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            Ellanor staggered trying to untangle her legs from the itchy blanket, though quickly gave up. Plopping back against the hard cot staring at the dark ceiling. Her hair plastered to her face with sweat and the only sound was her heart thumping against her rib cage.

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       Craning her neck to try and figure out where she was. The stagnant dust that filled the air could be seen with every flicker of the one semi-working florescent ceiling light that only seemed to illuminate half of the medium sized room. Empty cots, a few stained with stale blood, piled against the back wall as if being prepared to either be burned or structured for a barrier. Her eyes flickered to the dimmed side of the room. A wall of raided cabinets which looked like they were only home to rats or spiders.

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       An abandoned hospital? She pondered squinting her gaze back to the ceiling. Or whatever was left of the building once used for a medical help.

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       The glass of the window was cold against her arm. Turning her head lightly. The streets were empty of life but strewn with stranded automobiles and abandoned belongings. The only light from the pale moonlight that poked through the holes in the giant ash clouds.

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        She ran her tongue against the roof of her mouth trying to rid of the metallic taste. Letting out a deep sigh, placing an arm across her eyes. Trying to recollect her thoughts, trying to figure out the next step out and trying to figure out what happened.

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        Silence stung her ears. Realizing then she was alone in the room. There was truly nothing except the hum of the flickering light. No sirens, no panic and worst of all no crying. No Percy.

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        Without thinking she bolted out of the bed only to land with a large thud against the hard floor. One leg still caught in the blanket, a stinging pain surging through her abdomen. It was as though someone was stabbing her in the side, and then sewed her up with a rusty wire.

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        Carefully she leaned her weight on the untangled leg, quickly untangling the other before she looked down. Noticing her shirt was inside out, someone had redressed her, it wasn’t inside out day she had just washed it. Her eyes then fell to the blood soaked bandages, well actually torn up sheets used for bandaging.

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        “Fucking great,” she grumbled, now she had to change that. She didn’t have time for this.

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        This time with more grace, bracing herself on the small table, she hoisted herself up. Hunched with one arm across her gut holding the goopy bandages. Taking another look, confirming she was indeed by herself. Someone had to have been near though; it wasn’t her who bandaged her up. Even if she had been a nurse she could not do it in her sleep.

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        She looked down feeling something crinkle in her grip. A piece of paper, old and stained with some blood, probably hers. She picked up to look closer at the chicken scratch writing.

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        We’re sorry. We took the child.

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        Ellanor crushed the letter with rage. “Sorry my ass!” She growled throwing the paper to the ground. She had been nothing more than bait, nothing but a pawn for them. “Peace bringers my left foot, nothing better than the damn military.”

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        Quickly using whatever strength she could find in her legs she staggered towards the raided cabinets. A small hope she could find something of use. Bracing one arm on the counter, throwing the other blindly into the upper cabinets. Swatting it back and forth through the dust. A futile effort except some dust filled boxes and a box full of needles, at least they were unused. She left the box on the counter moving to the bottom cabinets. In the end her own raid ended her with nothing but some unused needles, dust and some pain pills.

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        She let out a hefty sigh before she staggered back to the bed. Finding her own bag on the floor beside her. Honestly surprised when it wasn’t strewn apart but actually found some supplies even replenished. She grabbed her knife, quickly hacking at the sweat drenched sheets. No time to care about decency, no time to perfect it. She had to fix it and move on. She had to find Percy.

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         Trying hard to get a tame on her trembling hands as she unwrapped her torso. Not the worst thing she had seen in her life. A jagged half way cauterized, shrapnel wound. Probably would have been better to check before rummaging cabinets.

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        “Great,” she groaned tossing the useless bloodied bandages to the side.

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        She moved quickly for her bag. She had to find the lighter, or something to help seal the wound up again. The days she was happy about once being a nurse. She knew her paranoia would pay off eventually. No time to cry or argue with herself as she found the old lighter. Old scavenged from the first town she and Percy searched; the first of a small collection really.

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        She bit on a clumped up piece of cloth. Bracing herself, ignoring the trembles in her nerves, watching the flame. One hand held the wound, the other the lighter, inching closer. Sweat bubbled on her cold skin as if wax melting from a candle. The fresh blood clumped quickly, drying and crusting. Fighting every urge in her body to cry, to stop until finally she got the bleeding to finally stop. Resting for only a moment to find the thread and needle. Another deep breath. Not the best stitch but it would have to do. She’d have to find a medic in Canada, if they ever reached it.

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        Canada was the closest border, the last non toxic zone. Closing it borders to the states quickly after the first South American infection. They knew before anyone else and acted. Ellanor knew it’s where she wanted to be, where she wanted to get Percy to. A safe zone for the impure.

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        Tossing her bag over her shoulder she walked, limped, out of the empty room. One arm across her bandaged stomach, the other gripping the knife. Unusual territory, unusual people and a target on her back. Though hard to see from a distance, the barcode on her wrist was basically a calling card for both the military and the “peace bringers”. She was immune and exiled. Had yet to meet anyone who survived that title, because if it wasn’t the military having a game of hunting you, you also had the resistance looking for blood.

