Cynthia's heart swelled when Peyton's voice carried into the warehouse with several others. She ran up to the dreadlocked man and wrapped her arms around him. His lips twisted into a smile that didn't quite meet his eyes. Some hues of their honey color had faded.

"It's good to see you back here," Cynthia said. She turned to Amelia and smiled. "You too."

Amelia nodded as her eyes scanned the community warehouse. Four teens ranging from a tall and muscular young man to a young woman wearing a woven floral wreath stood with the group. Mr. M came running in from the back area.

"Peyton, you made it back alive," Mr. M said, nearly out of breath.

Peyton chuckled. "This is my wife, Amelia."

They shook hands and Amelia wasted no time sizing up the man. Cynthia imagined it would be hard to trust after being kidnapped like she was. She wondered if the teens were also victims of a similar fate. The muscular blonde kept eyeing the exits in the room, his gaze hardly ever landing on the people in front of him, except for Vita.

"Pleasure to meet you, Amelia. Your husband has had nothing but good things to say about you. And who are all these new faces?"

"Mischa," the red-headed young woman said with a small wave.

"Quinton," spoke the tall, dark-haired man to her left.

"April, I'm happy to help on the gardening team Peyton mentioned you ran here."

"Wonderful," Mr. M said with a smile. "And you, young man?"

The blonde's wandering eyes focused in on the group when he realized all eyes were on him. He ruffled his hair and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Gunnar," he spoke quietly.

"Our crew calls dibs on this one," Reggie said, throwing an arm around the awkward  young man's shoulder. "If the stories about him are true."

"Welcome to Nouveau Depart, a new start for all of you. You have no doubt had a rough enough time given where you have been. If you ever need to talk to someone, I have lived between those walls in the past and I know how defeating it can feel. I imagine you would all like some food, a place to wash up and rest."

"Yes," Mischa said with a smile. The others nodded and their bodies perked up.

"Then follow me."

Vita and Gunnar hung back while the others took off into the living quarters. Vita kept tugging on the bottom of her top and biting her lip. Cynthia went over and wrapped her arms around the girl. Vita froze, but it wasn't a push away. She soon began to shake. Her balls fists worked their way around Cynthia's back.

"I don't know what to do anymore, Cynthia."

"You're going to be fine."

"Are you kidding me? There's a baby growing inside of me that no one even knows about. Mischa's fine. Her friends are fine. Gunnar's actually doing better than when I ever knew him. But, me? I'm a worthless wreck."

"Vita-"

"Ya were kinda scary in that store. I mean, if I didn't know it was you, I'dda been worried."

Vita's face brightened, to Cynthia's surprise. She must have been out of the loop with the compliments kids were giving these days. "Really?"

Gunnar shrugged. "I'm gonna check on Hunter."

Vita stood with her shoulders slumped and head pointed at the floor. Her eyes flickered to the door where Gunnar had just left. Cynthia's heart went out to the girl. The situation she faced wasn't one she wished on too many, given the gravity of their environment and the history surrounding the pregnancy. 

"You're doing a very brave thing."

"It feels like a really stupid thing. Before I could hide it. Soon it's going to be impossible to ignore and everyone will know. They'll ask, or worse, they'll start stories about the whole thing." Vita's leg trembled.

"Vita," Cynthia said, staring into those glassy blue eyes. "Nothing they say matters. You want support? Just look to me, Winston, Mr. M, even that boy out there who you're not hiding it from."

Vita nodded and sniffled. "I wish none of this ever happened."

"We all wish that, every day," Cynthia said as her thoughts wandered to John's warm smile, tender hands and embrace. "But we keep moving forward because the past is over and we have to deal with the present to keep ourselves sane."

"I'm sorry about your husband. I know how hard it's been on you."

"Thank you, Vita."

The door opened behind them and Gunnar stepped back through. A beautiful Mastiff sat obediently outside. "I dunno how many rabbits you'll find out here, but you should go looking. I don't think you get to stay in this place." The dog waited in place until Gunnar scratched its head and then took off running.

"Does he come right back?" Vita asked.

"Sometimes. Depends if he finds anything interesting."

"You're not worried about him?"

Gunnar shrugged. "He was living alright before I found him. Can't see why he'd be different here." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "That leader guy said something about food."

"Oh yeah, I'll show you the kitchen. I used to work there before I learned how to wield a knife."

His eyebrows raised. "Ya cook?"

"She made some pancakes that are sorely missed by many here," Cynthia said. "Maybe if you're lucky, she'll make you some."

Vita averted her eyes when Gunnar's gaze fell upon her. "Not today, maybe later when they don't think I'm fit to scavenge anymore. But let's get some food."

