By the time we returned, Reece was up and helping himself to anything he could in the kitchen. I left mom outside and went to see to him. By the time I returned she was up and at least washed and dressed in clean non burned clothes.

  We went about the day as if nothing had changed, but Reece was asking questions and though I kept prompting mom to tell him. She wouldn’t.

  In the end when she went out to check the traps, I sat him down.

  “Dad?” he asked.

  “Dad,” was all I could say before the sobs took me.

  My little five-year-old brother wrapped me up as best he could, and he held onto me so tight and I just cried. He never made a sound.

  Till eventually, he let me go a little, my sobs subsiding. “Mom said one day they might not come back. That dad would be with nanna and grandpa.”

  I barely remembered my grandparents, but I was nodding. “Just us three now, kid.”

  “Just us,” he said, then mumbled. “Love you, Sis.”

  ***

  Mom had never said anything else to me about that night, about why I’d even been there. She just kept on wanting us to survive as best we could.

  “We need to leave the valley,” I told Mom one morning while helping her sort through our dwindling supplies. “There’s not enough here anymore. Dad would have wanted us to move on.”

  She wouldn’t listen to me.

  My brother and I had taken to practice fighting, first with just our padded and wrapped fists, then we moved to wooden swords.

  There were only old books for us to read and train from. Power had gone from our devices long ago now.

  This was it, life revolved around nothing but training and surviving.

  Mom caught us fighting a few times. At first, she tried to stop us.

  Then she sat and watched us.

  After a while, she decided to help us.

  We weren’t just playing anymore. This was serious training. Every day, Reece and I would practice until our muscles ached. Sometimes I’d catch a glimpse of myself reflected in water and barely recognize the lean, hard-faced girl looking back.

  “The system doesn’t recognize any of this,” I said to mom one day, while we watched Reece trap his first rabbit. “Do you think that when we do reach puberty that we’ve been stacking skills?”

  Mom looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. “I believe so, there were things the system recognized already with your Scholar, and Alfie’s medical skills. I think you’ve done good.”

  That small bit of praise made my chest swell with pride. I’d been working so hard to prepare myself, to be ready when the system finally recognized me. I wanted to make Dad proud, wherever he was.

  When Mom went off tracking or stealing at night, Reece and I would read together. Read the text books. Not the fun books. Those were for bedtime, and fun time.

  We knew this might be the only time we ever had to study.

  If we left the valley—books wouldn’t be going with us.

  ***

  Winters came and went again, and my arguments with mom had gotten to be a daily thing.

