Chapter Text
Gunfire rouses Sarah Miller from her sleep late on a Wednesday night. As her eyes flutter open, she can't tell if the gunfire is real or merely a remnant of her dreams. A second later, though, another round of gunshots confirms they are very real and nearby.
Her heart begins to race, and the scar across her lower abdomen begins to pulse. Her instinct is to run into the living room and wake her dad; he'll be able to tell if they are in danger and know what to do if they are. Then she remembers, though, that he's not there. She's home alone with Ellie tonight. If anything goes down, it's on Sarah to keep her sister safe. She sits up quickly, trying to decide if she should grab one of the handguns from her dad's stash under the living room floorboard. She hasn't shot a gun in years, not since they arrived in the Boston QZ, but she'll figure it out if she has to, she always does.
Sarah hears gunfire again, different this time, louder, more chaotic, not like typical gunfire in the QZ when FEDRA quickly and efficiently takes out anyone stepping too far out of line. This gunfire is mixed with screaming and a voice that sounds like her dad's begging for help. Help. No one will help her tonight; she has to keep Ellie safe. She can't let Ellie carry scars like Sarah's.
In one frantic heartbeat, Sarah scrambles out the door and into the living room, where she stumbles in the dark to remember which floorboard has the guns stored under it. She finally finds the right one and grabs the first one she sees. Shit, it's empty; her dad never keeps them loaded when he's not home. Too afraid of Ellie finding them and hurting herself. Sarah stares at the various boxes of ammo, trying to remember which bullets go with which, kicking herself for not paying more attention to the times her dad has explained it to her. At that moment, her brain starts to slow down. She realizes that the shooting outside has stopped—it stopped a while ago. The night is once again quiet. The only sounds now are a dog barking a few streets over and Andrea upstairs, walking her baby back and forth across the floor.
Sarah shoves the guns and box of ammo back under the floorboard, trying to make it look just like she found it, and goes back to bed, slipping in next to a thankfully still-sleeping Ellie.
Her face burns in the dark, ashamed that she let a few gunshots send her back there, back to that night.
It's stupid, she's stupid; she should be used to the sound, a common one in the QZ. They've lived here for fourteen years, longer than she lived in their house in Austin. They moved to that house when she was seven. They've lived here almost as long as she was alive before the night her seemingly perfect world went ended.
Sarah tries not to think about that night very often, that awful fucking night. It helps that she has relatively few memories left. She remembers everything up to the car flipping over and her ankle getting broken. She remembers her dad picking her up and telling her to look at him, just at him, and the look of panic on his face like she had never seen. Her dad always masked his emotions well and still does, but not that night. She remembers them running through a field. It goes dark after that, and there are no more memories except for the sounds; her dad's guttural scream, his desperate pleas for Uncle Tommy, and his begging for Sarah to hold on.
"C'mon baby, just hold on, baby. I know, baby." It's the soundtrack of her worst nightmares.
Sarah doesn't remember the feeling of having a hole shot in her stomach and doesn't remember crying out in pain. She doesn't remember Uncle Tommy wrapping his shirt around her, and she doesn't remember being put in a stolen truck as they searched for help. They found it at a new clinic, set to open Monday in one of the small Austin suburbs. Her dad and Uncle Tommy built it, had finished it a week earlier, and knew it was fully stocked. They didn't know one of the doctors would be there, grabbing materials to go out and help. That was just luck.
In an exam room meant for diagnosing ear infections and the flu, a pediatrician managed to remove her spleen, stitch her up, transfuse her with blood from Uncle Tommy, and start her on intravenous antibiotics before he turned. She has only fuzzy, dreamlike memories of the days after that, barricaded in that room with her dad and Uncle Tommy. Sarah jams her hands into her eyes, shaking her head like she can force the memory to fall out of her brain.
Like many nights when Sarah struggles to keep the memories away, the presence of her little sister asleep next to her helps pull her back. The sound of Ellie's deep, even breathing and the feel of her head under Sarah's hand anchors her in the moment. She moves a few whisps of Ellie's auburn hair that have slipped from the braid they put it in each night off her face and runs a finger gently over her soft cheeks, still round and baby soft. Ellie wrinkles her nose for a second at the touch, and Sarah can almost hear her sister's voice, "I'm ten years old, Sarah. I'm not a baby."
"I know," Sarah whispers softly, "you're all grown up." Sarah takes her hand away, and after a second, Ellie settles again, tucking one little hand against her chest.
Sarah marvels at her little sister's ability to sleep through just about anything. It's something she's noticed with many of the babies she's watched in their building over the years. She likes to think it's a superpower granted to those born after the end of the world. Yes, you're being born after the end of the world, under a military dictatorship with limited food and medicine. There is a high chance you will not make it to your first birthday. But you can sleep through anything.
Sarah's pretty sure the last full night of sleep she had when she wasn't sedated was September 25, 2013. She knows it was the last night her dad got a decent night's sleep, or really, any sleep.
Familiar clicks and thumps of the six locks on their front door pull Sarah from her thoughts. Relief pours through her as she once again gets out of bed as quietly as possible; their dad is home.
She hadn't seen him since the day before yesterday when she left to watch the Norman baby two floors up while his mom, Jenny, took a street cleaning shift. He'd left soon after with Tess to finish some trades with items they brought back after their last trip outside the wall.
Her dad ensures that all business is done as far away from Sarah and Ellie as possible. He usually stays away an extra night or two in case someone tries to follow him, usually at Tess's place or one of the bolt holes they have in various parts of the QZ. Sarah has never seen or even knows where any of these places are; her dad keeps that all private. "Plausible deniability," he says whenever Sarah tries to press him for details.
Sarah slips out into the living room, dark except for the light from a flickering streetlight. She pulls a flannel over the long-sleeved t-shirt she sleeps in and still feels chilled. Fourteen years in Boston, and she's still not used to fall and the cool weather it brings. In Texas, "fall" was code for summer part two. She complained about the heat and lack of winter growing up, but now, what she wouldn't give for warm evenings on their back porch, sipping sun tea that Mrs. Adler would make, sweetened until it tasted like liquid candy, and watching fireflies flicker across the yard.
