At the same moment, unknown of the blaze, the workers who had toiled in repairing Antham’s water supply succeeded. Taps that had been accidentally left on suddenly spat out the dirtiest water anyone had ever seen, opaque with dirt and sludge. Despite this, the fire services used it against the blaze, containing it to an almost three-block radius.

The rain began falling harder, but it didn’t put out the fire.

But the sun rose several hours later, revealing the charred four blocks of housing and shops. The Prescott’s home had escaped harm; two blocks had separated their townhouse from the flames. They returned home the next morning to flooding from the opened faucets, now depositing smoky grey water into overflowing water basins.

Political factions screamed, using it to further establish Antham’s administrative instability. It wasn’t until later when Antham learned that the explosion was deliberate, used by a largely libertarian group in the hopes of blaming the current administration.

But as the days wore on, Elizabeth suffered. Having been born at the end of the war, she suffered from post-traumatic stress more so than the rest of the family, and the fire hadn’t helped her nerves. She lacked sleep and could not concentrate on her studies, becoming attached to her mother more than previously.

It was one night in particular, where the heat beat down and made the air stale and hot, Lilly and Brian put her to bed. Their younger sister hadn’t been acting out of the ordinary, but after sitting in the dark for almost an hour, she still hadn’t closed her eyes. “I can’t sleep,” she told her older siblings. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“You just need to let your mind at ease,” said Brian, gesturing like he was flattening the sheets of a bed.

Lilly looked to her older brother, smiled, and replied teasing, “But unlike you, she has things to think about in her head.” Brian scoffed at her, but took a seat on the corner of the bed. “Would you like me to read to you?”

“What is she, five? She isn’t a child, Lillian.”

Elizabeth sat up and said meekly, “No, I-I like to hear you read. You’ve always had a wonderful voice.” Lilly looked to her brother and smiled; he just looked away and frowned.

“Anything in mind, E?” she asked. Elizabeth shook her head vigorously. She turned to her brother and asked, “Do you want to listen too, Brian?”

“N-no, but I want to make sure that E’s okay.”

Lilly quickly departed from the room and brought back the book she had been reading before. “Any objections to me starting where I left off?” The two shook their heads, and, clearing her throat, Lilly began –

“But you must understand,” Mr. Kennett explained, his hands shaking in anticipation of death. “No one will follow you. Greenspring will never be finished.”
Mrs. Kennett laughed, leaning back and letting out a hearty chuckle that sent a shiver up the man’s spine. She leaned forward and said through her gritted teeth, “You starry-eyed fool. Watch them follow me.” She lifted the gun to his chest and pulled the trigger…