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         She hugged the wall as she staggered down the maze like hallways.

Constantly looking for people or supplies. Sadly it looked like this place had been rummaged empty long ago so she stuck to looking for the fire exit. No time to linger in a skeleton.

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        Eventually she found the exit, windows broken through. It helped solve one question, she was not in a quarantine zone, though raised the question to how far away was she. The whole attack had thrown off her plan. Regret festered in her stomach like a weight. If only she hadn’t have been so stupid, she should have seen it coming and she should have stuck to the plan.

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         Ellanor learned quickly alone was the best for escaping, well she wasn’t really alone, but a toddler couldn’t really help. Ellanor only hoped the child was safe. Impure have never hurt one of their own.

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         Maybe that is why they took her? Ellanor pondered.

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         She cringed, craning her head lightly to read a road sign. The town had been blacked out. Zone one, written above it. It used to be Buffalo, New York, the first outbreak. She knew she was in the north. The used to be capitol zone, it was later relocated to Washington D.C. when the military thought it best for the new leader. She rolled her eyes at the memory.

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        It hadn’t always been like this. Ellanor could remember the days before quarantine zones, before the gassings. She was 12 at the time the sorting started, the testing, and the branding. Separation. Population control was the guise they used, stating it was under control, keeping the fact there was no cure to themselves.

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        Ellanor was only lucky she tested positive. They took all the bodies they could get, parental approval or not. She watched the country fall from behind bullet proof glass at a training facility. Watched as her childhood shattered behind her as she was torn away. Her mother had tried hard to hold onto her, screaming and crying.

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        She doesn’t like remembering that day. Fuzzy, red and black. Only really remembering her mother’s face. The usual porcelain calm had been shattered, tears and snot smeared her face, rage boiled in the blue eyes. Ellanor knew she fought, she guessed her father had to. She can’t remember his face.

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         She didn’t understand why then. Why would her mother fight? Fight against the people they knew were coming, the people with tanks and guns, why in the earth would she fight? Ellanor pondered it for years. Always the dark nights she would lay awake on the firm cot, or the days her supervisors would praise how she’s filled out nicely. Now she wondered if this feeling of guilt was what it was. The need of protection. The fact she knew what would happen, but still she fought. Fought to protect her child. Adrenaline and rage boiled in her blood. Ellanor knew she should have fought harder for Percy’s sake.  Blood or not Percy was her responsibility. She took that silent oath the day she decided to run, the day she picked her up out of the plastic crib.

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        Ellanor gritted her teeth, pain surged through her torso. Cursing herself she stopped, ducking into an alley way. She had to stay out of the streets, even in a dead zone.

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        Digging through her bag, sitting perched against a crumbling wall, her butt in an unknown liquid. Maybe she had some pills, or something to numb the pain. She hoped at least they had some salve saved; she always tried to keep it for Percy. A stumbling toddler in ghost cities was not the most smooth of things to have and she didn’t have knee pads for her.

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         A faint smile broke on her face thinking about it. Percy only began walking a couple months ago. She had felt so proud of her, slightly relieved she wouldn’t have to bundle her on her hip anymore. She stared at the ripped piece of scavenged blue fabric, Percy’s favorite piece. The toddler often used it as a security blanket. Ellanor thought maybe making it into a new dress for her, to match the bow they had already ripped off. Well it had accidently caught on a nail and tore, the only way Ellanor could quiet the child was to “save” it by using it as a bow to help contain her daughter’s wild curls. She folded it, tucking it back into the bag.

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        She pouted failing to find anything to help the pain. It sucked but she couldn’t waste her time here. She knew the military swept dead zones, paranoid bastards. The only good thing being it was still night. She had to move fast before dawn, to at least get out of the city, out of view. If she was lucky she would be able to reach the falls before dusk, or run into the peace bringers. Leveling herself on the wall, she slung her bag on her back and tried to hurry off.

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         Her mind wandered as she walked, trying to distract from the burning pain in her side. Thoughts wandering back to her missing daughter. She couldn’t help the worry and anger she felt, guilt and panic, all festering within her.

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        She remembered the day clearly. Almost two years ago, it didn’t feel like it had been that long. She had grown so used to the weight and babbles of the toddler, she felt too alone without her.

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        The year she had been changed from mending the wounds of the battlefield, to actually working on the field. Once a fight she had been washed to believe was right. It was the beginning of winter. Her squad had been recruited to gassing a supposed dead zone that had already been swept. She wasn’t expecting to find life. She hadn’t learned the truth yet. Where they really put the ones that are tested impure.

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        She had been moving to gas her required area, rummaging into a building before she heard a sound. An infant’s cry, loud and shrill. Swaddled up in a white blanket, laying in one of those hospital cribs, chained to the wall. A room filled with impure.

