The Survivors: Book One

In the dawn's early light, the doctor approached the shiny black Blazer waiting in the secluded garage. Her anxious blue eyes went over the extra tires on the luggage rack, the rear area neatly crammed with boxes, and of course, the tiny grave she had spent time at almost every day since the War. Leaving her baby boy behind was hard, and she had to force her grief back. She couldn't abandon the living child to stay and mourn the dead one.

Angela wiped away her tears and looked at the Blazer again, finishing her comparison of the contents to the long list in her hand. Did she have everything? After another minute, she put the paper in the mailbox, along with an envelope in plastic and the door keys from around her neck. It would have to be enough.

Her eyes looked over her Tempo, making sure the wind and weather hadn't moved her notes. She had also written on Charlie's bedroom wall and left the keys in the ignition of her car - just in case. Her quiet, respectful son was becoming angry and inpatient, and if he slipped off on his own (and survived! Please, let him survive!), she would change course to intercept him.

She had no delusions about the world they were in now, and she made sure he would know the truth if he came back here. The real truth, not that bullshit she had been forced to tell him for the last decade. There had been a great love, a hard choice, a lie, and a deal of convenience, but really, none of that mattered now. What did matter was telling him where he could turn if he found himself alone. The notes would do that, would hopefully keep him alive until his father could come for him.

Noticing the light, ashy flurries starting to fall, Angela got the last bag from the hallway. As she stepped out the door, she saw a woman reflected in the glass that she wasn't sure she knew. She looked so much stronger than she felt now and she slid into the driver's seat with a thin smile. She was changing again…

"Going somewhere?" Warren's cold voice just outside the open door was unexpected.

Angela flinched, but didn't draw the gun her hand was resting on as she listened. How hard would she have to fight? Could a good bluff set her free? She hadn't heard them come, hadn't felt a warning. Probably, they'd been here all along, watching and letting her do the work of loading supplies they would have if she wasn't careful.