The following day, Cynthia sat near Peyton and his wife at the table, eager to hear how their escape had been managed. Peyton guarded his words like they had supplies after the storm. Amelia was quicker to converse on regular topics. Mr. M sat down at her side with a smile and a plate brimming with rice and beans.

"Such a happy reunion," Mr. M said.

Given the looks on everyone's faces, she couldn't quite see how he made that link. The conditions were likely better, but something didn't feel right.

"It's a tenfold improvement," Amelia said with a smile.

"Were you able to use any of the techniques we practised?" Mr. M asked Peyton.

His face went white and he pushed his plate away from the edge of the table. "Excuse me a moment."

Amelia continued to work on her food as if nothing had happened. Mr. M paid the departure no extra attention, but Cynthia couldn't let him just walk away like that. Something had deeply affected Peyton on that mission and she wasn't content to sweep it under the rug like the others would.

She found Peyton in the greenhouse. She looked around the darkness to see who else was around, given that he was speaking, but couldn't find anyone.

"I didn't mean to do it, Lily. Please forgive me. We've always taught you to solve your problems with your words, with your fair and kind nature. Sometimes people make mistakes."

His head lifted and he looked out into blank space. His eyes were brimmed with tears.

"Daddy's sorry. He didn't mean to hurt that man. He didn't mean to become a monster."

His hands trembled and he reached out as if to stoke a head of hair. His face softened.

"If I could change it I would. You have to believe me, sweetie."

A tear rolled down Cynthia's cheek watching the man speak to the darkness with such focus. She couldn't decide if it was worse to comfort him and let him know that she had witnessed his madness, or to let him suffer alone. A few seconds later she had made her decision.

"Peyton," she said softly.

"Cynthia," he said with wide eyes. "I was just- I just-" He sighed.

"It's alright. Speaking to those that we've lost can help us cope and get out those feelings we didn't get the opportunity to share."

"I don't just talk to her, Cynthia. I see her. I hear her. Almost every day."

It was a miracle the man even made it back alive. "Does Amelia know?"

Peyton shook his head and the dreadlocks tumbled in front of his face.

"I'm sure you're not the only one who's gone through this. You just have to remind yourself that she isn't real and separate reality from the illusion."

"Why. Isn't this reality better? Wouldn't you do the same for John?"

Cynthia took a deep breath. She opened her mouth but the words remained in her throat. How to tread without damaging an already fragile soul. "No, Peyton. John wouldn't want me to choose an imagined life over one of happiness."  

"I am crazy, aren't I?"

"You've been through a lot, Peyton. You lost your daughter, your wife for some time and had to go over a month to find her."

"I also killed a man. An innocent one, unarmed."

The air left Cynthia's lungs. Peyton had such an aversion to violence. She couldn't even imagine how this was tearing him up inside. She sat down beside him and put her arm around his shoulder.

"She won't even look at me properly anymore."

"Your wife?"

Peyton nodded. "How do we come back from this?"

"One day at a time, Peyton. One foot in front of the other."

She reached into his hand to pull away the gardening shears and place them on the ground. Why Amelia wasn't sitting here on the floor with him troubled her the most. Peyton did nothing but support others and deserved the same treatment back.

They walked back to the table together and sat down without disturbing the conversation. After Amelia finished speaking with Mr. M she turned to her husband. "Feeling better, then?"

"Sure," he said lightly.

Amelia's eyes raised to Cynthia. "You two managed to grow close."

It took a lot of restraint not to reply or lash out after that comment. Cynthia found her self-control admirable after seeing Peyton in that state on that greenhouse floor and given that the woman even still had a husband at all and chose to write off his quite troubling mental health.

After the meal, Winston insisted on taking the new community members on a tour, with Vita's help, which left Cynthia with Mr. M. They had both taken tough blows today. He had taken June and Alex's absence personally when Peyton had informed him that they had stayed.    

"We have to keep an eye on Peyton."

Mr. M began to chuckle and she shot him a dirty look. "Sorry, you are simply acting in the manner I do, as if each person under this roof is your own family. I thought I was the only one so crazy."

Cynthia laughed, tension cascading off her shoulders. "I suppose I am. Peyton used to do the same."

"The journey was hard on him. I do not think it ended how he anticipated."

"Could you speak with him later? I think he needs to hear from someone who has fought in life or death situations before. Sooner than later."

"I will first thing in the morning. How are you feeling?"

"Better than most around me."

"That does not reveal much."

"I'm better than I have been since I arrived."

Mr. M smiled and leaned forward. "Wonderful. I have been waiting months to hear that. Have you considered-"

A young man ran up to the table. "Mr. M. There are three people at the front and they want to see you. One woman says that she knows you from before the disaster."

Mr. M's breathing picked up. "Are you positive there are only three of them? Are they armed?"

