You can see the sun, just barely rearing its head over the glowing horizon. Its perpetual warmth chases the dull ache of the cold out of your bones and carves a shrine of benevolence deep in your chest.

After so long underground, you forget how bright the day is. You forget what it's like to hear birds singing to one another, and what a gentle breeze feels like in the warmth of the sun. You shield your eyes from the sun as you trek forward, gazing at the fields around with a newfound, almost childlike appreciation for all things living.

There's a village in the distance, not too strenuous of a hike if you take it steady. You push on, despite your joints complaining and your lungs still heaving gulps of fresh air.

When your ankle rolls painfully at the slip of a rock, you keep going. After so long being underground, hidden away from all signs of life, you cling to the pain as a confirmation that you're still alive.

You persist.

There is a stranger in the street.

She has brown hair.

She wears red shoes.

She smiles at the dogs.

She wears a yellow raincoat.

She recently moved house.

She misses her mum.

Her favourite colour is blue.

Her birthday is the 14th of October.

Her brother recently got a divorce.

Her biggest fear is the dark.

This stranger in the street, was yesterday my friend.

But yesterday is gone, and so is she.

The house was just as she'd left it- from the outside, anyway. Same old brick walls, overgrown vines and patterned curtains, drawn to shield it's insides from the horrors of the outside world. Though if the moss blooming from the nooks and crannies of the walls were any indication, the outside world had found it's way in.

Abilene held tight to her bag as she guided the others through the overgrown grass, hopping easily from one stepping stone to another in a way that somehow- despite the time that had passed- felt second nature to her.

For some odd, unexplainable reason, Abilene couldn't help but think that she ought to cut the grass later. It brushed against her legs as she neared the front porch, a sensation uncomfortable yet not unwelcome after years spent chasing birds and church kids, galloping through overgrown shrubbery and tumbling down green hills.

"You can't possibly be serious right now," Simon's eyebrows knitted, glaring at the paper in her hands. "This is ridiculous."

"But it's worth a try." I insisted, trying to keep my voice steady and reasonable. This was for Juno. I couldn't let myself be talked down from it; I had to stay confident and show that I couldn't be swayed.

Simon shook her head, her dark curls tumbling along with it. "Abilene, for all we know her parents are gone, and Juno's accepted that. We can't keep on giving false hope to her.. or to ourselves."

"We don't have to tell her."

"Of course we do. She's not seven anymore. We can't keep treating her like we used to."

"What do you mean, 'like we used to'? You mean protecting her?"

Simon nodded, and I had to grip the counter to keep myself from screaming. "She's not oblivious to the world. She's been through the same as us. Lying to her won't do any of us any good, alright?"

I shook my head, snatching the crumpled paper from Simon's hands and slipping it hastily into my pocket. I wasn't going to argue about this. It was an easy enough job in a nearby area that could be done in less than a week. We'd taken on countless jobs like this in the past, together, and I didn't understand why Simon was so against it. We'd spent years trying to reunite Juno with her parents, and this was a decent lead. Even if it got us nowhere, I wanted to try anyway. I owed it to the young girl.

"I know what you're thinking, Abilene, and don't you dare leave." Simon stood up from her chair, the legs scraping against the wooden floor as she came to rest a hand on my shoulder. I had to resist the urge to shake her off.

"Don't you think it's selfish? To keep that little girl here with us while her parents are possibly grieving for her? She wants her parents, Si, and if we can get that for her..."

"I know." Simon snapped. "But I don't want you going off to do this alone, and I don't want to drag Juno with us, and I don't want to leave her behind with anyone else. And I don't want to lie to her or give her the pretence that there's something for her out there."

"I'll go with Harley's group." I said without hesitation. "I'll be back before the week is over. I swear it."

"Abilene..." Simon pleaded, and when I gathered the courage to look into her eyes I realised they were actually welling with tears. She looked hurt, confused, afraid, even. I think that's what scared me the most. It had been a long time since I'd seen that emotion in her. It brought back hard times.

"I have to do this." I whispered, placing a hand on either of her shoulders.

"I know," Simon's voice wavered, and she wiped at her face with her sleeve. "I just.. God, I just wish our lives were normal. And if anything happens to either of you.."

"It won't."

But Simon pulled back suddenly and turned for the doorway. "I'll tell her you're away on a job. But shit, Abs, you better come home."

Ignoring the muffled sobs from my bedroom as I prepared to leave was the worst part. Hearing Simon, lovely, serene Simon, bawling her eyes out and knowing it was my fault.. I had to get out and on track to the Exchange before I could change my mind.

