To AYClaudy, she runs some great review groups to help get people together and share their great stories. If you're looking for a story with a darker side (you must be if you're still reading this one), check out Outside the Ropes. Her main character, Rea is a strong woman who's fighting her way through one tough situation after the next. You may not agree with all her choices, but you'll certainly feel for her. It's a great read, full of realism and action! Thanks for all the support with Survival :)

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The mystery voice had an innocent quality, but it still shocked Vita to the core. Cynthia was right. This place was too good to be true. Did desperation or naivety lead her astray? Her strong companion’s face had collapsed, a deflating balloon. Her eyes hadn’t once left that corner.

“Mom?” the voice called out again.

“Baby, is that you?”

Vita hadn’t heard hope in a long time. Her eyes began to water. Damn you, pregnancy hormones.

Footsteps echoed in the lobby. A young boy sprinted into Cynthia’s arms. Dark curly hair shook as he buried his head into her chest.

“Mom, I’m so happy to see you. I thought... I thought...”

“It’s alright, Winston. Mom’s here now. You’re okay,” Her eyes brimmed with tears, one slipped down her cheek. She pulled away from him. “Your hair!” Her hand ruffled through his mop of locks. “It’s gotten so long. I’ve missed you so much.”

Cynthia placed a kiss on his forehead and pressed him back to her chest. Vita couldn’t blame her. If she had the chance to see her family again, she wouldn’t let go either. Her eyes dropped to exposed stomach and she rubbed small circles. How big would it be now? The size of her fingernail, or her thumb? What if it had little eyes already? Maybe Cynthia was right, it could be possible to raise a baby. She didn’t have to be alone anymore.

“Mom,” the boy whined as he tried to wriggle out of the strong grasp. “Mom!”

The more Vita heard that word, the more her stomach burned with pride and hopefully nothing else. Her eyes left the family for a moment. She jumped half a foot when she saw a man with a dark complexion standing in the door frame. He watched the scene with his arms crossed stiffly over his broad chest.

“Cynthia?” Vita asked. She reached out to tap the woman on the shoulder. “Is that your husband, by chance?”

Cynthia’s head jerked up to the corner where the tall man stood with a gentle grin. The mother’s own smile dropped and she held her son tighter.

“No, Vita. I have no idea who he is.” Her calm words instilled a deep panic.

The women exchanged glances as they both stood without attracting too much attention to themselves. Cynthia had to lower her son to the ground. At eight years old, he was past the point of being carried.

“Do not be alarmed,” the man spoke in a deep voice. He took a few steps over. Close but not too close.

“What do you want with my son?” She clutched his hand like a vice.

“If you would allow, I would like to explain what we are trying to build here. A safe community.” He gestured towards the couch. Vita sat down hesitantly. Cynthia stood on the spot and sized up the man in front of her. “Please, ask your son how he has been treated the past month.”

The boy looked up at her through his curls. “Mom, Mr. M takes good care of everyone.”

“Are you eating?”

“Three meals a day. On Fridays, the kids get to make pancake breakfast.”

Vita sighed and let her shoulders relax. That sounded so much better than crackers.

“Where do you sleep?”

“We have a good sleeping place, soft mats, a Superman pillow.”

It beat the couch where they were days away from eviction.

Cynthia almost smiled. “How many people are you staying here with?”

“I think two hundred. Is that right Mr. M?”

“207 since the Wentz joined us last week, Winston. But you have an excellent memory there, son.”

“He’s not your son!” Winston had to pry his hand out of his mother’s to escape her death grip.

“It’s okay, mom,” he said, fixing his eyes on the floor.

“Has anyone hurt you?” Winston shook his head. Cynthia kneeled down to be at his eye level. “Be honest with me young man, has anyone hurt you?”

“No, mom. These are good people. You can trust Mr. M.”

“Please, it will be far more comfortable for the two of you to sit,” Mr. M said and flashed a smile.

Even though he was in his mid-thirties, Vita still found the man quite attractive. He wore his thin red t-shirt well. It clung to well defined pecks and thick muscled arms. It would be a wonder if Cynthia didn’t feel the same. Given her situation, Vita could probably trust anyone with a sixty percent chance of not being a serial killer. Mr. M’s odds played in his favour. Cynthia’s son’s strong hand guided her to the couch.

“Ladies, what we do here is offer support to one another in these hard times. Some of us saw this coming; others like yourselves have spent over a month fighting battles you should never have to fight.”

He met Cynthia’s eyes at this point. She circled an arm around Winston’s shoulders and pressed his warm body close.

“Nouveau Depart is a place for everyone to start fresh no matter what they have seen or done. We work together to have enough food, water, clothing, and security. As long as you are willing to contribute, you are welcome to stay. If you become violent or we feel you are abusing our community, you will be asked to leave.”

“So, what are your health facilities like?” Vita asked. Both adults turned towards her with silent stares. “Is anyone a doctor? What if someone gets hurt?”

“A good question. We do not have a doctor among us but a few of us know some basic first aid.”

“My mom’s a nurse,” Winston supplied with a smile. His eagerness to please the leader had to lend some credibility to the man’s integrity. It seemed genuine from the smile to the upright posture. Cynthia’s scowl negated Vita’s assumptions.

Mr. M’s gaze softened. “Forgive me if we got off on the wrong foot. Would you do the honour of sharing your name?”

“Cynthia,” she said with a firm stare.

“Cynthia, you must realize in these times how valuable your services would be to these people. We are not a sickly group but illness does arise. Without proper medical attention, I have to report that we have lost a few of our community members.”

Vita watched the exchange. That guilt trip knocked down Cynthia’s pride and she clung tighter to her son. Her eyes dropped to the floor. Mr. M clearly knew what he was doing and how to get what he wanted. Vita hated to see her friend in such an alien state. Time for a curve ball.

“I’m having a baby. How are you equipped to handle that?”

“Vita,” Cynthia choked out and gave her a pointed glare.

“If he wants us to stay here, he should be able to tell us if and how he’s prepared to handle this. It’s not like I’ll be the only one.”

“Another very good question to ask,” he paused and looked at her for a moment. “Vita, how far along are you?”

“Somewhere between one and two months.”

“Have you given birth before?”

“I’m sixteen, so I would hope not.”  

“We have survivors of all ages around here. We even have a twins, only five years old, who are our youngest. New life is a challenge but an immense responsibility. If we want to carry on in the world, it is inevitable. I speak for the community when I say that you will not be alone raising this child. It takes a village and we have one here for you.”

Vita raised an eyebrow and looked back over at Cynthia. Her hands still hadn’t unwrapped themselves from her son. Glazed like sweet ham, her eyes betrayed her mental state. Gears clinked away in her head but Vita doubted it was related to this baby situation.

“Essentially, you want us to live here?” Vita said.

“Are you in a position to turn down safety, food security, water and community support?” The tone lacked sincerity and challenged the women’s stubborn nature.

 Two could play at that game. “How about you give us a tour, and we’ll see.”