The Fall of Temin - Part Two - Monica Knight

Section One
August 17th, 2061. Temin, Orono, Hochelaga.
Monica Knight.
When it all collapses, it doesnt happen like anyone thinks it would; there are no
sirens and no warnings, no chaos in the streets. One day the trucks just stop coming and
no one knows why. It wouldve almost been better if someone told us. No one ever did
no one ever tells you when theyre abandoning you. It just happens. In a blink of an eye
theyre gone. Of course, it takes you far longer to notice. You rationalize it and deny it,
but no matter the amount of denial it wont change anything. Thats exactly what
happened to us.
Monica stared down at the words, her blue pen still in hand. Her thumb leafed against
the corner of the page and she sighed. There were times to mourn over writers block, but
that wasnt one of them. She had to be out, searching and hunting for food. If they were
to survive in the world that was given to them, they needed to be working all the time. If
she didnt, shed wind up like all the others. The fate of Temin was now in her hands.
Alice was still gone. She probably would be for the rest of the night. There was a tribute
in three days. Somewhere below the office that shed taken as a bedroom, Monica could
hear the clattering of wooden boxes and milk crates being stacked atop one another. The
city hall had proven a warm enough home. It was designed to survive the war against the
CES, it had done well enough to survive the aftermath of it. The windows were thick.
Monica wasnt sure what they were made of, but they certainly werent glass they
were bullet proof and insulated from the unrepentant cold. It had become far worse than
when she was a child. Instead of breaking, the snow only thickened.
She dropped the pen and sighed. No one would read her words, at least no one that
would care. Shed never taken to writing, not like April, but it was Alice who had
convinced her otherwise. Even then, Alice didnt read her writing. The snow had piled up
outside. Walking on the ground felt like stepping atop permafrost. It had been six years
since shed seen a car come into Temin. It had been eight years since she saw a
government relief truck drop anything off. In that time, the city had gone from forty-five
thousand people to a handful. It had been seven years since shed seen a coalition patrol,
and she began to wonder if there was any government left at all. The Hochelagan relief
supplies lasted only so long, it didnt take much more until the global interest waned.
Altesia didnt want to help a country that was assisting in their own destruction.
Come on, you need to go. Its your shift. You know the rules.
Monica looked up at Jason. His hair was dirty and greasy. There were circles under
his eyes as dark as the clouds. From his wheeled throne he sat no taller than Monica,
regardless of his former towering stature. His dead leg hung limp, propped against the
side of the chair and tied against it with a rope at his ankle. The careless youth had been
drained from his eyes, flushed away and replaced with unrepentant anger. I know, she
said. There was a hesitation in her voice, but she rose all the same.
Send Alice back when you get there. I want you working a shift and a half tonight.
 A shift and a half She almost yelled back, but she knew from experience that wouldnt
get her anywhere. A shift and a half, she said. Main street?
Carter Avenue, he replied.
Monica bit into her lip to hold back. She wrapped the brown and red scarf around her
neck, the insignia long-since fallen off it; she kept the scarf to remember. Long ago she
wouldve stressed about her clothes, even if she was just going out to get the mail. Now
she was glad just to be warm. Theres people there, already?
I would damn well hope so. Alice has been there all day, so unless she was taken on
the walk-
Dont even joke about that.
Jason stared up at her for a few seconds. He sighed, but Monica could see the anger in
his eyes break - if only for a second. Theres guards. One at Carter, three on patrol.
Youll be fine. Shell be fine. Youre strong enough to make it there alone.
Monica stepped past him without another word. It was the closest thing to a
compliment shed gotten from him since Kayley left. Somewhere inside that bitter man
was the goofy asshole she went to high school with. The Commune hadnt broken that
from him. It wouldve made her happier if she wasnt distracted by the looming tribute.
Once a month, every month, shed feel that same terrifying dread. Her hands dipped into
her shallow pockets and she took her first step down the stairs toward the road. She
halted. What about the foragers? Monica asked.
Theyre out, she heard Jasons now distant voice say. The wheels squeaked as he
neared her, desperate for oil. They wont bring attention to you.
But-
Theyre taking a far bigger risk than you are. You can at least be grateful.
