Chapter 2: Welcome to Refuge

The jostling of the cart slowly nudged Jane back into reality. The first thing she became aware of was the splitting headache at the base of her skull. The sack was still on her head, sticking to her cracked lips as she breathed in and out heavily. She felt weak.
“Jane? Are you all right?”
Relief flooded Jane’s mind at the sound of her mother’s voice.
“Yes. I will be. Where are we?”
“I don’t know. They’re taking us somewhere.” Elizabeth shifted closer to her daughter. Jane began to listen. There were no voices, just the creaking of their cart, and others as well. She could hear the nickering of horses and their feet plodding on hard earth, the shuffle and scuffle of men walking.
“How long was I out?” She could feel the sun strong on her skin, they were out in the open somewhere.
“Fifteen minutes maybe,” Elizabeth’s hands found her daughter, “Sit up.” Jane struggled to sit, realizing her manacles had been moved to the front. Groping Elizabeth found the back of her daughter’s head. Jane winced but left her mother to probe.
“Enough!” Something banged against the side of the bars on the wagon.
“My daughter is bleeding, still bleeding.”
There was no response.
“I’m going to have to keep pressure on it. Maybe when we make camp someone will be nice enough to patch you up.” Elizabeth’s hands pressed the burlap close to the back of her daughter’s skull. Jane winced and breathed in sharply.
“Just lie back and relax. Don’t go to sleep.” Jane leaned against her mother.
“How bad is it?”
“You’ll live.” Jane could hear the uncertainty in her mother’s voice.
“Well let’s hope they let you stitch me up when we make camp.” Jane tried to reassure her mother as she fought to keep her eyes open. The blackness of the burlap sack making it harder than it should have been.

“Move.” A voice growled as Jane pulled herself up onto her knees. Hands grabbed her and dragged her from the cage, dumping her on the ground. She fell, her mother falling beside her. Hands grabbed them again, hauling them to their feet.
“Move.”
“That the only word you know?” A fist found her cheekbone and Jane fell to the ground. She clenched her jaw shut, refusing to cry out. Biting her tongue as she fell she tasted blood. She struggled back up to her feet, blood loss making her head spin.
“Enough.” It was Elizabeth, her tone scolding. She was talking to Jane who sighed in response, she wanted to spit out the mouthful of blood but the burlap sack prevented her. Instead she swallowed it.
“Over here.” A hand clenched the back of Jane’s shirt and lead her like a dog over to a tree. Their legs were manacled before they were pushed down with their backs to the tree. A heavy chain was latched to the shackles around their wrists and then wrapped around the tree, held in place by a padlock.
“Stay quiet. I think you know what’s out there waiting for us if you yell.”
They were left alone for a while. The sound of hammering, of horses being rounded up. After an hour the sound of a large fire crackling could be heard. Jane’s lips watered as the smell of roasting meat wafted through the camp. Footsteps approached and the burlap sack was yanked off Jane’s head.
“Turn around.” A rough looking male squatted down, his beard was thick and curly, his face coated in a layer of grime. He was wearing leather armour, old, cracked and dirty as well but sturdy and thick. No way ghouls could bite through that.
“I said turn around.” He grabbed her shoulder and shoved her sideways. Jane shuffled on the ground, manacles clinking and her brows furrowed. Jane looked out at the camp. There were tents all around, Jane counted eight carts and ten horses. Large canvas tents were everywhere, held up by rope and pegs driven into the ground. Wooden walls stood outside of the ring of tents, the tops of the logs ending in spikes. The only fire was in the centre, a spit being spun by a young woman in the same dirty armour as all the rest wandering the camp. On the spit were several different wild animals, their grease dripping into the flames.
The sound of scissor’s snipping caused Jane to jerk.
“What are you doing!”
Hands gripped into her hair, holding her head still and causing tears to well up in her eyes.
“Can’t stitch you up with all this hair in the way. Sit still.” The scissors struggled against the thick dreads of Jane’s long brown hair. Jane grit her teeth together and waited patiently.
“Might as well cut it all.” She growled back.
The man chuckled and worked away.
Her head felt significantly lighter as the last of her dreads fell away.
The man bit into a cork and pulled it from the bottle. He splashed the alcohol onto the deep wound.
“Fuck! A little warning.”
“Shut it.” The needle bit into her flesh, she could feel the pull of the thread as it slid through her skin from one side to the other. Only three stitches, a bunch of gauze taped around her head and the man rose and left, pulling the burlap sack off Elizabeth before he disappeared into a tent.