  “We can’t stay here forever,” I’d insist, my voice edging toward that tone that made Mom’s jaw tighten. “The food is nearly gone. What’s your plan? To watch us slowly starve?”

  ~~~~

  Now, hunkered down in my hiding spot, Mom stared onto the field, Reece standing beside her.

  He was getting the same lesson I’d had years ago. He was just a little younger than I had been at almost nine now, yet more than old enough to understand it all and to help us where it mattered—finding food. Reece had taken to all of this much better than I had, but he didn’t know the world before, he only listened to our stories, all of this—this was life for him.

  The field ahead looked peaceful and picturesque when I wasn’t thinking too much. The way the dawn light crested the hills. The mist on the grass left droplets that sparkled. I shook my head; who was I kidding? It was bleak and barren, and we were desperate.

  “Mom, do we have it yet? I’m hungry,” Reece’s soft voice drifted to me. He was begging her, tugging on her trouser leg. Mom, ever so careful, watched out onto the open field.

  “No, Reece.” She never moved.

  “Reece,” I whisper-shouted, trying my best to get his attention without scaring anything that could possibly be out there for her to catch. “Come here.”

  Reece’s eyes drifted my way, the whites of his baby blues the cleanest thing on his face. He wiped tears from his grubby, stained cheeks, and he faked a smile. Smiles were all too often faked now. All we had was fake. Nothing real existed anymore except hunger and the constant effort to survive.

  I could only hold my hand to him, hoping he’d come over. He tugged once more on our mom’s trousers, but she ignored him again. She didn’t have a choice. He’d broken the first rule of her teachings, and maybe he just wasn’t old enough yet. She focused on doing the one thing we all needed her to do: secure the hunt. Catch us the food we so desperately needed.

  Reece dropped his hand, then slowly, silently edged backward from her to me. Head hung low, defeated. When he reached me, I pulled him into me, wrapping my arms around him tight. “Shh,” I said. “Mom will catch something for us. I know she will.”

  “I was listening,” he said. “I was.”

  “I know.” I bopped his nose with a finger and hugged him even tighter.

  I would do anything to fill his belly with food, just like Mom would.

  I stared out at Mom, her stance so precise, so careful.

  “She will catch something. I know she will.” I reiterated.

  It was the same lie I’d been telling him for days. The same lie I’d been telling myself. The truth was that the animals were becoming as scarce as the people. Nature wasn’t recovering - it was dying along with everything else.

  Of course, it was a lie. It had been days since she had got anything, and we were out with her now as the sunset and the rabbits came out tonight and every early morning before they rose too.

  Reece had gotten to eat most of what we’d both scavenged during the last week.

  I’d discovered a bush of berries coming out with the spring. Mom had caught a couple of rabbits, but that was it, in a week.

  I had spent my last few mornings planting and making sure those rabbits couldn’t get near my fresh shoots.

  Reece tilted his head up at me. I held a finger to my lips. “Shh,” I whispered. “Give her time.”

  I saw mom shift on her left leg, her focus waning. Please, God, let her catch something.

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  Then her leg wobbled, and she dropped to one knee. I heard the trap go, and hoped, hoped.

  “Shit,” she swore.

  I let Reece go and rushed to her. “Mom?” I asked, offering her a hand.

  Mom wouldn’t take it. Shaking her head, tears brimming. “Cerys, I’m sorry. I don’t know if it worked.”

  I looked out at our trap in the field, then glanced between her and it, wanting to know more than anything that she was okay, but my stomach growled.

  Mom didn’t move, though, which was unusual. When she eventually tried to, she winced.

  Something was wrong. Really wrong. Mom never showed pain, even when I knew she must be hurting. It was a rule she’d taught me: “Never let them see your weakness.” But now her face was tight with it, her lips pressed into a thin line.

  I put a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll go look. Stay here or go back to Reece.”

  It wasn’t as easy in the dark, but carefully, I stepped forward out into the field where the moon shone on the trap. I stalked closer and closer, expecting something, anything, to be in there. Nothing moved, and my heart sank.

  My stomach growled again, and kneeling down in the wet, I reset the trap, then moved back to both of them even slower.

  Reece sat on Mom’s knee, and he was asleep. It was always easier for him to sleep than for me. Sweat beaded on her forehead. “Mom?” I questioned, “Are you okay?”

  She frowned. “Let’s get home,” she said and, with a heave, tried to put Reece on her hip. She struggled, and instead he walked beside us

