Radiation Point

Six

"You girls really shouldn't be leaving the camp," Ellen said with pursed lips. "It's not safe."

Ellen ended up being a middle aged woman with dark hair cropped at her shoulders. Looking at her, it seemed as if the bomb had never dropped with her button down shirt and mom jeans.

Mia smiled softly at her, "We don't have much choice."

"And why is that?"

Mia glanced at me before continuing, "We have to be prepared-for the worst."

"But darling, haven't we already seen the worst? I mean," Ellen said, straightening her napkin before continuing, "To be honest, I don't know how much more I can take."

"Have you lost someone?" Mia asked.

"Hasn't everyone? But yes," Ellen said sadly. "My daughters-9 and 14. You don't ever get over something like that."

"We lost family too-our parents," Mia said softly, staring down into her cereal.

Ellen reached across the table and squeezed Mia's arm, "You'll make it through just fine. As long as you girls don't go looking for danger outside these walls, that is."

My spoon dropped into my empty bowl with a clank. Ellen looked up, startled. I leaned across the table and said in a low voice, "This isn't the place to be talking about this. So agree or disagree, I don't care. Drop it."

Ellen stared at me with wide, rounded eyes. I could see her fighting to find a response, then nodded, "I suppose you're right, but this conversation isn't over, sweetheart."

I stared at her incredulously, while Mia grinned from over her bowl.

I bit my lip to stop from snapping at her, and motioned to Mia.

"Come on, Shadow. We're going to be late."

As we made our way out of the mess hall, I felt Ellen's probing gaze on my back.

"I told you it wasn't a good idea to tell her," I said, an edge creeping into my voice.

"I'm sorry, okay? I just don't understand why you don't like her."

"Did you hear her back there? Talking about our private life over breakfast-for anyone to hear? No, I'm sorry, I don't like her," I said, shaking my head in frustration.

"You act like the world's going to end because I told her," Mia said dejectedly.

"Maybe it will."

Glancing at Mia's sullen face, her arms crossed and lips in a pout, I cracked a smile. She suddenly looked like the little girl I used to bicker with as a child. I never could stay mad at her.

"Can we just drop this?" I asked with a fond smile.

"Please," Mia nodded. "You know, after last night, I'm looking forward to washing dishes."

The camp ran like a well oiled machine; everyone had a part-including Mia and I. Today our part was washing dishes. Some people complained about the job duties and threatened to leave.

"People are dying out there, and you're having me wash dishes in here," they'd say. But they wouldn't leave-they never did.

Every surface in the kitchen was shining, stainless steel. It reminded me of the type of kitchen my high school would have-which wasn't off base. Before serving as a refugee camp, the building had served as a high school. After the bombings, the perimeter had been secured, and tents and stations set up; barbed wire fences the final touch.