There is no more food. They find water here and there and fill their water bottles. Andrea is never farther than a few yards from Emma. She know sho unsafe the girl feels and if she’s out of sight, it triggers panic attacks. They always have to be quiet. They don’t know what animals—or people—that can overhear them.

It takes much longer to walk to Shillings Creek than they thought when they looked at maps in Emma’s kitchen. They have been walking for days and its impossible to head due north. The paths winds all over the place and the map they have isn’t accurate. Or they’re simply lost. But Andrea doesn’t dare tell Emma that.

Emma has stopped complaining about being hungry. They haven’t eaten in two-three days, and perhaps you just don’t feel hunger after a while. Andrea doesn’t know. She looks around and tries to not think of food. They have reached a claring and once again, she wishes it was later in the year. They could have picked berries at least.

There is a rattling noise to their left, and the sound of a branch snapping. Andrea stops and pulls Emma close to her. The girl pushes her trembling body against Andrea who now grips her baseball bat hard with both hands. She’s practiced her swings every day, morning and evening. She’s gone over different patterns of attacks that she thinks can be useful if they need to fight.

“How’s it going, honey?” a male voice asks. “I think it was a bad idea that you came with me this far from the cottage.”

“Oh, please, old man. I’m seven years younger than you. You just toddle on and I’ll make do.” It’s a woman, and she sounds as if she’s laughing.

Andrea’s heart poudns painfully hard. It’s a sunny day, almost with a spring feeling to it. Had she and Emma been in the woods before the bird virus, she wouldn’t have reacted the way she does now. She raises her bat and take a long step forward. Emma lets go of her grip around Andrea’s waist. Perhaps she’s simply too tired and weak to hold on.

“Ogden!” The female voice calles out and Andrea stands eye to eye with an older man. He’s tall and looks strong, but definitely old. Retired, kind of.  “What are you doing, girl?” the woman says, her voice intense but not hysterical.

“Easy there now,” the man say and and takes a step back, holding his empty hands up with his palms visible to Andrea and Emma.

“Oh, look, Ogden. She’s got a little one with her.” A woman comes into view, she too older, but younge looking than the man. She carries a basket, but now she sets it down on the ground. “You don’t have to br afraid. Ogden and I are healthy, and we’re not dangerous. Not at all. My name’s Annemarie. This is Arnie, my husband, but everyone calls him Ogden. It’s our last name.”

“Keep your distance,” Andrea hisses. “I’ll bash your head in if you come any closer.”

“Dear God, child. You’re all pale and shaking,” Annemarie says and doesn’t sound the least bit afraid. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes,” Emma says before Andrea has the chance to stop her.

“We have some freshly baked bread with us, but you look like you need more than that.” Annemarie opens a bag she’s carrying on a strap across her chest. “Here. How about chocolate first to get your blood sugar up.?”

Andrae stairs at the chocolate bar. She hasn’t seen chocolate in weeks. She loves chocolate once. Especially milk chocolate. Slowly, she lowers the bat, but just a little. Emma deserves some chocklate. She’s so small and it’s harder for Emma to go without food than for her who is much older.

“Throw it over,” Andrea growls and immediately the chocolate bar comes flying toward them. It lands just by Emma’s feet and she bends down, tears the wrapping off and digs her teeth into the chocolate with something sounding like a sob. Then she breaks off a big piece and offers it to Andrea.

“No, you go ahead,” Andrea says, as she doesn’t dare let go of the bat. “I’m fine.”

“Goodness,” Ogden says. “You’re just a kid yourself. How old are you? Thirteen? Fourteen?”

“Soon fourteen,” Andrea says and raises her chiin. “Old enough to crush your skull if you come too close to Emma.”

“Emma. The happy. That’s what the name means, but perhaps you know that?” Annemarie smiles. “I used to work as a middle school teachers before I retired a year ago. We always used to find out what the students’ names m eant. What’s your name?”

“Never mind that,” Andrea says and presses her lips closed around the feeling of how it would taste to have a piece of the chocolate. The smell of it has reached her and her stomach is howling.

“Her name is Andrea and I want to know what it means, anyway,” Emma says.

“Andrea—another beautiful name. I’m afraid that I don’t know what it means, though.” Annemarie looks apologetic. 

