3

Manon wrapped a wool scarf around Jacque's neck, tucking the ends against his chest before pulling the zipper of his coat up to his chin. The scarf was hers, but she had two, and during the day it wasn't as cold so she had no use for it. She put a balaclava on his head and took the toque from his pack, placing it onto his head. He was dressed warmly enough, the last detail being a pair of safety goggles tightened to fit his small head. They were not as good as the snowboarding goggles Manon would put on, but they fit and would shield his eyes from the wind.

She pushed her own hair back with a headband, and pulled on her own long parka and toque, wrapping her own scarf over the bottom half of her face and placing her own tinted goggled over her eyes so her entire face was concealed. Manon knelt in front of Jaques and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Stay as close behind me as you can. Never in front, but never too far behind. And most of all, be as quiet as you can." Manon wasn't sure if she needed to even say the last part, the boy still hadn't said a peep.

.

They exited out the back door of the shop, the solitude and safety of the building would soon become a mere dot on the horizon, and the thought made Manon a little uncomfortable. She did not know when they would find another place that had some food or shelter that was safe enough to make camp. It could be days, and now that she had the child with her, it was only going to be more difficult.

The streets were dead silent now, a stark contrast to the night before. the skeletal tree branches swayed in the quiet wind. The streets were lined with cars that had been long unused by their owners. Manon wondered if all the people who owned these cars were dead, or just gone. It was a sad to see the bare bones of what had once been a thriving town; many people had walked these streets, to go grocery shopping, to go to work, to live their life. Where were they now?

Maybe the Jumpers got them. Maybe even worse. Manon shuddered and forced the memory from the night before from her mind.

They dared not walk in the open, it was just common sense to stick close to the buildings. They weren't safe enough to stay in, almost all of them had been picked over, and even hiding in them was dangerous because there was no telling what sort of thing might have taken refuge in the empty rooms. Still, the quieter and more hidden they stayed, the less likely they would be noticed, and that was really all Manon had planned for.

She had turned her radio on, the long antenna bobbed up and down as she walked, the white noise of the static was almost therapeutic. Manon constantly hoped that it would jump to life, any sort of signal would be good. Anything. But there was only static. The radio was a hand-crank with a small solar panel on top. Her father had modified it so it was usable without having to rely on constantly changing batteries. This made her radio not only functional, but one of the most important items she had.

Hours passed, they had stopped a few times so Jacques could rest, and sometimes, Manon would scoop him up into her arms and carry him for a stretch until her arms cramped with pain and it became too much to carry him and her supplies at once.

The buildings turned into only houses, and then the houses began to thin. They had exited the heart of the city and now suburbia surrounded the two. Cookie cutter houses with broken windows and kicked in doors. Just like in the city, it must have been pandemonium here. People scrambling for their loved ones, armfuls of their possessions as they raced for their vehicles and tried desperately to get to safety, whatever they thought safety would be. Anything left over would have been only a shadow of what a person should be. Ravenous, with only basic savage instinct guiding their choices. Looting and killing to survive. It was amazing what people were capable of in times of desperation. Manon hoped to find something safe here, even just for the night.