The air was cooling, the sun already set. Jane and Elizabeth watched as the men and women ate their dinner before the leftovers were brought over and offered to them.
The meal was mostly meat, rabbit, squirrel and gopher. Nothing special but still the largest meal either of them had seen in a while.
“Thank you.” Elizabeth spoke to the woman that Jane had seen turning the spit as they were passed meat from a wooden plate. The woman just grunted, her hair sheared as short as Jane’s, all of them seemed to have hair as short as Jane’s.

The days after were much the same. With a burlap sack over their heads they would jostle around in the cart for endless hours, every night they would be tied up, fed and watered. The man who had stitched up Jane’s head, a gruff man named Growler, would stop by every morning and night to clean the wound and every morning and every night the same woman would offer them a handful of the leftovers. She had a pointy face, broken teeth and a leering smile. The hat she wore atop her head was black with floppy sides and she was the only one who wore a shirt over top of her armour despite the heat. Sniffle the others called her, for obvious reasons. Yet despite the snot constantly running from her nose she seemed to be the camp cook.
Jane spent her time in the cart and the time waiting for dinner trying to slip her hands from the shackles. All she ended up with were wrists chaffed raw and prone to infection. Eventually Growler ended up dumping alcohol on them and Jane bit her cheek until she tasted blood to fight the urge to thrash. Unscrewing a jar he covered the skin he could see with a green paste. It was cool, smelled minty and offered a soothing sensation.

The hard dirt road turned to pavement tattered with potholes then back to dirt. Windy at first it was now perfectly straight, the wind was most quiet but now and then gathered in force enough to rock their already bouncing wagon.
“We’re heading west.” Jane whispered to her mother.
“How do you know that?”
“The warmth of the sun is always on our backs in the morning.”
“Clever, I’m surprised you could tell, I certainly can’t.” Jane could tell her mother was smiling, despite the sacks on their faces.
Wooden gates creaked open and the dirt turned to cobblestone. Jane could hear more commotion, people talking, chatting. Chickens clucked and a couple dogs barked.
They were carted down streets, commotion all around them. The smell of baking bread and of meat wafted through the air. They passed through two more sets of creaking gates before finally the cart came to a stop and they were removed.

“Come on.” It was Growler. He seemed to be the only one allowed to interact with them. He helped them down, slightly less rough as usual and they were herded up steps into a wooden structure. Then down, down, down until the air grew damp. The sound of torches flaring and water dripping was muffled by the burlap sack. Metal grated against metal and Jane was pushed onto a stone floor covered in straw. Two sets of strong arms gripped her tight as a third undid the shackles at her wrist and the manacles around her ankles. She was left alone, the door slamming shut. She ripped the burlap sack off her face. She was in a jail cell, alone. Jane leapt to her feet and grabbed the cold iron bars.
“Hey!” Her voice echoed down the corridors but there was nothing but feet fading down the corridor in response, “Elizabeth!” Jane waited but only the silence of the dungeon answered her.
It was cold, damp and smelled of mildew. Jane yelled again out of frustration, a cry against being torn from her home. She wasn’t worried about death. It seemed silly to worry about the inevitable and the entire journey she had never stopped to ponder why they had been taken. It doesn’t matter why. The way the world was now death, slavery, torture could be found everywhere and for no reason. In her fifteen years Jane had already seen it all, and so far escaped it all as well. Looks like my luck has run out.
Jane gathered the scattered hay into a pile and clambered into it, curling up into a small ball she allowed herself to shed a few tears but would not let herself sob. She would not give anyone close enough to hear the satisfaction.
She began to feel a little better by the time a guard came around to slide a wooden bowl of stew and a half loaf of bread through the bars. A waterskin was thrown through next. He wore leather armour but it was much lighter than the ones the men who had taken her wore. At his belt was a knife sheathed in leather on his right but on the left a sword, small, narrow and light but a sword. Jane had only ever seen one other person use a sword before. She glared the guard in the eyes until he shuffled away. She smiled to herself as he disappeared from view. Rising from the hay, her clothes and head covered in straggling pieces, she scooped the stew into her mouth hungrily. She drank half the waterskin but saved the bread and rest of the water for later. Bread. Proper bread. They must be civilized. Jane had eaten bread before. But it was made from wild growing wheat crushed by hand with stones and mixed with water, then cooked over a campfire. Dry, tasteless, lumpy and as flat as the frying pan they had cooked it on. This bread was fresh, warm, light and fluffy. Flour ground by a proper millstone, the dough set in a pan and cooked in a proper oven. Who are these people?. Climbing back into the hay pile she curled up again and wished she had worn her coat out to the field that morning. The straw was itchy and poked at her but eventually exhaustion overtook her.

