Sunday morning

The next morning after breakfast, William poured boiling water into a teapot, soaking the teabag. He put the lid on the pot, and carried it to the table.

He set it down on the trivet in the center, next to the coffeepot. He spread his palms flat on the table, and rested his weight on his hands. Mary, Father, Catherine: each sat with head down, shoulders hunched; each was lost in their own thoughts.

They straightened when the first survey team returned. Winslow, Olivia and Pascal walked into the dining hall slowly, eyes downcast. "They were waiting for us," announced Winslow, unwilling to allow any anticipation to build. The second team, Kanin, Rebecca and Mackenzie entered the same way, slowly, defeated. They could barely raise their eyes.

Father stood, and cleared his throat. "Your mission was to survey our access to Above, or even out of our central chambers. You have shown exemplary bravery in accomplishing your mission. You are to be proud of yourselves. In no way have any of you failed. Let's have no more of these downcast, crestfallen looks."

They all sat or stood, took coffee or tea. Catherine couldn't stop glancing at the entrances every few minutes. Finally, Mouse came racing in, followed by Scott, Elisa, Randolph and Emily. She exhaled a sigh of relief; she knew Vincent was only a few steps behind. And although by now she knew him very well, she still sucked in her breath sharply at his long, purposeful stride, at the regal way he carried himself. She rose, and stepped forward to meet him. He smiled softly, and took both her hands in his. They found two seats together, and sat down. "Let me get you some tea," she said, and he let her. As she poured, Winslow spoke, "Several of the cisterns are missing. It's pretty clear the Griffins filled them with water and took them back to their camp." He paused. "What did you find out?"

Randolph spoke. "It went very well. We approached the guards at Charing Cross," the name the Tunnel Dwellers had given the location, "and Elisa and Emily were very convincing, crying their eyes out and begging to see the children."

"We weren't acting," said Emily, putting her arm around Elisa's shoulders.

"No, of course not," said Father.

Father watched as Catherine set Vincent's mug down before him, and sat down next to him. His eyes were shining, and she smiled at him. He forgot to breathe as he watched his son nuzzle at the woman's ear. Our lives are ending, it's very possible our world is ending, he thought, and he's whispering sweet nothings in her ear…

Vincent leaned close to Catherine's ear, and whispered, "When I woke up holding you this morning, I felt such joy, for a moment I forgot about our problems."

"I never felt so warm and happy as I felt in your arms," she answered.

Reluctantly, they turned their attention to the discussion that was underway.

"So, they created a lot of noise, Scott and I pretended to try to calm them down. Just like we thought, more and more Griffins converged on the scene, and it got really confusing. ALL of them were giving us advice," said Randolph.

"Me and Vincent sl-i-i-i-i-p away, into fissure that leads into Trafalgar Square," said Mouse. "We climb up to lookout point; we can see whole Square. We see our children. They play tag, jump rope, kick ball with each other and Griffin kids. Laugh, have fun."

"We watched them playing with the babies, then feeding them, then putting them down on blankets," said Vincent.

"Well, watching children when they're having fun and getting along is easy," said Mary. "It's when there are problems that it gets stressful."

Mouse nodded. "Samantha and Kipper get into big fight over kick ball. Samantha says in bounds, Kipper says out of bounds. They start shoving each other. Griffins start yelling at them. Zach tells the Griffins, 'No yelling. Make them sit out.' Griffins separate them, make them sit out for five turns. Then ask them if they're ready to make up." He paused. "They made up; shook hands," he concluded.

"Well," said Pascal, "that sounds…encouraging."

"We all feel better about them being over there," said Scott. "They might be okay."

"We can go back in a few days and observe them again," said Vincent.

"Yes," "Let's do that," "Okay," the parents assented.

"So," said Winslow, "what are we gonna do?"

"There's so much to think about," said Pascal. "It sounds like the children will be alright for a few days. Should we still try to rescue them?"

"'Should we'?" echoed Mackenzie. "Is there any question?"

