Mama sits with the men and they all talk for awhile. The sun has been moving across the sky. It’s so beautiful. I can’t believe I’ve never gotten to see it the like this. Finally Mama comes back over to the truck. “It’s okay, we are really going to be okay.” All of the girls start to move at once, running to see more of the outside world. I stay in my spot here at the front and some of the nice men help us down one by one.

“Come over here to get some new clothes ladies!” This guy is bright and cheerful. Always trying to make others smile. “I raided some of the trucks and possibly the house where you were staying at the time…“ We get to get out of these rags. The new clothes aren’t fancy, but they’re clean and there’s no holes and frayed edges.

Once we were all changed, we gathered together and sat down with the men. They gave us some bread, water, and this hard chewy amazing stuff called jerky. After eating they took us to a river. So we even got to wash off the years of grime, it was so nice to clean up a bit. The water was chilly, but I don’t care. I’m getting a bath! I’m going to be clean!

By the time all of the girls got to take a bath and play in the water, night had fallen. We had not wandered far from where they saved us.

“Have you taken out the chip?” I peer over at the boys talking to each other. I guess they are boys, they’re men, like the guards, but they seem friendly so far. They don’t seem to be cruel individuals, like what we’ve known so far.

Another one of them answered quickly. “Already done. They won’t find us out here.” He motions to the woods. “Sadly they would be able to follow the tracks made by that monster. I wish we could take the trucks with us.” He sighed but I saw Mama bear nod before she left their conversation to come over to us. She’s smiling, a real smile. I know she puts on a smile to help us, but this is the first genuine smile I’ve ever seen from her. It made my heart flutter, like maybe, just maybe, everything was actually okay now.

“We’re safe,” she says again, quieter this time, almost like she’s still trying to convince herself. Her eyes scan each of our faces, lingering just a moment longer on mine. “We’re going to figure out what comes next, together.” She squeezes my shoulder.

Tonight, we get to sleep outside under the stars. Some of the girls are scared of the open sky. It’s so vast after the low ceiling and four damp walls we were confined too. Mama Bear lies on the ground in the middle of us, arms open wide, and they all curl around her like they’ve always done. She hums a soft lullaby none of us know the words to, but it makes the bugs and the breeze and the distant crackle of fire feel less frightening.

I stare at the sky, watching, listening, letting my mind wander. I think about the transports. About all the girls who left and never came back. About the crescent scar across my neck, my birthmark smeared across my collarbone and the people who said I wasn’t good enough. I think about Mama Bear throwing herself between us and danger over and over again. And how even now, she’s still doing it.

Tomorrow, hopefully we’ll go somewhere better. Maybe we’ll get real clothes there, real food, maybe a real bed. Maybe we’ll go to one of the reservations the men talked about. Places where people help each other, where kids can play in the sun and not be locked underground.

I don’t know what the future will be like. But I know one thing, we’re aren’t alone anymore. And for the first time, I start to believe we never have to be again.

I didn’t sleep much, there was so much going on. I was too busy looking and listening to the night. My mind spinning with possibilities now that we are out of that hell hole. Eventually, my body gave out and my eyelids couldn’t stay open any longer.

The next morning I leaned a little closer. Trying to hear what mama and the boys were talking about. I don’t want to be left out when they could be talking about crucial information to our new lives.

“Thank you for helping us. I know it’s not what you were expecting, but it means a great deal to us.” I could hear a slight tremor in mama’s voice. She was close to tearing up.

“You’re welcome. We need to get moving already. Get as far away,” nodding towards the direction of the trucks, “from those as we can.” I start to shift and wake up the rest of the girls. I’m not sure when they turned to cuddle me instead of mama, but I guess it was good for her to be able to move. They seem to have slept well, which is something new. I’m glad they all got some good rest.

The sun hasn’t come fully awake yet, but we want to be far away from all of this before the abandoned trucks are discovered. We herd all the girls back to the river. We have them all go potty and rinse off in the river again before we leave. I can hear mama bear over the sounds of packing up. “Don’t get these clothes wet! You want to stay warm while we walk.” We form a line and are quiet as mice as we set off on a new adventure. As we set off for our new start.

Not far into the journey, some of the littles started to slow down. “I’m tired Mama!” The littles, can’t go as far. They’re already worn out. The sun is starting to rise, beautiful colors streaking across the sky.

