Will to Survive by Eric Walters

said.
    â€œDo you?”
    â€œSometimes, but I’m pretty busy between feeding the livestock, helping in the fields, and doing some guard duty.”
    â€œI’m sick of being busy. I mean, it’s not so much being busy as, well, being occupied … in my head. I think I have too many thoughts sometimes.”
    â€œI agree.” She paused. “Sometimes you just need to lie back and relax.”
    â€œMaybe we could even do that relaxing thing together,” I suggested. I leaned back on my lounge chair and gestured for Lori to join me. She got up from the other chair and settled in beside me. It was a tight but wonderful fit.
    â€œIs that a new top?” I asked.
    â€œYes, I didn’t think you’d notice.”
    â€œI noticed. It looks nice, you look nice in it.”
    â€œThanks. Of course, it’s not new, just new to me. I got it at the swap meet.”
    â€œMy brother and sister got some stuff at the last one,” I said.
    Every second Saturday there was a swap meet at the school gym. Clothes and shoes and other personal items that people didn’t want or had outgrown or that had been brought back by the away teams were all laid out on the gym floor. People were able to take things that they could use. For lots of people this wasn’t just practical but was as close to shopping as they could come.
    I thought back, almost in amusement, at how some people used to spend so much time “prowling” the malls. For them shopping was like a lifestyle, or a sport … or like hunting. Hunting—and being hunted—had changed so dramatically in our new world.
    â€œThe stars are amazing,” Lori said.
    â€œYou’re the second person tonight to mention the stars to me.”
    â€œShould I be jealous?” she joked.
    â€œIt was Herb.”
    â€œThen I am jealous. He gets to spend more time with you than anybody else does. I just hope he wasn’t whispering romantic things in your ear.”
    â€œHerb isn’t so much in my ear as he is in my head, and what’s he’s saying is never even remotely romantic. Although he does like it when I bring him flowers.”
    â€œUh-huh.”
    We lay together on the chair, my arms wrapped around her. I was suddenly tired. I laid my head on top of hers.
    After a few minutes of quiet, she cleared her throat. “Have you drifted asleep back there?”
    â€œNo, just thinking.”
    â€œI thought you were going to try to avoid that,” she said.
    â€œI’ll do my best to—”
    A popping sound somewhere close by cut me off.
    In the old days, I’m sure my first thought would have been that someone had lit a firecracker. But now I knew that sound all too well. Not fireworks.
    A gunshot.

 
    10
    There was a second shot and a third, and then the general alert siren went off. The shots were coming from the section of the outer wall right in front of us, maybe fifty yards from where we were sitting. Instantly I thought of Todd; then I remembered he was on duty on the other side of the neighborhood.
    I jumped to my feet, pulling Lori with me, and we crouched by the edge of the roof. From behind the shelter of the bricks, I peered out, trying to see where exactly the shots were coming from. The siren kept blaring. Soon people from around the neighborhood would be here—my mother and Herb and Howie would be on their way.
    Another gunshot rang out and I caught a glimpse of the muzzle flash. It was coming from outside the perimeter, from the partially burned-out condominium tower across the parkway, at the corner of Erin Mills and Burnham. It had always been one of Herb’s fears that the building could be used as high ground against the neighborhood.
    The emergency lights on the wall came to life, bright greens and reds and whites, strings of Christmas lights gathered weeks ago from people’s attics and basements, powered by car batteries. Merry Christmas, everybody.