It was early Saturday evening having spent the afternoon at Shane's, sitting by the fire and playing cards. The main topic of conversation, as it had been for the past couple of weeks was the abduction of Mary and the kids. Hannah more than a little obsessed with what happened. Mostly due to nobody was talking about it since the house had been razed to the ground. Hannah tried in vain to speak to the neighbours. Had the heard a van outside the house before the fire, where had the family's bodies been taken too and other such questions. Every one of them was met by silence and suspicion, so she stopped asking.

Shane never doubted what Hannah had seen and heard, but he was scared. Similar stories were often traded in hushed conversations at work. If you believed or worried about everything you saw or heard you would never be able to sleep. He knew they traded in fear to keep his sort in line, but most of all they used neighbour against neighbour to keep them under control. He was glad Hannah had stopped asking questions. Someone would have sold her out eventually.

An hour before curfew, he walked Hannah home and stayed with her until her parents came home from work. Since the fire she hadn't wanted to be in the house on her own. Tonight, she'd seemed sadder and more preoccupied than ever. He just didn't know how to make her feel better.

Arriving home, just before the curfew alarm sounded, he was greeted by his mother in the hall.

"You keep cutting it too fine, Shane."

"I had plenty of time, mum."

"How many times do I have to tell you, that if they see you out after curfew, they won't be bothered listening to your excuses. They will shoot you in sight."

He moved forward and hugged his mother. "You worry too much."

She kissed his cheek. "You make me worry too much- you and your father. Going around acting like the rules and curfews don't apply to you." She squeezed him tightly.

"What's for dinner?" he asked, trying to distract her.

"Stew again. I managed to get some beef at the market. It was a bit ropey, but I've cooked it long and slow so it should be good. The queues were longer today, than ever."

"Mum, your food is always good". He followed his mother into the small kitchen and washed his hands at the sink.

"Compliments on my cooking Shane! What are you after this time?" she enquired with a smirk.

"Nothing I promise" he answered, "can I not give my old mum a compliment every once in a while?"

She gave him a gentle shove. "Any way, how is Hannah?"

"Fine," he lied.  "She has a new job, cleaning at the Council offices. She gets a hot meal there, too."

"That's great. I hope it works out for her."

"Is Dad home yet?" he asked, changing the subject again.

"Yes, he's just in the cellar fixing something". Shane smiled to himself. He knew exactly what 'fixing' meant. "I'll just go and say hi."

The familiar smell of damp and home-brew lingered in the air, as he made his way down the creaky staircase. His father was resting in an old armchair, eyes closed, holding with a small mug of beer. The bottom step creaked louder than the rest and made his father jump.

"Hey, pull up a box." His father gestured motioned to an old wooden crate.

"Aren't you supposed to be fixing something?"

His father laughed loudly. "Shane, you and I both know that your mother doesn't believe that old story one bit."

"No, she doesn't."

For a while Shane and his father sat in silence.

"Come on Shane, what is it? I know when something is bothering you."

Shane looked up from his boots to face his father's eyes.  The dim light in the cellar seemed to be accentuating the tired lines on his face.  His father saw his reluctance and sat a little more upright.

"Dad, something happened to Hannah." 

His father sighed.  "You haven't got her pregnant, have you?" 

"No dad, she isn't, we haven't..." he stuttered in alarm.

He understood his father's concern. That would be all they needed given the strict rules on pregnancy and child birth they had to adhere to. Any one below 60 was not officially allowed to procreate and women in this bracket were paid to have sterilisations. Very few of them could afford not to. Those between 61 and 85 where allowed one child, but if they had more than one then they were punished by losing points, which had vast implications upon their living standards. Those 86 and above could have as many as they liked. Ironically, they didn't have many as reproducing for society took away their ability to enjoy the society.

"Sorry son, but you scared me there for a minute." Shane's father poured himself another drink and encouraged Shane to continue.

"You know the fire that killed Mary Jackson and her kids?"

His father nodded.

"Well Hannah was there at the time."

The expression on his father's face changed and he placed the cup he'd been holding on to the floor. "Go on..."

A little unsettled by his father's immediate reaction, he began to tell him Hannah's story. His father didn't interrupt, and the words, at times, came out of his mouth in a hurried ramble. At the end of the story, he asked his father what he should do.

"Shane, son, you don't want to go here. It's not safe."

"I understand that, but she is going out of her mind with worry. She loved those kids and wants to know where they are and if they are okay. Dad, if you know something you have to tell me."

His father shifted in his seat. It was now clear to Shane that his father did know something. In their community, his father was well-known, well-liked and was considered by many to be a man of leadership and connections, but he was a very guarded man and like to keep him home-life separate from the world outside their door.

"Please Dad."

"I don't know what happened to them that night, but I do know a little about their earlier life."

Shane sat up a little straighter.

"You see, Bob and Mary didn't start off as Flawed".

Shane's mouth fell open.

"They had both started off life with SPRs in the low nineties. Bob was a clever guy and worked in IT for the Council. Everything was going swell until one day when he was inputting SPR some data. He told me that he'd seen something, something so critical, that if people had found out they he knew about it, then they would be in grave danger. He never told me what is was and I never asked. But whatever it was, it was enough to get them the hell out of there! They left one night with all of the money they could scrape together, moved here, bought fake ID and set about creating a fake life."

Shane was floored by this information. "They actually chose to become Flawed."

His father nodded.

"Bob told me that he actually preferred his life here. They adopted the children, they worked hard and he said they finally felt safe. But sadly, that was not to last. Bob's accident destroyed their plans. Left with only one income, Mary got into horrendous debt and the loan sharks were threatening to go to the Council and report her".

Shane's mind was racing.

"If what Hannah told you is the truth, then I think one of those bastards did just that. The Council investigated, realised it was them and..."

"I believe Hannah. I was the one who pulled her out if the building as it burnt down. If they are still alive, where do you think they are now."

"I don't know Shane, I really don't know," his Father replied. In the dim light, his father had never looked as old as he did right then.

"What am I going to tell Hannah?" Shane asked.

"You can't tell her anything, Shane. For her own safety and yours, you have to try to persuade her to forget about all this. No good will come of it, otherwise." His Father's voice sounded defeated.

"But I have to tell her something," Shane said unable to hide the exasperation in his voice. "Does anyone else know about Bob and Mary?"

His father nodded. "Old Mr Roberts. He was the one who helped them start a new life here."

"Anyone else?" Shane probed.

"Hannah's parents," his father replied.