No Shelter from Darkness by Mark D. Evans

then threw it to the side. “How come you didn't scream when you saw it? The other girls did.”
    Beth hardly heard him; he was just a whisper, and she didn't look up even when he tutted in disappointment before walking off. She was alone then, trying to piece everything together.
    The badger's mouth was slightly open, its sharp teeth bared in a pained smile while its black eyes stared vacantly. It looked like its small chest had been ripped open, from the throat down to the belly. It occurred to Beth that there didn't seem to be anything missing from it. If a fox had done this, then surely what she was looking at would be just skin and bones with all the meat and most of the guts consumed or taken. But the badger seemed mostly whole. Just … spread out.
    And where was all the blood?
    Bit by bit, she made the pieces fit and came to the only conclusion that made any sense: she'd sleepwalked to Victoria Park. She'd come to the lake, perhaps to get water in her fevered state, and startled the fox or whatever it might've been just as it was tucking into its kill. With the badger ripped open its blood spread and seeped into the ground. And on that ground Beth had unwittingly laid down.
    It was the simplest answer. And hadn't Mrs. Humphries once said that the simplest answer is often the right answer? This was the perfect example.
    Beth sighed. She closed her eyes and smiled at her absurd presumptions, at the misplaced guilt she'd felt. It was still a little discomforting to think she'd slept in animal blood, but she hadn't meant to, and to have an explanation for it made the world feel right once more.
    As right as a world at war could feel.

    *   *   *

    Beth felt like she'd been released from a straitjacket. All morning she'd been tied up with a worst-case scenario that was, now that she thought of it again, ridiculous. Now that the restraints of it all had been removed, she felt free. She was able to enjoy the feeling of having energy to burn, full of enthusiasm which had been there all along, but of which she could only now tap into. The barrier had been removed.
    She was clever enough not to let it show too soon. She'd almost skipped out from the trees earlier, stopping herself at the realization of how that would look. Joy over an animal's death. It also meant she couldn't tell anyone about what had happened the night before, or at least it would be easier not too. Likewise, it would also be easier to throw the bloodstained gown out and report it mysteriously missing than to try explaining it.
    Beth carefully eased into her new happy mood. By the time the park had filled up with children, and those men and women who weren't away fighting or working, she was lying under the blue sky with her eyes closed and her hands behind her head. The grass beneath her was soft and felt real. Beside her, Mary busied herself with a trick Gibson had showed her. Every few seconds Beth heard her blow through the gap between her two thumbs, which held a blade of grass between them. Gibson was an old pro; he'd produced an odd, low-pitched squeak first time with ease. Mary managed to make a slight squeak twice following two searches for a thicker blade of grass, three times wiping the spit off her thumbs, and too many other failed attempts to count.
    Beth heard another lungful of air being inhaled and waited for the inevitable raspberry, but instead Mary let her breath out in a deep sigh. Beth shuffled up to crossed legs and opened her eyes, squinting with her hand up as a shield. Mary had stopped attempting the trick, her hands dropped and loose in her lap. “What?” asked Beth.
    â€œI think it's about to start. Here comes Mr. Nichols now.”
    The school's headmaster walked to the middle of the newly painted six-lane track, the edges of which no one had yet overstepped. He clapped his hands and the sparse crowd grew quiet. Then the well-spoken man welcomed one and all to the fundraiser. Beth felt Mary prod her with