Monica really didnt want to fight. She resumed her steps down the stairs. The large
French doors were already open, they were tied that way so deliveries could be brought
inside quickly. The cold hit her as it always did. Frigid and hateful, she felt her hands
tense up and lose feeling almost immediately. In the distance, beyond the clouds, she
could see faint rays of orange from where the sun was setting. It was matched by another
light, but this one brought even more comfort to her. Far in the distance, across the
quarry, she could see the large orange glow of the naturalists camp. The fire was only
that large when they were full and occupied, when they had a need to keep everyone
warm.
Monica could make it across the town safely.
She walked in silence for several minutes. In all her youth, she never couldve
imagined missing her comm device as much as she did then. The lack of music made her
more aware, but it also allowed every snapping stick and gust of wind to send her heart
into panic. Monica slowed as she stepped onto Carter Avenue. For six years, shed called
Carter Avenue home. For years, it had been her fortress, her place of safety, but now it
was a terrifying walk.
She stared over at the empty lot where her house used to be. She remembered how it
looked, charred and broken. The thought made her want to cry. She remembered how the
Naturalists, the Temin Militia, had set the fire to take revenge on her father for the mine.
It wasnt a secret, they openly bragged about it in the streets, hailed as heroes by their
own kind for removing the technological threat, while she slept on couches or in her car
to survive. It wasnt long after that the police fully disbanded. He deserved it, it had
been shouted that night he caused the downfall of this world. He might not have made
the CH-6, but he approved of it. He let it happen, it was his attitude that made this chaos,
that let the Cessies take control.
She remembered the reunion of Temin. After everything had fallen, when the city was
scattered, she lived with Alice in the cafeteria at Gorrman Secondary for a total of a year
and a half. It wasnt until Jason had showed up with four others, the leaders of the major
survivor-communities in Temin, and announced theyd be uniting against the Forester
Commune. His words may have fallen flat, but Arthur Kemslins did not. The former
chief-of-police still held sway in a broken city, and he convinced them to rally together.
When it was all said, and done, when the remaining four-hundred people in Temin had
formed together at the town hall, they declared Temin their home and ordered a meeting
with the forester commune.
Police Chief Arthur Kemslin was killed that night, along with eighty others who
swore to fight by his side. The survivors of Temin had been paying a tribute to the
Forester Commune ever since.
Monica stepped into Carter Avenue. The door was unlocked, but all the lights were
off. She felt the familiar terror of a knifes tip against her back as she stepped deeper
inside.
Knight? an all-too-young sounding guard asked. He couldnt have been older than
Alice.
Monica Knight, she replied, Jason ordered me here.
The knife released off her back. She loathed having weapons drawn on her for
entering her home street. The house that had become a hydroponic farm, hidden secret
from the commune, was just across the street from where her father died. The commune
knew it existed, but as long as the remnants of Temin tried to hide their technology, it was
permissible. The foresters would be eating food grown with UV lamps, and they wouldnt
care. Hypocrites.
She looked back at the pale man and narrowed her eyes. Picking? she asked, staring
at the collection of tomatoes, and string peas in wooden boxes at her side.
Going to have to. No more growth time. Crates are downstairs already. Bring up as
many as you can. Jason wanted twenty an hour.
Twenty an hour, Monica thought, twenty an hour over twelve hours was two-hundred-
forty. She doubted that the farming operation had that much. Monica stepped down the
stairs and looked to Alice.
The blonde-haired girl turned around and broke a small smile toward Monica. She
was thin, but shed always been pale even before the fall. It was also her diary writings
that led Monica to try the same. Someone will need to document it. If that can be me, Id
like to be remembered for something. If not, its somewhere to collect my thoughts. Its
therapeutic, and thats enough for me. Behind the row of tomatoes, she looked sickly
thin. Alice had always been small, but her cheeks were gaunt and skeletal now. Her bones
were visible along her wrists, and her thinning hair was tied up in a ponytail.
Monica shook the echoed voice from her head and sighed. Jason wants you back at
the town hall.
Why? Alice asked. Even her voice sounded small and frail.
Youve worked enough.
You want me to leave you alone here?