“I know what it means,” Andrea glares at the Ogden and Annemarie. “It means man, or masculine. So take that as a warning. I can swing this bat as good as any man.” Her stomach is not in one large knot of hunger and pain. She has to lower her bat and is just waiting for Ogden to yank it from her. Perhaps he’ll knock them both out. 

But they look kind where they stand together next to their wicker basket, the large, burly man, and his slender wife who is still beautiful. Andrea’s head is spinning now and she feels large tears get stuck in her lashes. She has failed. She promised to help Emma get to Shillings Creek, but they’re not even halfway there, or perhaps even lost. She’s so tired and hungry, she can’t even think straight.

“Dear child, sit here.” Kind hands cup Andrea’s shoulders and place her on something. A boulder, maybe, or a log? She doesn’t know and it doesn’t matter anymore. Perhaps the old people will take their bags and just leave them behind.

“Here. Have some hot chocolate. I don’t think girls your age drink coffee yet.” Annemarie pours something that smells heavenly into a mug. “You have to share the mug. Andrea better drink first, before she faints on us.”

The mug is being pressed against Andrea’s lips and she swallows carefully. Just one sip. And then another. And another. It tastes so amazing, and she holds the sip in her mouth a few moments before she swallows.

Then it’s emma’s turn and she hums around her sips as if she’s never had anything that good.

“They need a sandwich before we head back to the cottage,” Annemarie looks into her bag and pulls out a double sandwich with cheese that she splits in two. “Here, girls. Chew properly now. It’s awful to be hungry. You just want to wolf everything down right away. That only hurts your tummy. Here, have some more hot chocolate.”

“Good thing you were stubborn about bringing hot chocolate,” Ogden says with his gravelly voice. “Would would’ve thought we’d run into two little forest spirits?” 

“Looks like we found them just in the nick of time, too. Andrea would have done down, as she prioritizes little Emma to the point of damaging herself.” Annemarie looks them over again where Andrea and Emma tries to eat slowly, but it’s hard. “And look how damp you are. Dear God. Have you slept outside in the woods?”

“Under a tree,” Emma says after swallowing the last of her part of the sandwich. “We covered ourselves in Andrea’s magic blanket that looks like silver. We weren’t very cold, but it was still wet. Andrea says it’s because spring is coming.”

“She’s right.” Annemarie studies them closely with kind eyes. “You’re obviously afraid of everyone you meet these days, and that’s clever. I could sit here all day and promise that Ogden and I are kind and good people. You can’t trust anyone who tells you that. The world has changed. Some of the people who were kind and caring, have changed because of what happened after the birds brought the virus. As I understand it after talking to my b-brother, who was a doctor, it is an unusual strain of the avian flu. Airborne. Extremely contagious and deadly.” 

“Did he die? Your brother?” This is the first time that Andrea speaks to Annemarie and Ogden without levelling threats against them.

“He did, yes.” Annemarie’s smile is still kind, if a bit wobbly. “Well, Emma, Andrea…as I see it, you have  choice to make. Either you continue through the woods, hungry, wet, and tired, or you com with us to our summer cottage. It’s located about half an hour from here. We stay there with five other people that we’ve come across since it all happened.

Andrea can hardly think straight. She chews her sandwich still. Small, tiny bites to make it last. But then it’s gone and she would do just about anything to have one more. Is this what a persona becomes when their starving? All you can think about the next time you get to eat.

“Don’t cry, sweetie,” Annemaries says and places a careful hand on Andrea’s arm, but not the one which hand holds on tight to the bat. As it turns out, it’s this gesture that seals the deal and makes Andrea dare to believe, at least for a little while, that this couple are who they say they are. Ordinary people without evil intent. She would still like to take Emma and run, but she can’t provide for her right now. She’s also uncertain if they’re walking in the right direction. Apart from this, her throat is sore, and she feels a cold coming on. No cough, like the bird virus, but a feeling of not being a hundred percent.

“Okay,” Andrea mutters now and gets up. Her legs tremble and she hates it. “We’ll go with us, but you can’t make us do anything we don’t want to. If you do, I’m going to have to knock you out and I don’t want to do that.”

