I smell blood on him.

It mingles with his cologne, giving it a subtle metallic tang.

I get up from our picnic, clutching tightly to my purse. Slowly, I reach for my pepper spray.

“Caroline, what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, Jason. I just uh…am having a family emergency.”

“You’re horrible at lying, you know. Is it something I said? You can tell me.”

“No! No! It’s…” My heart lodges in my throat, palpitating with adrenaline. Stars sprinkle in the darkening sky, and the crickets let out their loud chirps of warning. “I swear it’s not you. My friend…she got hurt.”

“But I thought it was a family emergency?” He asks. Suspicion weaves through his words, and his questions turn into an interrogation. He squints at me. “Caroline, what’s really going on? What are you hiding from me?” His hands reach out for mine, and I see the red. It leaks from the tips of his middle and pointer finger. Once he notices my fearful gaze on the bleeding wounds, he chuckles. “Oh! That’s what you’re terrified of?”

I give a shameful nod. “I smelled blood and…assumed the worst.”

“It’s from when I was trying to pet that duck and it bit me!”

My hands cross over my chest as I ask, “What duck?”

“The one over there!” He points north to the farthest end of the pond, and there it was, the duck. It was difficult to determine if it was living, or a lifelike statue. The bird was remarkable at freezing itself into position.

I give him two small bandaids. He opens them with ease and wraps the tan strips around his fingers. “I don’t think duck bites are supposed to make you bleed.”

He shrugs. “Well, he chomped on me pretty hard.”

“Fair enough.”

I sighed and sat back down. There isn’t much left in the picnic basket, so I grab the small bag of purple grapes I packed. I offer them to Jason.

But then another smell hit me.

The smell of death. Of rot.

It creates a chain reaction in my body. The erratic beating of my heart returns, combined with my sweating hands and now the burning climb of bile rising in my throat.

Jason rolls his eyes at me and smirks. “Now what it is?” He thinks this is yet another little thing I’m panicking over. It’s not. The duck is now craning his neck down, quacking loudly as it feasts. I step closer to the water’s edge, dip my ankles in, before I jump back again.

“We need to leave.”

“Excuse me?”

“Grab the basket and blanket and head back to the car.”

“Caroline, you’re acting weird.”

“I said go!”

I run into the passenger seat of his car and slam it shut. I’m like a nervous animal that only calms when in its crate. Jason puts our things in the trunk and gets in next to me.

“What’s happening with you? First you freak out about blood, and now this? Is there something—“

“Start the car and drive!”

He does so without hesitation. My leg bounces with anxiety, and he puts his hand on my knee. His touch further fuels my fear, but I do not smack him away. Instead, I look out the window where the duck continues to revel in the taste of that poor man’s corpse. Blood leaks from its beak as it turned its head towards us.