The sound of the door scraping against the stone floor awoke Jane. She slowly uncurled and stretched her body out. Sleeping in the hay was, not surprisingly, a great deal comfier than sleeping on the hard ground or on the wood of the cart. She stepped out from the pile, not bothering to dust herself off. There were four guards, none of them belonged to the ones who had taken her. At the front in a large fur cloak was a woman with shining blue eyes.
“Jane?”
“Yeah.” Jane stood fierce, her hands balled up into fists and her stance wide, ready to fight. She began to take in weapons, all held swords and daggers but they were sheathed and sheathed weapons took a few seconds to draw, especially in the confined space of the jail cell. Perhaps a solid punch to her face, a quick kick to his gut and I can break through them.
“I’m Cassandra. I’m going to ask you some questions, that’s all. You don’t fight us and we don’t have to fight you.”
“Fine. Ask.” Jane didn’t move, just stood and waited to see if they would present an opportunity for her escape.
“Tell me about your life.”
“There’s not much to tell. I’m alive, most aren’t.”
“Where did you grow up?”
“We moved a lot when I was younger, wherever Elizabeth took me. Always joining one band or the next, or running from one band or the next. Two years ago we decided it was time to try standing still.”
“And how did you succeed at ‘standing still’ for two years.”
Jane took a breath, unused to being asked questions, never having asked them herself. People did shit to survive, knowing or not knowing didn’t change them.
“Hank. He knew a lot about trapping, edible plants. He had built a fort, high up so the ghouls couldn’t get you. Best idea we’d seen. Ghouls can’t climb, don’t necessarily need watch but it doesn’t hurt. Means a good night’s sleep.”
“And where is Hank now?”
“We buried him after he was attacked gathering water. He wasn’t supposed be out. He was sick. Elizabeth and I were out checking traps and picking berries. He wanted to help, to relieve some of the burden he began to place on us. He was old, slow, ill. Instead the ghouls got him,” Jane shrugged, “I’ve seen it happen to the best.”
“And yet you’re still here. You and Elizabeth. That would imply that perhaps you, and not them, are the best.” She had a regal way of talking, calm and enunciated. Jane just shrugged.
“And who is Elizabeth to you?”
“My mother.”
“You’re biological mother?” Jane just shrugged again.
“I never asked. Does it matter?”
“Perhaps in the future, not now.” Jane didn’t bother to attempt to clarify what Cassandra might have meant, “So you’ve killed ghouls.”
“My fair share I suppose.”
“And what about people?”
“Of course.” Damn these questions! They’re still barring the door. They hadn’t moved except to loosen the swords in their sheaths.
“Why?”
“Why what?” Jane finally released her fists and began absent-mindedly running her fingers across her scalp, remembering the feeling of being dragged across the dirt by her hair; screaming and twisting, spitting and scratching.
“Why have you killed people. Surely more people can be an advantage.”
“Some cannot be trusted, some can, most can’t. Sometimes you have to kill them before they turn. Sometimes the only way to sleep soundly is to know they sleep beneath the ground.”
“Thank you for your cooperation. That was… easier than expected. You should know your mother is fine. We’re holding her in a cell like this one. Bring her breakfast.” Cassandra got up and left, her fur cloak sweeping across the ground behind her, her leather boots tapping softly against the stonework. All four guards followed immediately, the door swing shut. Jane rushed to the bars and strained her neck but they turned a corner and she could see them no more.
At least I know which way is out.
A guard returned minutes later, food and water set down between the bars. Jane eyed it for a few moments, her mind trying to figure out Cassandra. Poison perhaps? An easy way to dispose of an enemy without a bloody mess everywhere. I suppose I would be thankful for such a fate, I’ve seen worse ways to die. Jane ate heartily, emptying the waterskin. The bread from the night before already eaten in the middle of the night. Jane sat, cold but slightly less stiff. She hugged the hay around her and waited, there was nothing to do here but wait. Pushups and sit ups could only take up so much of the day, they worked the stiffness from her joints and warmed her significantly but she grew bored and sat again amidst the hay.
She rose as footsteps approached, expecting more food and water for lunch but instead the guard unlocked the gate. Two more stood to the side, hands on their sword hilts.
