Amari

Aug. 29 cont.

They have a sanctuary.

A limited number of people get to travel there.

I will write more later. Mema has our papers. Where is Mema? We need to get in that line.

David

No need to go home.

David swatted ash off his sleeve and slid his fingers into the hidden seam, pulling out a flattened roll of papers from the pocket sewn into his jacket lining. His parents had gotten one thing right, at least—drilling into him and his siblings that ID must always be kept on them, hidden, dry, and secure. The wax-sealed fabric had done its job. The edges were frayed, but the names, dates, and biometric stamp were still legible.

He turned and scanned the dispersing crowd.

“Grace!” he shouted, cutting through the rising din. He found her a few paces away, bundled in her too-small green jacket, her braids peeking out from under her ash-cloth scarf.

She nodded before he could finish. “I got ’em.” She crouched and slipped off one boot, revealing her own papers stuffed in the toe. A practiced motion. Automatic.

“Good girl,” David muttered, already pushing through the crowd with one hand locked around Grace’s. He didn’t care that they cut ahead of at least fifteen people. Desperation had its own rules now.

Jed’s voice rang out over the grumble of the crowd. “David!”

David turned and spotted Jed pushing through the fray, Susan in tow. Their sleeves were drawn over their faces to keep the ash out.

“I couldn’t hear everything from the back,” Jed called, panting. “Are they taking everyone? Or is it limited?”

David’s jaw tightened. “There’s a limit.” He glanced behind him. “Stay close.”

Jed slid in behind them without hesitation, wrapping an arm around Susan’s shoulder. “We’re with them,” he told the people they'd bypassed. Then, lowering his voice, he added, “There are fights breaking out. I saw two guys go at it over a spot near the back.”

David grunted. “If I have to fight, I’ll fight.”

The line inched forward. Around them, the makeshift square pulsed with unease—people whispering, babies crying, Monitors in faded blue jackets patrolling the perimeter with expressionless stares.

He didn’t care what waited out west. It was better than here.

A girl and an older woman slid into the line ahead of him.

“You can’t cut here,” David snapped. “Get behind us.”

She turned around, and he saw her eyes—sharp, dark, and unmistakable. The red scarf sealed it.

“You,” he growled. “You’re the bread thief. You cut again?”

She exhaled slowly, as if she couldn't believe her rotten luck. “And you’re still as delightful as ever.”

The old woman kept her head bowed, gripping the girl’s sleeve for balance.

Before David could say more, the official up front raised his voice.

“We have room for three more families. If you are farther back than the schoolchildren line, please return to your sector tents. There will be another announcement later.”

A collective moan rippled through the crowd. Arguments flared behind them. Someone threw a piece of char. The girl bolted forward, dragging the older woman with her toward the front of the line.

Jed grabbed Susan’s hand. “Follow her!”

David scooped Grace into his arms and followed, muscles burning. His boots pounded against the cracked pavement. He jostled around the girl, knocking her aside.

She let out a gasp and snagged his cloak, yanking him back. Off-balance, he stumbled, falling hard onto one knee with Grace in his arms.

“Keep going!” he shouted when Jed looked back. “Get to the front!”

By the time he got back up, she and the old woman had darted ahead. They stood right behind Jed and Susan, who were already before the official, handing over their papers.

David clenched his jaw. That girl had taken what could’ve been Grace’s chance.

He got to his feet and shoved into position next to the thief and the old woman even as the girl pulled out her papers. Keeping a hand steady on Grace’s shoulder, he said, “We were in front. She pushed me.”

Jed backed him up. “It’s true. We were together.”

Up close, David saw the lines etched deep in the official’s face, the weariness in his eyes. A man who’d probably survived three Plagues and two Riots.

“Papers?” the man said, turning to Jed and Susan first.

Jed handed them over. The man examined the pages under a portable UV torch, compared them to their faces, then handed them a pen. “Sign here. List your names and family members. Company Five is behind me. Gear up. You leave at sunrise.”

David’s heartbeat thudded in his throat. Almost.

“We’re next,” the bread thief blurted.

“No, we are,” snapped a couple to the left of her.

“We’re next!” David lunged forward, clutching Grace. “She pushed me!”

The official raised a hand for silence and looked at the thief. “Papers.”

“But—” David began.

One look from the man shut him up.

“Amari,” the old woman wheezed. Her hands trembled as she pulled out a waterproof sleeve from beneath her cloak and handed it to the girl.

Amari. He finally got the bread thief’s name.

The victory was hollow.

Amari fumbled it, nearly dropping the contents of the sleeve.

David’s fists twitched. He could snatch them, crush them underfoot, but it wouldn’t help. He knew it.

The official studied the documents, then fixed his gaze on the old woman. “Where is your husband?”

“Dead.”

“Then you can’t make the journey.”

Amari’s head snapped up. “What? Why not?”

“I can take care of her,” the old woman rasped. “She’s my blood.”

The official shook his head. “Regulations. Children must be accompanied by legal guardians. No solo travelers. No exceptions.”

“I’m not a child!” Amari snapped. “I’m nineteen years old!”

“Do you have a husband?” he asked.

“N-no.”

David nearly laughed from sheer disbelief. This—this was justice.

He stepped forward. “We’re ready.”

The official didn’t even glance at his documents. “Where are your parents?”

“My parents?” David blinked. “They’re dead.”

He nodded at Grace. “She’s a minor. She must be accompanied by a legally married guardian. No exceptions.”

“I am her legal guardian!” David exploded.

“Legally married guardian.”

He felt his lungs collapse. “Why?” he gasped. “Why would that even be a rule?”

“Stability,” the man said wearily. “We’re reestablishing civilization, not dragging chaos with us.”

“This is my family!” David cried, clinging to Grace’s small hand. “She’s my sister. She won’t make it if we stay here!”

Jed stepped forward. “They can be our children. We’ll take them. We’re already approved.”

David stared at him, stunned. “Jed…”

But the official shook his head again. “We don’t have time to rewrite every case.”

“There has to be a way!” David said, his voice cracking.

The official looked like he’d heard this twenty times already that day. “Please step aside or I’ll have you escorted off.”

“They’re getting married!” the old woman blurted.

Everything froze. For a moment, no one moved in the wake of her startling declaration. Her words didn’t click for David, didn’t fit in context of the situation.

The official blinked. “Who?”

She jabbed a gnarled finger between David and Amari. “My granddaughter and the boy. Tonight.”