Mira returned first, a plump rat in her jaws. She dropped it at Lissa’s feet, sat on her haunches, and licked her lips.
Lissa stroked Mira’s furry body. “You’re such a good kitty.” She grabbed the rat and relocated to the corner of the yard where she skinned the game. Next, she slit open the belly and removed the warm entrails. Mira joined her, gobbling down the discarded guts, and then she disappeared. Hunting once more, a deadly shadow.
Luna brought another fat rat minutes later. Then another. Then Mira returned. Each time, Lissa cleaned the rats and gave the rest to her cats, who ate everything offered, heads and tails included.
When she had half a dozen skinned carcasses, she broke off two green branches from a bush, poked them through the rats, and balanced the skewers over the hot coals. The scent of roasted meat made her stomach growl once more. When she judged the meat cooked, the juices no longer dripping but sizzling, she removed them and scattered the coals. When the piping hot meat cooled enough, she ate two of the roasted rats, tossing the bare bones into the ashes. If you were hungry enough, most meat tasted like chicken.
She returned inside and grabbed a lidded container, which she filled with the remaining cooked meat, then stowed it in her pack. Travel rations.
Lissa glanced at the overcast sky, the muted glow of the sun behind the ashen clouds more than halfway to the western horizon. Perhaps early afternoon. If she was going to live on her own, she wanted to truly get lost. She had everything she needed for a start and was better off on her own. It would take at least all day tomorrow to leave the city. Then she’d look for a quiet place to spend the winter.
Whistling for Mira and Luna, she strapped on her loaded pack, leashed the cats, and headed north to open country. She’d had enough of Denver.
Chapter 3: Cam
The meeting hall was stuffy, packed with all available xTerra citizens. The voices behind him mixed into a buzz of background noise, making it easy for Cam’s mind to wander. First the asteroid, then the influx of refugees, and now the end of an era. His mother had been the self-appointed mayor of Vita xTerra for thirty years. Although they didn’t get along, he felt for her. Losing her position of authority would be devastating.
Coming back to the present, Cam sat and waited for proceedings to start. As usual, nobody spoke to him beyond a smile and a simple greeting. He wasn’t part of any particular social group and had few friends beyond his acquaintances on the Watch. He had nothing against people, but he didn’t quite fit in. Having grown up in xTerra, he didn’t understand many pop culture references because he’d never had TV or been to a movie theatre, but he also didn’t agree with everything in the survivalist way of life—unlike his brothers.
It didn’t bother him. It was just a fact. He adjusted himself in the uncomfortable plastic chair, trying to focus on the meeting at the front. He stared across the packed meeting hall to the row of elected councillors at the raised dais where they sat behind a narrow table, his mother at the far end.
Cam clenched his jaw. The councillors remained calm, occasionally speaking quietly amongst themselves. CouncillorKat Griffiths nodded at something the captain said and passed a note toward the others to her left. The tension between the mayor and the elected Council members had been growing over the last few years—fueled by endless debates about when and how to limit the influx of newcomers. The balance of power had shifted, and the original inhabitants were now a minority.
His mother tossed her head, her chin-length white-blonde hair swinging beside her round face. Dolores smiled, her brilliant white teeth on display as she tried to placate the citizens of xTerra. She spoke, but he couldn’t make out her words over the noise of the crowd, who weren’t listening anyway.
She raised her voice, almost shouting. “This is for everyone’s good. I always think about the big picture and xTerra’s future, and how we have to look to ourselves and conserve resources.” Some conversations petered out, and her volume dropped. “We don’t know how long the uncertainty will rage outside the walls, but we created this community to weather the storm of chaos.” Her positivity and reasonable tone seemed forced as she explained the official reason behind the policy of no admittance to their walled community of underground bunkers.
The audience sounds increased again, so the mayor matched, raising her voice again. Yet, she still couldn’t call the assembly to order. The mayor got to her feet and stood at the edge of the raised platform and held up both hands. The crowd paid no attention. Once more, she tried to shout above the noise. “It isn’t personal. It’s survival.”
Cam almost felt sorry for her. Who the refugees were didn’t matter. Once Dolores Montgomery had decided, she wouldn’t change her mind.
Scowls and angry shouts filled the room. It seemed her comments had been heard after all. The bedlam continued until Captain Wilson stood. Protests from the crowd faded, leaving a hush. With the crowd’s attention, he outlined why the Clarkshad come and what the farmer brought. The captain referred to the Clarks as assets and valuable additions to the xTerra community. Around the room, most adults seemed to nod in approval.
Cam sighed. His mother didn’t want to let anyone else live here behind the high walls and watchtowers of Vita xTerra. She believed it was crowded enough, though they still had several dozen empty bunkers out of the 575 total underground units.
The Montgomerys had lived here since the decommissioned military base opened for civilians—decades before the asteroid. He and his three brothers had been born and bred in xTerra, which made them relatively unique. Along with only a couple of dozen other original families, they’d grown up inside the walls, expecting the worst from the outside world from the beginning.
These days, “civilization” didn’t disappoint. The debate continued for over an hour. His stomach growled. He could do with lunch.
Cam glanced across the room where the older Clarks sat holding hands. Beside them, their granddaughters leaned on each other, their faces turned steadfastly forward. The young women probably hadn’t been around this many people in years. They looked like they might cry at any moment. His heart went out to them. They just wanted to live somewhere safe. He hoped they could stay and that, in time, they would heal and find peace. With so many empty bunkers, it shouldn’t be an issue to find a home for the Clarks.
If it came to a full vote, he’d be on their side, even if it caused trouble with his family.
Cam shifted in his chair again, trying to find a comfortable position since he wasn’t used to sitting for so long. He glanced back toward the door, wishing he was still on duty at the gate that held back the lawlessness beyond.
It was a miracle the Clarks had made it past the Slains’ roadblocks and barricades. They must have zigzagged along little-used routes, staying off the major routes. The Slains’ forces had expanded to several hundred fighting men strong. They patrolled a wide swath of land to the west and were always expanding. They had a series of outposts with semi-permanent camps along the highways and at bottlenecks, like bridges.
The Slains had scooped up everyone living in their growing domain, forcing them to work and contribute to their militia. If half the accounts were true, they were horrible to women, stripping away their rights and forcing them to survive as subservients.
While xTerra shouldn’t have to admit everyone who showed up, this family garnered sympathy from the people of xTerra. Cam understood newcomers used resources. Hell, some refugees arrived with nothing and required considerable help to get on their feet. Still, this couple, who probably reminded everyone of their long-lost grandparents, must have worked hard their whole lives and wouldn’t have left their farm if they’d had any other option.
How his mother thought turning them away was the right answer escaped him. Still, Cam kept his mouth shut. From their body language, his brothers agreed with the mayor, leaning forward and focusing on her words. On numerous occasions, he’d heard them say that accepting more refugees now was too costly. He shifted uneasily in his seat.
His mother’s latest speech ran down, and her phony smile faded as Kory Walker, a stalwart giant and second-in-command of The Watch, strode to the front of the room. He faced the mayor, not speaking until the room was silent.
“Mayor,” he said with a nod. “Councillors.” All six remaining members of the town council returned his nod. Walker turned to the nervous, huddled family. “Do you remember me?”
The farmer raised his head and stared at Kory. Bryan nodded. “I could never forget you. You were with the Slains two years ago when they came to our farm. Y’all just about destroyed everything in our house.” His words were matter-of-fact.
