Chapter 2

The pure white snow gradually changed into a brown mush as Seamus neared the camp. He shuddered as he saw that the brown sludge was marred with numerous deep red blotches. He stared running even faster at this point as his mind filled with terror. What would he find when he reached the camp? Life, death or something even worst than death. A breath of relief came out when he saw people mulling around. There were survivors. If others made it through, maybe his family did too. Racing towards his hut, he pushed his small legs beyond their limit as the cold air infiltrated his lungs even farther. He skidded around the corner to spot his family's tiny one room hut. He pause outside of the unusually quite shack gasping for air. As he stood there shaking, every horrible thought filled his young mind. Slowly, he managed to get his legs working again and approached his home.

His heart stopped as he heard sobbing radiating from inside the shack. Who did he lose this time? His mother? His father? Or maybe more of his cousins? At least it couldn't be any of his siblings, since he lost them all already. Whoever it was the boy just hoped that they were killed and not infested. Taking a deep breath, he calmed his fears enough to enter the hut. His shaky hand reached forward to pull back the dirty, hole ridden blanket that was used as a door. Inside, he saw his mother, Maggie Harper, sitting on an overturned crate, sobbing.

"Who was it?" Seamus asked sheepishly.

His mother slowly looked up. Even though she was only 25 years old, the stress of the camps had doubled her age. Wrinkles and dirt lined her thin, drawn face. With tears still streaming down her face she yelled, "SEAMUS!"

She rushed towards her little boy and embraced him in a tight warm hug. "We thought ....*sob*.... they had...gotten you...*sob*..." she sputtered out between tears of joy.

"So no one is dead or infested?" the thin boy asked as only an eight year old could.

Maggie held her son at arms lengths and caressed his sunken cheek. "No honey, no one is dead or infested. We all made it through.....this time," she said adding the last part in a whisper. She hugged her living son again. "Oh honey, we were all so worried." Seamus replied by hugging back, finally relived that everyone was alright....for now.

A few hours later, Mathew Harper was pacing outside of the ransacked hut. Only 27 years old, the camps had not been kind to him either. He had the same wrinkles of constant worry that his wife Maggie had. His mind was racing, trying to figure out a way to tell his lover that the last of their children was most likely dead. Taking a deep shaky breath he entered the hut only to be greeted by the sounds of giggles. That giggling could only come from one person.

"SEAMUS!" he yelled out in joy as he saw his very alive son playing cards on the dirt floor with his wife. Mathew raced across the small hut and embraced his son. "Are you ok, Shay?"

"Yah Dad, I'm fine. Sorry I worried you and Mom", he replied as he looked down at the floor in shame. He hated worrying his parents.

"It's okay, son. Just as long as your safe." Mathew cuddled his wife and son as he joined them on the cold dirt floor. "So, whatcha playing?"

TBC...