It had come as quite a shock. The letter. The ticket. The small close handwriting instructing her where to go and when. No signature. No other information. But she knows. She knows. It’s them. They were always there. Waiting. Watching. They had not forgotten her in this place of death. Her back is bent. Would that they had – forgotten her. The connection so tenuous – maybe she could have simply closed her eyes and welcomed death. But there was always another dawn for her. Always.

Her raw fingers are still red and a black smudge still rings her eyes. She stands quite out of the strong wind clutching the note and thinking. Her mind is still numb from cold and distrust. Less than 3 hours ago she was wrenched from a jerky sleep, the itchy threadbare blanket thrown from her face. The light from the morning sun stabs into her eyes like a dagger. Rapid words and the next moment she is being pushed out a small metal door the color of rotten apples. The wind whips her misshapen straggle of unkempt hair in her gaping mouth and suddenly she is alone. She makes her way unsteadily along the frozen earth toward a line of trees. The space between her shoulder blades twitches anticipating the thrust of a knife or the agony of a bullet. But nothing happens and she moves beyond sight of the cold gray building that has been her home for an agonizing two years. The deafening roar in her ears begins to subside and she realizes the ragged sound underneath it is her own whimpering.

Now 3 hours later she stands outside a shop, just under the eaves and out of the wind. Here and there people poke their heads out of doorways but otherwise the square is deserted. Her hand clutches still the note. The instructions given to her by the old regime. They’d let her rot just enough. But now they need her. Need her to disappear into the new world and wait. But maybe melt into the crowd and lose herself. A burning in her throat ignites at that. She raises her eyes to heaven. It could happen. Anya begins another long crawl trying to make her way to the river and beyond that – her home. Though what she’ll find there she cannot imagine. 

Next Chapter: Lyllian, April 2017, Seattle