Chapter 1 It's the end of the world as we know it

A small girl rode on a bicycle through the streets of her refugee camp. She watched her teddy bear, Harley, bounce up and down in the basket as she bumped over the little rocks. She imagined that he liked bumpy rides, like her, and hopefully didn't get a tummy ache from them like her mom. He was held together with patches and his fur was faded and bald in many places, but Marceline figured this was ok because he kind of matched her. Her faded purple dress had patches, too, and there were generous holes in her striped stockings. If he was perfect, then he would need to belong to some other girl that lived in a place with washing machines, fabric softener, and all the nice things teddy bears like that the adults talked about having back in their day.

"Hello, Mr. Marlow!" she waved, riding past an old man sitting on a raggedy old camping chair outside his families' shack. The old man's eyes crinkled with delight at the young girls' energy and he gave her a hearty wave.

Marlow was the only man in the camp, but only because he was too old to be drafted when the war started. There used to be other old men, but none of them had made it through as much as Marlow had. To Marceline, he was so old that he might as well have been immortal. Even though he walked slow and was hunched over, Marceline thought he was tough. She went to hear stories from him almost every day because she wanted to be just like him.

Marcie continues to ride through the dirt streets, weaving her way around several orphaned children playing with discarded cans and boxes. The women she passed all looked old and tired, even the ones in their 20's. They hung up rags on clotheslines and washed squalling toddlers in tubs. They mended socks and jumpers while squinting to see the light of the sunset through the smog. They boiled murky water to make it drinkable. They gathered around fires to throw the meager pieces of squirrel, cabbage, salt and pepper they had for the camps' supper. These were all things that Marcie and all the other children had been taught to do at a young age, but she was always the most talented as a tinkerer. At the age of 7 she had found the ancient, rusted bike she currently rode on, and over the course of a month got it running like she had assumed bikes ran brand new. Marcie grew up with no knowledge of gender roles telling her she couldn't be a mechanic. In a society of virtually all one gender, the concept of a necessary role relegated to one gender or the other seems ludicrous.

So, at a young age people came to her to mend broken pots, pans, and other things that were hard to replace. She was also known for making instruments to play music with around the camp fire. In her opinion, music seemed more necessary to provide than kitchen utensils. After all, how would someone be motivated to cook if there was not a shred of hope left in their soul? Sometimes music and stories was all that kept the hope there in the camp.

She was nearing the outer walls where her mom's guard post was. Her shift was about to end and Marcie was excited to walk her back home and tell her about all the neat little gadgets and trinkets she had found to use that day in new projects.

Marceline saw her mom far off and began to speed up on her bike, but the next thing she knew she flew off it onto the hard ground. Her knees and palms skinned against the tiny rocks and she sat up to look at the dirt and blood mixing on her pale flesh with tears welling up in her eyes. She looked around for what she must have hit, but saw nothing. The voice behind her suddenly told her that it was not her fault she had fallen.

"Hey, Marceline, you having fun showing off on your new bike?" taunted Abby behind her.

Marceline glanced over at her bike to see the stick that Abby had shoved in the now bent spokes of her back wheel and stared back at the ground. She struggled to keep her temper inside of her and her breath became rapid and heavy with anger. A small rock hit the back of her head and the pain caused her to stand up and wheel around on her opponent, who stood at least a foot above her.

"I asked you a question, girl." hissed Abby. "Why are you keeping the bike all to yourself?"

"I fixed it. It's mine." huffed little Marceline. "If you wanted a turn all you had to do was ask nicely."

"What are you going to do if I don't ask nicely?" Abby gave a smug look over towards the bike and backed towards it.

Marceline saw Abby's hand reach towards Harley and her eyes widened with fear. She let out an angry scream as she dived for the bear, clasping her hands on it just as Abby did. Once Abby grabbed hold of it she lifted it and Marcie clear off the ground. Marcie screeched and kicked, but it was of no use but to draw the attention of everyone towards their squabble.

Finally, there was a ripping sound, and Marceline landed with a painful thud on the ground, holding only Harley's arm, stained with the blood from her scraped hands.

Suddenly Marceline was scooped up in her mother's strong arms. She burrowed herself into her chest, not wanting anyone to see the tears stinging her eyes.

"Abby, dear, give the bear and the bicycle back." Marcie's mom said as nicely as a mother could to someone who had just hurt her daughter.

