Chapter 1

 “Are you ready!?” The girl's father called up the stairs.

“I think so...” She called down, more quietly. Her eyes scanned the contents of her luggage and then fell upon everything else she was leaving behind. She had room for a few pictures once she took them out of their frames and placed them between the pages of a few notebooks. The house looked so vacant. It was still furnished as before but it was void of anything that would reflect human emotion. The pictures were gone off the walls. Knick-Knacks that meant anything were packed away. Pictures her daughter had drawn were taken from the refrigerator. The more her and her father packed away their belongings the more the house looked like it belonged in those nuke towns that began popping up more and more as the country prepared for the inevitable.

Their house wasn't terribly large. There were two stories that stood the test of time fairly well. The house was about forty years old. The stairs groaned audibly when any kind of weight passed over them. The walls were faded white that held a darker hue of yellow towards the tops of the walls thanks to her father's “three-packs-a-day” habit. They lived a fairly modest life here. It had always been a nice routine, living there with her father. She stayed home with her daughter on the days her father worked and, on the three days he didn't, worked at a small diner up the road. She'd always loved food and loved the older folks that frequented the diner so early in the morning. They even knew her by name because of her ability to memorize their regular orders and who needed sugar free syrup on their pancakes. On an average day, she had dinner ready by the time her father walked in the door at seven, covered in black grease and engine muck from head to toe, and whatever was left was his lunch for the next day. They had a good system and she knew her father was thankful she was there. Like her, he didn't do well with being alone.

The wooden floor in the hall just beyond her room creaked. Melanie Graves' blue eyes raised to the face of her daughter. The small girl gripped her white and brown stuffed puppy. He slumped over her arm with the age of a stuffed animal that had been loved for generations. Puppy had belonged to Melanie when she was a child. When Jill came along she passed it down to her and one was hard pressed to see this child without her stuffed buddy. Jill's eyes matched her mother's. The bright blue of her eyes was contrasted by the puffy bloodshot sight of a girl who had been crying. It was hard for the children in this country. It had to be. Melanie just stared at her eight year old daughter and her daughter stared back. She had been hiding, trying to come to terms with what she didn't understand.

“Come here, bird.” Melanie said with a break in her voice. Jill ran to her and wrapped her arms around her mother's neck. “I know, baby...” She said. “It'll be ok. I know you're scared, baby.” The mother broke the hug and wiped the tears and strands of golden brown hair from her daughter's face. “It's just like we're moving. We've moved before.” Without a word, the child nodded. “Did you pack all your clothes for me?” The child nodded. “And your siblings?” The child nodded again. In any other situation, Melanie would have laughed at how that sounded. Jill always had a deep emotional attachment to her stuffed animals. She had several that she always slept with every night. There was, of course, Puppy. There was also her Snoopy, her dolphin “So-long” that she named after the song in the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy movie, Wilfred her stuffed walrus, and Kevin, a top heavy broccoli. She always did have the best taste in stuffed animals. If her mother had to guess, she would bet she packed her stuffed horse. It was pink with flowers all over her and the only reason Jill wanted her was because of a factory defect. One of the horse's eyes was about half an inch higher than the other. That made this animal special in her eyes. The child always appreciated things that were different.

“Melanie?” Her father called. The woman looked towards her father's voice and back into the ocean blue eyes of her daughter. “C'mon.” She said, taking her daughter's free hand and walking down the stairs.

Roy zipped up his last suitcase and sighed. He always knew this would probably happen. Stories about the eminent war had been circulating on every news channel and radio station in the country, but he had always hoped something like this would blow over. That fatherly pride he had that always let his family know everything was ok had failed him. As much as he hated to admit it he was terrified. What if the shelter is faulty in some way and it just dooms everyone with their false sense of security? Worse things have happened and he had the current situation as an example. The man's sun soaked hands grabbed the letter and skimmed it one last time. No furniture. The man sighed again as he folded the letter again and placed it back on the table. Moss green eyes rose and landed on the hutch in the far end of the dining room. It loomed over him with it's dark wood and it's antique green glass doors that creaked when you opened them. It was his mother's. She left it for him when she passed away so many years ago. He knew that 'things' weren't important, but the memories of who game them to you. He studied the hutch. The doors held such insignificant things like glasses and papers. The papers were once important but they weren't anymore. Where they were going they probably wouldn't need bank account numbers or old internet bills. You probably wouldn't even need birth certificates. Roy opened the left door of the hutch and it opened with a pop like it always had. The wood had a scent to it. A scent of age. He picked up the pictures in the door and slowly closed the door again. Pop. The man swallowed hard. They would have to hold onto what memories they already had... or make new ones with what they can bare to get attached to.

Footsteps descended the steps. Roy hid the tears in his eyes as his daughter and granddaughter entered the room.

“Hey...” He said, hiding the break in his voice.

“Hey...” his daughter responded. The air was thick but instead of tension it was just empty and hard to breathe.

“Are you guys ready to go?”

The woman looked back towards her bedroom.

“Yeah I think so.” The silence bit into both of them. There were so many questions. They knew what was going to happen up here. The comfort of knowing was all they needed, even if it was the knowledge of the end of the world. As young as Jill was, she knew it too. She knew just how scary all this way just based on the energy in air. You couldn't hide anything from her.

“We've still got a few days, dad.” Melanie said in a small voice. Her father didn't look at her.

“We need to get this over with. We already said our goodbyes last night. Our last night at home and all that...”

Jill began to cry. That was all it took for the tears to start streaming down both the man's and his daughter's faces and Roy quickly turned and wrapped his arms around his girls.