“Come on.” The same guard as always but he seemed slightly less menacing as the times before. He nodded his head in the direction of the other guards. Jane rose from the hay and walked through the door.
I’ll let them lead me out, but first chance I get I will run.
“Follow me, and don’t try anything. You’re free now.”
Perhaps he’s lying, to get me to walk to my death with compliance.
Jane let her hands relax at her sides but her feet treaded carefully, ready to kick or run. The guard who unlocked the door led her while the two followed behind.
Their armour will weigh them down. I will be faster. But where will I go?
Only two corners, a right and then a left and a thick wooden door opened up to stairs winding upwards.

Jane entered into a large hall. Pillars on either side supported the second floor balconies. Long, wooden tables filled the hall. There was a table at the head of all, a step above the rest. Chairs sat with backs to the wall so that any who sat there looked down on all the other tables while the rest of the tables had only benches. There were more guards, and Cassandra waiting. Several others stood around wearing dark cloaks, rough spun from wool or sewn from the hides of animals. But most importantly Elizabeth was there, looking unharmed. Jane needed no prompting to stand beside her mother.
“Jane, Elizabeth.” Cassandra motioned to them and began to head up a set of stairs that lead to the second floor walk ways. Jane followed her mother as two guards stepped in behind them.
At the top of the floor Cassandra lead them to the far side of the hall where large windows looked out onto a bright summer day. Cassandra stopped by the window and waited as Jane and Elizabeth looked out.
Below them was a cobbled courtyard with guards and others milling about, pushing carts, carrying sacks of flour or baskets of vegetables. Beyond the courtyard was a large wall, more soldiers standing atop it holding bow and quiver. And beyond that were houses, large houses two stories high. Cobbled streets were filled with donkeys, chickens and people. And beyond the houses, separating the town from the plains and keeping them safe were walls high and thick; the bottom portion stone, the top wood. Towers on the corners housed archers, men walked the walls chatting and checking in. Jane had never seen so many people in one place before, and all of them just doing everyday things, all of them safe, not once bothering to look over their shoulders.
“How?” Elizabeth whispered quietly as her eyes searched this strange place they had found themselves in.
“Welcome to Refuge. Safest place west of the mountains and east of the shield.” Cassandra sounded proud but no smile touched her lips.
“How is this possible?”
“A lot of hard work, and rules. Rules are what kept us alive, new laws for a new world. You have a lot to learn but lucky for you we have the best teachers. Come.” Cassandra turned and led them back down the stairs, hand loosely on her sword but more out of habit than a possible threat.
“So much to learn, so much to take in but please, never feel overwhelmed.” It was an old man, his beard thin and ragged and his green cloak dirt stained and baggy against his skeletal frame. The bags beneath his eyes sagged deep, his eyes red. Valleys covered his ancient face revealing a lifetime of wisdom and regrets.
“Yes. Thank you Neil. Dom, Bug,” Two young boys stepped forward, “Jane, they will show you around and give you your first introductions. Petro and Charlie will take Elizabeth.”
Dom and Bug, no older than Jane took her towards the main doors into the cobbled courtyard she had seen from up above.
“Dom.” The boy with bright blonde hair held out his hand. Jane shook it, it was slightly sweaty. Strange. I am the captive and he is the nervous one.
“This is Bug. Can’t remember his real name, don’t think even he can. Everyone just calls him Bug.” The bigger boy with shaggy black hair shook her hand. His grip was strong, his build sturdy. Dom I could take out easily. But this Bug could present a problem.
Despite it all Jane couldn’t help but plan an escape. The doors swung open to the courtyard. Dom and Bug walked cheerfully through it and out the double gates into the streets of the town.
“So. Where should we start? So much to say.” Jane stayed silent, looking around at the busy streets.
“Well first we should give her these.”
Jane almost cried with joy as her knives were handed back to her. She immediately undid her belt and slid the sheaths around and into place before doing it back up.
“We have a rule. Well, lots of rules.” Dom began to walk down the street. Jane tried to listen while at the same peering down every street, trying to see if she could find the main gates.
“First of all, those knives or at least one have to be on you at all times. Everyone carries a knife, even to bed. Can’t be out of arm’s reach.” Jane hurried after Dom as he rounded a corner. Dancing around a woman carrying a basket of potatoes. A child ran out from some shadows, dirty and wild looking but her plump cheeks proved she at least ate well. Jane sidestepped around the feral looking thing as she ran down the next alleyway.
