A Door Closes ... Another Opens

When the lights went out, so did civilization. We packed up everything we could carry and ran. Some places were better than others but we, or I should say, I, made a couple of key decisions; things up front that proved to be best.

We moved out of the city and found a secluded place where we could get our bearings. Could we find water and build shelters? Would there be a place to grow food and hunt? All these were key to surviving our first winter.

It took 4 days to get to our hills and as we moved, we scavenged whatever we could: ammunition, seeds, weapons, carts … anything that might help to set up and defend a new home.

When we got there we chose a defendable hill and worked to squirrel away our provisions. We worked non-stop, and for the time being, lived off canned goods and a couple deer. In the centre of the camp was a great fire with a pot that brewed continuously. It was sustenance and you really didn’t want to know its contents.

Our party consisted of 6 people: 2 couples and a single father. It was me, the single father, that opened the door that saved us.

An Elven girl tugged at my pant leg.

“Uncle, tell us about cars again.”

“No,” I admonished. "We only talk about the wood. The world we have here and not the dead …”

I couldn’t finish, couldn’t find a word. It was an ugly world and once I’d said those words, “Where is that music coming from?” and had chased it down and entered The Grove, I knew I’d never turn back. Our life with the Elves was all we knew now and to hell with all the rest.