“We don’t want you to do that either,” Ogden says and peers at Andrea. “You’re right to be suspicious and careful. As Annemarie says, this is not the time to risk placing your trust in the wrong people. I would never forgive myself if I was careless and something happened to her.”

Ogdens passionate tone when it comes to his wife, makes it possible for Andrea to relax marginally. Ogden has kind eyes and she can’t feel any creepy vibes from him at all. Annemarie seem to be an ordinary lady. Lika a grandma, kind of. She’s the fidgety kind, and mutters to herself when Ogden stands in her way.

“We’ll take the lead and you girls can follow. Tell us if we’re walking to fast. You do look tired, girls.” Annemarie takes her husband’s arm. “Keep a lookout, Ogden. Now we have this extra responsibility when it’s not just you and I that are out gallivanting.” 

“But of course.” Ogden nods and as he turns sideways, Andrea discovers his shotgun. She swallows hard and takes a step backward with her arm around Emma’s shoulders. How could she miss that? It has two barrels and looks heavy. Ogden carries it easeily, as if bent over crease of his left arm. 

Ogden obviously notices that she and Emma aren’t moving.”

“This is a shotgun that I use to hunt for rabbits and hares. And, I admit, to protect Annemarie and I when we’re on one of our walks. You don’t have to be afraid. The safety’s on.” He regards her steadily. “When you’re a little older, it will be time for yout o carry guns too, if the world remains as it is now, my friend. It probably will, if you ask me. We’re moving into anarchy, or we’re already there. Do you know what anarchy is?”

“No, I don’t.” Andrea feels how Emma’s trembling and she wonders if they would make the mistake of a livetime if they follow th Ogdens home.

“It means that all of our society is broken and chaos rules instead of law and order. It means that it’s up to each and everyone of us to protect ourselves, and our loved ones. The way you’re taking care of Emma.”

“That’ s no way to address young girls, Ogden, Annemaries says, her voice warning. “Are you trying to scare them witless with your talk about weapons and arachy?” She shakes her head and the grey curls dance. “Listen now, girls. We would never direct any weapon toward here or any other innocent person. But we have happened upon people who has tried to enter the cottage or steal Ogden’s prey. That’s when you have defend what you’ve got. Don’t worry about this now. Let’s go.”

Her kind voice sounds everything sound so clear, and it helps Andrea and Emma to relax again. They adjust their backpacks and begins following the coupld about en steps behind. Emma holds Andrea’s hands and this somehow makes Andrea remain calm. If it would turn out to be a mistake to follow the two in front of them, she has to be prepared to defend herself and Emma, and regain their freedom with the help of her bat. Slamming it into Ogden’s right arm that carries the shotgun. Quick and with complete surprising. Andrea spends the half hour it takes to walk to the cottage planning for different ways to attack.

#

The cottage holds seven people, all adults, including the Ogdens. The other five consists of two women and three men. On of the men looked like Ogden’s age, but the other two men, and the women, looked around thirty to forty years old. They look up in surprise when they see Andrea and Emma, but then wave at them to come in.

“Who’s this then?” the older man asks and smiles where he sit on a blue wooden kitchen couch.

“Andrea and Emma. They’ll be staying for a spell.” Annemarie shows Andrea a narrow, steep ladder at the far end of the kitchen. “This ladder leads up to the loft. Carrie and Susanne stay in one side of the loft, but on the other side, behind the half wall, theres a large mattress that will accommodate you girls.  There’s a kerosene lamp and matches—just don’t burn down the house.”

Emma looks at the ladder and then back at Andrea. “Should we climb up and have a look?” She sounds hesitant.

“You can climb up and have a peek. I’ll wait down here,” Andrea ways. She’s not leaving Emma alone in the kitchen with anyone.

Apprehensive at first, Emma then grabs the ladder and begins climbing. She disappears through the narrow opening at the top. She’s gone perhaps thirty seconds, and then sticks her head through the opening. 

“It’s true, Andy. There’s a mattress, and a lamp, and matches.”

“There you go.” Ogden nods. “You have sleeping bags I see. Are they dry?”

Andrea shakes her head. They have become damper for each night they’ve used them outdoors in the Hudskills. 