"Thin-skinned southerners," Tess always jokes to Sarah and her dad when they wear layers in April despite being it being a “balmy" 60 degrees outside.
"Hey, baby," her dad greets her as he sets his pack on the small table, "Did I wake you?"
"I heard gunfire," Sarah says, not sure why. She's still feeling off from her abrupt wake-up. "Was that you?"
"No," he assures her, "Some drunk out past curfew, arguing with a FEDRA soldier couple streets over. I came through the back entrance, off the alley."
Sarah nods and realizes her dad can't see her, "Uh-okay. Good."
"Are you okay?" he asks, voice laced with concern. "Ellie, okay?"
"Yeah. Sorry. Ellie's fine, fell asleep early while we were reading Harry Potter. She slept through the gunshots, of course."
"Cordyceps kids," her dad huffs.
Finally tired of talking to just the dark outline of her father, Sarah flips on a small lamp. The bulb isn't terribly bright, but it still takes them both a second to adjust to the light.
"Are you okay?"
"Jesus Christ, man."
"Baby, are you okay?" Her dad asks again, "You're pale and sweaty. Do you have a fever?" He reaches out and presses his hands to her forehead and then her cheeks. "Have you taken something? Fuck. I should have come back yesterday."
Sarah frees herself from the thermometer hands as Ellie calls them and steps back. "I'm fine, I just had a bad dream, but it's fine." He drops his hand, still looking unconvinced. "You," Sarah continues, "look like you survived an MMA fight. What the fuck?"
Her dad is currently sporting multiple bruises around his eyes and nose, along with a cut on his cheek and split lip. He's clenching his right hand, which is also bloodied and bruised. Sarah also notices that his worn denim shirt has at least one new tear that she can see and a few new blood stains. At least she knows what she'll be doing tomorrow.
"I'm alright," he promises, and before Sarah can point out all the evidence to the contrary, he adds, "You should see the other guy."
In response, Sarah simply walks to the kitchen to retrieve the first aid kit from under the sink.
"Really, it's nothing," her dad repeats. "Hey," he tries again, squeezing her shoulder when she returns, "I'm fine."
"I know," Sarah says, setting the small toolbox they keep well stocked with first aid supplies on the table. She pulls out hydrogen peroxide, a soft cloth to clean the wounds, and bandages in several sizes.
"I'm going to shower first, and I'll see what needs to be taken care of when I'm done." He grabs the first aid products and heads for the bathroom, "Go back to bed, honey, I'm sorry for waking you."
Sarah doesn't respond and doesn't go back to bed. She knows that her dad thinks she's angry with him when he comes home like this, covered in bruises and obvious signs of the work he does when he's not picking up extra FEDRA jobs to keep them in food and clothing. Sarah's not ashamed, just guilty. She's the reason he started smuggling.
Removing her spleen saved her life, but it left her much more susceptible to illness and infection. She needs to keep antibiotics on her at almost all times; even relatively mild illnesses are more serious for her, even fatal. It was worse the first few years; she caught everything, and it made their trek east take even longer. Her dad, Uncle, Tommy, and later Tess would raid any medical facility they could find as she kept getting sick.
They thought it would be better in the QZ; FEDRA had started producing their own medication again and kept themselves well stocked. However, they keep tight control over that medication and only give it out when patients are in dire need. Her dad tried explaining that Sarah had lowered immunity and needed to be put on antibiotics anytime she had a fever of 100 degrees, but they didn't care; she'd have the same ration as everyone else. Her dad is stubborn, though, and didn't find a way to save his daughter on outbreak night only to have her die due to a preventable infection, so he started working on other ways of getting her what she needed. This led to the smuggling ring (empire, business?) he and Tess have now, which has grown to more than just meds, even though that's always the primary concern.
Sarah's system seems to have settled in the last few years, and she gets sick far less than she used to. She still battles bouts of fatigue and body aches; some days, she wakes up just not feeling well. Those days don't require anything except an occasional pain reliever, some hot tea and rest. She's told her dad he can slow down; they have a good stockpile, but he refuses. He's come too close to losing her over the years, and he's not taking any chances. Now, it wouldn't just be him losing her; Ellie would lose her as well.
Sarah hears the shower turn on and realizes her dad probably hasn't eaten much today, just whatever jerky he'd stashed in his pack. She sets to work, pulling out the soup she'd set aside and warming it on the stove. While the soup is warming up, Sarah takes out a tin of a homemade tea blend she'd made from herbs in her little fire escape garden.
Sarah refused to leave the apartment the first year they were in Boston and spent most days sleeping or staring out the window. Uncle Tommy found a box of books in the building's basement one day and brought them up to her. It was a mix of novels, biographies, self-help books, textbooks, and some how-to books. With nothing else to do, Sarah started reading them, and the how-to books started giving her ideas of ways to make their lives a little better.
Paint was hard to come by, and her dad and Uncle Tommy could fix most things, but Sarah was able to learn a little sewing and managed to start a small garden. A year or so later, Tess and her dad started working with Bill and Frank. Tess told them about Sarah and her garden, and Frank began sending seeds for her to plant and long notes on best growing practices. Later, they'd talk on the radio, and he gave her tips on using her herbs and altering recipes to work with her limited food source. Now, besides herbs on the fire escape, she has a little spot on the roof where she grows a small number of vegetables each summer and then cans or freezes them for winter. When she has a good crop, she'll sell or trade with others in the building.
Tonight, she fills two small sachets made from old pantyhose with a lavender chamomile blend and boils a kettle of water. They have a little bread left from this month's allotment, but she wants to save it, so she pulls out crackers to go with the soup.
Sarah puts everything on the table when her dad emerges from the bathroom, clean and bandaged in a pair of sweatpants and a clean flannel. "You didn't have to do this," he sighs, kissing the top of her head before he drops into one of the mismatched chairs around their table. He looks better than he did, but clearing away the dried blood and dirt makes the exhaustion that lines his face more evident.
"I don't mind," Sarah assures him, settling across from him and sipping her tea. It's not as good as the real thing, but it helps cut through the chill, and she feels her muscles relax as the lavender-chamomile mix flows through her. "You go out and get bloody and bruised, and I make dinner," she shrugs, "Teamwork."
