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“I’m Cal—they/them. This is Mina—she/her. And the one who went chasing after Amos is Katie—also she/her.” Cal sits half cross-legged on the couch with their arm draped over the back.

Mina is on the other side of Cal, curiously peering over at me.

I stare up at the pair for a moment before I say shyly, “Nice to meet you guys. I’m Lori—she/her. I hope it’s okay that I’m rooming with you?” I don’t know why that came out as a question.

The discomfort I felt after eating sandwiches with Amos has singed every nerve ending in my body, leaving me anxious and irritable.

I just want to be left alone.

“Where did Amos find you?” Mina asks with an accent I can’t quite place, but I don’t think English is her first language, though she speaks it perfectly.

“Um, I don’t really want to talk about that.”

“Yeah, Mina, leave the poor girl alone. She’s been through hell.” Cal turns to give Mina a look, making her slump backward.

If they know Amos found me, I wonder how much they know about me already.

If my mom or any of the other leaders had told the community here what I’ve been through.

The thought makes me feel naked.

Like my entire life story is laid bare on my skin.

“It’s okay. I’m just tired. Actually, I think I’d like to lie down, if that’s okay?”

“Yeah sure, roomie. Your room is the corner on the left,” Cal says with a friendly smile.

I offer a small smile in return and a thanks before shuffling to my room.

It’s small, finally something I’m used to.

But it is nice to have a solid door, no window for my captors to peer through.

I haven’t had privacy like this since before the outbreak.

There’s even a lock on the inside.

I can lock myself in instead of being locked in.

It feels strange.

Ever since I left the confines of that hospital-like building, I’ve felt strange.

Like I’m walking in someone else’s shoes.

Literally. Being in a small room is the only thing that has felt normal all day.

Perhaps this is where I’ll stay for the rest of my life.

No one will force me to fight again.

I’m safe here. And in this little room, no one can hurt me.

Fight. Survive. Live.

My mantra still pulses through me.

As much as I try to convince myself that I am safe, my survival instincts continue to electrify everything else.

I’m not safe. They want to put me through tests.

Even Amos. He might have charmed me, but I won’t allow him to use me like Doctore did.

I will not allow anyone to use me ever again.

I lock the door and curl into my small bed, staring up at the ceiling until exhaustion pulls me into a heavy sleep.

A sleep that is hastily interrupted by pounding on the door.

I jump up in my bed and stare at the door as if it’s going to blast off the hinges.

But nothing happens.

Then I hear it again, but it’s not as loud as my mind imagined in its dream-like state.

The sound becomes clearer as I focus on it and I quickly figure out where it’s coming from.

Outside. I have a small window in my room that overlooks a beach volleyball court.

A group of people my age are playing volleyball.

That’s the sound I heard.

No one is pounding on my door.

No one is here to take me away.

I’m safe. For now.

I used to hate being woken up by the sun.

I hated it so much that I used my hard-earned cash from my job at ShopRite to purchase blackout curtains to hide the blazing beast from my bedroom.

But after living in a bunker with no sunlight for four years, I relish the feeling of the sun on my skin.

Even if it woke me up from a rather enjoyable dream featuring a man with golden eyes.

A light tap on my door has me in fight mode.

I jump from my bed before whoever it is can catch me in such a vulnerable state.

Sleep. I was actually sleeping.

I haven’t had a full night’s sleep in years.

Even in the hospital room I had been staying in for the last two weeks, I couldn’t fully sleep.

Knowing people were watching me, waiting to pounce on me with questions.

I relax when I remember where I am, in my new room with a lock on a solid door.

The knocking sounds get a little louder, this time accompanied by my mom’s voice.

“Lori, are you up?”

“Yeah, mom.” My voice sounds groggy, like I haven’t used it in a while and not just one night.

I shuffle over to the door, unlock the bolt and swing it open.

My mom nearly tackles me to the ground in a violent rush to hug me.

“Oh, baby girl. I missed you so much.”

“Mom. I saw you yesterday,” I say with false exasperation, but let her continue to hug me for as long as she needs because, let’s face it, I didn’t get any hugs for years and really missed my mom’s hugs.