Monica pushed her brown, frayed and dead, hair behind her head and sighed as she
looked back to the guard. He was more a teenager with a knife than he was a guard, but
he stood there all the same. He acted self-important, too, like he really believed that he
was on equal ground with the Commune Foresters. A boy with a kitchen knife against a
trained and strong man with a machete, Monica didnt want to see their clash. I wont be
alone.
One more crate, let me finish what I have here, Alice said as she stepped over to the
next row. There were eight rows of planter boxes set up underneath a collection of loose
pipes and heat lamps that made up their food supply. Monica stepped beside her and
grabbed an empty wooden crate from the back of the room. She doubted there were two
hundred crates in the line against the wall. We cant do this forever, Alice whispered
once they were away from the guard.
I know this, Monica said.
We keep getting less and less food, and the commune keeps asking more and more.
Theyre running out, too.
Temins dead.
That phrase hit her more than she thought it would. Monica reeled back and looked at
her with stern brows. She reached for a green tomato and picked it, tossing it into the
crate. She stared down at it, then looked over at the home it had been torn from, ripped
away from before it was of age to leave. What do you think we should do, then?
Monica asked. She didnt want to admit her home was gone, but it was. Temin wasnt
even a shell of Temin anymore. It was bloody and hateful and desperate, her community,
her family, her friends were all gone. Death had taken some, anger had twisted the others
beyond recognition. It had been seven years since shed heard from April. Eight years
since shed heard from Kayley in Norva. Theyd tried to make a stand after Arthur
Kemslin. They tried to poison the food. They were again attacked that night. Monica was
one of the fortunate few to be spared. Shed guessed it was because she wasnt a threat.
Leave, like the others.
Monica stopped. She felt over the leaf stemming off a tomato plant. It was fuzzy, but
more importantly it was cold. She plucked another green tomato from it, ripping it free
when it was too ripe and too young. How?
There has to be a working car around here, still.
You dont think most of them were taken already? Theres barely cars on the road,
Alice. It made Monica think of her own. It was stolen one night when she went into a
diner soon after the police officially disbanded. She never saw it again.
 There has to be. The girl was set on it. She was timid, but she was stubborn. Monica
knew that this wouldnt be the last crate of food that Alice packed.
Where would we go, then? she asked as she filled her first crate. Alice shrugged as
she walked, dropping the full crate at the door. There werent two hundred crates of food
there, even if she only half filled them, theyd be lucky to get one hundred before Carter
avenue was exhausted.
Moros, Alice whispered, Theyre taking refugees. Theyre letting Merisians in.
How do you know?
I heard it on the radio.
Monica stared down at her skeptically, raising a brow.
I heard it on the radio five years ago.
Five years ago you were only twelve, Alice.
I know what I heard.
Monica grabbed another crate. This was going to be a long night.
 Section Two

We dont have enough, Jason said from the centre of the hardwood floored council
room. Monica was exhausted. Her arms were sore, her wrists were covered in dirt. Shed
been living like this for too long, Alice was right. We needed fifteen hundred crates of
food for this months tribute, we have twelve hundred. There was a fear in his eyes, but
Monica couldnt blame him. Jason was, so far, the only one to go against the commune
and survive. He was the only fighter from Arthur Kemslins standoff to survive. Theyll
be here tomorrow morning. Unless the foragers can do the impossible, weve run out of
time. Monica felt a streak of cold run through her heart. Theyd been low before, but
never this low. Even if the Commune would take the reduced amount, and if by some
miracle they didnt slaughter the remnants of Temin, that would leave no food at all for
what was left of their resistance. Alice was right. They couldnt stay like this forever.
Jasons united front experiment had failed. We can talk to their Kinrock, we can try to
reason with him. Right now, they get some food from us. Their choice is some or none.
That should make things easier for us. Monica stared around the room, her eyes shooting
from face to face. There were slightly over two hundred of them left, and most were
either too old or too young to fight. The room carried the same smell it did back in the
time before the fall of Temin, it was a small comfort. The stuffiness of the council
chamber made it one of the places she retreated to in times of fear. She glanced over at
Alice, sitting two rows before her.
What are we going to do, we cant just hope for the best, An older man called from
the audience.
I dont know, Jason said.
You dont know. The man with a white beard stood. He stared over at Jason, and the
world between them seemed to shrink from it. His hands folded into his long-since faded
denim overalls. His matching blue eyes never broke from the much younger man.