  It was a slow walk home, each of us beyond exhausted. Even though it wasn’t far, it was much slower than usual.

  I kept glancing over at Mom, but her face was just pale, stoic. She put this brave face on, but I knew the truth: Mom cried herself to sleep every night. In her dreams or nightmares, she called out for my dad, just like I did.

  ***

  Mom settled Reece down in his bed and then turned to me. Her face was pale, sweating. It wasn’t that warm out. She looked like she’d run a marathon instead of walking home.

  “What’s wrong, Mom?” I asked.

  She glanced at me, shook her head, and indicated the door. My worst fears were coming true… I knew it. My stomach twisted in knots. If my stomach hadn’t been empty, I’d be heaving with nerves.

  I followed her out and into the living room, where she eased herself down in one prolonged, painful movement to the sunken thing we called a couch. “I went out towards the city last weekend,” she said. “While you both slept.”

  “Ten days ago? And you’re only telling me now?” The words came out sharper than I intended. I wasn’t a kid anymore who needed to be shielded from the truth.

  So, ten days ago? And she was only telling me this now? I wanted to scold her, tell her off like she always did to Reece and me, but she reached down, hefted her leg up, and onto a small stool before her. Then, carefully, she pulled her trouser leg up and moved to take off her boot. Blood soaked through a makeshift bandage, and all anger faded away in an instant.

  My words caught in my throat. “Mom?”

  “Someone had set a trap, and I wasn’t paying attention. After what happened last time I was out there, I should have known, but I thought they’d moved on.” She pulled the stool even closer. “Get some hot water, and the med kit.”

  One thing we had plenty of around here was water, not so much food anymore, but water, yep.

  I poured water into a pan and got the small fire going to boil it in the kitchen. We’d no gas either now, but the stove was an easy convert to wood.

  The water boiled, and I took the hot water and clean cloth into her. She, too, was asleep.

  I edged in closer. Her chest rose and then went down slowly. But she looked… sick. There were just no other words for it. Her skin was clammy and pale, and her cheeks flushed. I’d only known her to get this sick once before, after we all did. I’d looked after her then, just like I’d look after her now.

  Staring at her tired face now, I realized how much responsibility was falling on my shoulders. I wasn’t just her daughter anymore - I was becoming the caretaker. I had to step up, be strong.

  Then I sank to my knees and wept. I wasn’t old enough. Barely 17. I wasn’t hitting puberty either, no matter how much I prayed.

  While Dad had been around, we had eaten fairly well, now though, the weight and muscle had been falling from us all.

  She was just stubborn, stuck in this cycle of wanting to help us, but then terrified of going outside the Valley.

  The fact she’d been hurt again, on her only second major outing… no wonder she was scared. That fact alone, that people out there were bent on hurting others.

  I picked her hand up in mine, felt the sticky of it. “I need you, Mom. Don’t leave us, please.”

  The thought of being alone, truly alone with just Reece to care for - it terrified me more than any monster we’d encountered. I couldn’t do this by myself. I wasn’t ready.

  I hadn’t thought much of that night since, not properly, the voice that had spoken to me.

  “Are you there?” I asked into the night. “If you’re there, I’m asking you to help my mom like you helped my dad.”

  There was no reply.

  “Please,” I begged.

  The room seemed to shimmer darkness, if that were even possible.

  But there was nothing but the crackle of wood on fire that echoed back at me.

  I tried to rouse her to get her to drink, but she didn’t wake at all. I pulled the rest of her trouser pants off as gently as I could. It was more than a little stuck.

  I was the one that cursed, and then, under my breath, gods forbid she caught me swearing—the smell. It was the unmistakable, nauseating blend of rancid meat and overripe fruit, a sickly-sweet odor compounded with the acrid tang of infection.

  The sharp, metallic hint of blood punctuated this vile aroma. I’d never… My stomach roiled and churned, revolting against the ghastly smell, even though it had been empty for hours.

  I’d smelled death before - in animals we’d trapped that had been left too long, in the remains we’d sometimes find in abandoned places. But this was my mother’s flesh. The sight made me dizzy with panic.

  Despite my lack of medical expertise, the signs were glaringly obvious even above the bandages; her flesh was decomposing, a gruesome transformation marked by the festering grey-green edges. Anguish and frustration surged within me. Why hadn’t she said anything?

  While the water cooled off a little, I left her and went to our only medical cupboard. She’d asked for our med-kit, but we didn’t have anything I could think of that would help. I leaned on the wall, resting my head against its icy surface. The last of Dad’s pills were in here. “Mom, I can’t do this without you,” I cried, then banged my head against the wall gently. “I can’t. I. Can’t.”