“I know, honey. But having you back, knowing you’re alive, seeing your beautiful face when I thought I’d never see you again…I don’t ever want to be parted from you. You are stuck with me, got it?”

“Got it,” I chuckle.

My mom finally lets me go, stepping back to take in the sight of me.

She laughs as she asks, “Where did you get those pajamas?”

I look down at the red silk ensemble and shrug.

We both laugh at the atrocious pajama set that looks like it came from Santa Claus’ closet.

“They were in my dresser, the first thing I grabbed. Honestly, they are the most comfortable pair of jammies I’ve ever worn. I will only sleep in these from now on.”

“Sleep in? Fine. But go find something fit for public. I’m taking you out for breakfast.”

As soon as my mom closes the door, I rush over to the closet to peruse the gently used clothing that had been selected for me.

Since it’s getting chilly outside, I grab a colorful knit sweater and a pair of loose fitted jeans.

In the dresser I find underwear and socks that thankfully look brand new.

Back in the closet, I find a pair of boots and the sneakers I wore yesterday.

I can’t help but smile.

Doctore never let me wear shoes.

I always felt like it was a sign of my enslavement.

You can’t run far or fast without shoes.

As I slip on the pair of boots, a layer of fear falls away.

I’m safe.

Breakfast is in the campus cafeteria.

The aromas of pancakes, bread, and bacon hit my nose like I’ve just ran into a screen door.

Stalling for a moment outside the glass walls of the cafeteria, I close my eyes and breathe in every scent.

Bacon. Yes, please!

My mom fed me well while I was staying in the hospital room, but she didn’t bring me bacon!

When I open my eyes, my mom is staring at me with a delighted smile on her face.

“Smells good, right? Sorry I couldn’t bring you any of this food. We aren’t allowed to take food from the cafeteria. The health center has its own little snack bar.”

I’m reminded of that industrial atrium Amos took me to for a peanut butter sandwich.

I wonder how many snack bars there are around campus.

And why would anyone choose to eat at one of those spots when you can come to this heavenly place where the air smells like bacon pancakes?

As we walk along the buffet tables, my mouth waters.

They have fresh fruit too.

The strawberries are sparse, probably the last of the harvest. But there are apples and peaches.

I grab a honey crisp and bite into it before grabbing a plate.

The juices burst in my mouth, making me moan so loud everyone around me stops what they’re doing to stare at the weird stranger eating an apple in the middle of the food line.

“Sorry,” I say shyly.

“They didn’t have apples in the bunker I came from.”

That makes everyone chuckle, resuming their morning routines.

My mom steps in beside me, holding out a plate.

“What kind of food did they feed you?”

“Lots of mush, protein packets, military grub. It kept me fed but had no flavor. Sometimes we’d have enough flour to make bread. Those were the best months. How do you have so much fresh fruit and meat?”

As my mom fills her plate with grapes, a slice of bread, and a spoonful of scrambled eggs, she explains they started growing their own crops a year after the outbreak.

There are also several farms nearby that have remained untouched.

Every week, groups of foragers go out to the farms to collect food.

They even started bringing back livestock.

“You might have noticed that the field hockey field has turned into a pasture for sheep and cows,” my mom says.

“I didn’t get a good look at it,” I say as my mom’s sliced bread falls out of the rotisserie toaster and onto her well-placed plate.

With my plate filled with bacon, pancakes, and my half-eaten apple, we walk to the seating area, taking a small table by the outside windows.

As I take a bite of the fluffiest pancakes I’ve ever tasted, I can’t help but feel like I’m in a dream.

Or perhaps I died. There’s no way a place like this can exist in a world that is overtaken by the dead.

The saltiness of the bacon overwhelms my senses and when I take another bite of my apple, the contrasting sweetness nearly sends me spiraling to the ground.

“Mom? Is this heaven?”

Her laugh quickly turns into a cackle.

One I remember so deeply.

One I missed so much.

It doesn’t matter if this is heaven or not.

If I’m really dead. Because I’m here with my mom.

But if this was heaven, then Hayden would be here.

So would Jonah. Sarah.

All the people I love.

So the logical answer is that I am alive.

The Valley is a true haven on a decimated Earth.

And somehow I’ve found my way home.