The silence remained for longer than Monica was comfortable with. It remained
longer than anyone was comfortable with. What would you do, if you were me? Huh?
Jason asked, antagonizing. He was no Arthur Kemslin.
I wouldnt have had us in this mess to begin with. We knew we needed more farms.
Ive been saying that for a year.
We dont have the power, we dont have the lights. Ive been over this. Theres
nothing we can do about that now. If you, if your kind joined me in fighting instead of
staying back to watch, we couldve been through this. We couldve killed every single
Forester, right then and there! This would go no-where productive. Monica knew that,
and she was exhausted. She stood and walked from the room, no one stopping her, and
she made her way down the long hall to the office that she called home. The shouting
only grew louder as she walked, but the words became indiscernible. She glanced at the
pictures as she walked, at the faces of the mayors, of the members of parliament, staring
back at her. They were from a world that no longer existed, but so was she. As she walked
into her office, Monica wondered if any of them wouldve been able to lead them through
this better than Jason. It was a hard job, but Jason was hardly a leader. Jason couldnt lead
them into anything but death, but he was the only one brave enough to try. Monica
thought of the old man, her nose sneering in disgust. There were no lies in his words, but
that didnt mean they were useful either. Truth and usefulness were not one in the same.
Monica sat against the bed of pillows that shed salvaged from a house many years ago,
hidden behind a desk that separated her bed from Alices. Her back ached, her neck
ached. Dirt still coated her hands, but she wasnt going to wash them yet. What point
would there be for that, she thought. Monica tossed the brown and red scarf over a filing
cabinet that had been sealed as long as shed stayed in that room. She laid her head back
against the pillows and sighed. The morning sun was peering through the clouds. It was
time for Monica to sleep. The only positive of working to exhaustion every day was that
sleep came without trouble. She never tossed and turned with worry.

***

She woke with a heavy sigh. The dirt on her hands had dried and caked to her. We
cant do this, she heard Alice say before Monica even opened her eyes.
Cant do what? Monica uttered. Continue like this?
No- well, yes, Alice stuttered her words. The young girl reminded Monica of
Kayley, unsure of herself and always speaking as if she had to rush. Jason wants us to
fight, if it comes down to it. Monica paused. This wasnt a surprise, but it was about the
worst thing he could do, too. It was hard to process. Monica stared at the white trim
around the large solid wood door. She imagined it covered in ice, because she couldnt
think of anything else. The idea of her charging out against the Temin Militia was
ludicrous. She wondered if the ice would continue to get worse. Even if, by some miracle,
we kill the Foresters it wont matter. We can still die to the cold.
Of course he does. If the Naturalists, the Foresters, decide that they want to kill us
for the tribute, then our choice is fight or let them kill us.
Why dont we prepare for that? Why dont we salvage some guns? There had to be
some survivalist type around here that left their guns at home.
Weve looked, Monica reminded her, We have guns. We dont have ammunition.
Then we can find that-
Alice, Monica started.
What?
Weve had- this town has been salvaged for five years, now. You dont think that if
we could find ammunition, we would have it by now?
I- I dont know, Alice said. The silence continued between them again, and Monica
felt the sleepiness come over her again. She was being tempted and teased, drawn back
into the world of dreams when Alice spoke again, We should leave then.
And go where? Monica asked half through her dreamlike state. Moros? we talked
about this. You know how far it is to Moros? We dont have a car. I dont know how to
hot-wire one, and I dont think you know either.
We can learn, or find another way?
 Another way, Monica scoffed. You want to walk to Moros? Do you have any idea
how long that will take? Well die before were halfway there. The climates more
dangerous than the Foresters. No one can walk to Moros. Wed have gone desperately
insane by the time we cross the Merisian border. Wed be worshipping trees, too, by the
time we reach the province of Moine.
Maybe things will be better to the south? Maybe in Merisia, or Toren? Toren is a
huge city- there was millions there, Monica. You dont think theyre still there?
Millions that left as refugees, Alice.
Then why did you stay.