"Why should I? She can't think she can just parade the little toys she makes around while the rest of her play with sticks. I'm just standing up for my peers." said Abby with a sneer.

"My daughter does make toys for the children who are actually friends with her!" spat Marceline's mom before quickly regaining her composure. "You shouldn't think you'll always be able to do whatever you want to the younger children. We're all just trying to survive here."

"Actually, I think I can do whatever I want. Have you forgotten that my mother is the camps' only doctor? If she feels our family is being mistreated we might consider relocating to someone with nicer neighbors."

Marcie's mom glanced at all the onlookers, fear frozen on their faces at the thought of losing their only medical help. She also felt the dampness of her shirt from her daughter's eyes. Marceline may be mad at her for the compromise she was about to make, but it was the only way to keep the peace. She took a deep swallow of disgust at having to beg a nasty teenager to give something back that was never hers.

"Abby, please, I'll let you keep the bike if you'll just give back the bear."

There was a silence as Abby considered the offer. Finally she said coldly, "And you give me your dinner rations for three days."

Marcie's mom only hesitated for a portion of a second before she nodded in agreement and took the bear. Marcie couldn't take it anymore. She unlatched herself and ran all the way to their house on the outer edge of the camp.

Her mother was in a minute later and found her racked in sobs in the corner. Without a word, she sat and drew Marcie into her lap. She shushed her softly and ran her fingers through her jaggedly cut, thick, black hair. Marcie cried so hard that she struggled to breathe, and when that had finally normalized the hiccups set in. It was a long time before either of them said anything.

"I'm sorry about your bike, honey." said her mother softly.

"I know, mom. It's not your fault." A few more involuntary sobs seized her chest followed by a series of coughs. "I'm sorry about your food. You didn't have to do that just for Harley. He's broken now any way."

"No, no, Marcie. Don't be sorry. I know Harley is a very good friend to you, so it was worth it." She whispered. "Besides, you know we can mend Harley up just as well as we can mend you up."

Marceline looked at her hands and knees and gave a little sob, "They still hurt, mom."

"I know honey, but that's why we're going to clean them and put band aids on them. Then they will be all better!" Her mom was good at sounding cheerful just to make her happy.

It worked. Marcie smiled weakly and said "Bandy up the boo-boos!" in a sing-song voice.

Marceline watched her mom work, carefully cleaning the shallow wounds with a small amount of their pre-boiled water and wrapping them with clean, white gauze. She then kissed each of the four spots, which made Marcie giggle.

"Now time for Harley's boo-boo!" said Marcie happily.

"That's right, honey, let's see him." Marcie plopped the filthy toy in her mothers' lap, who examined him carefully, pretending to be a doctor. This reminded Marcie a lot of Abby since her mom was a doctor. Suddenly a thought occurred to Marcie and she began to giggle as her mom sewed.

"What is it, goofball?" her mother asked, laughing a little beside herself.

"I bet that dipwad can't even ride a bike! She's gonna be falling all over her butt and scraping herself up, too!"

Her mom chuckled, "You're probably right. And it will be near impossible to learn with those bent up spokes she caused. I bet the only way she could fix it would be to bring it back to you!"

Marcie sighed. She knew enough about Abby's pride to know that would never happen. "She'll probably just destroy it first, just to spite me. Why does she hate me, Mom?"

Her mother stopped sewing and placed her warm hand on Marceline's cheek as she looked into her brown eyes, "Because you're special, Marceline. You don't skirt by on the status of your family like she does. You're already known for your talent by everyone here, and you're brave, kind, intelligent, and beautiful. Abby may be older than you, but she has a long way to go before she gets any of those things you have."

Marcie smiled at her moms' words, but then was silent, wondering if her dad would say the same. He died when she was 4, and she couldn't really remember what kind of things he had said to her.

"What are you thinking about, Marcie?" asked her mom gently.

"Will I see dad when I die?"

Her moms' face froze and she quickly went back to sewing as she compiled her answer. "Maybe. I'd like to believe so."

"Is the world ending, Mom?" asked Marceline casually.

Her mom looked up, her eyes wide with shock. "Where did you hear something like that?"

"The last time we were on the road, there was a man saying the end of the world was coming and that a man would come out of the sky to save us. Is that true?"

