II
“I remember I had gotten up early because of hunger. Food was hard to come by because the Watchers liked to bomb gardens and stores. Keep us hungry and weak, feed us occasionally so we were dependent on them and not the government who couldn’t control the suburbs the way they controlled the larger cities. The night before the sound of explosions had been inescapable. As if our enemies were raining down fire and death. I hadn’t expected to make it to the morning and had dozed fitfully off and on all night not really sleeping. My home at the time was a converted condominium. A gated community with duplex units which in better times had been sought after for its proximity to the city and privacy. It had two bedrooms, but the main living area had been transformed into a bunker. 18 of us shared it. One shower, two toilets. A tiny kitchen and eating area that always felt claustrophobic because there were so many of us. That morning, I ate my morning ration and went outside to check the snares. I missed meat, craved it. Missed being able to run out to the store and pick up a steak to throw on the grill. Missed the smell of bacon and coffee in the morning. The traps were empty as the small animals had learned quickly that humans no longer ignored them. I walked the entire perimeter of our space, hoping to find something when I saw them.”
“Craters the size of small cars encircled our community, at least a dozen, and before I’d realized what I was doing I’d moved to the closest one. Curiosity sustained me on the short climb up and over the ledge formed by the impact. I peered down to see what, if anything lay at the bottom and saw the egg. A shimmering blue-green pod about the size of a VW beetle. Smoke rose from the edges, and it looked smooth, almost like glass. It called to me, not audibly. I don’t remember hearing anything really. It was almost as if someone shut off all sound the moment I climbed over the lip of the crater and laid eyes on it. In the heavy silence of early morning, only the slight hiss of steam greeted me as I moved towards it, unable to stop myself. The closer I got, the stronger the pull, a low incessant throb. A pulse that said come. I placed one hand against it and something like a shockwave flowed over me. Like a jolt of electricity, I could feel everything and nothing at once. I could feel the blood flowing through my veins and the oxygen moving through my lungs. I don’t know if I made a sound, but I could hear a roaring in my ears and felt hands on me. Large, long fingered hands that pulled me closer and a soundless voice hissing my name “Megeen,” over and over like a chant. Then I felt nothing at all.”