“Then we’ll hang them to dry in front of the stove in the living room. They should be dry enough come evening. It’s time to make dinner too. Something you need help with, Annamarie?” Ogden turns to his wife.

“Peel the potatos. Set the table. But first the girls need tending. They’re not supposed to do any chores when they’re cold and damp straight through.”

“Of course.” Ogden holds out a hand to Andrea. “Give me the sleeping bags, and I’ll hang them to dry. You can go with Annmarie, and she’ll show you where the shower is. We have been keeping the fire going all day, so there’s plenty of hot water.”

“There’s a shower?” Andrea suddenly can sense how bad she smells. Her long hair is greasy and hangs like dark spaghetti around her head. She’s had the same clothes on for days.

“Plenty of water, dear.” Annemarie smiles. Then she winks at Emma. “Come on, sweetie, and I’ll show you. The rest of you can take care of the potatoes and set the table today.”

“No worries,” one of the women, Susanne, says and opens a kitchen drawer. 

They follow Annemarie toward the other end of the cottage. There they find themselves in a blue bathroom with white curtains framing the frosted glass window. A shower stoll beckosn, and a strange looking toilet.

“This is a compost toilet. It works pretty much like a regular toilet, but it doesn’t let anything out in nature until it looks like soil.” After handing out towels to them, Annamarie leaves them.

It takes some persuasion to get Emma to undress. It’s as if she’s afraid to get naked in case they need to bolt. Eventually, Andrea has to consult Annemarie who fetches her and Ogden’s terrycloth robes until their clean clothes are dry in front of the fire, while the used ones go into the hamper.

It’s so wonderful to shower, that Andrea hardly wants to leave the shower stall. She stands there with Emma and shampoos her blond hair and then her own. When she studies her reflection in the mirror afterward, she thinks now is a good time as any to cut her long hair. It’s not doable to be on the road and have such long hair, which only goes greasy and yucky after a few days. With short hair, all she would have to do is stick her head in a puddle, if need be.

Without the slightest hesitation, Andrea finds Annemarie’s toiletry bag and digs out a small scissor that will have to do. She h as no extra mirror, so when it’s time to cut off the hair at the back of her neck, she has to put her faith in Emma.

“Are you going to be bals?” Emma askes, sounding far too pleased. “Do I have to cut my hair too?” This thought erases the temporary smile from her lips.

“Remember what I’ve told you, Emma,” Andrea whispers. “You do what you want. What feels right for you. If you want long hair, then you let it grow. It’s a bit more troublesome to keep it looking good, but as long as we’re staying here, it’ll work fine. I’m going to cut all of mine off. Kand you cut in the back? This short.” She measures by comparing with Emma’s little thumb. “That’ll be just perfect. I don’t care if it gets choppy and uneven. That style is in right now.”

Emma giggles and then focuses on Andrea’s hair. She measures carefully with her thumb, and with her tongue sticking out at the corner of her mouth, she cuts the long strands that Andrea nearly could sit on before.

When she’s done, and older, thinner, and decidedly more tough-looking Andrea appears in the mirror. The hair is choppy, almost in a punk style, like in Mom’s old Mad Max movies. Andrea pulls her lips half down in a stiff, malicious grin. Yes. Exactly that. Nobody can even imagine that she’s a nerdy brain from the humble parts of Remerton. Now, she’s Emma’s protector and she’s armed with a bat—and not afraid to use it.

After cleaning up the hair and flushing it down the compost toilet, they put on the robes and pad out into the hallway outside the bathroom. They hear voices from the kitchen and Andrea starts walking in that direction with Emma hanging onto her belt behind her.

Everyone’s sitting around the oval table in the kitchen. Two stools are empty, clearly meant for her and Emma. 

“Ah, there you are, girls. Will you be all right to squeeze in over there?” Annemarie points to the stools and now Andrea sees that someone’s put potatoes and some sort of stew on the plates.

“I think you’ll like this,” Ogden say. “The stew is taste, and the potatoes will fill up your bellies. Stew’s based on hare—Annemarie’s recipe.”

Andrea sits down and Emma pushes her stool as close as possible. She climbes up and looks wide eyed at the food.