“Try and keep up.” Dom shouted from a doorway. Jane hurried over and followed them into the dark interior.
“Watch your step.” Jane tripped on the first stair, her eyes still adjusting to the dark but she found her footing again and hurried up. Windows, shutters thrown wide, offered a little bit of light, enough to make her way with ease.
“This is your room.”
It wasn’t much. A room with a bunk bed, a trunk at the base and a closet. A small night desk and a chair that looked as though it would break the second she tried to sit down.
“You and your mom can fight over who gets top bunk. This is only temporary though. You’ll get new quarters once you get assigned. Cross your fingers you get a bunk above the kitchens. Warmest place in all of Refuge during the winter months. Too hot in the summers but still doable.”
Bug flung open the closet door. It held a few cloaks, all yellow. Bug grabbed one and flung it at her.
“Put this on. Yellow means you’re new. It’s important for others to know. They’re more helpful this way, they’ll watch out for you. We were all new once, well… except for The Founders but no one even remembers exactly who that is now.”
Jane put the cloak on and did up the clasp. Her head felt too full already. An entire town, walls, houses, food and only a week from where I’ve lived the last two years battling every day to see another sunrise.
“All right… all right… What’s next?” Dom looked to Bug as he tapped his chin but Bug just shrugged, “Hmmm… ok. Well, how about we continue our day then, learn as we go.” Dom charged back out of the room and Jane rushed after.
“So. Bug and I are what we call Runners. Basically we’re just the town bitches. We run things, lunches out to the wood cutters, letters to members of the council. In case of emergencies it’s our job to alert our specified sectors of the town. You’ll work with us, it’s the fastest way to get to know the layout of Refuge. If something needs moving from one spot to another we’re generally the ones who do it. Us and all the other Runners.”
Dom pointed up high to one of two town towers that lay on either side of the inner walls. Narrow, tall, rickety things they could fit only two people on their roofed platforms.
“Keep an eye on those towers. They spot anything dangerous they fly a red flag. Red flag means get indoors and wait for further instruction. Haven’t been flown in over three years, still, it’s one of the rules.”
“Hardly seems like a rule.”
“Holy shit she does talk,” Dom looked at Bug and smiled, “Maybe less of a rule and more of a good idea.”
Their feet pounded along more streets, all cobbled, past carts and wagons pulled by donkeys, barrels rolling on their sides, people carrying baskets and guards, always in sets of two. Perhaps strangest of all was that everyone, men, women and children, all had hair as short as Jane’s. Sheared as close to the scalp as scissors would allow. The houses all lined perfectly, the streets straight and narrow. The houses they passed were all built the same. Two stories, no windows on the bottom. The only differences were the shops, which all seemed to be crammed into the same section of Refuge.
“Uh, blacksmiths, cobblers, fletchers, tanners,” Dom pointed to each one as he went. Jane just stood amazed. Smoke bellowed from the blacksmith’s forge while the tanner stretched cow hide across frames and lashed them down to dry in the sunlight. Jane cleared her throat to say something but forgot what she wanted to say and stood silent instead.
The section beside all the trades was a training ground. Walls to climb, nets to crawl under, still targets, moving targets and soldiers training.
“You shot a bow before?”
Jane nodded.
“Good. Everyone gets a bow and it’s everyone’s duty to know how to shoot it. We all have to do two hours of training a week. More if we want but most don’t have time.”

The bow felt familiar in her hand, she tensed the string, testing its strength. She drew the arrow from the quiver but they were nothing like the arrows she had, old things from a time long past made from metal and plastic. These were wooden, the tips made by beating metal the old fashioned way and real bird feathers scored into the end. She dug the notch into the tendons that made up the bowstring and drew back, fingers to chin. She lined up the target and exhaled. She released her fingers but no other part of her body moved. The arrow flew through the air and struck the red centre.
“Beautiful. Where did you learn to shoot?”
“I don’t really remember. It’s been a part of life.”
“Well I’m glad to see it.” The instructor was smiling. What’s his name again? … Not that it matters. “So what’s it like out there?”
“Same as it always was I suppose.”
“Been a long time since I was out there. Only the Rangers go out there now. Used to be one of em until I hurt my leg.” Jane had noted the limp earlier and he tapped his bum knee with the end of an arrow.
“You still shoot well enough.” He laughed, loud. Jane winced, her eyes instinctually searching the nearby area.
“Relax. Ain’t no ghouls within these walls. And if they are they sure won’t last long.” He tapped his nose and winked. Jane had to stop herself from rolling her eyes, though her shoulders still relaxed… slightly.
