I wanted to leave as soon as possible, but I’ll wait for you, of course. I’ll do my best to keep you safe, protect you with my life if I must—I owe you as much,” he assured me intently, and I felt my throat constrict with unshed tears, knowing that he meant every word. “I know, I know ... it seems madness. But ... so does anything really, if you think about it. Staying here, hiding in the countryside somewhere, heading further away ... there’s no option right now that looks promising.”

I had to agree with him on that account. Any course of action that I had myself contemplated bordered on insane.

“At least in Prague ... our families are still there, or what’s left of them. Andsheis there.”

I took a deep, steadying breath and closed my eyes briefly. I put my hand on the ornate bathroom door handle, tracing the blooms etched into the metal with my thumb.

“I understand,” I told him. “I’m terrified for you. But I think you should go.” I opened my eyes, looking him squarely in the face. “This may be the last chance for any of us to follow our hearts. If yours tells you clearly what to do, then this is no time to ignore it.”

He nodded, his features softening as relief flooded his visage.

“But, darling,” I continued, straightening up, bracing myself, “I won’t be coming with you. There is nothing left for me in Prague.”

The short-lived repose left his face as quickly as it had come, his jaw turning to stone.

“There’s nothing for you here either! At least you have your family in Prague ...”

“You know we’re not in touch?—”

He snickered and began pacing around the room. The wooden floor creaked desolately under his thunderous steps.

“Way to hold a grudge!” he scoffed.

“It’s not a matter of a grudge,” I said mildly. “Look, it’s not that difficult. I’m no concern of yours anymore. Don’t let me stop you.”

Petr stopped pacing and ran his fingers through his hair in consternation, his high, balding forehead glistening.

“And just what do you think you’ll do here alone?!” he spat out. “You’re a petite woman! If you meetthem, you won’t stand a chance!”

“No one does without a weapon, not even you,” I pointed out. “But I will with a bow. There is an archery shop only a few blocks away. If I could just ...”

He made a sound somewhere between an incredulous laugh and a frustrated moan and started pacing anew to the sound of the floorboards’ protests.

“How would it look if I just left you here to fend for yourself. Huh?”

Petr approached me in a few long strides, his red, contorted face suddenly inches from mine. I suppressed the urge to take a few steps back.

“Who cares?” My composure was ebbing away, anger steadily rising in its stead. “There’s nobody left to judge you! Tell your family I got ill and turned if you want to. Tell them we were separated, and there was nothing you could have done. Whatever! But we’re not doing this anymore! You won’t force me to come with you just to preserve your image.”

Somewhat surprised at my outburst, I glanced away at the viciously green lianas and poisonous-looking blooms on the wall.

“What about preserving my good conscience?” Petr asked quietly, his tone morphing into a pleading one.