"Well, you're the MVP of this team," her dad winks at her, "always have been."
Sarah waves her hand and sips tea, "Eat your soup, old man."
He chuckles and drains the bowl of soup quickly. Sarah starts to get up and look for something else for him, wishing she hadn't used so much of this month's allotment to freeze for the winter, but he just waves to her to sit down and begins sipping his tea. He reaches into his bag and digs around for a minute before pulling out two small baggies, which he hands to Sarah.
"More antibiotics and some Tylenol. It's expired, but not by much. Tess said it looks like the extra strength stuff, so keep that for when you get one of your headaches."
"Thank you," Sarah whispers, tucking them into her pocket. She'll put them in a drawer tonight and then in their spot under a floorboard in the bedroom tomorrow morning once Ellie is at school.
"Weren't just meds I also got my hands on…" her dad's voice trails off as he pulls out a small bottle.
Sarah lights up, "Oh my gosh, nail polish that isn't…" she shakes the bottle, thwacks it against the palm of her hand, and then opens it slowly. She pulls out the brush, marveling at the pale blue liquid, a little thicker than it should be, but she can take care of that. "It isn't all dried up," she marvels. Sarah closes her eyes and lets that nail polish smell take her back to evenings, painting her nails at the coffee table while the TV plays in the background. Afternoons with her friends at the nail salon, usually right before school started or around someone's birthday. She takes another deep breath and sighs happily; God, she misses that smell.
"Don't go huffing that stuff," her dad grumbles. "Kill your damn brain cells."
Sarah groans but puts the lid back on and rolls it between her palms, almost like a muscle memory. "Nail polish fumes are far from my biggest concern now," she jokes. "How did you even get this?"
"I sell drugs," her dad says seriously, "Hard core drugs."
Sarah bursts out laughing, even as she tries to quiet herself to avoid waking Ellie through the paper-thin walls. Ellie can sleep through gunshots, but little sister FOMO is much louder: "You're so lame."
"Yeah, I know." Her dad ducks his head and takes a sip of the tea.
"Seriously," Sarah continues, still laughing, "sixteen years and the end of the world, and you're still so lame."
"I guess I'm committed to it now," her dad says, sitting back, a smile on his face. For just a moment, it's like they're back in their house in Austin, eating takeout and watching movies on a Friday night. Her dad never looks fully relaxed now. Even when he's settled on the couch, with Ellie tucked against him, or sipping coffee and asking Sarah about her day, there's a lingering tension around him. His body is always ready to jump into action and defend his family if needed. The fear of knowing how fast everything he loves can be taken from him.
"Sarah," a small, sleepy voice makes her jump. "Where did you—Dad?" Ellie, apparently not able to sleep through her family hanging out without her, pushes past Sarah and rushes to their dad.
"There's my baby girl," he says, pulling Ellie in his lap, tucking her against his chest, under his chin. She still fits even after a recent, albeit small, growth spurt. "I'm sorry if we woke you."
"I missed you," she sniffs, burrowing deeper against him. "I haven't seen you in so many days."
"I saw you the day before yesterday," their dad chuckles, rubbing her back. "Remember? I dropped you off at school?"
"It feels longer," Ellie whines.
"I'm sorry," her dad says, rocking her a little, "I got hung up, and it took me a while to get back."
Sarah starts clearing the table. She'll give Ellie ten minutes before she shoos her back to bed, enough time for Ellie to get some good dad cuddles. She deserves all the cuddles she can get; Dad does as well.
Their dad worries that he's not the same parent for Ellie that he was for Sarah, and he's not.
He was 21 when Sarah was born and 41 when Ellie was born. He may have been young and inexperienced when Sarah was born, but twenty years, the end of the world, and six years of surviving the brutality of a post-apocalyptic world had left more than physical scars on him by the time Ellie was born.
He's more serious, more hyperaware of dangers, more protective, slower to laugh, and a little slower overall, but he loves them just as fiercely and shows it however he can.
When he's out in the QZ or out of the walls, he's big bad Joel Miller. Just his name makes more than a few people in the QZ shake, several of them FEDRA soldiers. When he walks into their apartment, though, he sheds that persona like a second skin, and he's just their dad.
He freely hands out hugs and cuddles, calls them baby and baby girl, sings his favorite old country songs, and listens patiently to anything his girls want to tell him, whether Ellie's telling a ridiculous joke or Sarah's listing everything that has stopped working as soon as he enters the house. He tells them I love you whenever he has the chance. He says it like someone who once thought he'd never get to say it again and now can't stop saying it. He tells them over and over like he's running out of time. He tells Sarah how much he appreciates her every day when he comes in to dinner made and Ellie's homework done. He doesn't take one moment with his family for granted. He's still wrapped tightly around two little fingers.
So, no, he's not the same parent now that he was before; it's possible he's better.
"I missed you," Ellie grumps again, laying her head on their dad's shoulder.
"I missed you too, both of you," their dad murmurs, and Sarah can hear the guilt in his voice. "I thought about you lots…I even brought you something,"
Sarah glances over and can't hide a smile at how fast Ellie's head pops up. Her parental guilt trip is quickly forgotten when a present is dangled before her.
"What did you bring me?" She makes grabby hands at their dad, giggling when he pretends to eat one of her fingers.
"Well, let's see," their dad says. He reaches into his pack, digs around awkwardly with his one free hand, and pulls out a comic book. It's a little battered, and the cover is wrinkled but in one piece.
"A Savage Starlight comic," Ellie squeaks in excitement, "thank you, Dad!"
"You're welcome," their dad chuckles, kissing the side of her head, "I don't remember seeing this one before, so hopefully you haven't read it."
"Can we read it now?" Ellie's already flipping through the book, and Sarah holds her breath, waiting to see if she will have to step in and be the bad guy. It's after midnight, and Sarah's the one who will have to get her up in the morning—a difficult task when she hasn't been awake at midnight.
