After Grace

1. What We Found

All I saw when I looked to the distant skyline on the horizon was a concrete sketch of a life I would never know. Even so, I studied it. The streets and parks, buildings and homes, a world so varied every person could find a place for themselves. I knew better than to cry about it though. Unlike most others, I had a safe place to call home. I had the camp. Without it, I would be just another nameless skeleton in the dirt.

As the four of us made our way along the edge of the woods in the rusty pickup, I watched Joseph in the passenger's seat as he pretended not to watch the old city. He was older. Old enough to remember. I knew what he was thinking. He was wishing he could be back there, back in a time when the buildings were full of people, longing for a life of modest luxury.

That was a waste of time.

Damen sat beside me, a hunting rifle on his lap. He caressed it like a pet. "If I'm gonna come on more supply runs," I said, breaking the silence, "shouldn't I have a weapon?"

Damen let out a satisfied chuckle. Even though he was fourteen, only four years younger than me, we had almost never spoken. "Hunters get weapons," he smiled. "You're not a hunter."

"I could be one if I had a gun," I told him.

"No you can't."

"'Cause I'm a girl?"

"Lindsey's a girl and she's a hunter," he said.

"Then why?" I asked, my voice teetering with urgency. It was a question that had been on my mind for a long time. Damen's mouth lingered open, an answer locked and loaded in his throat.

"That's enough," said Harry as he made a sharp left into the hidden trail in the woods. He was Damen's father and only spoke when something was bothering him. We pulled into camp and stopped with a jolt. I spilled out of the truck as fast as I could, hoping I wouldn't have to deal with any more of Damen's smug looks.

As Joseph and I pulled our packs from the bed of the pickup, we were instantly mobbed. A young mother and her husband saw the cans of food and baby formula in my hand and involuntarily took each other's hands. People had very little expectations from these runs, it had been two full decades since the war, nearly every place carrying canned goods had been ransacked years ago. Joy isn't a strong enough word for the feeling I got when we found the hidden gas station behind a wall of Sugar Maples at the side of an old forgotten road. We found canned meals of almost every variety, almost every flavor.

"We're gonna be okay this winter," I told the weary young woman as she wiped a tear from her face. I was suddenly swallowed into a warm hug.

"Thank you Grace," she said. It was the first time she used my name. My life was made of such moments. When the women from the group would show me comfort and give me the kind of attention usually reserved for their own children. Before she was even gone I already knew my night would consist of me lying in bed, replaying that moment in my head over and over until I fell asleep. As she pulled back her eyes grew concerned.

"Are you alright?" she asked, looking at my swollen lip.

"I'm okay," I said with a smile. I had almost forgotten. I licked at the wound and tasted the sharp tang of iron, it was still bleeding. She returned my smile and rejoined her husband.

There had been a little girl in the gas station when we walked in. She lay on the floor as if she'd gone to sleep, three empty cans surrounding her. Her skin had been mummified. She had been dead for years.

Damen was the first to arrive when I called for the others. We both looked down to the body.

"Ate herself to death," he said.