Brave little Claire...

When we're just above the alpha, I look out the window. The ruins of the city stretch to the horizon. Deen, too, is gazing at the panorama. Excitement radiates from this boy. He's twenty years old, the youngest in the enclave. If it were up to me, I would never have let him participate in the cleanup. It's true that we have ion field generators now, but accidents happen. And we're so short on young blood. I've already outlived my first and second youth, so the section can afford to send me to the ghosts, but Deen... The glow of the green light indicating drop readiness interrupts my thoughts. I check the blaster and extra batteries. The lamp and night vision are also working. Ronnie jumps first, clutching the field generator in his arms. The safety of all of us depends on its speed. We trust him; he knows his stuff. He fought ghosts back during the pogrom, when people couldn't use the field's benefits. He jumps right after him. The freefall ends with a slow deceleration about fifteen meters above the ground. At this height, the gravity systems activate. From a few meters up, I see Ronnie deftly installing the generator's shields and shielding. I also see the ghosts, who have already noticed our presence. I land softly next to the generator and cock my blaster. Deen lands next to me. He looks around stupidly, as if he can't believe we're already starting. "

Pull out the damn blaster," I snap at him. The moment David lands, the last of our team, an opalescent sphere of the field stretches above us. The feeling of relief, though the generator rarely malfunctions, is always the same. Ronnie takes his pistol and loads an incendiary round into the barrel. We don't need to say anything; each of us, except Deen, has done this many times before, some of us our entire lives. A dozen ghosts have already gathered around the sphere, but none can cross the field's boundary. I look around, searching for familiar faces among them. I've heard stories of some people encountering their deceased loved ones. It's never happened to me. I don't know if that's good or bad. I don't know if I could have shot Terry. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Deen approaching dangerously close to the edge of the field. The idiot, who is he trying to show off to? He smiles at us and extends his hand toward the ghosts. Like a youngster at the zoo in front of a dangerous tiger's cage. Suddenly, I hear a crackling sound, and small purple discharges begin to slither across the field. The voltage drop lasts a few brief seconds, long enough for a pair of ghosts to release themselves after Deen.

"Get out of the line of fire, Deen!" I shout, terrified. He's so surprised he can't pull the blaster from his back. A phantom hand pierces through his vest, the second ghost clutches the stump of a recently torn-off arm. Deen turns his head in our direction, staring as if he hasn't yet understood. A growing stream of blood drips from his mouth. In a split second, everything bursts into flames. Ronnie loads another incendiary round. At an unspoken command, we all raise our weapons and begin clearing.

In the enclave, we don't talk about the young one anymore. I go straight to my barracks and sleep for exactly ten hours. I dream of Terry. He waves at me from afar and tries to shout something, but the words don't reach me from this distance. The signal for dinner wakes me. The sun is already high, the incoming rays licking the sphere's dome. The enclave's generator is located underground. I've never seen it, but those who have encountered it say it's enormous. People are starting to file into the dining hall, which on warm days like this is set up at a row of tables under the open sky. On the way, I meet Ronnie.

"Yesterday, we secured a passage to the eastern hill. Alex says that once we clear it, the technicians are ready to erect the towers," he announces. "Alex is our leader; he's been watching over us for over eight years. He wants to establish contact with other enclaves, if any exist. That's why we're conquering the highest peaks and want to install antennas there to boost the radio signal. Alex is certain that those in the other enclaves are doing the same, and eventually we'll establish contact. We all want to know if babies are being born somewhere up there.

" "That's good news," I reply, a bit coldly. A moment passes before Ronnie puts his hand on my shoulder and says,

"Listen, Claire, that incident with Deen...we can't blame ourselves."

"I know, it's okay...It's just him...he was so young." I press my lips together, my voice trembling. "My child would be the same age as him now. If I hadn't had the miscarriage. Damn war.

" "I know it's none of my business, but have you tried the Schulz method?" he asks quietly. The Schulz method, or cloning. A small percentage of women and men born after the war possess genetic material suitable for cloning. The chances of a healthy child being born are even smaller. There's no chance the clone will be fertile. None of the scientists in our enclave have yet discovered the cause of genetic regression, much less a cure. We're dying..." "

I wanted to, Ronnie, but the doctors detected too many changes here." I touch my stomach. "I can't keep the fetus."

Ronnie doesn't say anything more. We walk silently to the cafeteria, where, thanks to David and a few friends, I regain my composure.

A few days have passed since Deen's death when Alex summons us again. In his office, besides Ronnie and David, I greet two men.

"This is Max and Cormack, your new technicians from the central bunker." Alex briefly outlines the situation. "They'll be installing the mast on the eastern hill. You'll be walking around for a while, so the generator will be off periodically. The location needs to be secure."