  When I opened the cupboard, we’d had painkillers, but there was nothing here now. It was empty. She’d been hiding this a lot longer than a few days. Maybe a week or more.

  She’d been suffering silently, putting on a brave face while her leg rotted. Had she used the last of the medicine on Reece and me when we’d had fevers last month? Of course she had. That was Mom - always putting us first, even when it might kill her.

  Gods why?

  How had I not noticed?

  Too preoccupied?

  Too jealous of my brother?

  No. Just too damn hungry.

  We all were.

  I took out the last of the bandages, and I pulled out the rest of the kit. We were down to a few plasters and tape too, then I went back to her, my heart heavy.

  With the basin of cooling water and a damp cloth, I gently soaked the bandage wrapped snugly around her leg. The fabric, once white, was now stained and discolored, clinging stubbornly to her skin. With deliberate, slow movements, I began to unravel the bandage, revealing the wound beneath.

  It was a harrowing sight, the worst I’d ever seen – the skin was inflamed and discolored, with patches of necrotic tissue marring the surface. Despite the grim appearance, I approached the task with a sense of care and love. I carefully cleaned the wound, using fresh water to wash away any debris and signs of infection. Mom never even flinched. That worried me more than anything. It must have hurt… hurt a lot more than she let on. I patted the area dry with utmost gentleness, ensuring that it would not aggravate her pain.

  Finally, with fresh bandages, I re-wrapped the wound, trying to secure it enough to protect and support it, yet not so tight as to cause discomfort. The entire process was a delicate balance of meticulous care and heartfelt compassion.

  Dad had shown me how to dress wounds before, on animals we’d caught that had thrashed and cut themselves. “Always clean first,” he’d say. “Infection is what kills, not the initial injury.” I tried to channel his calm, practiced movements now, though my hands trembled with fear.

  Mom never came around. She just slept.

  I stood. The cold at night would get to all of us, and we needed a fire lit.

  I knew what and where everything was, and while we’d been out here, my mom had taught me everything she knew.

  The rest of the chores took me about an hour. When mom called for me. I rushed back to her side. “Cerys,” she said, her eyes drifted, glazed with pain. “There are notes and more in my diary in the left drawer of your dad’s desk. Please…” she grabbed for me, pulling me close to her. “Please,” she said. “Look after Reece. Never leave him.”

  “Mom,” tears burned my eyes, “I won’t, I swear. I won’t.”

  “We should have left the valley,” she said, words tumbling out. “We should have let you see what the world had become. We didn’t. We didn’t want that life out there for you. We thought we could keep you safe—”

  “Don’t talk like that,” I told her firmly, fighting to keep my voice steady. “You’re going to be fine. We’ll leave together when you’re better. All three of us.”

  “I don’t know what you’re saying,” I said, and I tucked into the blanket, keeping her warm.

  “Puberty, the system, it all… it all comes for you then.”

  I wrapped my arm around her as best I could. I held on for all I was worth, wishing, hoping.

  Mom babbled on a bit more about this system, that nothing would be the same when it came for us. “Alfie tried everything,” she said.

  I sat up. “Dad?”

  “Your father tried everything; he was strong, so strong, but he wasn’t strong enough.”

  I tried my best to coax more words out of her, but she drifted in and out. “My diary, never lose it. Promise me—Alfie’s brave girl.”

  Brave….

  Mom stopped talking altogether, and no matter how much I tried, there was nothing left of her to give.

  At some point, I fell asleep myself, listening to her labored breathing. I could still hear her when I woke, but her breathing was slower. Her fever was higher. “Mom?” I tried to wake her, but I couldn’t. I was losing her.

  “Don’t you dare,” I whispered fiercely, pressing a cool cloth to her forehead. “Don’t you dare leave us here alone.” But even as I said it, I knew. Just like with Dad, there was a moment when you could feel death approaching, hovering nearby, patient and inevitable.

  I had to get up. I had to start the daily harvest without searching for the last of the dying berries. We’d have even less to eat, even less to survive. We needed more wood, too… we just needed more of everything.

  Carefully, I slid my arm out and moved, getting a glass of fresh water. I tried to get her to sit up to drink. But she wasn’t able to, drifting in and out of consciousness. So, instead, I got a spoon and carefully let some trickle in, making sure she didn’t choke on it.

  I knew what I was doing. It just wasn’t enough.