"Sorry, kiddo, you need to get back to bed, and I still have work to do before I can sleep." Sarah knows that he needs to clean his guns and get them back in their place. He probably has some product to get put away as well. He doesn't like doing that in front of Ellie and tries to keep her as far away from that part of him as possible.Ellie's face falls, "but tomorrow night," he says quickly, never wanting to disappoint one of his girls, "we'll read this together."
"Promise?" Ellie sticks out her pinkie.
"Promise, " he confirms, linking his pinkie with hers. He stands up a little awkwardly, making Sarah suspect there are some bruised ribs as well, but recovers quickly, bouncing Ellie in his arms to make her laugh. "Back to bed for you, kiddo. You have school tomorrow." Ellie whines but allows herself to be settled back in bed, but not before talking herself into some stories about before.
Sarah lies down next to her, listening to her dad tell the story of when Uncle Tommy was ten and tried to catch a squirrel to keep as a pet. She's heard this story before and lets her dad's deep, quiet voice lull her into a dreamless sleep.
As expected, Ellie is a nightmare to drag out of bed for school the next morning. "I don't want to go to school," she whines, pulling the faded quilt back over her head and cuddling her favorite stuffed animal, a teddy bear named Austin, closer to her. "Why can't I stay home with you?"
Sarah sighs, pulls the quilt off the ten-year-old doing her best roly-poly impression, and narrowly dodges a teddy bear flung at her head. "Last time you stayed home with me, you called me the most boring person ever."
Sarah keeps her tone light, but Ellie had hurt her feelings with the most boring person ever comment. Logically, she knows that Ellie wasn't being malicious; she was just a kid complaining. Still, it's nagged at Sarah for the last few months, poked at her insecurities over the smallness of her existence.
Ellie doesn't respond, just growls and Sarah leans her head back and takes a deep breath. She's tempted to march into the living room, wake their sleeping father and tell him to deal with his damn kid, but she doesn't. They're a team; he's battered and bruised, partly from getting medicine for her, the least she can do is get a ten-year-old out of bed.
"C'mon, Ellie. I'm not playing anymore. You can't be late." Ellie responds with a half-whine, half-sob and lobs a pillow at Sarah. Suddenly, bands of brutal raiders or hordes of infected don't seem so bad.
Sarah rolls her eyes and debates her options. She could threaten to wake their dad and let Ellie think she's going to have to deal with an angry dad, but she doubts it would do any good. Well-executed puppy dog eyes and a wobbly "Please, Daddy?" would have him folding immediately, especially after he's been gone for two days. Ellie knows this; she's probably hoping their dad gets involved.
"FEDRA schools are crap," he always grumbles, "she'd be better off at home. You could teach her." Sarah shuts that down quickly; FEDRA schools are crap, but Ellie can read and do basic math, and last month, she came home talking about flora and fauna native to Massachusetts, so obviously, it's good for something. As someone who only had a chance to get through the first month of 9th grade, Sarah wants her sister to have the opportunity to learn as much as she can, even if it's from FEDRA.
"I'm going to the market after I drop you off," Sarah says slowly, "I can get you something special if you go to school…" It's a flat-out bribe and not a good one, but she's getting desperate.
"Like what?" Ellie mumbles, lifting her head just slightly and cocking one eye open.
"Uh, well," Sarah thinks furiously. The markets aren't always consistent, and you never really know what you will find or not find. "I'll try and find you a toy …or new patches for your backpack? I don't know what will be there," Sarah admits, "but I will bring you something if you get moving. Now."
Elie doesn't look particularly impressed, but after a gusty sigh, she crawls out of bed and picks up her clothes from the dresser. "Can I have some privacy?" Ellie huffs. "Or are you going to dress me too?"
Sarah resists the urge to roll her eyes. Was she this sassy at ten? Probably. "Five minutes," Sarah tells her sternly, opening the bedroom door. "If you're not at the table to eat in five minutes, I will dress you for the rest of the week." Ellie pulls a face but nods. "Dad's still sleeping, so make sure you're quiet," Sarah warns her before closing the bedroom door.
Four and a half minutes later, Ellie is sitting at the kitchen table, poking at the bowl of oatmeal Sarah set out for her and flipping through her new comic book while their dad sleeps quietly across the room on his mattress.
Sarah sips a cup of tea and quietly prepares to leave for the morning. She pulls a stack of ration cards out of the coffee tin where they keep them and slips them into her small wallet. The wallet, water bottle, and scarf are placed in a canvas tote bag.
Then, after double-checking that her dad is still sleeping, Sarah mouths a stern but silent "finish eating" to Ellie and slips back into the bedroom. She pulls a small key out of her drawer, kneels, and pries open the loose floorboard under their dresser. Jammed in the small crevice is a lock box containing Sarah's medications. She quickly unlocks it and pulls out a small pill container of low-value pain pills, some extra strength ibuprofen. She counts out 7 and slips them into her wallet between the ration cards.
One glance at the digital clock on the nightstand gets her up and moving quickly; she grabs a hairbrush and hairband and heads back to the main room. She gets Ellie's hair brushed and in a ponytail in record time and sends her off to brush her teeth while clearing the table and setting up the kettle for her dad to make coffee when he wakes up.
"You comin' straight back?"
The sudden gravel-sounding voice should startle Sarah, but she just chuckles softly. "I knew you were faking it," she teases, tucking a water bottle into Ellie's backpack. Her dad sits up on his mattress and rubs his face, still lined from the pillow, his hair sticking up around him.
"If Ellie knew I was awake, it would slow her down."
"Thank you," Sarah tells him, enjoying the final sip of tea and going to drop the mug in the sink. He's not wrong. If Ellie had seen him up, they'd either be running even later, or Ellie would have talked him into letting her stay with him.
"Are you coming straight back?" he asks again, and Sarah resists the urge to argue that she's a grown woman who can manage her own day but refrains. "
No. The clothes market is open today, and I want to get there as soon as it opens. Kids' warm-weather clothes will get picked over fast, and I don't want to spend a night pulling plastic jewels off a pair of jeans again."
Her dad laughs softly at the memory of Sarah spending most of one night prying pink and purple jewels off a pair of jeans that were otherwise perfect for her sister. Not only had it been frustrating as hell, but it had also been an affront to her once great bedazzling skills.
