The ash has not yet settled in Monroe City as alien ships circle the skies, hunting for survivors.

The world no longer makes sense to me. All attempts to communicate with the ships have failed. They started firing without a word being exchanged.

 

The scrape on my shoulder stings, but I push through the shattered ground. I take cover in a warehouse and pull out the shrapnel. I use what’s left of the water in the flask and wash the wound. I want to cry, but I’ve spent all my tears.

 

Night has fallen, and the army rockets are under fire as the explosions thunder outside. Cold seeps into my bones. I rub my tummy gently — this baby is all I have left. Sleep comes, restless and broken.

 

The world appears to have fallen silent. I step out cautiously. The skyscrapers no longer hug the skies; they weep instead. The Earth is mourning, and I must keep going.

 

* * *

 

Boy, this baby kicks! I have another six weeks to go. Thankfully, women have been delivering children on their own for thousands of years. The road is long and perilous, and my feet are aching and swollen. The worst is the hunger — it’s hard to think about anything when your stomach is empty.

 

I stop by a covered bridge to catch my breath. A man walks toward me, and I look over my shoulder. I can still run.

 

He raises his hands. “It’s okay, I’m a friend. Here, have some water.”

 

Thirst gets the better of me, and I grab his canteen.

 

“Easy, there; don’t make yourself sick. You’re nearly due?”

 

“In a few weeks.”

 

“The army has a base about thirty clicks from here. They’ll have medics; I can take you there.”

 

“Why would you help me?”

 

“I’d like to think that someone would stop to help my wife if she found herself alone on the road.”

 

“I’m Eleanor.”

 

“Ethan.”

 

“Have you got kids, Ethan?”

 

“I did…two.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“We best get going.”

 

I can’t imagine his pain. He doesn’t want to talk about it, and I understand.

 

We walk under the oppressive heat, off the main road, down dirt paths and long grass. The twigs creak under my feet as the wind gently caresses my cheeks, and I welcome this silence of old. I tug the revolver next to my hip. It has no bullets, but it comforts me.

 

“There’s a farm up ahead.”

 

Ethan slams the door open. There’s a gaping hole in the ceiling and shattered glass across the floor. The dinner table is set for two with moldy crumbs of food. They left in a hurry, like the rest of us. Life interrupted.

 

“They’ve got to have a cellar, living in the sticks out here.”

 

He’s not wrong — there’s a pantry with enough tin cans and dried pasta to last us a couple of weeks. “Bingo!”

 

I down a can of cold carrot soup, which seems the safest option. I can’t afford to get sick now.

 

“Grab what you can. Let’s go.”

 

“I need to rest, Ethan. Everything feels heavy. But you, go on.”

 

“I’m not leaving you here. Get some sleep; I’ll keep watch.”

 

* * *

 

A loud thud wakes me up. Ethan is fighting off a man holding a knife, and his shirt is covered in blood.

 

“Eleanor, run!”

 

I reach for the fire extinguisher off the wall in the kitchen and hit the thug in the back of the head. He drops instantly to the ground and doesn’t move. Shit! I kneel; he still has a pulse.

 

“Leave him, we must go. There could be others out there.”

 

“Look at his tag. This guy is military.”

 

Ethan frowns and rubs his chin. “He’s tracking me.”

 

“Why?”

 

“After the invasion, I needed to check on my family. I abandoned my post; I let everyone down.”

 

“Can they still track you?”

 

“Not anymore.” He pulls out a tag from his neck and stamps on it.

 

“Then let’s keep moving.”

 

We get back on the road, away from prying eyes. We walk during the day and scavenge for food at night in the dead towns.

 

“I’m not a coward.”

 

“I know. You just wanted to do right by your family.”

 

“I wasn’t there for them. I was too late.”

 

I put my hand on his shoulder. There are no words to soothe his pain.

 

We stop short of a fenced-off field. This is my cue and where we part ways. Ethan is a wanted man; he can’t go into the army base. It’s dangerous enough being this close.

 

“Thank you for everything.”

 

“Wait — something is off. The security dome isn’t on.”

 

“Ethan, don’t! They’ll catch you.”

 

Ethan walks towards the gates, and there are no guards to stop him. The whole place is deserted, with nothing but empty barracks and broken machinery.

 

“Looks like everyone has left.”

 

“Damn it.”

 

“What’s the plan?”

 

“We walk.”

 

There are rumors of a thriving community in the West. My contractions are getting stronger. I talk to the baby all the time, ‘just hold on a little while longer.’

 

The burning skies are long behind us, and I can almost smell the ocean, but this baby doesn’t want to wait anymore. We find a barn. Labor is long and exhausting with sweat, tears, and blood. Ethan helps me deliver the baby. I think this is the first time I’ve seen him smile.

 

“It’s a boy with the lungs of a lion!”

 

I hold him tight against my chest, shutting out this inhospitable world. I call him Leo, and he’ll be fierce one day.

 

A car pulls up in front of the barn, and two women run across the road. They offer to take us to their shelter. They must have heard my screams. Ethan nods, and I put my hand in his. Trust has got me this far, and hope will keep me going for as long as there is kindness.