frightened, dumbfounded expression; thankful he had resisted her plea to help the homeless and clearly unstable man. Staring at the deranged man in the rearview mirror, her father said, “A person with nothing left to lose is one of the most dangerous people in the world.”
Ava certainly felt as though she had nothing left to lose; without warning, the plague had taken everything from her. Unfortunately, she felt anything but dangerous. Instead she felt alone, afraid, and uncertain of where to go or what to do next. At the time, Ava had been confused and disturbed by the man’s inhuman behavior. Now as she thought of the disturbed vagrant, she did not think he looked all that different from the bad ones. She couldn’t help but wonder if his feral aggression was somehow related to the atrocities currently devouring her world.
As the dim light shone through the windows of the tree house, the branches cast foreboding shadows on the walls, making it feel as though a thousand dark arms reached in for her. Panicked, Ava tried desperately to melt into the floor of the wooden structure. Outside, low, moaning growls of the monsters lurking in the yard carried through the air. Other unsettling sounds admixed with their terrifying snarls—gluttonous, smacking noises, like when Billy, a ten-year old classmate with no table manners, chewed with his mouth open, as well as something akin to a serving spoon pulling free from sticky macaroni and cheese. In addition to scaring her immensely, the sounds made her realize just how hungry she was. A wave of nausea flooded her body as she envisioned the sanguinary deliveryman that marked the beginning of this nightmare for her. Ava remembered how badly she hoped it was the pizza man at the door that day. The pizza man never came, and she did not think she could ever eat pizza again anyway.
What am I going to do ? She was not even certain of where she was exactly. Relentless waves of despair rolled over her until sleep mercifully took her away. That night, Ava did not dream of the bad ones, the deliveryman, or her mother. Instead, her dreams drifted to the last time she had seen her father over two weeks ago. The night before he left they enjoyed a wonderful evening of talking, laughing, and playing together. Holding her arms, he spun her around and around until his face became blurry, as though an ever-thickening veil of fog settled over the once distinct features of his face. Similarly, his words grew increasingly faint with each revolution. Just when she was about to lose sight of him completely, she glanced down and noticed her arms stretching longer with each rotation. As she steadily slipped away, she heard him utter one final thing before vanishing into the mist completely.
“Ava, sweetie, never give up and always be ready,” he said.
Ava awoke with a start as his last word was spoken, as though it was an alarm clock from some other dimension. The bright morning sun scorching across her face seemed so incongruous with the dark events of the preceding night that she briefly wondered if everything, from the deliveryman on, had been a dream. The painful protests of her back as she sat up on the hard wooden floor made it abundantly clear that it was not a dream.
Ava peered through the window of the tree house and was thankful when she saw none of the bad ones in the yard. As she glanced around, her eyes once again fell on the family of stick figures on the wall. Above them, scrawled in red by the hand of a child, were the words: ‘Never give up.’ Ava stared at the words in confusion, certain they had not been there the night before. Simultaneously, she felt a weight in her hand and noticed she clutched a broken red crayon. In that instant, a remarkable clarity swept over her, and she knew it was time to leave. If she was to survive, she was going to have to move fast and move often. She needed to stay smart and always be ready. She would never to give up.
With the world outside
Ava certainly felt as though she had nothing left to lose; without warning, the plague had taken everything from her. Unfortunately, she felt anything but dangerous. Instead she felt alone, afraid, and uncertain of where to go or what to do next. At the time, Ava had been confused and disturbed by the man’s inhuman behavior. Now as she thought of the disturbed vagrant, she did not think he looked all that different from the bad ones. She couldn’t help but wonder if his feral aggression was somehow related to the atrocities currently devouring her world.
As the dim light shone through the windows of the tree house, the branches cast foreboding shadows on the walls, making it feel as though a thousand dark arms reached in for her. Panicked, Ava tried desperately to melt into the floor of the wooden structure. Outside, low, moaning growls of the monsters lurking in the yard carried through the air. Other unsettling sounds admixed with their terrifying snarls—gluttonous, smacking noises, like when Billy, a ten-year old classmate with no table manners, chewed with his mouth open, as well as something akin to a serving spoon pulling free from sticky macaroni and cheese. In addition to scaring her immensely, the sounds made her realize just how hungry she was. A wave of nausea flooded her body as she envisioned the sanguinary deliveryman that marked the beginning of this nightmare for her. Ava remembered how badly she hoped it was the pizza man at the door that day. The pizza man never came, and she did not think she could ever eat pizza again anyway.
What am I going to do ? She was not even certain of where she was exactly. Relentless waves of despair rolled over her until sleep mercifully took her away. That night, Ava did not dream of the bad ones, the deliveryman, or her mother. Instead, her dreams drifted to the last time she had seen her father over two weeks ago. The night before he left they enjoyed a wonderful evening of talking, laughing, and playing together. Holding her arms, he spun her around and around until his face became blurry, as though an ever-thickening veil of fog settled over the once distinct features of his face. Similarly, his words grew increasingly faint with each revolution. Just when she was about to lose sight of him completely, she glanced down and noticed her arms stretching longer with each rotation. As she steadily slipped away, she heard him utter one final thing before vanishing into the mist completely.
“Ava, sweetie, never give up and always be ready,” he said.
Ava awoke with a start as his last word was spoken, as though it was an alarm clock from some other dimension. The bright morning sun scorching across her face seemed so incongruous with the dark events of the preceding night that she briefly wondered if everything, from the deliveryman on, had been a dream. The painful protests of her back as she sat up on the hard wooden floor made it abundantly clear that it was not a dream.
Ava peered through the window of the tree house and was thankful when she saw none of the bad ones in the yard. As she glanced around, her eyes once again fell on the family of stick figures on the wall. Above them, scrawled in red by the hand of a child, were the words: ‘Never give up.’ Ava stared at the words in confusion, certain they had not been there the night before. Simultaneously, she felt a weight in her hand and noticed she clutched a broken red crayon. In that instant, a remarkable clarity swept over her, and she knew it was time to leave. If she was to survive, she was going to have to move fast and move often. She needed to stay smart and always be ready. She would never to give up.
With the world outside
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