"Fair enough, you grab the ration cards?"
"Got them in my bag."
"Okay, let me know after how much you use”
"Dad, you're awake." Ellie races across the room and flings herself on the mattress, butting her head against their dad's shoulder. He pretends she knocked him over and then wraps her in a hug and pulls her against him. Oh, great. She's back in bed. He should have pretended to be asleep longer.
"Are you taking me to school? Can I stay here with you today?" Her lower lip suddenly puffs out a little, and her brown eyes get just a hint bigger. "I missed you."
Sarah needs to stop this potential day derailment now. "Nope, you're going to school," she says, ignoring Ellie's pitiful but highly staged whine. Besides, Dad needs to sleep more," she snaps her fingers twice. "Hugs, and then we need to leave."
"You heard the boss," Dad says into the side of Ellie's head as he stands, scooping Ellie up in his arms, peppering the side of her face with kisses that make Ellie scrunch her face up with giggles and then depositing her next to Sarah. "Thank you," he tells her quietly, kissing the top of her head. Sarah nods, leaning her head against his shoulder for a second.
"So, you're picking me up after school?" Ellie tries again.
"What am I, chopped liver?" Sarah pretends to be offended, but Ellie sees right through her.
"Sarah, you've picked me up every day this week; we need a change."
"Alright," her dad says, his mouth twitching in a smile. "I will pick you up this afternoon. We can't have you falling into a rut. But you need to go now with your sister and not be a pain."
"Fine," Ellie sighs, spinning on her heel to open the door, "but I don't see why I have to go to school. It's fucking stupid."
"Hey," Sarah and their dad exclaim in unison. Ellie's vocabulary has become very colorful in the last year. They've been trying to curb it, mostly so she doesn't mouth off to the wrong person. She did a couple times when she was younger, but even FEDRA soldiers just laugh when tiny five-year demands they move their stupid butts out of her way. Sarah's not sure at what age they stop finding that amusing, and she doesn't want to find out.
"What?" Ellie dramatically throws her hands out in front of him. "That's what Dad says, and it's run by a bunch of drunk Aggies. Whatever that means." Sarah nearly chokes on the water she's sipping.
"I stand by that," her dad mutters, "but," he says louder, "that doesn't mean you can repeat it, at least not outside of this room. Capiche?"
"What about the bathroom? Can I say it in the bathroom?" Ellie asks with a shit eating, gotcha look on her face.
That's it; we're leaving,” Sarah says, placing her hand on her sister's head and guiding her out the door.
"I love you both," their dad calls, "so much."
"Love you too," they call in unison.
"I'll see you in a few hours," Sarah adds, "get some sleep; you look like shit."
"Hey," Ellie squawks in offense, "how come you can say shit? You said shit, but I can't say fuck? That's not fair. Sarah."
"Perks of being a grown-up," Sarah says, reaching for the handle to the stairway door but getting hit by the door opening instead.
"Excuse me," a quiet, controlled voice says, "Oh—oh, Sarah. I'm sorry."
Sarah blinks a couple of times, trying to get her bearings, before recognizing the brunette standing before her. "Tess. Sorry, I wasn't paying attention…"
"My fault, I didn't look. On your way to school?"
"Yeah, dropping Ellie at school and heading to the market."
"Your dad…" Tess tilts her head toward their door.
"He's awake," Sarah confirms. I'm hoping he sleeps a little more. He still looks rough from…work but was just awake."
"Thanks." Tess gives Ellie a small smile and runs her hand over the top of her head before heading towards their door.
"I'll be gone for a couple hours…so...do... whatever…" Sarah trails off at Tess's confused look and shrugs, turning to hustle Ellie downstairs. Sarah may be a sheltered 30-year-old with limited experience in the romance department, but she's not an idiot. She knows her dad and Tess are more than business partners, even if she doesn't have hard proof, and they would never admit it. Not surprisingly, he was the same way with Anna. Sarah knew they had to be more than friends but had absolutely no proof until Anna announced she was pregnant with her dad's baby. It's led Sarah to reexamine his love life for the first fourteen years of her life. She only remembers him hanging out with her or Uncle Tommy, but now she wonders what or who he was doing while Sarah was at school or hanging out with friends.
Sarah figures she'll meander through the market a little longer today, giving them a chance to work out some stress if needed. It looks like it was a rough couple days.
The walk to the school is only about ten minutes, and Sarah keeps her arm around her sister as they make their way through the crowded streets. The streets are teeming with people starting the day, and Sarah worries about losing Ellie in the chaos. Normally, Ellie enjoys the walk to school, no matter how much she complains about having to go to school. She likes the time outside and spends it pointing out interesting things, peppering Sarah with questions, and telling her new jokes. Today, though, she doesn't whine about having to stick close to Sarah; in fact, she tucks herself a little closer and doesn't say anything as they weave their way through the crowd.
"Tell me a joke," Sarah tells her as they wait for a FEDRA truck to pass.
"I don't know one," Ellie tells her distractedly, staring off until Sarah gently pulls her forward once the street is clear.
"What? You always have a new joke."
Ellie shrugs, "Not today."
"Everything going okay at school?" Sarah asks, tentatively, "Is anyone being…mean to you? Are you staying away from Bethany like I told you to?" Ellie grumbles at the name of her arch nemesis but doesn't reply. "Are you still friends with Riley?" At the name Riley, Ellie's shoulders slump a little. "Is something wrong with Riley? Did you have a fight?"
Ellie has talked about Riley constantly since they moved grades in August, and Ellie's class started having PE with a few of the older classes. Sarah thinks ages 10 to 13 is too wide of an age range for one class, but FEDRA schools make it clear they have no interest in parental input. Sarah knows that Riley's twelve and that she's one of the kids from the orphanage. She likes Savage Starlight as much as Ellie does and seems to have a knack for getting in trouble.
"She hasn't been at school since last week,"
Sarah winces. She once heard a statistic that the childhood mortality rate for kids in the QZ is 50%, which is awful. However, it seems to be even higher in the FEDRA orphanage. Every year Ellie's been in school, multiple classmates, mostly kids from the orphanage, have disappeared and never come back. "Well, maybe she's just sick?" Sarah offers lamely.
