5

Manon and Jaques spent two pleasant nights in the attic before anyone had come back to the house. They had made themselves very comfortable. Manon had found plastic garbage bags filled with heavy blankets that she spread out on the pull-out like a fabric next. Some night's her stomach churned from how hot she felt but decided to bear with it as she wanted to appreciate the warmth as much as possible.

Jaques played happily through the days with the toy cars on the floor. He would quietly push them around and over the bed and trunk, sometimes letting them fall to the ground with a crash. He dropped a car and looked at Manon, she smiled. Then, a louder crash from below caused her to press a worried finger to her lips. She picked Jaques up and put him on the bed, she could here muffled yelling and crashing through the house as the new intruder travelled through the halls. There was a thump in the bedroom below them, Manon pressed her ear to the floor.

There was no making out what was being said, frantic discussion between two men judging by the deep rumble of the voices. The sound of a gun shot made Manon squeeze her eyes shut, then the unmistakable thump of a body hitting the floor. Manon looked over at Jacques, he stared at her, his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide with horror.

What were they to do? Wait out the new inhabitants of the house? What if this was their house and they had no intent on leaving? Sweat beaded on Manon's forehead when another sound of footprints entered the room below.

The man's voice was soft but deep, she could hear the bass of it rumble below them. The sound of laughter, not from the man with the soft voice but one of the others, maybe the one who pulled the trigger? In an instant the laugh turned to a guttural scream, followed by pleading from a third voice, this one sounded like a woman. Silence. Manon wanted to move, but had nowhere to go. She kept her eyes locked on Jacques, as if she were holding him in place with her gaze. His chin wrinkled, his bottom lip quivering. Manon prayed he could keep his crying at bay at least until they knew they were safe. Footprints crossed below them to the closet where they had entered the attic through.

“I know someone's up there.”

prologue

A faint cry filled the cool air. It was somewhat distant, maybe a hundred yards or so. Manon crouched low and crept against the brick wall to her left, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. She had been sleeping when she had heard it first. She crawled from beneath the desk where she had laid her bedroll, and cautiously stood to look around.

For two weeks she had been staying in a small abandoned store, its contents picked nearly clean with only expired cans of food left to collect dust on the shelves. Outside was dangerous, both night and day were a risky venture outside into the barren land she called home. Skeletons of what had once been homes and businesses that had been looted and left to rot. Manon hadn't seen another person since she had come into this place. Now she heard this strange sound, and curiosity got the best of her.

The store was across the street from a large playground. There was a concrete dome that had indents to climb on and small, rounded entrances along the bottom, a swing and a slide.As she neared the park, crying became louder and clearer. Manon wondered if the noise would attract anything to the area. After seeing no signs of life, Manon dashed across, keeping low and quiet like her father had urged her to constantly do. He had taught her to survive after the war.

The cry was coming from a concrete play structure, and as Manon approached whatever was inside ceased its crying entirely. She clicked on the flashlight attached to her shoulder and peered inside. A pair of big blue eyes stared back, cheeks red and tear-stained cheeks. It was a child, maybe no more than five year old wearing dirty clothes.

1

Manon offered her hand to the boy. She was too big to fit into the play structure so the gesture was the best she could offer. The boy stared at her, trying to assess whether or not she was a threat. Manon herself was wondering if it was such a good idea to take the child back to the store, she had enough trouble providing for herself. Still, she could never go on knowing she had left a child to die.

Finally, the boy crawled to Manon and from under the play structure. She took his hand and led him back to the store, checking over her shoulder as if there was going to be someone or something at the playground waiting. Once in the store, Manon offered the child the remnants of a can of beans. He looked at her with tired eyes before beginning to eat.

The child ate as if he hadn't in days, shoveling small handfuls of canned brown beans into his mouth frantically. Manon watched him eat contently, the two sitting in the shadows behind the counter of the store with nothing but the sounds of the child chewing his food. "So what's your name?" She asked, pulling her knees to her chest. He did not answer, nor did he look up at her and instead continued eating. Manon wondered where his mother or father were before grimly realizing that they may had fallen victim to a group of bandits-or worse.