"I don't know, Marceline." said her mother flatly. In all truth, she was almost certain the world was ending, but if someone was going to come from the heavens to save them, it seemed he would have done it before or at least shortly after the first tirade of atom bombs blew away two entire continents. She suddenly looked at her daughter and saw the creased look of worry on her brow. She had to tell her something good. She finished up the last stitch on the bear and placed him into Marcie's waiting arms.

"Honey, I don't know about anything that happens after death. Maybe it being a surprise is part of the fun." Marcie started to nod sadly and looked away. Her mom pulled her chin to look into her eyes and said with kind conviction, "What I do know is that no matter what happens or how far away we are, I will always love you. I will always listen to you when you need me. As long as we have each other, what fear does the future hold?"

Marceline nodded and hugged her mom tightly, fresh tears of melancholy happiness running down her cheeks. They broke apart when they heard the dinner bell and the small girls' heart sank again, knowing that her mother would get none of it.

Marceline tried to share her ration with her mother, but she wouldn't touch it. They were both stubborn, though, and Marceline threatened to dump her entire ration out if her mother didn't eat half of it. Marceline got time out later that night for this defiance, but what was more punishment than that was the hollow sense of hunger that kept Marceline up that night.

She finally got up, deciding she had to find something to eat. Maybe if she could hunt something outside the camp, cook it, and hide it, then she could secretly share it with Mom and Mr. Marlow.

She crept to the supply shed and picked the lock easily with a few sharp sticks she had carved. She took with her a compass, a bottle of water, and the only .410 shotgun she could find. She carefully locked the shed back up. She then walked to a hole under the wall. No guards had ever noticed it because it was just barely big enough for a small child to squeeze through. She had only noticed it because she chased a feral cat under it one day.

She got a good ways up the hill before she looked back towards the camp to make certain she was not being followed.

At first she found the woods creepy, but after a mile or so she found them peaceful. The noises of the nocturnal animals assured her that there was life in the woods, a security that swaddled her like a warm blanket. All she had to do was shoot that life and her mom would have good meat for days without missing a single ration. She covered herself with dirt and leaves, but did not start hunting just yet. Luckily, she was especially smart for her age and knew she had to be a few miles away before she started to hunt so that no one in the camp would hear the shot. She was also, however, overly simplistic like many children are, figuring she could hunt meat in abundance just by guts and cleverness when even the experienced hunters of the camp were having a hard time with it lately.

She finally reached a spot that looked like a good place to stake out. She waited a few minutes before her eyes zeroed in on a fat looking bird nestled in a tree. She cocked the gun, raised it slowly, and after taking her time to aim, pulled the trigger. She hit several feet left of the bird, and sent all the creatures resting near the tree scattering. She kicked the dirt and found another spot nearby, cocked her gun, and waited in absolute silence.

Something felt off. It took her a minute to take notice of just how silent it had become. The forest was no longer buzzing with the sound of small, scrappy, tough game. The creatures were either deep in hiding or had fled, and in that way silence in a forest at night is far more frightening than creature noises can ever be. Marcie wished more than anything that she could hug Harley right at that moment, and wondered how she could have forgotten him in her haste.

Finally, she heard a sound, but it was the last one she wanted to hear. It was the sound of planes, and then the high pitched sound of a bomb being dropped through the air. Marceline spun around and saw it; the refugee camp at the bottom of the hill right below the falling raid.

She shouted manically and began to sprint full speed towards the camp, even though she knew there was no hope of reaching it to save the end of her childhood. The explosion was deafening, and she crumpled at the sound of it, bringing her elbows up around her face. She lay there in the dirt listening to one explosion after the next as all of the things she knew got blown into the ashes now floating towards her as a black cloud on the wind. Images flashed through her mind; there was Mom, Mr. Marlow, that old, crazy woman who always danced to her songs and lifted her skirt too high. There was Abby, Harley, and that stupid damned bike that got her into this mess.

Then it was silent, except for the constant ringing in her ears. She coughed as smoke rose towards her. She wanted to believe that there were some survivors, but she had learned enough in her young years to see that wasn't true. The entire camp and land a half miles' radius around it was reduced to a smoldering crater. She also knew that she could soon die, too, if she stayed around the toxic air.

So, with tears once again burning her eyes, along with smoke, she ran and refused to look back.

Author's note: Harley isn't Hambo. Just wanted to mention that!