No Shelter from Darkness by Mark D. Evans

go,” she said.
    The street was almost deserted. Susan took her hand and Beth pulled her up, but as soon as she put her weight down she hopped back and leant against the wall of a house. At that very moment, Mary came running up.
    â€œWhere were you a minute ago?” asked Beth.
    â€œWhat do you mean? I thought you were with me until I got to the bottom of the road. I turned around and you were gone.”
    Beth rolled her eyes. “Take her other arm.”
    â€œReally?” With a tut, Mary walked around them and took Susan's weight, and the three of them started on their way down the street.
    â€œWe'll try the church shelter,” said Beth glancing up. She still saw no evidence of an airborne threat.
    â€œIt looked full a minute ago,” said Mary.
    â€œThey'll have to make room.”
    When they reached St. James Church, the shelter was overflowing. People were still trying to force their way in.
    â€œWhere are we gonna go now?” asked Mary urgently.
    But all urgency had drained from Beth. Everything was far too quiet.
    â€œBeth?” prompted Mary.
    Suddenly the sirens came to life once more. This time though, the tone was constant. There was no undulation, no dipping in the pitch—just one, long note. It was the all clear. “I knew it,” uttered Beth as they all stood motionless. From the corner of her eye, she saw Mary shift her weight under that of Susan.
    Susan dipped her head down to speak into Beth's ear. “If this was the other way around, I would've let you rot.”
    Beth fought the urge to simply let go of her. She wanted to, but she couldn't. Worse still, she wasn't done helping her foe yet, despite all the hatred Susan poured down. “Come on,” she yelled.
    â€œWhere?” shouted Mary.
    â€œThe infirmary.”

NINE
    A NEW WEEK BEGAN, and Susan was back in school with nothing more than a bandage around her ankle. The thuggish girl did leave Beth alone, however, for all of that first day of the week. She guessed her good deed must have counted for something.
    By the afternoon everyone had consolidated their stories in the playground, and a rough picture had emerged as to what had happened on Saturday: the alarms had been sounded on unfounded grounds—which was hardly uncommon—and an unexploded device was then triggered just south of the park, panicking people into thinking bombs were dropping. This was all second-hand knowledge, coming from parents and friends of parents who were in the ARP or other civilian forces. But information of this kind was usually pretty accurate. So, too, was the news of several injuries occurring in the St. James Church shelter. One person died, an elderly lady who was crushed to death at the back while frantic people selfishly crammed in.
    What might have remained of their sports day was lost, but Beth had found her pride nonetheless. Even though no one else cared, it mattered to her. And it truly was pride she felt, and not revenge. That's what she told herself, and that's what she believed. Now she felt entitled to feel happy. Her bizarre condition had disappeared, she was feeling the healthiest she'd ever felt, and the raids on the East End—and London in general—had become few and light.
    There was just the nightgown left to get rid of.
    Beth had been waiting for the perfect time in what remained of the weekend, but she never managed to find even a minute to herself. The blood-covered nightgown stuffed under her bed was theonly thing that kept her from forgetting that night completely. It was such an annoyance when everything else seemed fine.
    By the time she got to the front doors of the school to leave that afternoon, Mary was talking with Gibson at the gates. She looked up the road and saw her brother with Dave and Charlie, walking, but not homeward. With her mother doing a shift at the hospital, Beth walked out, wondering if she could slip past Mary and get home before