by P. S. Lurie
I sit in the last remaining spot next to Ronan. There are far fewer seats than houses. They didn’t think many of us would survive. At least not one per household. They were right.
Ronan is quiet and I am proud of him for remaining brave. I don’t breathe a sigh of relief but I do allow myself a moment of reflection that I may have achieved more than I thought possible, although it doesn’t detract from my terror that something could still go wrong.
The policeman slides into the front and starts the engine. I have never been in a moving vehicle before. The vibrations make my stomach turn. I lower my hand to my side and subtly take Ronan’s in mine. I squeeze tight.
So many bad things have happened to allow the two of us to be sitting side by side. I feel fortunate to have my brother next to me. I can’t think of my sister right now.
I contemplate my family, Selene and her mother, both of whom I can only begin to speculate about, Henry and his parents, that kiss, the Ethers, Jason, Ruskin and his parents on the other side of the Fence, Melissa and her neighbour, and all of the other families who have suffered through the evening and all I can think of is that we, the remaining few, owe it to those who didn’t make it to carry on.
What happens next, I have no idea, but I will never forget my heritage or those that had to die for me to live. Yes, whatever happens next, I will forever tell myself that, however tough life may be from now on, and however I may disagree with what happened, and however many times I might regret living over others, and however often I question what the purpose of remaining alive is, I cannot lose sight that it would be ungrateful of me to think anything other than that we are the lucky few.