S.O.S.

There’s knocking on the door. Hard furious blows shake the framing of the house. Maria turns to the door with her baby cradled against her chest and swaddled in fresh linens. The knocking stops. She holds her breath. Prays that the baby stays still. She bends at the knees settling into a low squat. A small burn in her thighs begins. She peers across the floorboards under the small gap in the door. Shadows spill across the door sill. The knocking begins again.

Maria stands up squaring off with the door. She looks to the couch beside her. Then back to the shadows at the door sill. There is nothing but daylight. She looks to the window with the thin blue curtain. There stands a shadow. Tapping on the window begins. Maria stands still. 

“Please,” the shadow says. “Is anyone there?” 

It is the voice of a woman. Maria looks at her baby and the buggy eyes just opening for the first time today.

“I can hear you in there,” the woman outside says. “Come to the door. Please.”

Maria slides her bare feet across the floor. Everything she has been told fights this instinct to help. It was her father who told her to leave and board the train. It was her husband who said to never open the door while he wasn’t open. It was her sister who said marrying a soldier was a mistake. It was herself, staring in the mirror not more than twenty minutes before the shadow rapped on the door, that said don’t leave the bedroom. Don’t leave the bedroom. Over and over, while the baby slept at dawn. Don’t leave the bedroom. 

Her feet move soundlessly towards the door. 

“What do you want?” Maria asks through the door sill. 

“Let me in.”

“What do you want?”

“I need bandages.”

“Did anyone follow you here?”

“No.”

“There’s no one outside?”

“No. Just me.”

“What’s your name?”

“Nikki.”

“Nikki?”

“Nikki.”

“You have weapons?”

“No.”

“You just need bandages?”

“Yes.”

Maria stands up. She sighs. She parts the curtain, letting light flood the dark room. She peers around the window frame to see Nikki. There, the shadow hangs in front of her door. All black among the white snow. A pool of blood forming on the thatched door mat. The shadow turns to the window. Maria’s heart stops. Her breathing falters. The baby screams. A face, burnt. Hair dark and bloody and wild. Lips cracked. Eyes that have nothing behind them nothing before them and unable to hold Maria’s face. There is only the void. The baby screams more. The shadow holds up a gloved hand. Two fingers are missing. 

“Bandages?”