The Life Of Gamemaker Z

July 8th age 7

"Where are we going? Where are we going?" I shouted. My parents were ushering my sister and I onto a bus. My sister and I are identical twins. We're both named Zoe (her spelling is a with a y, but she doesn't like it and takes it off her name on every document), but I call myself Z.

Our parents came into our bedroom a few days ago, in the morning, and simply said, "We have to go."

. . .

"Go where?" I asked. No answer.

Zoey wakes up slowly. "What's going on?" No answer.

We look at each other.

This is going to be...interesting.

. . .

Days later, still no answer. They seat us on the left of the bus, walk out, and wave goodbye. Since our parents aren't sitting next to us this time, like on the train, we straighten our legs and - wait. Parents, Not. On. Bus...What. What. Wait. What.

"What?" I scream out the broken and therefore open window, standing up. The bus hasn't started moving. Zoey's behind me, shaking silently.

My mother, Daria, and my father, Max, look at me sadly. Daria has my (and my sister's) glasses, sharp features, and thin but well-built body, with brown hair, and Max is a larger, fatter man, with my (and my sister's) blonde hair and hazel eyes.

My father looks straight into my eyes. "We'll meet up with you later. We promise. We'll find you up north. We will. It'll even be easy to find you. Don't worry."

We've gone west from southern California to Arizona, and then up through New Mexico. Now we're on the border of New Mexico and Colorado.

"Yes," I nod, "But where are we going?"

My mommy looks at me. "Northern Colorado."

"Why?" I ask.

"Yeah, why, and why haven't you allowed us to look on social media? Or look at the news!?" Zoey calls out.

Mommy pauses. Daddy puts his arm around her. She shouts back. "California was hit by a large earthquake. We left a day before. So large...everything we know is gone. Our friends either left and are scattered or are dead." We lived in Los Angeles. "The President...she was impeached. Everything's going to be fine, everything's going to be normal again, just as long as we all stick together."

"We as in...us?" Zoey asks.

Daria Kerrayne is a graphic artist, and Max Kerrayne is one of the Secret Service. He begged to have time off to get us to safety. Because of course, no offense to the President, but she is not part of our family. "She said 'we all'...she meant all of us. Our nation. Our nation needs to stick together."

"Wha...why wouldn't it?" I say.

"The President's term wasn't over, she was impeached. I believe she was a good President. But this crowd. You know the U.S, it gets more polarized every year. The tension is the highest I've ever seen it." Max puts his head in his hands, then realizes he has to be strong for us. "But it's all going to be okay."

"Why are we being separated?" Zoey shivers next to me. She wants mommy and daddy to come with us. I do too. I guess one of the differences between her and I is that we both cry, but I cry in private.

The bus is starting to move. "We'll only be one bus behind! This bus is for kids only. Cause you guys are precious, you know." Daria shouts.

I look around and notice she's right. Only kids and teens.

So our parents are only going to be one bus behind. That's good.

But it still doesn't make me feel better.

What. Is. Going. On.

Someone tell me.

Please.

Once we are back in our seats, Zoey turns her heard to me and says, "I don't think our nation is going to stick together very well after this. Daddy was right. I wouldn't be surprised if everyone started fighting each other."

"No, no," I put my chin on her forehead, and put my arm around her, "Don't think about that."

"Z, I love you. But I don't think we're going to be okay."

"Don't think about that."

The bus is on its way to Northern Colorado.