“I’m sorry girls, we need to keep going. We can’t carry you and the supplies the whole way.” They frown but they understand. We all keep walking. I think for a moment then decide to speak up. Maybe I can help a little bit.

“I can give you a few minutes off your feet. You can all take turns with piggy back rides.” I stoop low so the youngest can climb on. “Just remember I will have to take a few minutes in between as well.” They all looked up, their faces glowing with excitement. They nod and all smile and giggle. It’s so nice to see them smiling. For too long all they have known is fear.

After a few more hours of walking, we find an abandoned shed to take a break. The littles run in, the smallest falling asleep before their head hits the ground. I sit down with my back to the wall. A few of them inch closer and lay their heads on my lap. I tilt mine back and fall asleep too. Completely drained after giving continuous piggyback rides.

We rest for a while since the sun is out and is brutally hot right now. There’s not much shade in this current area of our journey. When it cools, we’ll continue.

The girls slept while the adults talked. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I’m curious. They were all sitting together and whispering. Trying not to wake the girls from their slumber.

“So who are you? How did you end up with these children?” They all look to Mama for some answers. She sighs, then looks up. She looks tired, sad. The gleam gone from her eyes.

“I’ll give you the short version. You wouldn’t want to hear all the details.” She paused, looking down at her hands. Then she took a deep breath and sat up straight.

“I’m ex-military. Special negotiator, you could say. I was never popular. Didn’t fit the mold. I joined to get away from small-town drama, try to build something that wasn’t tied to anyone’s name. But it didn’t go how I thought.”

She shifted, uncomfortable. I don’t think I’d ever heard Mama talk about herself before. We all just knew she could fight and keep us alive. Keep some light and some hope alive down there. She taught us all sorts of things about the world and our bodies.

One of the men stood, rummaged in his pack, and handed her a small bottle. “Here are the some meds. I know the journey’s not easy with your injuries.”

She nodded and took them with a sip of water. “Thanks.”

A quiet beat passed before she spoke again.

“I disappeared when the war really broke loose. Couldn’t bring myself to follow orders that didn’t sit right. Hid out for a while. Tried to survive. Then I heard what happened in San Antonio.”

Her voice changed—lower, steadier, like something buried under gravel.

“My kids, Theo and Penelope, were living there. They were just kids. I was stationed two towns over, stuck on escort duty while the bridges blew and the roads turned to fire. A rogue militia rolled through the city and started ‘cleansing’ the neighborhoods that wouldn’t swear loyalty. Turned San Antonio into a war zone overnight.”

Her eyes stared somewhere past the wall.

“I fought like hell to get back, but by the time I reached the city line, it was just smoke and metal. Nobody could tell me if they made it out. I searched for six months, checking every convoy list, every refugee map. Nothing.”

Her hand moved to her side, resting over old scar tissue.

“After that, I stopped wearing the uniform. My unit scattered. I stopped asking questions.” She looked up again, just briefly. “That’s what got me caught. I was moving through a ravine to avoid a patrol and ran straight into a Community ambush. I fought, but they were better armed. Took my gear. Did this.”

She lifted her shirt just enough to show the ragged scar on her ribs. It was healed, but ugly. “When I came to, I was in a basement. They’d patched me just enough to keep me standing. My job was to care for the girls they kept down there—teach them, calm them, help with the births when I could. Most of the mothers didn’t survive. The boys were taken early. The girls… stayed with me.”

She exhaled slowly. “I named them. Taught them what I could. Most of them didn’t even know how to speak when they arrived. And I fought—every time they came to take one away, I fought. They got smart about it eventually. Started knocking me out first.”

Her mouth tightened. “I guess that’s what I get for walking away from the war. Karma for deserting. But I couldn’t kill my own brothers and sisters in uniform. Couldn’t follow orders that asked me to do that.”

She fell quiet again.

“Anyway.” She gave a short, humorless laugh. “That’s my story in a nutshell. They started calling me Mama. Mama Bear. It stuck.”

Her voice softened at the end. “My real name is Elixia…. Elixia Gray…”

Silence. Nobody said a word. They just looked at each other.

I couldn’t take it anymore. Tears streamed down my face. I adjusted the little ones in my lap and ran over to her. I hugged her tight. “I’m so sorry, Mama Bear. Elixia. Thank you for all you’ve done for us. We know we don’t replace your children, but we think of you as our mother.”

I stepped back and smiled. She smiled back.

“Thank you, Jordan.”