Why? Monica exhaled heavily and opened her eyes again. She stared out the
window at the grey CH-6 clouds. The scientists, the researchers, theyd promised the
clouds would be breaking by then. They were only getting worse. Monica didnt stay out
of hope, though. I was supposed to leave, then my father died. When my father died, I
kind of lost his money. When youre a broke teenager, you dont really matter. Im
surprised you didnt make it out as a kid. Youd be perfect for a magazine or newspaper
cover, so that some bastard could feel good about leaving the rest of us behind because he
got the precious child-
Where the hell did that come from? Alice was staring at her with betrayed, wide
eyes. She was a girl desperate to make it out, but Monica knew that was a fools errand.
So was staying, too, she thought.
Monica closed her eyes again. Death was staring her down, and she almost wished
that the Foresters would charge them that night. A death by combat would be quicker than
a death by starvation. Probably more pleasant, too. Monica stretched and pulled herself
up. Nowhere, she said. Stay here, though. I need to talk to Jason.
About what?
Ill fight with him. I dont want to starve.
You- Youre going to kill yourself?
Im making a stand.
That was true, but she was so torn. Monica didnt want to say how she truly felt. She
didnt even want to acknowledge it, but the thoughts existed. They chewed her up inside.
She didnt want to outlive Alice, she didnt want to see the girl shrivel and weaken as
they ran out of food. Monicas own stomach grumbled. It had been two days since shed
eaten, and she doubted she would eat again. Taking food, any food, from the tribute was
worthy of death. She stopped before Jasons office, the office that used to belong to the
mayor many years before. She sighed, staring at the off-white wallpaper surrounding it.
Once she announced her allegiance, there was no backing off. Once she announced this,
shed either join and be a part of the force that fought back the Foresters, or shed die.
Monica inhaled sharply, then knocked on his door. Who is it? Jasons voice came
from beyond the white door. She could hear the squeaking of his wheelchair beyond it,
and wondered how he was going to fight at all.
Monica, Monica Knight.
Theres only one Monica, Knight. Hasnt been another in two years. You dont need
to tell me your last name, he said. The door clicked and opened after. From once a tall
and powerful stature, Jason stared up at her from his rickety and rusted chair. Behind him
was a mess filled office, lit up only by a flickering candle.
I want to join you, if it comes to fighting.
Of course. All of you are supposed to, he said as he wheeled back, letting her
through. Close the door behind you.
Monica did as instructed. She ran a hand through her hair and sighed. I know, but
Im just letting you know- you can count on me. I wont hold back.
Well Id hope not. Because you- your lot, the rest of you, didnt last time, we lost.
We couldve won this war if you fought.
Ive heard the speech.
Then why are you here?
Because I wanted to talk to you. I dont think we should give them the chance. I
think we should just ambush them right from the start. We kill them when they come to
take the food.
Theres over a thousand crates of food there, Monica, Jason sighed. His fingers
tapped against the desk. We wont be dealing with small numbers. All a hundred and
some of them will be there to move this stuff.
And we have over two hundred.
Thats exactly been my point. Youre preaching to the flock, for The Lords sake.
That much caught her off-guard. Jason had never even showed signs of religion. Maybe
hes spent too long talking to the old people, she thought. She was just glad he wasnt
starting to pray to the spirits, too. Theyd lost others to that. They were traitors that went
over to the commune. Monica had never seen them again.
I understand that. I just- I dont think we should hold back. I say that we take the
aggression.
No. It needs to look defensive. Jason rolled behind his desk and placed his hands
atop it. Hed long since covered it with paper. Monica wasnt even sure what the top
looked like anymore. If it isnt defensive, the few we have left wont go along with it.
They saw how being aggressive worked before.
It wouldve worked.
Damn it Monica, I know that. Listen, just- let me handle this, okay? he asked. I
have maybe twelve hours until they get here, maybe. I need to prepare some things.
Prepare what?
I need to be alone. Fuck. Jasons hand slammed down on the desk and a flurry of
papers slid off the side. He looked up at her mournfully and shook his head. You should
go. She didnt understand, but she never thought she would. Maybe Jason was beginning
to realize he wasnt as strong a leader as Temin needed. She frowned and turned.
