I organized a meeting and found most of the women here share my fears. We are too isolated. Half of us want to leave and find another way to survive, or else flee the country until whatever is happening here settles itself. The other half don’t want to admit what is going on in front of their eyes. These poor people lost more than most in the tragedy and even after all these months are still engulfed with mourning.
—The diary of Megan Jean
The sun was coming through the window and Mia fluttered her eyes open. The bed was so warm she didn’t want to get up. She turned and nuzzled her favorite pillow. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so well.
As soon as the thought crossed her mind the memories came rushing to the fore. Escaping with Andrew, making their way across the country, avoiding the militia, finding a semblance of peace at Affinity, meeting Flo and losing her too soon. Mia shot out of bed. It was her bed. She was back at her parents’ farmhouse. She looked down at herself: she was wearing a pair of pink sweatpants and a white tank top; her hair had been pulled back into a low ponytail and pinned away from her eyes. Mia did not remember changing.
Confusion turned to dread. When Corinna came home her parents had been quick to return their daughter to her husband. It was a stupid idea to come here and even more asinine to fall asleep. Grant was probably already on his way, courtesy of Mia’s mother and father.
Mia looked around her room for the keys to her vehicle or the weapon she had brought. She debated jumping out of the window and making a break for it. Mia walked toward the blinds. The sun wasn’t rising; it was starting to set. There was a knock on her door. Mia didn’t have time to waste. She started lifting the heavy wooden window when the door creaked open.
“Mia?” Her mother’s voice carried through the room. “Are you awake? We heard someone walking.”
Mia flung the window open, but she froze. She had come here for a reason and if need be Mia could just overpower her mother and make it toward the front door. Mia wasn’t the weak one any longer. She spun around to face her mother.
“How much time do I have?” Mia asked.
“What do you mean?”
Mia looked at her mother’s face. The woman looked like she had aged decades in the time Mia had been gone. Instead of wearing a fine dress, she had on ripped jeans and a baggy white T-shirt that was covered with ash stains. Her beautiful hair was piled in a bun on the top of her head and she wore no makeup or jewelry. Mia wanted to ask questions, but she needed to keep her priorities straight. Showing concern for her mother’s well-being might waste whatever precious time she had.
“Before Grant gets here to claim me. How much time do I have?” Mia’s voice did not falter. Her mother looked shocked.
“Nobody is coming for you,” she said. “At least nobody I’m aware of. Please sit down. I can tell you’re scared.”
“I’m strong,” Mia said.
“I never said you weren’t,” her mother replied.
“How did I get up here?”
“You were so tired,” she said. “I led you upstairs and helped you change.”
She took a seat in the chair next to Mia’s bed. Mia hadn’t noticed the rocker was pulled up.
“I sat with you all day,” she said. “It figures you’d wake up when I leave for five minutes to check on something.”
Mia didn’t say anything.
“You were like that as a baby too,” her mother said. “You always slept better when someone else was in the room with you. But it was just as hard for anyone to leave you alone. You looked so peaceful sleeping. I could watch you sleep for hours and neglect my own rest.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“A lot has changed,” her mother said. “If you don’t want to sit here, why don’t you come down to the kitchen? I can make something for you.”
“The last time you made me food was years ago,” Mia said. “Unless Father was eating too.”
Mia’s mother frowned and looked at the floor. “I thought I was preparing you,” she said. “Getting you ready for the rest of your life. I wanted to cook for you every day. You are my baby and you’ve come home to me.”
Mia’s mother raised her head. Mia could see the tears glassing over her eyes. This was not the woman Mia remembered. Her mother was stern; she’d slapped Mia for suggesting she didn’t want to get married.
“Would you rather talk first?” she asked. “I would love to hear how you’ve been. I was so sure you were dead.”
The last part sent Mia’s mother over the edge. She started sobbing into her hands. Seeing her mother like this caused Mia’s own tears to well up; she couldn’t help the reflex. She ran over to the chair and dropped to her knees. Her mother wrapped her arms around Mia and she returned the gesture.
“I’m so angry at you,” Mia said.
“I know,” she replied. “I’m sorry.”
The words stung Mia. She felt guilt creep up into her heart. This reunion could not last long though. Even if Mia’s family hadn’t called Grant, she’d stolen a RAG vehicle and left a pile of dead bodies in her wake. Someone would be following her soon. The farm was filled with people. None of the young men her father employed could be alerted to her presence.
“I can’t stay long,” Mia said. She released her mother and stood up again.
“Why not?”
“Nobody else can know I’m here,” Mia said. “I’m certain one of the workers saw the car. It’s not safe for me.”
“There aren’t any workers,” Mia’s mother said.
“What do you mean?”
“There’s nobody here who will let anyone know about your presence,” she said. “I moved the SUV far down the driveway. So in the unlikely event that someone drives by, they won’t see anything.”
“I don’t understand,” Mia said.
“Why don’t you take a few minutes?” her mother said. “Freshen up and come downstairs. I can get some food ready for you and we can have a nice long talk.”
Mia’s mother stood up. She reached out and grabbed Mia’s hands.
“I love you,” she said.
The words hurt Mia’s heart. Her mother hadn’t spoken them in years. Mia tried to remember the last time she’d heard that sentiment from her family, but she couldn’t. Mia’s mother released her hands and walked out of the room, leaving a stunned Mia to dry her tears.