The sound of gunfire wakes me up from a horrid nightmare early in the morning. When I slowly open my eyes, I'm met by the same depressing view I've seen every morning for a while now: thin, dirty cots placed around the room with thin, dirty young woman lying on those cots. They all stare at the boarded up window in wide-eyed terror as the gunfire continues, but the sound doesn't bother me like it does some of the others.The guns go off at all times of the day, and we're used to it by now. More than seven months of death, constant fear, destruction, and hopelessness is enough to make anyone hard and insensitive. So even though the guns are loud and I can hear whimpering from my younger bunkmates, I don't really care enough to go reach out and comfort them. They should be used to the fear and gunfire by now.I dress for the day in mostly clean jeans and t-shirt-they're as clean as a washboard and hand scrubbing with very little laundry detergent can make them-and then I head out into t

I find Felicia working in one of the bottom-level classrooms that used to be some kind of agricultural class, judging by the built-on greenhouse attached to the back of the room. With her are Daisy, Rose, and a handful of other girls who are stuck with washing duty. Between the eight girls are three large metal tubs full of cold, soapy water and a handful of washboards. A few of them scrub the clothes as thoroughly as they can, before passing them off to be wrung out.A few lines of cord hung up in the greenhouse serve as makeshift clotheslines, where the clothes are hung up to dry in the sunlight. Beneath them are a few plastic trays of plants that are still in the process of growing, courtesy of the agricultural teacher that taught his students to grow things. Peppers, tomatoes, cauliflower, carrots, and cabbage are a few of the seed packets that were left behind, and we planted them a few weeks ago, though much hasn't grown yet. Aaron and I are afraid we waited too long to plant th

The front door of the store has been barricaded with an empty shelf turned on its side, but the window has been broken out, probably by vandals some time ago. Aaron is the first to climb up and over the shattered glass, and he bends down to help lift me into the store. A shard of glass jutting out of the window frame snags my shirt sleeve and it tears, but thankfully it doesn't break the skin. The thump of my boots echoes in the empty store as I drop down from the window sill, landing in a crouch.The other two soldiers climb into the store after me, and they quickly draw their guns and spread out, trying to make this place as secure as possible. Aaron nudges me in one direction, and I quickly grab two red handheld baskets from a stack near the window, before following him down a nearby aisle. Like many stores in such a large city, there isn't much left in any one place. A lot of the remaining merchandise is scattered around the floor or turned on its side on its shelf, having been ov

"Madison, I want you to show Todd and Janelle to their rooms. Just find a place for them wherever there's room-you'll know the best place for them. Then I want you to show them both where they'll be doing their chores. When you're done with that, you can take them to the cafeteria for lunch. It should be starting right about then." "What are you gonna do?" Aaron sighs and runs a hand nervously through his hair. "I have to gather the soldiers and tell them that I lost five of their comrades on a stupid supply run. That should be fun," he says bitterly. "There's nothing like telling someone their friends all died for a can of baked beans or a package of diapers!" Aaron walks away shaking his head, and I just stand there in the doorway to the school, watching him go. I know Aaron well enough to know how deeply today's events will weigh on his soul, and I hate seeing him like this. Surviving in this harsh new world is hard e

I slip out into the hallway and start my search for Aaron. After checking the storeroom, the makeshift armory, and the soldier's quarters, I finally find him in his temporary office. He's sitting behind a large wooden desk, and he's busy looking through papers with food levels, ammunition levels, and the current population breakdown. He looks up when I burst in, and he frowns."Maddy," he says, using the nickname people only use when I'm incredibly pissed off, "what's wrong?""Are you aware of the bartering system between the soldiers and the survivors?""What?""Some of the female survivors-like Rose-have been trading sexual favors for extra food! I walked in on Rose and one of your soldiers fooling around in the storeroom, and just now I noticed she had extra food. We got into it, and she admitted to it, and I noticed at least four other girls that are in on it too. Please tell me you didn't know..."He grips the edges of the desk so tightly I'm surprised the wood doesn't groan unde