"Do you think the Griffins would hurt them?" asked Rebecca.

"Why would the Griffins harm them?" Father asked. "No, the children are probably frightened, and they might be uncomfortable, but the Griffins have nothing to gain by harming them. It's us they want to hurt."

"Yes, Father, but we can't very well fight the Griffins with the children over there," said Mackenzie. "We have to get them."

Father remained silent.

"Maybe we shouldn't fight," said Mary.

"What do you mean?" asked Olivia.

"Maybe we should try to negotiate better terms," said Father, "perhaps just a few of our leaders, instead of seven. Or perhaps just one."

"No, Father," said Mary, "I wouldn't let you go alone. Two."

"How about none?" asked Winslow, rhetorically.

Vincent took Catherine's hand, and raised it to his lips.

"Three," said Pascal.

"Pascal!" cried Olivia. "No!"

"Four," said Vincent. Catherine squeezed his hand. "No," she whispered.

"Goddammit, Vincent, are you going to give up, too?!" yelled Mackenzie.

"Now is not the time for raised voices, Mack," admonished Father.

"If now's not the time, I sure as hell don't know when is!" yelled Winslow. "Father, have you not always said that we could never fail to find solutions to our problems?"

"That doesn't mean we're going to be happy with the solution," answered Father. "But it does mean that each one of us will always do the thing that is best for the community."

"Look, we've got to fight!" roared William. "What kind of life do you think we'd have at the mercy of the Griffins?"

"That's exactly right," said Rebecca. "Father, do you think if you were to give yourself up, that we could go on living here as we do now? It's naïve to think the Griffins would let us live in peace."

"Rebecca's right, they'd make slaves out of us," said Olivia.

"If they even let all of us live. They'd probably kill the men," said Cullen.

"I don't believe that Cullen," said Pascal. "They were never violent toward us."

"Does it make a difference if they kill us outright, or get drunk and kill us in fights two months from now?" asked Kanin. "I think our days are numbered, all of us."

"They couldn't kill everyone," replied Father. "They need people to go out and forage for them."

"They've got people foraging for them," answered Winslow.

"Yes, but with our greater numbers adding to their ranks—" Father started.

"We won't be adding to their ranks if we're dead," Cullen interrupted.

"The Griffins are a family. They don't want anyone in their group that isn't part of the family," said Mackenzie. "They have more men than women already. It's obvious they'd want to kill our men, and enslave our women."

Father sat back in his chair and reconsidered.

"But how can we fight?" asked Pascal. "We're outnumbered. Even if the women fight, they still outnumber us."

"Which would make a difference if we tried to fight a pitched battle," a voice answered from the entrance. Everyone looked: it was Sarah. She walked in steadily. "But if we fight a guerrilla war, we could beat them."

"Guerrilla war?" asked Mary. She looked at her with kind eyes. "Sarah. You're distraught."

"Mary," she answered. "I'm determined. I'm going to start killing them, and I won't stop until I'm swimming in their blood."

"Sarah…" said Father, coming out of his reverie, "…what are you saying? That we lie in wait and slit their throats a few at a time?"

"How do we do that, Sarah?" asked Winslow. "Do we lie in wait for stragglers to use the bathroom?" he sneered.

"Good idea," she answered.

"You're talking about very some very dirty work," said Vincent. "Very cold. Who among us is capable of doing it?" He paused to look her directly in the eye. "Aside from you and me."

"It doesn't really matter to me, Vincent," she answered. "If no one wants to go with me, I'll go alone."

"It's not cold to want to survive, Vincent," said Mackenzie. "I'm with you, Sarah."

"Count me in," said Cullen, "'cuz one way or another, I'm already dead."

"Are you so sure you can do it?" asked Vincent. "How do you think it would be? To lie in wait for your victim…to watch him approach…and then, at just the right moment, sneak up behind him," he demonstrated on Sarah, moving behind her, lifting her chin, pantomiming stabbing her in the neck.