"What's your name?" She asked again, leaning in to listen. The child looked up at her, his face filthy from his supper, his forehead caked with dust, the blue irises of his eyes looking brilliant against the grime. Just as before, he did not answer her. Instead, the child took off the small back pack he had been wearing and held it out to her. Manon took the pack and unzipped it, looking at him before rooting through its contents. Nothing had seemed out of the ordinary, a small plush elephant, a long sleeve shirt, a toque, a toy train, then at the bottom a small picture in a black wooden frame. It was a woman, her hair a soft blonde, eyes just like the child before her, smiling brilliantly at the camera. In this picture, the trees were full of leaves, the sky was bright blue, so much colour that Manon felt her eyes pulsing. She placed the photo back in the knapsack and took notice of a tag that in big, black markered letters read

JAQUES M.

She slid the bag back to the boy and nodded, then handed him a wet nap pack for his face and hands. The child looked at the packet, then back to her, Manon stared confused for a moment before realizing he had no idea how to wash himself with it, then took it from his hands and wiped the dirt from his face.

Not long after she had washed him, Jaques fell asleep on her bedroll. He slept like the dead, so much so that Manon felt compelled to press her hand to his chest to feel the rise and fall of breath. Grimly, Manon thought of how on Earth she would take care of a child when she had no idea where she was going. While the store had proved to be a stable shelter, it was only temporary. Once she was ready, Manon would have to move on in an attempt to search for more human contact. There were rumours of a survivors settlement, but Manon had no idea where, and her radio had picked nothing up. No emergency transmission promising a warm bed and food for all, no questions about survivors. Nothing. Her father had talked about it with another traveler once beside a fire. He talked about how if there was a settlement, there would surely be some sort of transmission to other survivor's. Now Manon would wander with her radio, hoping to pick up any kind of signal. She ran a calloused palm across her forehead tiredly, wishing she could sleep as easily as her new travel companion.

2

Restlessness was beginning to get the best of Manon as she sat next to Jaques while he slept. There was a maintenance door that led to the roof on the other side of the room. Manon eyed it in thought of trying her radio outside tonight. She looked to the sleeping child then back to the door, he was so tired, surely he wouldn't wake up if she was only gone for ten minutes. Quietly she pulled on her coat and put up her hood, exiting the warmth and peacefulness of the grocery.

Wind howled through the night, whistling through alleyways and between buildings in the dark, Manon hated the night because of that lonely and terrifying sound. She clicked the switch of the radio that was clipped to her pocket and began twisting the dial. The antenna on this particular radio was long, stretching past her shoulder and wobbled considerably in the wind. She walked the rooftop slowly, hoping for any sign of life to call out to her and beckon her and the child now in her care to safety.

Only static.

Dead air.

Sighing, she began to walk the perimeter once more, maybe the wind had interfered with the antenna, it was all she could hope. As Manon approached the north side of the roof she heard low rumbles, and the sound of scratching on glass. Dropping to her behind and pressing her back against the wall, Manon shut the radio off, clasping a hand over her mouth desperately, t. She waited for her heartbeat to slow down and slowly peeked over the edge of the roof.

Across the street and up a few blocks Manon saw it. Long, thin arms, torso and legs, it's body looked like an ashy gray. The creatures had no eyes, or none that were visible, only a mouth and small slits on the sides of its head that must have been ears. Manon had no idea what it really was, but remembered how her father and the man they had traveled with spoke of the creatures with fear. There wasn't a formal name for them, but her father had called them "Jumpers". There were all sorts of nasty things that roamed the street, and Jumpers were among some of the nastiest. Much to Manon's luck and mostly her father's survival tactics, they hadn't had to tangle with any particularly awful beasts. Manon felt panicked, her mouth was dry and her hands shook. She had to get back in the store without drawing the Jumper's attention or it would surely kill her.

Manon ducked down again and as quietly as she could crawled back to the door. She had left it jammed open with a stray brick, and it felt like it was going to take an eternity to pull the stop to get back in. Hot tears welled in her eyes and then become cool in the night. She had been told the Jumpers had excellent hearing, and the door was not quiet. She lifted the brick and moved it out of the way, and opened the door as fast as she could, slipping in and pressing her hands to the weight of the metal, letting it drift closed. When the door fell into place it did so with a loud THUD that made her gasp and stiffen. She slid the bolt and pushed down the metal bar that added weight to the door and took a few steps back. It was quiet for a moment before a crunch and scratching of gravel.

It had heard the door close.