She drew the bow back again, releasing an arrow. This felt familiar yet still Jane wanted to talk to Elizabeth, she wanted this day to be over.

The clamour was amazing, so much noise. Jane hunched low over her plate, shovelling food into her mouth, avoiding eye contact with anyone. She flinched every time someone near her moved.
“It’s ok.” Elizabeth whispered in her ear, trying to calm her. Jane’s eyes were wild, she was growing feral by the minute yet both were stuck there. They could not leave until dinner was over and they were escorted back to their house for the night. Elizabeth placed her hand on Jane’s shoulder but it did little to comfort the girl who had spent her whole life travelling in the wild, never around more than a handful of people at time.
The hall was full, everyone squeezed onto the benches. At the far end of the hall the council members sat, Cassandra at their centre. Food was walked around by men and women, carried in big bowls and slapped down onto plates.
Plate empty Jane and Elizabeth waited. Elizabeth’s hair was as short as all the rest now, wearing a cloak the same yellow as Jane’s.
I wonder if we look alike?
Jane wasn’t familiar with her own reflection, not something that had ever been important. As Dom and Bug got up to leave Jane rose to join them.
“Tomorrow is another day Jane. We will get through it as we’ve gotten through all the others.” Elizabeth squeezed her hand and Jane felt her pounding heart slow, if only for a moment as she left the hall and Elizabeth.
It was still light out, the sun floating above the mountains to the west, mountains that Jane guessed meant home. But where in those mountains she had no clue. Dom and Bug waited at the door.
“All right. You can head on up. Everyone has to be indoors before sunset. Only soldiers patrol the streets at night.” Elizabeth was arriving with Petro and Charlie as Jane climbed the stairs.

“What are you doing?”
“We’re leaving, aren’t we?”
Jane was gathering the spare cloaks from the closet, bundling them up.
“Jane, honey. Look at this place. I think this is a good place for us.”
Jane paused, “There are so many people.”
“I know.”
“They are attracted to people.”
“Yes.” Elizabeth pulled Jane onto the bed beside her, “There is strength in numbers Jane. I know that too many people have always brought danger around but this many people, these walls and weapons, I think Cassandra is right. This is the safest place possible.”
“Maybe.” Jane turned away, looked out the window to the closed shutter of the house across the alley.
Elizabeth smiled, but it was a sad, small smile that did not touch her eyes.
“Ok. Maybe we won’t stay and maybe we will. No final decisions yet. But for now let’s get to know this place. Let’s sleep soundly and eat heartily and build up our strength and our knowledge. And if the time comes that it is safest to leave then we will leave. Promise.”
Elizabeth stroked her daughter’s short hair, fingers tracing and dancing across the scalp. Pausing she gave Jane a quick kiss to the forehead.
“Now climb up top. My old bones call the bottom bunk.”
Jane climbed dutifully into the top bunk and lay down. The sun was setting now, orange streams of light squeezing through the cracks in the shutter as Elizabeth closed it.
There was a knock on the door.
“Time to turn in.” A head poked in through the door. A young man with thick hair and a look in his eyes as his eyes rested on Jane that caused Jane’s hand to search out her knife. I’ve killed scum like you before. Again the skin on her head prickled as she felt herself being dragged through the dirt by her hair.
“Rolf, I’m in the room down the hall. My job to check everyone’s in their bunks before I sleep. You’ll be seeing me every night,” He licked his lips, “Or more if you want.”
“Thank you. My daughter and I will feel so much safer knowing you’re here to protect us.”
Rolf nodded, that gleam not diminished in the slightest by Elizabeth’s tone as he shut the door. Elizabeth rose immediately and slid the small table in front of the door. To small and light to stop the door from opening but would still make noise if the door was opened in the middle of the night.
Jane closed her eyes for a few minutes, listened to the sound of her mother’s breathing slow, listened as the other people of the house in the other bedrooms began to settle in for the night and small talk faded.
“You’re not old.”
“Hmm?” Elizabeth was already half asleep.
“Don’t call yourself old. You’re not old.” Jane suddenly sounded ten years younger, a five year old full of defiance.
“No one lives forever Jane. I’ve seen more years than most these days. But I’ll see a few more years yet.” Elizabeth could not be completely reassuring; there were certainly realities that Jane had to accept in the current situation of the world. Though sometimes Elizabeth worried that certain realities Jane accepted too easily.