"A kid in the gym said she's in the hole," Ellie says flatly, and Sarah's heart sinks. It's well known throughout the QZ that the FEDRA orphanage is more like a prison than a home for children without a place to go.
Sarah tugs her in a little closer, "Oh. Well…I, I hope Riley's back at school soon." Ellie nods and sags her head against Sarah for the last few minutes of their walk.
Sarah walks Ellie up to the school gate; the furthest parents are allowed to go, "Have a good day, baby," Sarah gives her a final squeeze, a little tighter than usual, and presses a quick kiss to the top of her head. "Either Dad or I will be right here when school gets out to pick you up."
Ellie nods and squeezes Sarah back, pressing her face into Sarah's side for the briefest moment before rushing inside as the bell rings. Sarah watches until she sees her ponytail disappear into the crowd of kids.
She says a quick hello to a couple of the other parents and begins making her way over to the market. She walks quickly, keeping her head down, trying to blend in with the crowd and be invisible, just like her dad has taught her since they first arrived. S
he makes it to the market square just as they open, and getting there early pays off. She finds two pairs of jeans in Ellie's size, plain, with no decorations, and a couple of long-sleeved shirts also in Ellie's size. Combined with a couple of sweatshirts and her jacket from last year, which still fit, Ellie should be set for fall. Sarah also finds a good, thick flannel shirt for her dad. He'll fuss about spending ration cards on him, but he needs one; he's hard on his clothes, and Sarah's sewing skills are only so-so.
(It doesn't help that Ellie and Sarah like stealing his flannel shirts to wear when it's cold or when he's gone for multiple days. If Sarah makes it a point to only get the thickest, softest flannels for that purpose, well, she's the one in charge of clothing purchases.)
Her greatest score comes at the shoe stalls. Mr. Clark, her favorite shoe vendor, has put aside a barely worn pair of red Converse in Ellie's size.
"Just for you, Miss Sarah," he whispers as he hands them over. Mr. Clarke is from Louisiana, and when he found out Sarah is from Texas, she became one of his favorites. He always remembers that Ellie likes Converse or something similar and puts aside any he finds that are around her size. He's also good at finding good, sturdy work boots for her dad. Her dad is strict about them becoming too familiar with anyone in the QZ, but Mr. Clarke is a sweet old man, and Sarah keeps any information about herself surface-level.
"Oh, these are perfect. Ellie's going to love them!" She smiles at Mr. Clark, "Thank you so much."
"Anything for you, Ms. Sarah. Now, you bring that sister of yours by someday so I can see her in them."
Sarah promises and pulls out the necessary ration cards, also slipping the baggie of pain relievers between the cards. Mr. Clarke looks surprised and then relieved when he realizes what she's included. She knows that he has arthritis in his hands, and the FEDRA ration of pain reliever rarely lasts him a full month. He gives her a small smile of acknowledgment, and Sarah quickly moves on to the next table.
She's about to leave and then remembers that she promised Ellie a present. Sarah takes a brief look around but comes up short; the clothes market isn't the best place to find something fun for a ten-year-old. She hits the jackpot when she steps back out to the street; a few tables selling miscellaneous items tend to pop up just outside the market entrance; there, Sarah finds Twister, the old party game. A little worn looking but otherwise in good shape. Ellie loves all types of games and has gotten pretty good at them as her reading skills got better. She'll love it. Sarah spends a little more than she should on a get-out-of-bed bribe, but she knows the time it keeps Ellie occupied will be worth it.
Feeling very proud of herself, Sarah wishes she could stop somewhere for a coffee or soda as a reward for a job well done. She still remembers afternoons running errands with her dad, before. After stops at Lowe's and Wal-Mart and before the grocery store, they'd stop at a coffee shop. Her dad would get his afternoon pick-me-up, and Sarah would talk him into a Frappuccino or some other sugary concoction. They'd sit for a few minutes, enjoying their treats.
There are a few "cafes" in the QZ, but they mostly serve alcohol, and the people there mostly make shady deals. Sarah's been with her dad and Tess a few times. It was fine then, fun even, but the one time Sarah tried going alone, she was propositioned twice for various things she had no intention of doing, and she has never gone back alone.
Instead, she walks home a little slower than normal, enjoying the bits of autumn sun that make it through the buildings and web of electrical wiring. It's a nice day despite…everything, and Sarah takes a second to soak it up. She lets herself pretend, for a moment, that she's back in Austin, that she's dropped Ellie at the local elementary school and finished errands at the local strip mall or one of the fancy mixed-purpose developments that had started popping up.
One had opened by their house where the old airport had been. In addition to the restaurants, movie theater, Pilates studios and fancy condos, it had a large park. The weekend before the world ended, Sarah and her dad ate ice cream in that park next to the manmade lake, watching the sun slowly drop from the sky.
The park had a large playscape and splash pad. Ellie would have loved that park.
"Hey, watch it," a soldier says, startling Sarah out of her thoughts. She realizes she'd almost wandered into another FEDRA caravan. They're certainly out and about today.
"Sorry," she mumbles hurrying to the side, away from the soldiers and waits for the street to clear before continuing home.
She finds her dad and Tess talking around the kitchen table, nursing cups of "coffee." They seem a little tense when she walks in, but they smile and chat with her while she makes herself a cup of tea and shows off her findings. As expected, her dad huffs about her getting him a new shirt but nothing for herself, and she assures him she will be borrowing it as needed. He smiles at the red Converse, agreeing they're perfect for Ellie, and laughs when she shows him the Twister game.
"I hope you don't expect me to join in; my body doesn't twist that way anymore."
"Not with that attitude," Sarah tells him cheerfully, "start limbering up."
"Brat," her dad huffs, gently pulling one of her curls as he sets his coffee in the sink.
Sarah shrugs dismissively, "you love me," she scoffs.
"A stupid amount," he agrees as he and Tess head for the door. I'll pick up Ellie and bring her straight home." He gives her a wink as he closes the door behind him. "Enjoy the quiet until then."
