We walked in silence to the park. With every step away from my apartment building, my safe haven in this wretched city, I could feel my adrenaline rise.

The girl was silent the whole way, looking down at the ground, not bothering to see where we were headed, but concentrating on where she was walking to protect her bare feet.

Her grasp on my hand was bordering on uncomfortable. I tried to release her grip by pulling my hand away, but she only clasped on tighter, as if she was afraid I was going to fall over and she needed to help me stand up.

We walked four old city blocks, but didn't see a single soul; I was shocked by how many people had left since I'd been outside last. The city was an empty shell, a carcass — the giant carcass of a once thriving organism. The buildings around us were completely devastated, scorched from the fires, windows all smashed, apartments and cars gutted and empty.

The sidewalks were broken so we chose to walk in the road. Plant matter was taking over. Grass, shrubs, and especially blackberry bushes were rampant. There was a tree in the middle of 7th avenue — it was already past it's sapling stage. When we walked past it, I could not identify the species. It had small, oval leaves — it could have been an olive tree.

When we arrived at the park, I had to sit down and catch my breath, so we sat on what remained of a park bench at the edge of the park. In front of us, the park grass was higher than our heads, with paths woven through it by animals — coyote and wild dogs mainly, and some people. There were probably people living in there somewhere.

I didn't feel safe going in there.

I looked at the girl beside me and wondered what she was thinking. If she was relieved to be away from Money, she didn't let it show. She was chewing on the right sleeve of her black nylon jacket, her other hand buried somewhere in the long sleeve, clutched at her chest, holding the jacket closed against her. She was humming or mumbling something repetitively. The girl was clearly in shock.

Shit! I thought to myself. I briefly wondered again if I'd made a huge mistake, but immediately knew that line of thinking was the least helpful thing I could do at that point, so I pushed it away. But still, the consequences of what I had just done were enormous, and were beginning to fully sink in. How would I get into my apartment again? And what in godsname was I going to do with this girl? What had possessed me to rescue her?

Just keep breathing, I reminded myself.

I looked at my feet — there were some tufts of dirty, crunchy snow beneath the bench. The grass was struggling to come up around it. The bench itself was cold and covered in a slimy layer of mossy algae.

I lifted my head and glanced at the girl beside me — she was watching me like a hawk from the corner of her eye. Her bare trembling legs were out of place here in the cold, in the grass — transluscent flesh, white with blue undertones.

She saw me looking at her legs and pulled her skirt down, squeezing her knees tight together and pointing her entire body away from me.

She was getting smaller and smaller by the second, like Alice after eating the cookie. At least she was good at something — it was better than nothing; being invisible could, in fact, be very useful.

I took a deep breath. What was her name again? Jeez, my memory was definitely failing me.

"Listen, child. Do you know where to get some warmer clothes and a decent pair of shoes?"

The girl made an indeterminate motion with her head.

"Was that a yes or a no? Speak up, now."

"Yes," she whispered.

"Can you go get that and come back here."

No movement. She gripped my hand even harder, and I knew she wasn't going to let go any time soon.

"Okay, everything's okay. We'll go together, don't worry."

She was visibly relieved, and took the sleeve away from her mouth and said something inaudible. I took it to mean thank you.

"You're welcome," I responded. I went to stand up, but my body didn't cooperate.

The girl stood there, staring at me like I was about to go over a cliff.

"Help me!" I muttered.

I grabbed her outstretched arm and said, "Now hold strong," and I pulled myself up with groan. When I was up I said, "You know I'm an old lady, right? That means I'm going to need your help."

She gave a shy little smile, and quickly covered it with her hand.

We hobbled down the street, away from the park, thankfully, but also away from the water, away from our final destination. She was leading me now.

After a walk of about fifteen minutes, we arrived at the old mall on Broadway without incident. The building looked like a tornado had hit it. The brick walls were crumbling, and one corner had been hit by some vehicle and fallen down. It looked extremely hazardous.

The girl apparently knew otherwise. She guided me along the side of the building, and ducked into a small hole between the fallen debris. I walked towards the gap and tried to peer inside, but it was completely dark. She came out a few moments later with some pants on, a pair of home-made flip flops and a hand-sewn bag.

"Do you live in there?" I asked her.

A small movement of the head that meant yes.

Wow, I looked at the building and shook my head. It was unbelievable. "Why do you live there? There are other, nicer place you could live."

She shook her head negative. "Safe," she whispered, pointing at the hole. "No people."

Yes, no people, I thought, but not safe. I exhaled and she grasped my hand as we started walking toward Main Street.

There were high-rise condos along both sides of Broadway, and I looked for signs of life, but saw nothing telling.

"Where is everyone?" I asked out loud, "The streets are so empty."

She shrugged her shoulders. She clearly wasn't the person to ask; to her this was normal.

