Janie and The Gray: Part 12
Picture perfect. Part twelve of a dystopian science-fantasy serial.
I wandered the ground floor of a massive home staring at the framed and matted memories of a happy family. The walls were covered with photographs showing a friendly Asian couple and their young son — posed moments at Disney, the Empire State Building, Niagara Falls, and countless candid shots of the little boy and his mother playing and laughing together.
I couldn’t stop staring. I knew that kind of happiness once. Where are they now? Dead like everyone else. All three.
“This will work,” said Dimples, emerging from the basement stairway. “This neighborhood must be on the same grid as the factory.”
“Think they can track us here?”
“Not if we’re careful,” he replied. “If we stay in the basement, cover the windows down there, sleep near interior walls — it should be hard for their thermal to pick us up. This is a big neighborhood. Five of the other six houses I checked had the heat on.”
I nodded.
“Let’s grab some blankets, towels, clothes, food —”
A distant explosion rattled the home. We both froze — I held my breath. I could hear the faint rat-a-tat of gunfire. It’s been too long since I’ve heard that beautiful music. Resistance.