"Flynn?" Lucy's quiet voice softly broke the silence,

"I'm here," Flynn replied, fiddling with the zip tie binding his hands together. The room they were in was pitch dark and almost completely silent. The only constant noise was the rhythmic dripping of a drain pipe Flynn assumed was just to the right of him. The floor was a cold and hard cement, a contrast to the humid air filling the room,

"Any progress?" Lucy asked. She was referring, of course, to any potential escape plan. Lucy sat bunched in the corner, her bound hands tracing the thread of her jeans. She tried to block out the sound of the water slowly dripping, making her mouth water from thirst. She couldn't remember the last time she ate something, she couldn't even remember how long she'd been in that room,

"No, Lucy," Flynn murmured, "No progress, not yet." Lucy exhaled loudly, leaning her head back against the wall behind her,

"Wyatt and Rufus will find us," She whispered, not knowing whether she was telling Flynn or herself, "They will,"

.

"Alright, Emmie, first question," Wyatt said, quickening up the pace to walk side by side next to her. Emmie looked up at him, shrugged, and looked back down at her feet,

"Go for it,"

"What year is it?" Wyatt asked. Emmie twisted her face, out of confusion or frustration, Wyatt couldn't tell.

"Different people will tell you different things around here," She explained, "I gotta pal who's kept it pretty straight, got a talent for that kinda stuff, he'll tell you it's 2039."

"Why doesn't anyone know?" Rufus asked. Emmie shrugged,

"Most never cared, some tried but failed. Without the seasons, it's hard to keep track," She kicked a rock across the torn up street, "pretty much everyone's got bigger fish to fry." Wyatt sighed,

"How old are you?" He asked. Emmie hesitated, but covered up her hesitation with a cough,

"Don't know what month it is so I can't be sure," She wiped her brow where the blood was still fresh and rubbed her wet fingers together, "If it really is 2039, then I'm somewhere between 16 and 17." Wyatt shot out his hand and placed it on Emmie's arm to stop her,

"What happened here? To the city?"

"You want the whole story?" The men nodded,

"Alright," Emmie cleared her throat, "But not now. Food first, explaining later"

They ducked under the low hanging ceiling as they descended the stairs of what used to be a bookstore. The place was tiny with a ceiling that hung so low that Rufus was at risk of hitting his head at any moment. The walls were lined with bookshelves, filled with what seemed like all of Emilia's possessions. Though books covered about ¾ 'ths of the shelf, they were accompanied by cans of beans, old ipads, dog collars, and notebooks. Scavenged items. The rest of the abode was filled with chairs and blankets, none of them quite a match to the others. The furniture was assorted in a circle, facing an iron stove at the center. Chalkboards sat at the entrance displaying sales prices of books,

"Why haven't you erased those?" Rufus asked, gesturing to the boards, "it seems like a random thing to keep displayed," Emilia just barely looked up from the bag she was ruffling through on the ground,

"This was my mom's favorite place growing up. When we first took shelter here a few years back, she couldn't bring herself to erase it," A faint smile flashed across her mouth but was gone in a second, "and I guess I couldn't either,". Emilia set her possessions on the oriental rug beneath her.

"What happened to her?" Wyatt asked. Emilia's hand halted mid-reach. Her eyes slowly met Wyatt's,

"Who?" Emilia said, knowing full well what he was asking,

"Your parents, where are they?" Rufus asked. Emilia stood up quickly and paced to the entrance, running into Wyatt's shoulder in the process. She inspected the shelves, searching for a specific item,

"You asked what happened," Emilia said, back turned to the men. She faced the bookshelves, fingers carefully sliding across the old wood, "Different people will tell you different things. Dates that don't quite correspond-illnesses that vary. Overall, let's just say it was a shitshow,"

"But what was?" Rufus said, jolting Emilia to face them. She scoffed slightly, shrugging her shoulders,

"Everything."