Sarah does take a moment to enjoy the peace of the mid-morning, before planning the rest of her day.
Over the years, Sarah has offered to take FEDRA day jobs, but her dad has always preferred that she not. "You take care of Ellie and me and the apartment; that's more than enough. Let me take care of everything else." he always argues.
When she pushes back that Ellie's in school half the day now, he reminds her that she picks up whatever illness is going around much easier now. So, Sarah stays home, takes care of her family, and takes babysitting jobs in the building.
It was Anna who first suggested she offer to babysit for parents in the building while they take FEDRA day jobs. FEDRA has childcare centers, which are fine for older kids but not the first choice for infants and toddlers. There have been several incidents of babies coming home in dirty diapers covered in snot and sometimes mysterious bruises. Parents started looking within their buildings for other options, usually older women or teenage girls. Their building had lost several trusted baby minders to illness, and Sarah had slipped nicely into that role.
She's kept doing it, even after Ellie was born, and it allows her to help provide for her family, even though she charges very little. It's also given her a small sense of community in their building. Not in the same way it was before; people are too guarded now, too fearful of letting anyone close. FEDRA knows how to use people against each other; connections are tenuous at best. However, if you look hard enough, you find that people are still willing to help each other out where they can.
today, though, Sarah doesn't have any jobs, so she'll work through some chores before Ellie gets home and demands entertainment.
Before, Sarah loved a beautiful notebook and colored pens for making to-do lists. Her dad teased her about all the notebooks she had stashed around the house. Now, paper can be hard to come by, and she tends to save whatever her dad finds for Ellie to draw on, so her dad found her a chalkboard to use instead.
She needs to wash the new things she bought at the market and try to get the blood out of the shirt her dad was wearing last night. Then, she needs to take an inventory of toiletries before next week's home goods market. She also needs to water her herb garden and gather some of the basil; it's getting overgrown. One of her flannel shirts needs mending, and she wants to restock her dad's first aid kit, which he takes when he goes outside the wall. It's been several months since he's left the QZ, and she assumes a trip is forthcoming. Frank will need a refill on his meds soon.
Sarah decides to start with the washing so that it will have enough time to dry. When she reaches for the tin of soap they use for washing clothes, her hand brushes against two little suncatchers hanging from the window. Ellie made them for Sarah on her last birthday from some of her drawing paper and some tissue paper scraps she found.
Sarah turned thirty this year. An age that seemed dreadfully old before and after, an age she felt she was unlikely to reach. It felt like both an achievement and extremely anticlimactic.
There was a movie Sarah watched with her friends before about a teenage girl who wants to be thirty. What had she said? Thirty, flirty, and thriving. Sarah snorts, wrings out the final shirt, climbs onto the fire escape, and begins pinning the wet items to the line there. Try thirty, still living with your dad, raising your 10-year-old sister, and, some winters, barely surviving. It doesn't have the same ring.
Sarah was only fourteen when the world ended; she hadn't had much time to plan her life past making the high school varsity girls' soccer team. Beyond that, she hoped to play soccer in college, hopefully at UT, but she was willing to look at other Texas schools, whoever would give her a scholarship, and after that, who knew? Becoming her father's housewife (house daughter?) and parenting partner had never once crossed her mind. Once the clothes are on the line, Sarah grabs some scissors and cuts a few handfuls of basil and then some parsley. She'll use some this week, freeze some for later in the year, and sell the rest to a few other residents in the building.
After a short lunch break and a few minutes to enjoy the novel she's been reading, Sarah sits on the floor of the bathroom, going through toiletries and her dad's first aid kit. She allows herself half a sheet of paper to make notes on what she needs to get next week at the market. They need more bandages; Sarah's going to need to have another talk with Ellie about bandages not being stickers. Her dad also has less gauze than she expected; she doesn't want to think about what he was forced to use it for.
She appreciates how lucky she is to have her family to care for and knows how hard her dad works to take care of them. They're a team, he always says, just like they were before. Now, with a little mascot who keeps morale up.
Sarah thinks about Uncle Tommy, leaving with a group of Fireflies to try and find something more. He and her dad had the worst fight Sarah could remember, including the times her dad bailed Uncle Tommy out of jail. Her dad refused to even say his name for almost a year, but he seems to have softened in recent years, and they talk some on the radio.
Sarah understands why Uncle Tommy left. She's also wondered, from time to time, what might be out there for her. Logically, she knows she wouldn't find universities or fulfilling job opportunities, more like certain death at the hands of infected or hunters. Still, Uncle Tommy seems to have found something like a new home out west. Sometimes, Sarah thinks she might like to go find him and see the West. But not now, not anytime soon. Her dad needs her, Ellie needs her, and it's nice to be needed, to be loved.
She reminds herself of this when she wonders, like Rapunzel did in one of her favorite movies as a kid, when will her life begin?
She's down to her final item: mending her shirt. But her dad will be home soon with Ellie, so Sarah decides to save it for later that night and prepares Ellie a snack. She takes powdered milk and heats it up with some lavender chamomile mix, making a tea latte. It's warm today, so she pours it over ice and sets it on the table with a granola/cereal bar cookie concoction she makes up for snacking and sets the Twister mat on the floor by the table and the mostly intact spinner next to Ellie's plate.
Everyone comes blowing in a few minutes later, Ellie riding piggyback on her dad's back, Tess following behind carrying her backpack. Ellie scrambles off his back when she sees her snack and the new game Sarah had set out next to the table. Sarah explains the rules while Ellie enjoys her snack and promises, Ellie getting more and more excited at the prospect of watching her family topple over. Sarah promises they'll play as soon as she's finished her snack.
Even though their dad smiles while they make their plans and promises to join them in at least one round of Twister, Sarah notices he can't seem to sit still. He gets up pace several times, and at least once, she sees him resting his hand on his chest, something he only does when he's especially anxious. Tess doesn't look much more relaxed, even if she hides it better, and Sarah catches them having an intense conversation with their eyes.
Ellie is still working on her final sip of her latte when Tess speaks up, "Hey, Ellie. Your dad told me he brought you a new Savage Starlight comic book. I used to love reading those. Can we go into your room and look at your collection?" Ellie's eyes round in surprise, and Sarah is sure hers do as well, even though she tries to keep her face neutral.
