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Darting forward, I manage to spot where the throngs of people are headed. The embassy. But the doors are closed and locked and no one is getting through. And as I look around, I only see humans. No Coalition fatigues. No Kaleidians. No more ships in the air.
We’ve been abandoned.
Without a word, I turn on a heel and sprint back to my house. I know Isa is behind me as I push myself faster, rushing to Mama’s bedside where she is lying still. I can only hope she can’t hear the screams, even though I can right now.
I clutch her hand. “Mama?” I whisper. “I’m right here.”
But she doesn’t look at me.
Not when the screams grow louder.
Not later when the Alliance soldiers land.
And not even when the bombs start to fall.
Thirty.
Thirty days are gone in a blink of the eye, and I’m scrambling to slow down time. It keeps spinning, though, and I can’t believe how much is being ripped away with it.
Standing outside of what was the embassy, all I see is rubble. I kick the crumbled building with the edge of my boot and look around. I’m not even sure why I’m out here. It’s not like I’m going to find anything new. There’s no food. No jobs. Nothing but destruction trying to claim us, and I’m out here every morning, hoping to find something new.
At least the bodies are gone. For a week, corpses littered the roads, most of which had been shut down by the Alliance soldiers. It was almost like they wanted us to see the consequences that would accompany our actions. It was our punishment for those of us that didn’t get out of here in time.
I almost did.
I shake away the thought and trudge back home, pushing inside and shaking off the ash and dirt that clings to me. Isa doesn’t look up as I step into the kitchen, but she does speak in that low, cold tone that’s been reserved for me the past month.
“Anything new?”
“No,” I croak out.
She grunts but doesn’t respond, and I don’t expect her to. We’re civil, but it’s just enough to survive at this point. It seems Drex took our friendship with him, but at least she doesn’t bring him up anymore.
Even though he plagues my every thought. My mate.
The man who left me.
I sigh as I fill a glass with water and take a swig. My eyes go to the dirty window as I stare outside, and I immediately see him in my mind’s eye.
I don’t believe that Drex just left me. I can’t. Instead, every time I think about him, fear grips me. I can’t help but wonder where he is. If he’s alive. I know that this must be why he got sent away, to stop the Alliance soldiers, and I worry about what he had to face out there.
If it’s anything like I have, I don’t know how he’s surviving.
I go to check on Mama, leaving the tension behind in the kitchen. I pull up a chair next to her and take her hand, sighing softly. “Hey, Mama.” I squeeze her fingers. I’ve taken to confiding in her, even though she’s been responding less and less as her health has declined. “I guess I need to find some food today, but I’m not really sure where to look. Ever since the bar was burned down, I don’t know what to do with my days.”
I swallow hard, fear threatening to overwhelm me. “I heard the people who did it didn’t mean to. They were protesting, and it got out of control. But they were shot by Alliance soldiers anyway.” I drop my head. “Not that I could go to work if it was there. You know I don’t leave much now.” I don’t add that I can’t, that my morning ventures down the street are already a risk. The city has become too dangerous to be in.
With how desperate everyone is, I’m more likely to be mugged or killed than find anything foraging. At this rate, death is pressing in on all sides. So I do the only thing I know how.
I hope for something better.
“Did I ever tell you about the first night I met Drex?” I whisper, not wanting Isa to hear. Or maybe I don’t want to make the tears in my voice too noticeable.
But I retell the story, and then another, to my mother, until all I can think about is the man that I love and how he will come back someday.
Sixty.
I haven’t seen Drex in sixty days, but it feels like so much longer. And yet, sixty days couldn’t have prepared me – didn’t prepare me – for what was coming.