She parried by grabbing his arm and flipping him over her shoulder. He lay sprawled at her feet; she put the tip of her boot on his neck. "You think you know so goddamn much, Vincent! But if it weren't for you, Renee would still be alive!"

"Sarah!" yelled Winslow. Mackenzie rushed to pull Sarah back, while Winslow helped Vincent up.

"She loved you, Vincent! She loved you, and you cut her every day! You never looked twice at her!"

"She was a sister to me, Sarah! I didn't know!" He caught his breath, and spoke more calmly. "I didn't know. But even if I had, there would have been nothing I could have done. She was my sister."

Sarah turned, buried her face in Mackenzie's shoulder, and wept.

Vincent trained his eyes on the ground. "I did love her, Sarah. I loved her very, very much."

Mackenzie walked Sarah out of the hall, slowly, soothing her.

Vincent rejoined Catherine at the table, and Winslow sat next to him. Catherine rubbed his arm softly. No one spoke for several minutes.

Olivia cleared her throat. "Vincent…we understand. If you had been biological brother and sister, you couldn't have been closer. I didn't know how she really felt about you until Sarah told us last night. None of us knew."

Again, there was a long silence for several minutes; no one knew what to say. At last, Mary spoke.

"'She should have died hereafter. There would have been a time for such a word.'" The others looked at her, bemused. "That speech has been going around and around in my head all morning. Our time is up. No matter what we decide to do or not do, our time as a community is over. And for seven of us, our lives will be over. And what did it all mean?"

After a moment, Winslow spoke. "'Life's a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more.' That's my life. I wasted it. I wanted a family. I'll never have children. I'll die never having the love of a good woman."

"Devin…" murmured Father, to himself, really. "Devin will never know how much I loved him."

"I would've liked children," said Kanin to Olivia, "but I couldn't ask for more happiness than what I've found with you, Olivia. I feel like my life is complete."

Cullen looked at the couples with icy eyes. "I'm very happy for those of you who have met that special someone, and found true love. I really am. But I'm not ready to die. There are a lot of things I still want to do. And I'm not ready to go down without a fight, either."

"But how can we fight, Cullen?" asked Pascal.

"Like Sarah said, we take them down a few at a time," he answered.

"And you think you can do that?" asked Mary. "Coldly, like Vincent said?"

"In the first place, how is it cold? I'm fighting for my life; that's something I'm excited about. Secondly, it would be helpful if Vincent would fight with us. So, what's it gonna be, Vincent?"

Vincent said nothing, but sighed.

"Well?" challenged Cullen.

"Is that what my life was about?" asked Vincent. "Slaughter?"

"You need to realize what it costs him when he fights, Cullen," admonished Father.

"Oh, my god, are you serious right now?" Cullen was incredulous. "We are talking about survival. I think that's a little more important that wounded feelings."

"Perhaps if they were your 'wounded feelings,' you might take them more seriously," answered Vincent. "Perhaps if you had to question your humanity—"

"Vincent," interrupted William, "what you need to question right now is whether or not you want to give Catherine a chance to live. Think about it. Let's say you go sacrifice yourself. Once you're gone, would they let her go? If you're dead, she doesn't have any reason to keep this place secret anymore."

"I would never reveal this place, not ever!" yelled Catherine.

"The Griffins might not be convinced of that. So, after they kill Vincent, they kill you. But let's say instead that Vincent doesn't put a noose around his neck and walk over there, and he lets someone else go, instead. Would they let him live? Of course not, he's too much of a threat. And after he's gone, would they let you live, an Investigator with the District Attorney's Office? No. So, let's say we fight, and lose. At least you'll die fighting, fast and clean, as opposed to whatever they might do to you before they kill you."

"The Griffins aren't worried about killing in cold blood," said Olivia, and everyone stopped to consider that.

Father cleared his throat. "For the sake of argument, let's say we were going to fight. How could we do it?"

And the discussion carried on for the rest of the day. Plans were considered, discussed, discarded, and new plans were generated. Positions were taken, abandoned, re-taken. William cooked, the community ate, then retired, each to his own chamber.