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    The girl reached a grimy hand up to grab the wooden pencil from her mom. It was sharpened horribly because, for some reason, nobody had thought to bring a pencil sharpener to the apocalypse. Even after a thorough search of Dale's RV, they couldn't find a thing. That's when they had no other choice but to resort to the old method and use a knife.

    "This problem, Emmie," her mother sighed in a somewhat calm voice as she attempted to convince her daughter to complete the next equation on her math sheet. Hilary Sallow had promised her husband that she would continue their children's education until things went back to normal. From the moment they had arrived at camp she made that her mission. Being a Spanish teacher, she definitely had the need to educate in her blood.

    Textbooks and workbooks were collected. What she couldn't get was written on a yellow sheet of paper or in a spiral notebook and set in front of either her son or daughter. The work was to be completed or their playtime in the afternoon would simply not be an option. Of course, Milo didn't have as much of an attention span and the lengths of his knowledge only included counting to fifty and writing out the alphabet, both of which he had become rusty with upon arriving to camp. Hilary told herself that she'd move the difficulty up a notch next week. She needed her kids to learn. Education was important to her.

    "Is this right?" Emmie asked after quickly scribbling her answer for the complex division problem on the scrap piece of paper. Hilary opened the textbook on her lap to the page filled with answers, checked once more to make sure the answer was written just the way it was supposed to be, and then nodded her head in approval.

    "Muy bien," Hilary smiled, still feeling as though she were speaking to her high school Spanish students instead of her middle-school aged daughter. "Very good," she corrected herself, even though she knew very well Emmie had known exactly what she had said.

    "Can I go play now?" Emmie whined, begging to get up from her spot at the old card table under the shady tree.

    "I suppose. You'll have to do your reading later." Emmie was not even a little bit thrilled about such matters, but the thought of finally getting to stand from the folding chair she had been sitting in made her too excited to contemplate it for very long.

    "Can I go, Mom?" Carl begged, upset he was still having to do his school work on the other side of the table. To Hilary, having Lori there was often a lifesaver since they both had the same visions for their children. Although neither of them quite knew what they were teaching, they taught just the same.

    "I guess," Lori sighed, raising her arms in defeat. Carl flew off the chair.

    "Come on!" Emmie cried as she led him into the patch of grass where The Town had been built. 'The Town' was a series of small structures constructed using stones from the gravel lot in which their camp had been set up. The stones had been transported to the grass area by being carefully inspected and then placed in the basket their shirts had made when they pulled at the bottom hem. When Lori and Hilary had finally become tired of cleaning the dirt off of their children's shirt, it was decided to make an alternative form of transportation. After quickly inspecting Dale's RV, and Dale kindly allowing the children to take whatever they pleased, they acquired two large, plastic bowls that would do the trick.

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