PROLOG

When it becomes a choice between living and letting live, in the end we all choose living.

Bodies, no more than flesh with tattered rags, pressed together. Children had climbed up street lights and signs to wait for parents to return. A moving, crushed, line wound its way down the sidewalk and around onto the next street.

The line was made of men and women who were strong enough to hold their place. Natural selection quickly eliminated the weakest—the oldest and the youngest. Only the cruel and tough were left to fight among themselves. The others had long since given up.

Nova stood somewhere in the middle of the line. Her thin frame didn’t waver as stronger figures pressed against her. She no longer fought for the position—that was how you failed. She had to be here. If she lost her spot the end would come crashing down. She often wondered though, if the end would be better than the line. But each day she was there. The people around her always changed as the weaker were removed by the stronger. For her it wasn’t a question of weaker or stronger. It wasn’t a question at all.

CHAPTER ONE
If they hadn’t panicked things might have been different. Nova sat in a shadowy corner that had managed to avoid the recent downpour of rain. She ate the can of black beans with a copper spoon, catching any liquid that ran down her chin with her tongue. When her spoon scraped the bottom of the can she used her finger to gain access to anything remaining.

When she had finished she tucked the spoon deep into a tattered pocket and stood up. Already the cold had started to seep through her and tendrils of shivers were winding their way up her body. She threw the useless can to the ground and started walking, thinking of what might have been.

She knew as well as the next person that might have beens were as useless as the empty can. You didn’t talk about the might have beens out loud—but in your mind no one could stop you from replaying the events that had led to the downfall of mankind. No one could stop you from imagining what could have been.

Cold, foul smelling wind blew mercilessly against her, the coat she wore doing nothing to keep it out. The beans had settled comfortably against her stomach and she felt almost full. For a brief moment she felt something like guilt—she should have saved half the beans for tonight. She shrugged, as if to throw off the temporary worry. One couldn’t live for the future when one didn’t know if it existed.

She wove her way down the street and into a side alley. She stopped in front of weather worn door and beat out three fast raps against it. It opened a few seconds later and she gladly stepped into the darkness. Two men sat hunched around a table to one side of the room. Nova sat down in one of the empty chairs without an invitation, glancing around at her companions.

“I didn’t get anything from the line today.” She said, eyeing the man to her right.

The man grunted and started to reach behind him, but the other man stopped him. “You did. Randall watched. A whole can of beans.” It was Casey.

She shrugged and leaned back against her chair. The men shifted uncomfortably. “You can’t blame me for trying.” No answered and she knew it was because they all had done the same thing.

“Why’d you come, if you didn’t bring anything to eat and aren’t going to eat anything?”

Nova scrutinized the man who had spoken from the shadows. She didn’t recognize his voice so she shrugged again. “There’s no where else to go.”
Voices murmured consent, growing louder until a sharp knocking cut them short. Someone got up and swung the door open. A police man stood there, hand raised, ready to pound on the door again.
He slowly lowered his fist. “You have to leave. All of you.”
They blinked at him, no one moving, as if they hadn’t heard.
Nova stood up. “Why?”
“We have a family of homeless people who need somewhere to live.”
“If you throw us out, we’ll be homeless.”
The police man squinted at her for a moment. “You homeless now?” Nova shook her head slightly. He nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Then you’re out.”
She held back a torrent of words as the men around her gathered their things. Talking did no good. You couldn’t talk reason into someone who had given up on sanity, on humanity.
It wasn’t the first time they’d been told to leave. Nova knew well enough by now what would happen. They would spend the next week or two in the streets, trying to beg their way into a home. No one wanted to be on the streets.
Bodies shoved past her and she realized her men were leaving. She followed them, brushing past the policeman impatiently.
“Damn it.” Casey was the first to talk.
Nova laughed. “Nothing lasts forever.”
“We should wait for Randall.”
The other man broke in. “Screw Randall. He wouldn’t wait for us.”
Casey didn’t bother to look at the man. “We’re waiting.”
The man swore again, but leaned up against the wet bricks of the building behind him. “Wish I had a f***ing cigarette.”
Nova closed her eyes and counted to ten, listening to the men bickering. She wished Cor hadn’t mentioned cigarettes. She ached to feel the perfection of smooth whiteness against her lips, the little waves of smoke slowly traveling away.
Out of the four of them only she and Cor smoked. She envied the rest for their lack of addiction—the lack of something to ache—something you knew you could never have and wanted all the more.


She opened her eyes and looked down the street. A man, shoulders hunched, was walking towards them.

“Randall’s coming.”

The other two looked and nodded. A few minutes later Randall was standing in front of them. He didn’t say anything, but started walking in a way that demanded he be followed.

Cor stood up straight and followed. “Damn it Randall, don’t you want to know what happened?”

Randall didn’t turn. “No.”

“Don’t you care?”

Randall walked onward, leading the group at an unvarying pace. “Not anymore.”

Cor made a disgusted noise and Nova smiled slightly. The two men hated each other with a passion that never dampened. They lived for their mutual hate. Without it, they might lose the will to live at all. The wind ripped through her again, goose bumps forming on her arms and legs. It was hard to find something to live for. She knew.

Little grasping tugs alerted her to their presence even before she turned around. “Sol, Otono, you’re back early.”

Sol, the oldest, looked up at her with solemn gray eyes. “They told us to leave, to go home.”

Otono chipped in. “Why aren’t you at home? We went home, but it was empty. Why is Casey carrying his suitcase?”

Nova gave each of them a hand and they continued walking down the street. “We’ve decided to go on an adventure to find a new place to live.”

Sol looked at her suspiciously, but Otono’s face lit into a smile. “Mom, really?” She nodded once and he started skipping.

“What was wrong with our old room?” Sol was still looking at her with a frown.

She shrugged, but before she could answer Cor cut in. “Come walk with me.” Sol gave his mother a reproachful look before scampering forward to join hands with Cor.

She watched as his face became animated as he and Cor spoke. She was losing him—next month he turned nine and he’d already informed her he would be too old to hold hands then. Yet, next month was no more than an idea—its presence no more guaranteed than a roof over your head. For now, she would be content with today.