Monica closed the door as she left. What is here for me, she wondered. Even if she
won against the Foresters, even if she did the impossible and Temin killed off all of them,
then what would be left? They were still starving. They were dying. Temin had been
forgotten. She missed when the Eprosians were their biggest threat. She missed when the
Foresters were nomads, when they didnt hurt Hochelagans, when they lived only as
hunters of deer and CES soldiers. She missed when they were nicknamed the Temin
Militia.
Monica pushed open the double doors and walked outside, her hands at her sides. She
walked alone, uncaring. It felt both triumphant and terrifying. She didnt know if the
guards were out, and she knew they certainly wouldnt be where she was going. The
Commune could decide to take her, if she was found alone. Unless Jason won that night,
there was nothing they could do about it either. If she died then, she would almost have
been happy about it. The air chilled her, but she pressed on. She wasnt a Winter, it wasnt
pleasant. Monica could see the bridge in the distance, and the school beyond it. Faintly,
she thought she could see the blue rectangle that had been left of Kayleys hate speech.
Monica hated Kayley in that moment. Her feet carried her toward the bridge, and she
wandered to it without a reason. She hated Kayley, despised her for being cruel, but she
also envied her. Kayley had escaped, and on her fathers dollar, too. Kayley had been the
girl to flee to Epros while she was left behind. Monica hadnt seen her since that night.
Shed gotten a letter years ago from Epros. Kayley could walk again, and Jason never
would. The blue haired girl, the timid, weak, and hateful one, had gone to make a life for
herself in Epros. Life wasnt fair, Monica thought as she stared at the blue rectangle.
Kayley the bigot had survived, where Monica the generous was wishing for death.
She stepped across the parking lot, her feet dodging the broken glass. Gorrman
Secondary had been her home for a while, too, but even then, it looked different. The
windows had been smashed, glass littered the ground, and it was damn near impossible to
see between the layers of ice.
Monica raised her hand and placed it against the blue rectangle. She smiled faintly, it
let her remember that moment. Shed relive it a million times over, the betrayal and the
hate, if it would let her avoid her current life. It had been a while since shed craved a
cigarette, but the feeling came rushing back then.
The wind gusted up, brushing her hair over her eyes and face. She left the rectangle
and walked over to the bench. This school had provided her with so many memories, and
they were all brief escapes from her current life.
She cherished them.
 Section Three

The cold had become too much. The snowfall had started and it threatened a blizzard
soon. Monica stood from the bench and looked down at the outline shed made, a clear
space free of any snow. She spat on it and then started for the bridge again. The sun had
set and her reckoning had arrived. The walk over the bridge was the coldest part. Shed
slipped three times crossing it, once she nearly fell into the icy water that she watched
rush below. That wouldve been a death sentence. It would work, too, if her fight against
the Foresters didnt. Monica made sure to remember that.
The warmth of the fire inside the city hall calmed her. She again felt blood flow
through her fingertips. The frigid and useless appendages again became functional.
Monica started for her office. She walked for Alice.
She was greeted by a closed door. She knocked, and on hearing nothing, she opened
it. Alice had to be asleep, she thought. Except there was no-one in Alices makeshift bed.
There was no one in the office, at all. Monicas eyes darted around the room, searching.
There was a piece of paper beneath a rock on the desk. She felt anger course through her.
Monica stepped for it, pulling it up with a snap of her hands.
Dear Monica.
I cant stay here any longer. This isnt life. You know that, I know that. Were slaves to
the commune in everything but name, and I think I can do better than this. Even if I spend
the rest of my life running through the forest, alone, making traps for deer and growing
my own food, itll be better than this. But Ill try to do better than that, too. Im going to
Toren first, to see if theres anything there. If not, then Ill make my home somewhere in
Hochelaga. Youre right, I cant make it to Moros. I wish you would come with me
because I dont think I can tolerate living on my own very long either. Im leaving here
now to find a car and some gas. Even if I cant find one, Ill wait and spend the night at
the gas station off Kimberly Street. If you want to come with me, meet me there by 9 AM.
Im leaving then. If you want to stay Good luck, and thank you.
Im sorry that this had to be in such a rush. I wanted to stay and tell you about it
tonight. I tried to sneak some food for us, because I know itll take a while to set up a
farm and well need some for the drive. Jason found me with my pockets filled with
carrots and called me out in front of everyone. I think they hate me now. Ive never seen
them look at me that way, and Im scared. Even now, Im scared that theyll come
running in here to end me. I had to make it out. I lost the carrots, Im sorry.
