"You left us swords, right?" asked my younger child who -- here at the end of everything -- was still struggling with their gender identity. The older boy had apparently never had a doubt, but that's biology for you.
I nodded. "Swords, knives, and the rifle. I'm hoping not to have to use up any ammo--" which was only slightly less scarce than batteries "--but if you two need to make some noise, you do it -- cautiously."
Mary nodded. "Whatever it takes to stay alive," she told them. "You are my sunshines."
Hunter looked at his informally-adopted brother Cesar, and then his younger sister Sonja, who still let us call her Gavin sometimes. Cesar's sister Belleza -- also informally adopted -- was a year older than Hunter; I'd found her and her brother in Plano, Texas, outside an apartment complex where Cesar had been desperately sick and Belleza out looking for anyone who could help him. They'd fallen in easily, glad -- I think -- to have people who wanted to protect them and didn't want to take advantage of them. None of us knew what had become of their parents. It wasn't entirely beyond the realm of possibility they might find their way here; the kids had left a note in their apartment. She said, "We'll be careful," and Hunter nodded.
"All right," I said, and went out to join the hunting party.
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