We reached Kingsway and turned right down Main. Even when I had gone out regularly, this was a place I avoided — I just didn't like seeing the odd way the street dove straight into the water, like it was a giant boat launch.

We walked down the street towards the water, navigating fallen debris and scraps of metal — cars, trucks overturned and scorched. Although the immediate suffering that had created this mess was long gone, buried under layers of dirt and grime, I still felt a strong sense of loss. There was a reason I had stopped coming outside.

I saw Michael when Kingsway curved down and to the north and joined up with Main before diving into the water on 5th. He was there waiting at the water's edge, sitting on an abandoned car beside the water, scanning the horizon. When he heard us, he jumped off the car and came running up the hill.

"Shalon, you made it," he grinned.

"Of course I made it. What did you think?"

He was having trouble containing his excitement. He gave me a crooked smile.

"What?" I asked.

He looked away. "Nothing, just so weird seeing you out here like this."

"Hmph." I changed the subject. "Michael, this is..." I nudged the girl forward, "tell him your name."

"Nike," she said quietly.

Ah.. Right, Nicole, I remembered.

"Ain't you one of Money's girls?" Michael asked, confused. He'd probably seen her — he came to my building regularly.

Nicole — or Nike as she liked to call herself — blushed, but refused to answer. She looked down at the ground with one sleeve shoved in her face, chewing away. Her other hand was clasped onto mine like a trailer hitch.

Michael gave me a look — a look that said, 'Shalon, what did you do?'

I shrugged.

Hi eyes bulged in disbelief. Finally after a moment, he said, "Money is gonna kill you."

Nike looked through her blonde locks, her brown eyes wide with fear.

"Michael," I said, gripping Nike's hand firmly, "You just let me worry about Money. It was my decision and I'll deal with it. You're leaving anyway, what do you care?"

Michael's face registered pain. "Jeez, Shalon," he said, looking down. He walked away. "Come on," he said, walking down the hill. "Tom could be here any minute."

We walked down the hill to the water's edge, and Michael sat me down on a relatively even piece of concrete from a collapsed building. The entire area looked like a battlefield. I felt unsettled and didn't know what to do with myself. I regretted not bringing a book to read. I could use a little Michael Crichton to take my mind of my real-life horror story.

I turned to look up at my apartment behind us.

What am I doing out here? We were waiting for a boat, which alone seemed ridiculous. But even more ridiculously — there was going to be an adult on that boat. A man. I hadn't seen another adult in years.

Sure, some of the kids had grown up, the older ones were in their twenties. Some were even having children of their own. But they were a breed of their own — they didn't have any connection with the past.

I told myself that I was just going to talk to this Tom and if he seemed on the up and up, I'd give Michael my blessing and ask Tom to take Nicole with them as well. It was time for me to say good bye to Michael. Sooner rather than later.

Something about the anxiety of waiting for the boat made my mind wander to uncomfortable places. I started thinking about the ways I could die. I guess, more accurately, ways I could kill myself. I couldn't help it; my mind just went there. I knew that with Michael gone things would go downhill quickly. My body was failing me and there was no way that I'd be able to climb up and down those stairs.

I got a chill as I realised that the dream was probably a sign that my time had come. Maybe today was the day I would die.

I took a deep breath and tried to change the subject of my mind. I scanned the horizon. "Where is this guy?" I asked.

Michael looked at me, but didn't say anything.

We heard the boat before we saw it, and it came on fast. A motorized boat. It was practically docked beside the roof of the old Maynards building by the time I had enough sense to know what was going on.

Ten to fifteen men wearing matching brown outifits poured out of the boat and onto the roof. It looked like a mass of baby spiders leaving their egg sack; they skittered from roof to roof, around rubble until they hit 5th avenue and then scaled down the side of the building and were off into the city. They were on their 'mission,' no doubt.

I shivered with goosebumps. This wasn't any ordinary taskforce; it was more like a military operation.

The last man came out of the boat more slowly, and was dressed differently — he wore a blue jumper outfit. This must be Tom. He walked to the edge of the building and waved at us.

Michael waved back excitedly. He'd clearly been impressed by the scene he'd just witnessed — I bet he was already dreaming of the day that he'd be a baby spider too.

I rolled my eyes. I looked at Nicole — Nike — standing beside me, still clutching my hand. She'd been impressed by the scene as well, but was more terrified than anything. She was biting on the edge of her shirt nervously.

She must have seen I was scrutinizing her, because she took her shirt out of her mouth and stood up a bit straighter. That relieved me. At least she had some sense of the world around her — she wasn't damaged beyond repair, I decided.

The man went back to the boat and stood on some contraption — a crane of some sort that slowly and gracefully lifted him off the boat, and placed him gently on a clear place on the shore.