Actually, no, the worst part about leaving was when I was hurrying down to find Harley and caught a glimpse of Juno playing netball with the other kids in the improvised play-area. She didn't notice me as I passed, too enthralled with her game, and I was sort of glad. Seeing her laughing, running around and cheering made me want to break down further, but there wasn't time for that.

I made a promise three years ago that I'd bring that little girl home. But in that moment, despite the progress made, I thought the promise had already been fufilled. I was finding her parents, sure, but somewhere deep down I found myself thinking that maybe we already were home.

We lost our sun. Our means to growth, our nourishment.

We lost our root, the root that kept us here, together.

We lost our leaves, the leaves that absorbed joy, on the bleakest of days.

We lost our family. Without her, Our sun, our root, our home, what's the point in staying?

Our loyalty lies, now six feet under, in a shroud of patchwork memories, in the heart of a girl now gone.

We move forward, alone.

And then we are gone.

I glance up at Cassandra across the table, and find that she's completely and utterly still.

That's the first red flag. Because, in perfect harmony with her ceaseless energy and witty personality, Cassanda Olyen is never still. It's like she's in perpetual motion; always with a knee bouncing, hands fidgeting, mouth chewing. Even as she sleeps she moves, always tossing and turning and squirming.

But now, amidst the chaos of this warm meal, she's motionless. And it sets my heart pounding.

I tap her shin with the toe of my boot, and she glances up at me. Her face is sort of grey, her eyes unfocused and her mouth tightly shut.

"Cas? You good?" I prompt, but she just stares at me. Then, just as I'm about to get up and suggest we take a moment outside, she shakes her head very, very slowly.

"What's the matter?" Simon asks softly, her quiet voice trapping us in our own little bubble within the bustle and clamour of the others.

Cassandra opens her mouth slightly, as if to speak, before it snaps shut again and she bolts up from her chair and out of the room without a second thought. I share an alarmed glance with Simon, who immediately has Juno by the hand and is standing to announce to our hosts, "Thank you for dinner, it was amazing. But I think this little one ought to be off to bed now, so we'll be disappearing for the night!"

The man who lead us here earlier- Tom, I think his name is- nods curtly. "You've been good company. If you don't know where your rooms-"

"We've got this, thank you! Have a nice evening!"

And on that final note, Simon has me by the elbow and is leading both Juno and I out into the corridor. Cassandra isn't anywhere in sight, and I breathe in a deep sigh. With the sheer size of this camp, we could be searching for hours.

"We'll check our rooms first," I decide, and Simon seems to agree. "We stay together like usual, yeah? This is a new place and I'm not sure.."

"Together." Simon concludes, cutting me off as we begin down the path we came from earlier.

12 October XXXX

If you ever find this.. good luck? I don't know what to say, really. I'd hope you're maybe a child or a grandchild of ours, but with the way things are going, you might find this on my dead body. How fun!

We are Abilene Finch, Simon Elizabeth, Cassandra Olyen and Juno Jane. We escaped the XXXX Camp a little over three weeks ago. The weather is getting worse, and I won't lie, things are looking bleak.

I, Abilene, am in search of my childhood home. Well, my pre-apocalypse home. The address is XXXX, in the village XXXX.

Cassandra is looking for her brother. They were separated three years ago, and we have some vague leads on finding him.

Simon is bringing Juno to her parents in XXXX. She isn't sure if they're there or not, but there's nothing else to do but try. Simon doesn't know what she'll do afterwards.

I found this notebook in a house we searched earlier today, and we decided it would be cool to document our journey in here. We'll have something to leave behind when we die, or have some pretty epic stories for the grandkids.

It's late and Simon's on first watch, so I should probably sleep now so I have the energy to get on with my shift.

Sincerely, Abilene Finch

---

15 October XXXX

We found a map! It's not incredibly useful right now, since we're not in the area it shows, but we're hanging onto it for future use. It's good to have a backup.

Earlier today, Juno absolutely ate dirt. It was hilarious- thankfully she wasn't hurt, just shocked.

Cass decided it would be a wonderful idea to race the little gremlin to the edge of the field we were in... unfortunately for Juno, it rained last night and the mud was slippier than anticipated.

It's sweet how much Simon cares about Juno. Like, really sweet. The moment she flopped into the mud, Simon was by her side and making sure she was okay. She was okay, luckily, but Simon refused to let go of her hand until we'd moved onto the roads. Cass feels bad about it, and I'm not surprised, considering Simon chided her as soon as we were clear of the mud.