Manon covered her mouth with her hand again as if she hoped to stifle the sound of her breathing, not daring to make a move, and desperate to avoid make any sound before she heard the Jumper pawing at the metal. A few slams of whatever kind of hand or hoof it possessed against the door that made Manon want to cry. More sounds of gravel moving and the sound of a heavy metal sounding rattle- Thing had jumped off of the grocery and onto the roof of a car. Manon was not bold enough to race back to Jaques. Instead she tip toed all the way down the stairs and crept low and quiet back to the desk where she crawled under and stared out from beneath and into the darkness until finally falling into an uncomfortable sleep wracked with nightmares.

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.

4

The house Manon had decided her and Jaques would stay in for the night was as unassuming as possible. The grass had grown as tall as the three stairs leading to the front door which stood open, almost to invite them inside. The living room windows had been blown in, shattered glass littered the filthy carpet. Manon held Jaques hand, guiding him carefully through the main floor and listening intently for any signs of life. There was a kitchen to their right, Manon checked the cupboards hoping some scraps of food had been left behind to no avail. She didn't feel disappointed, she checked more out of habit than anything else. A staircase to the basement at the back of the kitchen looked a little too sinister for her liking. She stared into the darkness, afraid she might catch a glimpse of something that had nested below. Shaking off her distraction, Manon exited the kitchen and checked the hall connected to the living room. There was a bedroom on each side of the hall, and a bathroom beside the bedroom on the left. There was some gauze and half a bottle of rubbing alcohol in the bathroom cabinet, Manon smiled at the find and wrapped the bottle in a piece of fabric before tucking it into her bag.

The bedrooms were empty save for a dirty mattress in each room and more broken glass. Manon brushed her fingertips against the wall as she walked the perimeter of the room. The closet door hung off it's hinges, a dresser inside had it's drawers either torn out or empty. Manon knew it wouldn't be safe to stay somewhere so open. “We'll have to try another house.” She said to Jaques, giving his hand a light squeeze before giving the room one last look. Her gaze passed over the closet before snapping back. She stepped closer, looking at the ceiling inside the closet and noticed an indent that lined the top. An entrance to the attic.

Manon climbed on top of the dresser and pressed the palms of her hands against the ceiling of the closet. She could tell it had been a long time since it had last been opened as the wood separated and a cool draft hit her face. She poked her head inside the entrance and looked around. Sun drifted through the room through small vents on the front and back of the attic. There was old furniture covered in sheets and an impressive royal blue trunk pushed against one of the walls. Manon smiled at how serene it felt, then climbed down from the dresser so she could lift Jaques inside, after she pulled herself up into the attic she closed the entrance.

There was a pull-out couch under one of the sheets. She carefully unfolded it as if she were afraid it might break if handled too rough. As well as the couch there was an old armchair with a high back and a coffee table with little drawers along the front. One of the drawers had wrapped hard toffee inside, Manon handed one to Jaques who happily accepted it. Manon set her pack on the floor and pulled out both a can of corn and canned meat. She smiled at Jaques and gave the cans a bit of a shake. “I think we should celebrate this find!” She exclaimed, opening the food.

The two spent the rest of the afternoon enjoying the shelter they had found. After a satisfying meal, Manon flipped the locks of the trunk against the wall and lifted the lid. The smell of wood and fabric filled the air, it was slightly musty but not unpleasant. Manon sifted through the contents of the trunk: a thick, warm blanket which she put aside, candle holders, some toy cars, which she handed to Jaques who quickly scurried off to push them around on the floor. Lastly, Manon pulled out a book that had been laying on the bottom of the chest. There was an illustration of a small boy sitting on the floor of a messy bathroom, bold blue letters read across the top:

LOVE YOU FOREVER

She flipped the pages quickly and looked over at Jaques. He played with the toy cars she had given him, pushing them back and forth while making small noises to himself that resembled a car motor. She approached him and crouched down, showing him the book. “Do you want to read this book before we go to sleep tonight?” She asked, smiling. He looked up at her and nodded, his eyes looking tired. Manon noticed his exhaustion, but also noticed it was a different kind of tired than when she had found him. A kind of tired that came from a full day, not stress. She lifted the boy from the floor and carried him to the pull-out, laying him on the mattress and covering him with the heavy blanket from the trunk. She laid beside him, bending her knees to give the book something to rest on. She began to read.

“A mother held her new baby and very slowly rocked him back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. And while she held him, she sang...” Manon's vision became partially blurred as she felt tears well in the bottom of her eyes before she continued, singing softly to Jaques.

“I'll love you forever,

I'll like you for always,

as long as I'm living,

my baby you'll be”

That evening, they both slept peacefully.