"Holy shit," was what I had to say about that. The last time I'd seen something electrical actually working was this time many years ago that my old neighbour used a blender he'd rigged up to a bicycle.

Michael grinned and Nike looked at me nervously.

Tom disembarked the platform and Michael scrambled over to him. They talked for a few seconds.

Tom looked over my way.

Beside me, Nike tried to make herself invisible.

Tom and Michael came over and I stood up. As they approached, the first thing I noticed was the smiling eyes — bright and clear. I felt immediately confused and shocked at the same time by those eyes. The next thing I noticed was the teeth — white and perfect like a frigging Colgate ad.

I didn't smile — I didn't even know if the muscles in my own face could make such a shape. And when had I last seen an adult? A real, bona fide adult. Civilized. Smiling. Holding out his hand, ready to shake mine.

I stumbled. Not physically, but internally. There was a stumbling, falling, crashing feeling going on inside of me. What the fuck!

I held out hand my hand in a traditional form of greeting I hadn't practiced in over 10 years. I tried my damnedest to regain my composure, repressing both thrilled and revolted feelings as his hand gripped mine firmly.

"Shalon — I'm Tom. I'm pleased to meet you." Shake, shake, shake.

His hand was warm, and his eyes... jesus christ, his eyes were so bloody chipper. I looked down at our hands — I was shaking his hand.

At least I had the wherewithal to squeeze hard, but I still couldn't manage a smile, which I was grateful for — I didn't need some captivated little girl inside of me running the show. However, I couldn't completely get rid of her either — he was definitely a charmer.

"Nice to finally meet you as well," I managed. Awkward social chit chat, another thing to add to the list of things I hadn't done in ages. God, what the hell am I doing? I thought to myself, for about the hundredth time that day.

"Michael tells me you'd like to hear more about the Cultural Preservation Taskforce, and what we're doing here in Vancouver." He was so clean, with impeccable clothes that looked like they'd just come off of a factory line.

Michael grinned, flashing his eyebrows, as if to say, 'See, I told you he was nice.'

I ignored Michael and said to Tom, "Yes, yes, I would like to know what you're doing here and what your intentions are." I was hesitant to say anything else; I knew it would be better if Tom did most of the talking — and by the looks of him, he would be happy to do just that.

"Well, I'd like to tell you all about it. Would you like to join me on the boat?"

He still had that ridiculous Clark Kent smile and those bright eyes. Whatever kool-aid he'd drunk was clearly very powerful. He wasn't an actor, but a true believer. The sense of determination and purpose was a bit overwhelming. In Old Vancouver we survived, but not much else.

I realised suddenly that I hadn't heard what he'd said. "Pardon me?"

"Would you like to come on the boat?"

I let out a ghastly snort, unable to suppress my surprise, and coughed a bit to hide it, pretending I was just clearing my throat.

From his spot behind Tom, Michael was nodding his head furiously, Yes, yes, yes.... I turned and looked at Nike, whose eyes were popping with fear. I gripped her hand — two against two. "I'm sorry, Tom, I don't think so..."

"Oh, I assure you that you will be absolutely safe." And then he leaned over and addressed Nike, looked her directly in the eye, and with a smooth, fatherly voice — something she'd clearly never heard before — "I promise you'll be absolutely safe."

He stood up and then addressed me, "And I'm sure that you would prefer something a bit more... comfortable to sit on?"

It was true, my goddamn leg was killing me. But I wasn't going to crumble. No! I wasn't going to fall for his sugary sweet papa-talk. He wasn't fooling anyone!

"I could serve you some breakfast and we could chat about the very important work we're doing and how you might be a part of it."

Serve me some breakfast, I thought. My mouth began watering at the thought of it. I looked at Nicole, whose eyes now shone up at Tom with adoration — she had turned on me, the damned child! I dropped her hand, but she didn't seem to notice.

Tom had this challenging grin on his face, knowing I had no choice but to accept.

"Well, alright then. Your boat, it is." I'd be damned if I'd let his intimidation tactics get to me.

Tom let out a hearty chuckle, "Come on then!" and held out his arm to support me. I took it begrudgingly — you see, I don't like people helping me, but I wasn't going to make it to that platform without some help. As Tom and I slowly traversed the rubble, Nike and Michael hopped their way over mounds of concrete and rusting appliances like rabbits, and waited at the platform, examining it with wonder. They were happy and excited — they looked like children.

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Author's Note

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Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed some rare humour in the series so far. I working on finding ways to add more humour -- thanks for your patience.

Question - do you feel the swearing is okay? I'm trying to be realistic and this is actually how I think. Ha! Old Shalon is a fictional character, but she has some of my characteristics ;-) My target audience is 16 year olds.  I know I use the J word quite a bit -- hopefully it's not offensive. Let me know your thoughts. Thanks!

Question 2 - how did you experience the length of this scene? Did it feel long? 

Thank you!!