Episode 104.1 - The Woods

The woods are quieter than the streets. Most of the people leaving the city are on the road, either locked in their cars and bumper-to-bumper, or else walking to the side. There is greater danger in the crowd, but also cover, after a fashion. The Donors wander in and out among the crowd, their hunger sated, but ready to attack if they feel threatened in any way. Many refugees are armed with whatever they could find: baseball bats, shovels, heavy sticks. Firearms.

There is more than one danger to a crowd of armed and frightened people. First, you never really know, for sure, who you can trust. Some just want to keep themselves and their families safe. Some will help their neighbors if they can. Some will club their neighbors and steal their food. Best to keep the eyes peeled, stay wary of everyone. Keep your distance. Let nobody into your space. The second danger is worse and, now, more likely. If the clones do attack again, the shooting will start. If the shooting starts, innocent people will die. As simple as it is to point a gun and pull a trigger, it is far more complicated to hit what you want to hit.

The children and I are in the woods, and heading away from the road. The darkness here offers its own hazards, but when faced with the threats of the whole of humanity, I’m willing to take my chances.

Episode 103.4 - As The Knob Turns

The doorknob begins to slowly turn, and suddenly I can’t take my eyes off it. Doubt creeps in as my finger tightens around the trigger. Did I lock it? I’d peeked into the hallway once or twice, I know. Did I remember to just flip that little lock? My eyes finally, reluctantly, scan up to the chain. Yes, that at least is in place. My breathing slows as my mind works to force out the panic. The chain is in place. I don’t lock the chain unless I’ve turned the main lock. It’s an order. A system. A pattern.

The panic resolves itself into calculation. The door is locked, but will it hold? The chain is at best an illusion of security depending upon the strength of whoever is standing on the other side of that door. I need to reinforce it. At the very least, it’s the only way in without some serious effort on the part of a would-be intruder. I live three flights up, so as long as I can secure the front door, I should be okay. Should be.

All these thoughts pass through my mind in an instant, and while they do, I register a change in the situation outside my door. The knob is no longer being turned.  There is a knock, small but urgent, and a voice. The voice of a child.

“Hello? Is there anyone in there?” It’s barely above a stage whisper. A girl, I think.

I hold my breath. Independently of my will, my gun hand slowly drops.

“Please. If you’re there. Please help us.”