"Yes, I mean they were, but they unarmed themselves and left Julian with all the weapons. Guns, knives, sedatives."

"Cynthia, would you mind joining me?" Mr. M said.

He tilted his head toward the front. She followed him up to the entrance where just yesterday the new arrivals had stood. Julian was there staring down at the weapons before him.

"Marcel," called a woman's voice. She had pale skin, dark hair and was rather attractive.

Mr. M, or Marcel, froze on spot. Cynthia found it hard to keep her eyes off the pair.

"I wouldn't be here if it wasn't urgent. I know you won't forgive me, but at least listen to what I have to say for the sake of these innocent people."

Marcel stood still and his lips made no move to produce a sound. The two men with this new woman stood at her side, fidgeting. Neither looked like they could really hold a candle to the woman's battle skills.

"Please, come in," Cynthia said. She earned an incredulous look from Marcel, but she had to act in his mental absence. History could be a dangerous obscurant and it was obvious that these two had burned nearly every bridge between them.

"You have no idea what you are starting," Marcel said quiet enough for Cynthia to hear between gritted teeth.

"No, Marcel, but the trait you so kindly said we shared was the desire to protect these people," Cynthia said with a false smile as they walked away from the entrance.

"She would not protect a starving child without self-interest. Go get the other new arrivals. They will know what to make of this."

Cynthia rounded up the teens and her son, as well as the quiet couple. She wavered on including Peyton. He already had so much on his plate that witnessing an old standoff wouldn't serve his sanity.

"Peyton, would you mind keeping an eye on Winston? Just for a little while."

"Of course not, c'mere buddy. I know some pretty great stories that I think you'll like."

Cynthia smiled as she and the others walked toward the far back corner of the warehouse. Hopefully, Winston could have the same effect on Peyton as he did on her at times. Her son was the greatest blessing she could have received.

They grew closer to the solar lamp, illuminating Marcel and the three newcomers.

"Dad?" Mischa called out and ran toward him.

"Mischa!" The man in his late forties wrapped his arms around the teen. He pulled away to examine her from head to toe. "You made out alive, and safe?"

"Yes! What are you doing here?" Mischa said.

"We came to find you. I had no idea where to look, but officer -- Olivia -- suggested we start here."

"How did you know about this place?" Marcel turned to this 'Olivia' woman. Cynthia had never heard such unwarranted malice in the man's voice.

Unlike Marcel, she kept whatever feelings she had brewing out of her tone and body language. "I remembered you talking about land that your Captain owned out here. I figured it was worth a shot."

"And what are your plans now?"

"We found his daughter, but there were a few issues I wished to discuss." She turned to Amelia and the teens. "I don't know about your route back, but ours offered quite unsettling observations."

Amelia scoffed. "You mean that you're finally come to accept that your organization is run by a sociopath who wrecked the world for his own amusement? Finally pulled your head out of your ass then, did you?"

The younger of the two men stepped forward. "That's uncalled for. We're here to discuss this like adults."

Marcel's shoulders tensed as the man step closer to Olivia. She met her defender's gaze for a moment. "I have no argument against the man being a sociopath, but I don't believe him capable of pulling this off alone. He played a part, but he doesn't have the know-how to carry out large-scale biological warfare. If he did, we'd all be dead."

"Who said anything about biological warfare?" Amelia said.

"Isn't that what you saw on the way back? Cities of victims killed instantly in their homes?" Olivia said.

"No the people we saw were alive, rioting and confined to guarded cities like prison inmates in the slums. We also found evidence of research into climate control methods that could cause the disasters we faced here," Amelia said.

Olivia's forehead wrinkled. "That's ridiculous, why would they waste time finding three different ways to..."

"We can theorize all we want, but we started something when we escaped from that facility. Once word gets out, we may be in even hotter water if that facility is part of a larger chain as you've implied."

The room went quiet as Amelia's words took effect. Had Marcel known that Peyton's attempt to rescue his wife would have such consequences? He couldn't have known the state of the rest of the world.

Marcel stepped forward and looked over the crowd. "I suppose there is only one path to follow."

"The one to Mexico?" Olivia's friend suggested.

Marcel ignored the interjection "We assess the threat we face and prepare to fight. I was naive to think that harmony under this roof was anything but the temporary absence of conflict."

Cynthia sighed and savoured one of the moments that would become more and more rare. Survival was about to get a whole lot more challenging.

***      ***

Author's Note

It might not feel like it, but we've arrived at the end of the first segment of Survival. Thank you very much for sticking with and supporting the story. I do plan to continue Survival (or the next title it gets) in another book -- or I may decide I want to rework this ending and keep going from here, but it won't be for at least a few months.

If you have any thoughts on the story, characters, ending, or where you think it'll go next. I love to hear it. Reactions are a real gift, especially with reworkable drafts.