Alice.
Monica crumpled the paper in her hands, but they felt too weak to crush it as much as
she wanted. She wanted to break it, to destroy the matter with her own hands. She wanted
to rip it from existence and curse it for ever existing. A tear was at her eyes now, but she
wouldnt stop to allow it. Jason! Monica screamed as she turned from the office. She
threw the paper down in the hall and started for his office. Jason, you get the fuck out
right now, Monica shouted. Her throat ached, her arm slammed against the solid door.
Pain soared up her elbow, but she shoved her shoulder against the door again. To her
surprise, the door unlocked.
 I knew you were coming. I saw the letter your friend left. He sat in his chair at the
door. The candle had gone out. He looked so weak and pathetic in that chair. She wanted
to kick him from it, she wanted to beat him while he was on the ground.
Where the fuck is she?
I dont know, Jason said as he wheeled back. I really dont.
You- you wouldnt let her go, I know you-
I have bigger things to deal with right now. He was lying, Monica knew that. She
lunged at him all at once. She was in the air, still, thrashing at him. She never came down.
Her throat hurt, it burned. There was a man with black hair, one of Jasons security,
grasping her by the throat. He stood just behind the door, waiting. Monica swung her
hands, her nails digging into his skin. She tried to cut him wildly, she tried to break him.
She imagined slicing through him as if her nails were razor blades. Shed never felt as
weak and hopeless as when she realized his arms were entirely unharmed. Monica tried
to scream, but her throat had become coarse and dry. Let her down, take her back to her
office. Seal the door.
Excuse me? Monica tried to shout, but it came out stuttering and filled with
coughing. Monica was dropped to her feet. Her knees almost gave out, but she was tossed
up again. The dark-haired man grabbed her and pulled her. She tried to resist, but she was
too weak. She was too weak and too small. She grabbed for a picture in the hall, and the
frame came tumbling onto the floor.
What the fuck, a mans voice said, watching from the hall.
She betrayed us, her and Alice. They tried to steal and run away. Her fate will be
decided tomorrow. Go, get ready. Get the others ready. I want a defense prepared, Jason
ordered him. The man slowed, stared into Monicas eyes. She desperately tried to yell,
but even then she didnt know the words that she would say. The man nodded to Jason,
never breaking eye contact until the moment he turned to rally the group.
***

Monica had no place in a cell. Shed learned that. The door was barred from the other
side, but by what she wasnt sure. The door was solid, she wasnt breaking through it, no
matter how hard she tried. Her shoulder ached from the attempts. Her throat hurt too
much to scream. Monica tried desperately, but only a whisper came. She watched from
the window as Jason and the rest of Temins non-Forester population had gathered
outside. The man with dark hair was still beside Jason, his hand on the back of the chair.
Monica winced as the lights from the commune across the quarry started to dim. She
knew that the Foresters had left. It was only a matter of time. She knew the tribute would
be rejected. Both sides had chosen violence, whether they knew it yet or not.
She watched the snow fall. Monica kept one hand against her throat, trying to
reconcile the pain. She shuddered as she watched. Torches began to appear at the bridge.
They marched over like ominous orbs, slowly venturing to the town hall. Slowly, faces
appeared from behind them, ready and angry. Their hair was long, and for however dirty
Monica was, theirs was worse. She could see that from beyond the window.
 She kicked at the window again in a desperate plea for escape. The thick, bullet-proof
window only clattered. Not a single mark was left from her foot. Not a single crack
appeared. The mass of foresters carrying knives and bows broke into three segments.
She exhaled and kicked it again, getting the same result. She was locked in, awaiting
Jason to choose her fate. Again, shed be on the sidelines to watch his battle against the
Foresters. A man dressed in a large coat with fox fur sewn into it stopped before the
crates. He prodded them with his feet. Doesnt look like fifteen hundred, he said.
Monica could barely hear, it sounded little more than a whisper. She wished she could see
their faces.
No. Its not. Its all youre getting.
The man paused, then laughed. Is that so? he shouted back, much louder this time.