“Dig in, everyone. There’s more if someone’s very hugnty,” Annemarie says and winks at them. “You have some catching up to do.”

The food is so tasty, Andrea nearly bursts into tears. She fights against the tears for a while as she chews, and in the meantime, she studies everyone around the table. They look like regular people at first. After a while, Adnrea notices that eveni f they are friendly and talk among themselves in a civilized way, like Mom used to say, they’re not just regular people. These individuals all harbor the same look in their eyes like she and Emma do. Something empty and seriously disheveled, and with a conviction that they’ll never be whole again. The recollection scares Andrea and she tells herself that she’ll look like herself again once she finds Theo. He’s somewhere around Remerton. Perhaps further up the river, and she will fine him. He’s the most important person in her life now—he and Emma.

They eat their food in silence, and Andrea listens carefully at the conversation between the grownups. They talk about the possibility of growing vegetables and potatoes. Annemarie and Ogden have a greenhouse already and now they discuss how they might expand it with supplies from the closest Home Depot. They have access to two cars and one motorcycle, from what Andrea understands.

“If we remove the trunk of our old Volvo, we should be able to transport long boards in that as well. You can push them through the backrest of the back seat through the armrest,” Ogden says. “I think we have to consider some sort of alarm for the fence.”

“And electric one? It’s going to drain the pwer off the solar cells.” A younger man in blue sweater protests. He has glasses and is boasting a beard, just like the other men.

“Well, wouldn’t it be worth it?” on of the other men asks. Andrea thinks his name might be Lennie. She doesn’t remember yet.

“Tin cans.” Andrea speaks before she has time to stop herself.

“What’s that, dear?” Annemarie asks.

“Empty cans hanging over wires or fences. They will rattle like crazy if you touch the wires. And they won’t drain any solar cells.”

Ogden looks at her with an odd expression in his eyes, and for a while, she fears he’s going to laugh at her. That’s not what happens. Instead, he nods slowly. “Of course. You’re entirely correct. Until we know we have more power than for the bare necessities, hidden, rattling cans will do just nicely.” He rubs his chin. We do have quite a few cans already as thas our mean food source and has been since the birds. I think we attach three at a time every other yard or so. We have a camouflage net that we can cut into strips and use to mask them. It won’t hinder the sound, but it’ll make it harder for anyone else to find.”

“And when you have more cans and wires, you can create a complicated pattern that’s har to make out. That way, you make it harder for the bad guys to get through by cutting the first wire they reach.” This part, Andrea had seen them do on a zombie TV show. Her mom hadn’t allowed that show at their house, but they had watched at Moa’s place, as her parents were rarely home. 

“Good thinking,” Ogden says and sounds impressed. “You’re sitting on knowledge that we can use here, I can tell.”

“Andy knows how to drive a car,” Emma said quietly. “She drives really well even if she doesn’t have a license. She says that you have to be able to drive, in case of emergency. She’s going to teach me.”

It is as if the grownups regard Andrea with newfound respect, which feels good. She doesn’t want them to think she’s just a stupid kid who spent her entire time on TikTok and dreaming of some popstar. That makes Andrea think of the twins, Hdya and Ayesha, who had worshipped Shawn Mendez. They were gone now, and she had no idea if the guy they adored was alive.

“What do you think, Andy?” Annemarie looks expectantly at her.

“Sorry?”

“Oh, goodness, girl. You’re exhausted. You’re falling asleep where you sit. I said, what about you two takes a couple of bottles of water upstairs and perhaps a package of Oreos that I saved for a special occasion. You might wake up and be puckish.”

“Thank you.” Andrea accepted the water and the cookies. When she and Emma climbed up to the loft, Andrea with the two dry sleeping bags over her shoulder, she thought that she should make sure she didn’t sleep. She needed to watch out for Emma, at least in the beginning. She tucked Emma into her sleeping bag, close to the trusses. She settled down next to Emma, but didn’t climb into her sleeping bag, but used it as a duvet instead. It was nice and warm up here, as heat rose from the kitchen. She would be able to keep watch and if someone meant them harm after all, she would be ready.

Andrea gripped her bat firmly, ready to bash anyone’s skull in, if the people below came for them. A few minutes later, she was fast asleep and didn’t even dream.