It's funny how Simon takes on the motherly role. It's annoying though, because she refuses to let anyone take care of her back. But we manage- we just have to be sneaky about letting her know we're helping.

At the moment we're on XXXX road, in house number 4. It seems safe enough, so we've rigged a funky noise trap using some cans that will hopefully wake us up if anyone comes in. I'm thankful tonight that we have a dry place where we can all rest after a full day of walking.

I'll pray tonight, I think. It's getting hard to keep faith in any God at the moment. But it's what keeps me going, so I guess I can pretend to myself.

Cass says she thinks it's a bad idea to write specific addresses in here, in case we lose this and someone tries to find us. I think that's a silly worry, but I've scribbled them all out anyway, for her sake.

Sincerely, Abilene Finch

"I didn't know she was going to tell me something so personal!" I groaned, leaning my head on the kitchen table.

"So you laughed at her?" Simon sounded exasperated, and I could tell without looking up that she was shaking her head.

"It took me by surprise!"

"You can't laugh in someone's face after they tell you about their trauma. God, even I haven't done that, and we both know I can be awful."

"Si..." I knew my voice was whiny, but I needed serious advice. Honestly, I felt guilty about the whole thing. Cassandra had trusted me, and I'd ruined it by letting out an awkward giggle. I couldn't even imagine how she must have been feeling at that moment: alone, mocked, worthless. It made my stomach churn.

Simon's hand found my shoulder and gave it an affectionate pat. "Go find our girl and explain yourself. God knows where she's run off to."

I groaned again, picking myself up from the table and considering the options. Yeah, Simon was right. Besides, Cassandra's habit of running off when she was upset had gotten us into trouble a multitude of times in the past.. and the last thing we needed that night was another gang of weapon-weilding hunters to ambush us again.

Sometimes, I worry that I'll disappear. Like I'm not tall enough, or loud enough, or big enough.

Sometimes, I worry that I'll disappear. Like I don't take up enough space, or nobody sees me or I'm not enough.

When I do disappear, as we inevitably do, what will be left to remember me by?

We all disappear someday, I fear my day has come too soon.

I think we forget, sometimes, that Juno's just a little kid.

I know I do. And it's awful, I know, but I think after growing up in the midst of an apocalypse, she's definitely matured much faster than I did.

That isn't, of course, to say she's not childish. Of course she is- I mean, she's only seven. She still loves to play pretend; she still loves to hear Simon's endless stories; she still loves. Juno still loves despite having all the reason not to.. though I guess we're all the same.

But now things are peaceful. Domestic. Almost normal. And I don't think Juno knows what that feels like. She's a restless soul, we all know that already- but it's sort of like she's waiting for the next bad thing to happen, living in anticipation of a thunderstorm that won't come. Once again, I think I'm the same. But Juno's never known the mundane pre-apocalyptic life that the rest of us grew up in. She's never known the reality of waking up in the morning and deciding to go back to sleep. She's never known the reality of singing your heart out in the kitchen while dinner is on the stove. She's never known the reality of open first-floor windows and unlocked front doors.

"She's like a little Jitterbug or something. I've never once seen her sit still." Simon speculates over the dull crackle of the firepit in front of us. Juno's pacing backwards and forwards in front of the treeline, her eyes fixed on the dense forest. Her yellow dress is dirty again; it's like that girl attracts mud.

"Like the Wizard of Oz?" I ask, poking at a piece of wood with a stick Juno retrieved earlier.

"What else would it be like?" Simon laughs, and I think my heart actually explodes. I'll never get used to her laugh; it's lovely and it's bubbly and it's warmer than any fire could be.

"I think they're actual bugs. But don't fact check me on that one."

Simon flashes that toothy grin of hers once more, before sitting upright and calling over to our girl, "Junebug! Come get some food!"

"Junebug?" I ask, unwrapping the bread rolls and hard boiled eggs we prepared earlier. "Isn't that a movie?"

"No idea. I think it's a kind of beetle."

"I don't like beetles." Juno announces matter-of-factly as she approaches the fire. "One time, there was one crawling up my leg when me and Cassie were washing in the river."

"Really?" I ask, patting the space beside me for the little girl to sit. "What did you do about it?"

"I squished it."

Simon let out a squawk of laughter, her entire body tipping backwards before she righted herself at the last moment. "Poor beetle."