He raised his hand and the group behind him started into a laugh. They were her former
peers, former neighbours, but now they were so twisted Monica didnt want to even
remember them as they once were. She wished their faces wouldve been contorted, too,
so she wouldnt have that memory. He took off his fox fur coat. At his side there was a
machete, long and rusted. He stepped forward toward Jason. With his own arms, Jason
rolled himself forward.
Monica glared, she wished she knew what would happen. Squinting hadnt helped.
Jason said something, then the man with the machete said another. In one motion, he
grabbed the handle of the machete and swung it upward. She felt her heart stop as the tip
of the blade swung by Jasons face. She saw him fall back from his wheel chair, his hand
shooting to the bloody visage. He rolled from the chair, his hands stuck to his face. The
rusted metal followed him, the rope still tied around his ankle. She watched her friends,
her people, charge forward. They took it as a signal of defence. They started into a run,
but the Foresters held their ground.
Monica panicked when she saw the crossbows rise. A first volley shot toward her
people, and a line fell. A second volley came from another section, then a third. Her
captors numbers had been shattered before the Foresters even responded to the charge,
but by the time they started into their own gait, Monica knew it was over. She watched,
hopeless and desperate, as more machetes and knives came out. She watched her friends,
people she had survived with for years, be cut apart. She couldnt look away, not once.
She heard them scream and cry. She heard cracking as bone snapped. She watched the
man formerly in fox fur cut his way through the black-haired man who protected Jason.
The black-haired man didnt even slow him for a minute. Monica looked down to her
own diary. Alices was gone.
Her breathing halted when she heard footsteps inside the town hall.
Bunch of fucking shit they have in here, Kinrock, she heard a voice shout.
Take anything valuable. We move tomorrow. Fuck this town, well take another. A
militia for Temin, by Temin, she remembered hearing the fox-covered man say years
before. It felt like a lifetime ago. He shouted it in the streets after the CES had retreated,
and it was met by cheers from the same people that were just slaughtered by the Temin
Militia.
 It was only a matter of time until they reached her, but she thought she had more. She
heard something outside her door slide free.
The door swung open, and she found herself staring at a man who had his clothes tied
on in sinews. His face was thin, his hair was brown. She recognized his face, but it wasnt
a comfort. Dean Westerly.
Monica felt her anger, all her hate flare up at once. She searched desperately for
something to use. You fucking traitor, she shouted, her voice still torn.
Monica- he said, but that wouldnt be enough. Monica grabbed the rock that Alice
had used as a paperweight. She threw it at him with all that she could. It bounced off his
chest, he barely reacted. The man in the fox fur stepped behind him, his machete still out.
It was coated in red. It was coated in Jasons blood.
You fucking- Monica started into a run. She wouldnt let them take her alive, she
couldnt. Every second that she could buy would give Alice another second to get out of
town. Deans fist hit her face, and Monica fell to the ground. The back of her head
cracked against the desk.
Kill her, she heard the man in fox fur say.
Youre sure? We could-
I said do it, the Kinrock shouted.
Monica felt dizziness taking her. It was as if sleep was tempting her back, her
awareness was flowing from the crack in her skull.
Dean stepped up to her, staring down. I didnt-
DO IT, the man shouted.
Deans foot stomped down on Monicas throat. She swung her arms against him. She
never made a mark.
Kayley had left her.
Alice could, too.
Alice could escape.
Monica took in a desperate breath. She struggled for air.
Another breath, another second for Alice. She was buying time. She was buying Alice
time. It was all she could do, now, and it was all she wanted to do. Hate fluxed through
her, and she glared up at Dean. Never in her life could she have imagined it.
She felt Deans foot press harder against her, and she started to choke. Her body
violently tried to break free, but his leg had her pinned. Monica punched at his knee.
Nothing happened. Things started to go dark.
Just one more second for Alice.
Monica took another swing at his leg, but her fist was pinned down by a foot. Her arm
was under the Kinrocks foot.
She felt cold.
She felt alone.
Monica had been a terrible older sister.
She wasnt April.
Another second for Alice.
Monica desperately wanted to be there for Alice.
Shed give her all the time that she could.
Alice deserved to escape.
She wished she was strong enough.
She wished she was there for Alice.
She wished she was there for Kayley.
Monica tried so hard.
Like every night, the darkness was taking her.
She welcomed it.