Shelves full of tinned food scanned, one tin picked up and opened with a rusted knife. A child sets out chipped and cracked plates holding even rations of bread as another carries bowls over the cooking area of the unstable house. A fire is blazing underneath a hole in the roof to allow the smoke to escape and a rusted pan is set on a tripod above the flames as vegetable soup is poured in. Seven red coats hang from hooks by the wooden back entrance, all different sizes, shades and styles. Four double beds are set out with thin sheets and make shift pillows made of pillow cases stuffed with rags, each has small sets of personal belongings hidden in crates underneath, a small comfort to the people that sleep in the beds. A set of identical teddies sit in the middle of the bed on the far right where identical girls. The two girls are the youngest of us all at just six. Their mousy brown hair is the exact same length, their green eyes the exact same shade and their bodies the same shape and size. They’ve never known a life any different to out here, with sand covered, barren lands that can support no life, with the exception of some sprouts of grass and withering trees. Just the seven of us in this crowded old house with the only other people out there as a threat that is ready to attack us and take our resources. It’s because of those people that the twins only get two hours outside for exercise and sunlight; anything longer could be dangerous for them and us. “Oi, Cy, you going to help me serve this?” The laughing voice made me awaken from my thoughts. Ricky, or Party Wires as he’s better known, stared at me with his dark brown eyes, his black hair tied back with an old ribbon, as he stirred the bubbling soup. I walked over on swift, light feet and started to share the liquid between the seven old bowls. Everyone was sat at the worn table in the centre of the room, some on chairs, others on crates or barrels. We didn’t have much but we were managing thanks to this house and the people who would help from inside zone 1. As I walked towards the table I noticed the small pile of sand forming underneath the poorly made wood door. Three years ago it wouldn’t have been there at all, in fact this whole house would have looked quite grand. Then Better Living Industries took hold of the country, and slowly the world. Many saw what they were really doing and became a threat. That’s how the land ended up like this. Supporters and anyone who valued their lives were gathered into the capital and a 10 mile area around it, now called Zone 1. Low quality houses were quickly built in cramped streets, many families had to share one home simply to have some shelter. Two months later the planes were sent out, we watched as bombs were dropped over the land we’d been evacuated from, I clung to my mother as the blasts shook the ground. When the dust settled the fence was crowded with people watching the events unfold. Many cried for their destroyed homes, a selection of others cried out for loved ones that had refused to join them in zone 1. Next to my mother was her lifelong friend, Jeannete and her 17 year old son, Ricky. They had obviously spoken and plotted behind mine and Ricky’s backs because as the machines went out to clean up the destruction and sent dust flying again they turned to us. Handing us bags full of food they had stored up and clothes they explained how we had to leave now and not come back, it was dangerous here and they would do their best to sneak us food through the fence every now and then to ensure we were fed. B.L.Ind had plans that would brainwash everyone, they speculated. Turns out they were right, regular hypnotic programmes and products are brought out along with drugs to keep everyone from rebelling. Of course B.L.Ind know we are here. They have all along. Quite a few people escaped that day and the days after. Most didn’t survive for one reason or another but those that did formed alliances in order to survive. Several houses were kept up as a reminder to the people in zone 1 of what once existed and B.L.Ind’s power over them and the houses were adopted by the groups as bases. A place to store food, rest, eat and shelter from sand storms. The groups often wouldn’t trouble each other but occasionally when a food supply declined there would be fights and thefts. These rarely ended in deaths but would ensure the groups stayed separate and isolated. In the end, all of these groups had the common goal to end B.L.Ind and it wouldn’t help to kill an ally. No, the main enemy out are the Draculoids (or Dracs), men, that were vampire masks, employed by B.L.Ind to kill those of us in the outer zones. We’d have encounters with them every now and again but it has never ended in a casualty for our side yet. And even when they did get away it wouldn’t put us in too much danger. We used code names to ensure they Industry would see us as a threat but preventing our families from being endangered. Real names were on a need to know basis and only those in the same group needed to know to establish trust. I looked over each face as I handed out bowls of soup. Each had its own story, its own memories. We’d gathered these people over the three years we’d been out here, Ricky had a way of persuading people to do as he wished. Over time we’d become a family with a set routine and roles. My role was divided between protecting the house and hunting. Anything that involved my talents in fighting, shooting and aiming. Ricky would go hunting with me and teach the twins how to fight while we guarded the house. Everything and everyone was set in their ways. Get up, eat, first duty, snack for lunch, second duty and relaxation time, eat, sleep. No one complained about the small amount of food and no one complained when water became difficult to find. Really it wouldn’t be difficult to catch us off guard or use our routine against us, we are so set in our ways it had become a weakness. All anyone had to do was poison our water supply or attack during the night and we’d be finished but luckily the dracs are too stupid to think like that. Dinner finished quickly and dishes were washed without many words and soon enough we were all laying in our beds. I was the only one to have a bed to myself. I used to share with Ricky but then I went through a phase of having night terrors so he moved and never came back despite the nightmares ending. It was for the best, I had nightmares every night before and after I went to see our connection in zone 1 for food rations. Tomorrow I had to go again, They said it had to be me because I was the best looking and our connection was easily swayed to give more by flirting a little, occasionally he’d exchange it for information about families or personal items. Tomorrow I had to make that journey and hope that I wouldn’t get bad news. Hell, I had to hope I made it there and back in one piece without getting captured. I don’t pray normally since I’ve lost all faith in a God but the habit is rooted deep inside me and comes out when I start to feel worried. I’m too important here to be taken from them. God, guard me and may my shots and kicks be more powerful than ever tomorrow.