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        She couldn’t believe it at first. How many infants had she murdered by now? How many people had she murdered? Of course she knew they were often “sanitized” or at least that’s lie they spewed. But now though, something just felt wrong. Her gut twisted, choking back the urge to vomit.

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         Acting without thinking she scooped up the baby, wrapping a mask around her face. Holding her to chest lightly to sooth her crying. Checking the other cribs, either empty or already expired. She tossed the gas bomb into the empty room and ducked out the window.

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         Oh gods. What have I done? The panicked woman thought. Running towards the forest hoping before her squadron realized she was gone.

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         Ducking behind a fallen tree, out of sight she hoped. Relieving the death grip on the wiggling warm bundle in her arms. Finally getting a good look at it.  A baby girl. Not that old, a couple weeks at most. A head covered with raven colored curls and big brown eyes. Her crying had seized, now she merely fussed lightly.

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         “Persephone,” Ellanor nodded lightly looking at the baby. Surely she had just gone mad. Suddenly deciding to uproot her life for a baby that wasn’t hers, that was probably against all odds in the world. But something in her told her she had to.

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        The memory faded as she noticed the sun beginning to rise. The sky swam with reds and oranges, the dark clouds dissolving into shades of pink. She was almost to the falls, almost to the border. She could see the mountains in the distance, bringing only a light sense of peace. She still had to save Percy.

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         She was unsure how long she had been walking, by now it simply became zombie like. She had no time to stop, no time for sleep. She would sleep when she knew her baby was safe and the people who stole her were dead in the ground. Her fists clenched with determination, she continued forward.

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         Pausing lightly a piercing cry cut through the morning silence. She felt as though her heart almost stopped. She knew that cry. The two in the morning and in need of food cry. The she had a bad dream and needed a hug cry.

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         Ellanor didn’t even think before she ran. Following the piercing crying. Wanting to sooth her child, to hug her and tell her it would be okay. A part of her relieved to hear the cry though. To know her daughter was alive and from what she could hear okay at least.

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        Tears welled in her eyes as she spotted the familiar head of curls with that stilly bright blue bow still tied in her hair. Not even paying attention that it was probably a trap. Not noticing the woman in the bushes, waiting to take the child, or the men hiding in the trees, waiting to take her own life. Her eyes locked onto the child. A gross sob threatening to break through.

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         Ellanor came to a halt when she felt something whip past her face. Her heart jumped in fear, dread flooded her body. Losing the balance in her knees, she plummeted to the ground. Though she was determined, a quick pause.

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        “No,” she cried struggling to crawl. Feeling the poorly stitched wound reopen, pain surging with every twist of her torso. “Percy,” she cried holding an arm out to her. She was so far away but so close. “Percy, come here please,” she sobbed getting the child’s attention. “Please come to mommy.”

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       She let out a small shriek as her hair was yanked back. Jerking her up off the ground. A man, the same one who used her as bait. They were the reason she was separated, the reason there was a gaping hole in her gut.

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        “Why did you follow us?” he hissed.

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        “Why did you kidnap my daughter?” Ellanor felt her face scowl through the tears. She had to be tough.

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         “That’s a laugh, we know what your kind does to them, we saved her from you” he hissed his hand gripping tighter on her hair. “Why did you come here? Are you leading them?”

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        Ellanor held back the cry that quivered in her throat. “Who? The fucking military? News flash they want me dead too,” she snarled baring her teeth. “Give me my daughter.” Her patience was growing icy thin.

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        “She’s no longer your concern,” he pulled harder forcing Ellanor’s head back. “We’re so much better without you, and your kind.”

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         Ellanor tried to remain calm. Unable to reach her own weapons, unable to really do anything. To many people were watching. She could see Percy still, in the arms of some stranger trying to calm the crying with sedation. She just wanted her daughter. She just wanted to save her daughter. She didn’t want this.

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         “Give me Persephone.” she demanded, trying to keep composure. Her body trembled, twigs and rocks digging into her exposed legs, arms trembling to help keep her up. “I never did anything to you, I just want my daughter.” She felt the tears run down her dirt stained face.

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          He held his knife to her throat. Glaring down at her, his dark colored eyes soulless and cold. She could feel his hand trembling. “And I want my own family back but thanks to you scum, I can’t.” His voice quivered. He had never really murdered anyone personally.

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        Ellanor turned her gaze towards her daughter and the stranger. She was so close. They were so close. “Please I just want my daughter,” she begged with a shaky voice. “Let me go please I just want to save her.” Whatever strength she had left. Breaking down to gross sobbing, snot and tears running down her face, unable to do anything. She was useless.

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         It was almost painless. A quick deep swipe. Collapsing to the rough ground. There was nothing she could do. The reds and pinks slowly disappearing, body growing numb. Watching as her daughter cried and fought as she was carried away.

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         Maybe she is safer with them. She thought briefly, a faint smile on her cold face before her world fell dark.