>Anon looked at the clock. It read 3:00am, and they were both starting to feel it.
>Adelaide blinked slowly while Anon constantly widened his eyes, trying to keep himself awake.
>She tried to lay herself on the couch, but Anon grabbed her by the shoulder.
>”Hey, you don’t have to sleep there.”
>She sat back up and looked at Anon, who was ready to pull her up.
>”It’s fine, I can walk now.” She said, to which he obliged.
>”You can sleep in my room.”
>”And what about you?”
>”I have to stay up ’til my dad gets here. He’ll take over for me.”
>She didn’t question any further and just nodded in acknowledgement, following Anon to the stairwell.
>Adelaide held onto the handrail and slowly made her way up to his room.
>It was white, and sparsely furnished as always. Only his bed and desk stood out.
>She pulled off her pants, leaving them inside out on the floor, and slid under the covers.
>She closed her eyes, and buried her face in the pillow, breathing in Anon’s soothing, boyish scent until she fell asleep.
>Anon quickly holstered his gun and looked around before pulling her in.
>Adelaide’s legs gave up, and she fell to her knees.
>”Crap, sorry,” said Anon, pulling her up by the shoulders, with Adelaide wrapping her arms around his.
>He sat her on the couch adjacent to the front door, jerking slightly when her cold nose brushed against his neck.
>”Anon, my gun’s on the porch steps.”
>He tried to step away, but her arms wouldn’t let go of him. She sniffled. “Just- stay here for a moment.”
>Tears ran down the back of Anon’s shirt.
>He shut the door with his foot, and hugged her tight, sitting next to her.
>Adelaide sobbed, wiping her eyes on his shoulder. “I’m just really glad you’re still here.”
>Her nails dug into the back of his head.
>He didn’t let go until she stopped crying.
>Anon stood up and took the rifle inside, resting it against the wall, and next to the corkboard.
>”You good?” He asked.
>Adelaide looked up at him with puffy eyes, wiping a tear and nodding with a quiet ‘mhm’. “I thought you left the state.”
>”There’s nowhere to go anyways. The whole country’s like this. ”
>”Right, right. What’ve you been doing this entire time?”
>Anon looks at the corkboard. Pictures of various people and factions vying for control over Florida are connected with red string in no coherent order.
>”This, pretty much, and looking after my mom.”
>”What happened to her?”
>”My mom got sick with COVID. She already recovered, but she needs to stay quarantined for at least another two weeks so we don’t catch it.”
>”What about your dad?”
>”He’s out patrolling with the local militia. He does that when he’s not working. I wanted to go with him, you know, do something, but he said I was better off being the man of the house while he was gone. That, and my mom got sick.”
>”I assume that vest is his.”
>”Yeah, the gun too.”
>She ran until the soles of her boots came loose.
>Just around this corner, she thought to herself, falling into a sloppy gait.
>At last, Anon’s porch. She fell and sat on the porch stairs, catching her breath.
>The rifle fell down the steps. She didn’t pick it up.
>The lights are off. Not a sound coming from inside. The windows were intact, but had the blinds closed.
>She thought of every possibility, every way Anon could’ve died, gone missing, or escaped without her.
>Her leg started to bounce. It hurt each time.
>The clouds parted, and a full moon washed over her tan fur.
>She stood up and knocked on the door.
>No answer.
>She tried the doorbell.
>Not a word.
>She couldn’t look inside.
>The door flew open.
>She found herself staring down the barrel of a handgun, and threw her hands up.
>”Stop!”
>”Adelaide?”
>Everyone knew the civil war was inevitable when Wall Street collapsed.
>Adelaide’s home was soon a battlefield for rival gangs.
>They would be alright as long as they kept their heads down and paid their dues.
>But they couldn’t pay it forever.
>She took her father’s hunting rifle, and they left in the night.
>She didn’t look back, not even at the struggle behind her.
>The one safe place she knew was with Anon.
>And for the first time, she prayed.
