Angels Mark (The Serena Wilcox Dystopian Trilogy Book 1)

Angels Mark Chapter 7

7

“All the leaves are brown…” Serena crooned into the microphone, aiming for a bluesy groove with her vocals.

“All the leaves are brown,” her daughters echoed.

“And the sky is gray,” she sang, feeling the lyrics heavily in her heart. Minnesota winters were harsh and long, so very long.

The girls echoed dispiritedly. Tom, their son, and their youngest daughter plucked away on their acoustic guitars. Serena tapped out a beat on the cowbell attachment on her snazzy red drum set, her Christmas present from Tom. Their eldest daughter played a pink electric guitar, which didn’t really fit the sound of this particular song, but no one cared. With no audience to worry about, their standards were relaxed.

Last year, while acclimating to their new life in a rural area, and avoiding popular family activities where they would be seen by too many people, they joined a bluegrass group composed almost exclusively of friendly and warm senior citizens. The group welcomed their young son into the fold, teaching him how to play both the harmonica and the guitar. The rest of the family sat watching, week after week. Eventually the girls in the family felt comfortable singing along. Tom decided to take up an instrument, and was advised that the mandolin was an easy one to start with. After mandolin, he took up guitar.

One thing led to another, and before long the formerly-known-as Bridge family had evolved into their own family band. Now they stayed home and rehearsed their own line-up of songs. Sometimes they posted their sessions on the Internet to share with the world. By now, they didn’t seriously fear that anyone would recognize them.

America, just one year after the bombing, had already changed so much that no one would care who they were, or what had happened back then when the world fell apart. No, the Bridges would be left alone, and could probably shed their Meadows persona whenever they wanted. And they could leave Minnesota, where they were light and sun deprived and craving color.

But until Tom found a new job, here they were, suffering through another long frigid winter, with no warmth in sight. Jobs were hard to come by, and it would take a miracle to be on their way to a new life anytime soon. So, for now, they stayed in their roles as the Meadows family. To make themselves feel better they turned every light in the house on, lit their faux wood stove, and played music.

“I’d be safe and warm if I was in L.A.”

“If I was in L.A.,” the girls droned.

“California Dreamin’ on such a winter’s day…” Serena felt the tragedy of the song. There was no California post-bombing. Would life ever feel good again? How could the world recover from this evil? Would they ever recover?

She was shaken from her thoughts when the music came to an abrupt halt. She watched Tom bolt from the room. “Phone!” the kids yelled in unison.

Ah! Maybe a job offer! Serena prayed silently. Unbeknownst to her, their three kids were doing the same thing.

Tom was back in a flash. “Telemarketer.”

Everyone groaned, wallowed in self-pity for a moment, and then started back up again, “All the leaves are brown…” Their session went on for four more songs before they wrapped up their evening.

They always ended with the song “I’ll Fly Away”, and since snacks followed their music session, everyone moved fast after hitting the final note, all leaving the room at the same time. By the time they hit the last verse, “Just a few more weary days and then, I’ll fly away. To a land where joys shall never end. I’ll fly away…” they were hungry.