Sarah doesn't think Tess has ever offered to play or read with Ellie in all these years. She's kind to Ellie, to Sarah as well and it's obvious she cares about them, but she keeps a carefully built wall around herself that they've never managed to get past.
"C'mon," Tess says brightly, holding her hand out, "The last one I read ended with Daniela Starr stuck on an outer moon of Saturn; I've always wondered if she made it off that rock."
Ellie looks to Sarah first and then their dad, who nods encouragingly, "I think I remember that one. Why don't you catch Tess up on her adventures?"
A strange feeling starts creeping into Sarah's gut; none of this is normal. She tightens her hand into a fist and tries to hide it in her lap.
Ellie finally gets out of the chair and follows Tess into the bedroom. Sarah and her dad sit in awkward silence until the bedroom door closes, and they hear Ellie begin explaining one of the storylines to Tess in a serious voice; they call Professor Ellie. Comic books are very serious.
Sarah glances at her dad; his face is tense, and his jaw works furiously.
"What's going on?" Sarah finally asks warily.
"I'm keeping Ellie home from school for a few days."
"What? Why?" Sarah asks in surprise and narrows her eyes, "Are you going to beat up one of her teachers again?"
Her dad scowls, "I never—"
"Right, sorry. Are you going to have Tess beat up one of her teachers?"
"That happened once—twice, and it was deserved both times."
Sarah shrugs; it probably was. FEDRA isn't known for having top-tier teachers trained in childhood development and classroom management. Honestly, her dad only going after two of them is nothing short of a miracle.
Sarah herself sent Tess after one of the teachers last year after Ellie admitted he kept her after class and then made her feel uncomfortable. Ellie wouldn't elaborate, and she didn't have to. Sarah knew that if she told her dad, he'd burn the whole damn school down and end up on the wall, so she faked a story about a couple kids maybe having measles to keep Ellie home and privately asked Tess to do some digging. It was taken care of within the day.
"How long are you keeping her home?" Sarah asks, trying to gauge how worried she should be. She is not reassured by the way her dad hesitates before answering her, "At least a week, maybe two." There's a long pause, "Maybe longer."
"What the hell?" Sarah asks, thoroughly confused and more anxious than she was already feeling. Her dad may hate FEDRA school and be a little lenient with Ellie's attendance, letting her skip a day here or there, usually after he's been gone for a few days, but he doesn't keep her out a full week unless she's sick or for exceptionally bad winter weather. He's only kept her out longer than a week a few times before; twice when there was an especially serious illness going around that he didn't want her to bring home to Sarah and once when relations between the FEDRA and the Fireflies escalated to almost all-out war.
Her dad opens her mouth once or twice before finally saying, "I got wind that the Fireflies are planning something. Something big."
"Okay," Sarah says slowly. This isn't unheard of. At least once a year, they convince themselves they can take down FEDRA and start making moves in the city to disrupt their operations. It always ends within a couple days with a group of Fireflies hanging from the wall and FEDRA still in control.
"It seems like they might be attempting a more prolonged operation this year, hitting multiple targets, at least one near the school, so I will feel better if Ellie stays home until they either get it out of their system or get caught." He pauses for a second and looks around before glancing briefly at Sarah, "I'm going to need you to keep her inside as well; she can't tag along with you to the market or run any errands, and actually, I don't want you going out either. Tess and I will handle any errands or shopping that needs to get done." Sarah stares at him in horror; he wants her to keep a ten-year-old inside for multiple weeks during the fall when the weather is perfect. He must notice the look on her face because he quickly adds, "I know she can be a lot when she's stuck inside for too long, so I'll try and be around as much as I can to help."
Sarah studies her father's face for a minute. He's nervous, and not just about whatever he thinks the Fireflies are up to. He's nervous about this conversation. "What aren't you telling me?" Sarah finally asks. "This isn't just about the Fireflies yearly jamboree," her dad huffs out a small laugh. "You don't pull Ellie out of school for multiple weeks for that. What's really going on?"
"Nothing," her dad says quickly, too quickly. "I just…had a run-in with Marlene. You know how she is; she just got me rattled."
"Marlene?" Sarah asks, trying to put the pieces together. From what she can tell, her dad and Marlene avoid each other at all costs. Have, ever since the night Marlene dropped newborn Ellie at their door, still wrapped only in Anna's coat. Tense words were exchanged, but Sarah doesn't remember exactly what was said that night, too overwhelmed by her first glimpse of her baby sister. Their worlds overlap, but her dad works only with Marlene's top guys, never Marlene. If it can't be helped, Tess deals with her. What could have made Marlene come to him directly and freak him out so much that he feels the need to keep them all locked up? "Did she tell you something about Ellie--"
"Ellie's fine," her dad cuts in fiercely. "I just don't trust the Fireflies when they get too high on their self-righteous bullshit."
"What are you talking—"
"Sarah, this is not a debate, I want Ellie home, and I want both of you to stay inside and off the streets for a while." Sarah shrinks back at her dad's uncharacteristic tone. She's heard it before, but usually not directed at her. Her dad realizes he sounds and softens immediately, a flash of guilt crossing his face, "I'm sorry; I know this isn't ideal, but please, trust me on this. Please."
"I'm the one who'll be playing warden everyday, I deserve to know what's going on," Sarah says quietly, "Please talk to me."
For a second, she thinks it's worked. Her dad looks like he's going to break down and say more, but then he presses his lips together and shakes his head. "It's just normal Firefly bullshit, baby. I'm probably just being paranoid but humor me for a couple weeks." He stands up, signaling the conversation is over, for him at least. Sarah feels him gently squeeze her shoulder as he passes to the bedroom, "Let's go rescue Tess; Ellie is probably quizzing her over plot points by now."
"You swear?" Sarah says suddenly, turning in her chair to look him square in the face; "You swear that there's nothing going on outside of normal Firefly bullshit? You swear Ellie's not in danger?
Her dad gives her a long look, and one of his small half smiles meant to be reassuring, "I swear."