We nod. None of us likes the idea of ​​walking around with the power off, but we don't have two portable generators.

"You'll get a belt of thermal grenades in case things get hot," Alex finishes. I think it'll only get really hot when we use them.

"When do we leave?" David asks curtly. "

Get ready, get your gear together, we're refueling the helicopter right now." Alex looks at us carefully. "Don't let me down. And come back safe."

In the helicopter, I try to shout over the roar of the propellers. The technicians, of course, haven't activated their transmitters. He shows them the switch on his helmet. They nod, and after a moment, we hear each other clearly. They've never been on an operation or jumped with an anti-gravity backpack. Plus, Max has never seen a ghost in his life. I wonder where he's been hiding all war. A green light. Ronnie is selling the techs the latest jump instructions. The equipment flies, followed closely by us. Once on the ground, Ronnie quickly deploys the generator. Still, we have to shoot; the ghosts are close. The techs examine the map and begin measuring. Cormack says we have to go higher; the signal might be too weak at this altitude. He tells them to grab their gear and passes the message to Ronnie. At a signal, David and I each throw a grenade, and Ronnie rolls up the generator. We run through the fiery corridor, David and I on the flanks, the rest in the middle. The ghosts are growing in number, spitting flames from our flamethrowers at them. They're starting to surround us. Ronnie has to deploy the generator, or we'll be surrounded. I'm firing frantically, and out of the corner of my eye, I see David lower his flamethrower. Luckily, the field sphere is starting to grow. I clear the area inside the field. The technicians say the terrain is suitable.

"Are you crazy, David?" I shout. "Why aren't you firing?!

" "My... my blaster's broken!" he explains.

Max and Cormack deploy the mast in less than an hour. I throw a few more grenades and call for a helicopter.

We're greeted with cheers in the enclave. The pilot managed to deliver the news of the mission's success on the way back. Alex is throwing a small party in our honor.

Of course, the technicians are playing the hero. David pleads exhaustion and goes home early. After a few hours, the party slowly ends, and I also feel like going to bed, but I decide to talk to David. He needs to explain something to me. I'm already a little tipsy, the alcohol is strengthening my resolve. The light is on in his barracks. Strange, I thought he'd be asleep. I knock and, without waiting for a response, enter. David is sitting on the bed.

"I was looking at your blaster," I decide to get straight to the point. "It's functional."

I wait for a response.

"David, this can happen to anyone. Anyone can be broken. It's normal to feel scared sometimes. But you should have warned us that you weren't feeling well. You put us in serious danger.

" "Claire, I... I'm sorry," he explains lamely. I look at him almost pityingly. We've known each other for years.

"It's okay, I won't tell Alex," I finally manage.

"What?" he asks, surprised. After a moment, he shakes his head as if remembering something. "Oh, that... I... thank you, Claire."

We look at each other for a moment, I pat his shoulder, and I head for the door. As I cross the threshold, David says, "

I saw my family there, Claire... My wife, my children... I couldn't...

" "It's okay, it's okay," I reply. "I understand, David," I say. But I didn't understand. Maybe if I hadn't had so much to drink, I would have noticed. I close the door. I've only taken a few steps when I realize. He doesn't care at all whether I say anything to Alex. He doesn't. I turn and run back. Just outside the door, I hear a shot. David's body lies limp on the bed, a wisp of smoke still seeping from the gun he clutches.

Two days later, we manage to establish contact with the tower. We're all excited by the possibility of contact with other enclaves. We take it for granted that they exist. Otherwise, we'd all go crazy here. Finally, Cormack catches a signal from Ohio. We applaud, rejoice, some cry with emotion. We can make out the words from the receiver's static. "

This is the Paterson enclave, this is the Paterson enclave," Cormack shouts into the microphone. "Ohio, can you hear us?

" "Ohio can hear you clearly. Over." Another joyful uproar erupts.

"Paterrson, this is Paterrson, we can hear you too."

"Ohio is asking if you're having children?" Silence fell on the room.

"This is Vancouver, we can hear you. Are there any children?"

"This is London, do you have children?"

The next station broadcasts the same question.

I wake up in the middle of the night. I dreamed of Terry again. This time I heard what he was saying.

"It's over, my little one..." he said calmly. "We're gone... We just want to be together..."

I felt his closeness, warmth, safety.

"There's no point in fighting and delaying the inevitable, my little Claire. I miss you..." he said, and hugged me as if I were a small child.

"My brave little Claire..." He stroked me with his tender hands, as he used to do even before the war, when he was alive.

I sit up in bed. The clock reads three in the morning. I pull my gun out of the drawer.