Stagnation: characterized by lack of development, advancement, or progressive movement; a standing body of water that has become foul

Living deep in the countryside means that we survive by using well water. Unfortunately, most of those wells were built at least fifty years ago and poorly maintained. Many were destroyed in the wars, making water supplies scarce and fought over. Neighbors would sabotage each other's water supplies if it was discovered they had opposing beliefs.

We currently live in established territories based upon our Civil War beliefs. Despite that war being won two years ago, we have regressed since the blasts and tensions are higher than ever.

If you are queer or a person of color, you automatically get placed among the Progressives, whether you believe in their message or not. As a white passing, closeted Middle Eastern lesbian I was placed mistakenly within the ranks of the New Confederation when they found me wandering lost in the woods near their territory.

I am only safe here so long as I blend in, and hope to escape to the Progressives the next time we go water scouting. We usually go in groups of two, and the last time I was out we wandered into Progressive territory by accident. Luke and I barely made it out without being discovered.

If I can split off from my partner, I should be able to escape easily. I have no friends here, and have purposely made myself less than valuable to the group. They won't even search for me, most likely. People go missing all the time, and I haven't made myself worth looking for.

I pack what little personal items I own into my bag while my roommate Becca is performing her assigned task of making lunch. Our other roommate Vanessa is at the barn grooming horses. I finished my job, women's laundry, early and decided to prepare for my plan discreetly.

Throughout my experiences I have discovered that most compounds are run exactly the same no matter which group accepts you. At least in established townships. They can be safer due to higher numbers in the event of conflict, but can also alert the foreign governments set on our destruction of your location.

The rules are simple: no electricity use at night, and do your fair share around the town. Most get assigned jobs on arrival.

I ponder these thoughts whilst folding my clothing, ensuring nothing gets left behind.

I leave my hygiene items out, as Mark and I will not be leaving until morning. Water scouting is a volunteer based activity. I signed up last week to get away from the house for a bit, when we stumbled upon the Progressive township.

Glancing around to make certain no one would sneak up behind me, I unzipped the secret pocket inside of my bag and pulled out the picture that could get me executed if any of my roommates discovered it. My girlfriend Emily and I sat in front of the White House in DC holding our hands up in triumph and kissing the day the Supreme Court struck down the law allowing workplace discrimination against LGBTQIA+ folks due to "religious beliefs" days after the Second Civil War ended.

We got separated the day of the blast. I was visiting family in Lexington, Kentucky at the time. The last messages I received told me that she had been in upstate Maryland doing research for her school project. She was an archaeological student at Georgetown. I have no idea whether she survived or not, and have been looking for her for over a year now. If I don't find her at the next village I will stop searching, as moving around so much alone has been getting steadily more dangerous.

I gently place the image back into its compartment, and finish packing my last pair of socks.

Doing an inventory; I count three pairs of socks, four pairs of underwear, two bras, two pairs of jeans, two worn t-shirts from concerts long past, and a thick flannel. My hairbrush, toothbrush, toothpaste, and feminine hygiene items are in the bathroom. I am wearing my only pair of boots. I keep a knife in the right one as well as another strapped to my inner left arm. I usually keep a handgun and a few bullets strapped to my outer right thigh, but at the moment it is locked in my nightstand. I feel for the outline of the key in the front pocket of my cargo pants, assuring myself I have not lost it to the washer.

My meager first aid kit and my trusty steel water bottle are in side pockets of the backpack. I don't own a lot, but it's enough to survive.

That's all we can do out here, after all. I check the time on my analog watch, and decide to head down for lunch. This farm house is over a hundred years old, and the stairs creek as though they might collapse at any moment. Somehow the generators still work, providing us with a semblance of normalcy.

I turn down the hallway, admiring the quaint designs on the peeling wallpaper, and see Becca and Rachel finishing up today's meal.

"Hey y'all, what's on the menu today?" I try to be social, adding a twang to my accent since my current location is somewhere in Georgia.

Becca looks up from the large pot she's stirring, acknowledging my presence with the smile of a Southern Belle. "It's chili today Lily, Luke got two dear from yesterday's hunt so there's even protein today!"

"That's awesome Bec! With you and Rachel's skills in here I'm sure it's delicious."

"Awe, thanks Lil, it should be ready here in about five minutes. Would you mind ringing the bell while I get the plates down from the cabinet?"

"Sure." I reply, walking out of the kitchen and onto the back porch, and ring the ancient bell that signals meals.

This district has around a hundred people, but we only serve lunch to the people who work or live on this particular part of the farm. For us that means three farm hands who work in the barn with the horses as well as the eight of us that live in this house.

I watch as Mark, Luke, Michael, and Vanessa walk up from the barn while Mary and Paul put down their tools in the garden to head over.

I head inside to see Rachel and Becca preparing eleven bowls, while Jason and Tessa appear from elsewhere in the home. I've only been here for two weeks, but everyone is very welcoming.

I have to stay alert to make sure I respond to my name, which I told them all was Lily Taylor. In reality, my name is Leila Najar. Taylor is Emily's last name. I realized pretty quickly whose territory I had wandered into by the confederate flags posted around and the lack of genetic diversity.

I thank Becca while grabbing my own bowl of chili, then sit in a chair in the corner. I like to observe people, and this gives me a vantage point to view them all without the need to speak with them much.

"Man Paul, I coulda sworn I saw one of them degenerates scouting us out today. Almost missed the n*gger hiding in the trees. He ran off after I shot at him, but his kind best not come around here again!" Luke exclaimed, while Paul looked aghast at the thought of a black man being near his property. I try not to flinch at the use of that awful word, and attempt to keep an emotionless facade despite the anger I feel boiling in my veins.

"Damn Luke, I hope you got him good at least." Rebecca replies, a contemplative look on her face.

"You bet your ass I did, Becca. I ain't never missed a shot in my life."

"Well, I am sure thankful for that. Its been a week without any meat in our meals!" Mary states. I am happy with the redirect in conversation.

While I don't believe every member of the New Confederacy is racist, those that are tend to lead and be the most vocal. Paul and Mary run this township for example, and Luke is Paul's governing assistant.

"Remember that it's lights out at 6:30 tonight everyone. Winter is coming and it's getting dark a heck of a lot earlier here lately. If it gets too cold I want Vanessa and Lily in charge of fire building tonight. Remember to keep it low and not visible from the outside ladies." Mary delegates.

"Yes ma'am. If you don't mind I would like to be excused now, I'm behind on today's laundry due to a washer mishap." I implore.

The washer did go out earlier, but I was able to fix it and finished early. This is part of my plan to seem replaceable and less than useful. Also, I'm hoping to escape this conversation as soon as possible.

"You may be dismissed Lily. And try not to break that darn thing more, those are hard to come by nowadays."

"Thank you ma'am." I respond respectfully, before rinsing my bowl and placing it in the sink and disappearing back upstairs to fold the last load of laundry that I saved for this purpose.

With any luck, tonight is my last night blending in with this group of Confederates.