Page 24 of Citadel

It feels like a dream. Like a fantasy. To live behind walls. To actually feel safe. Protected.

I never thought it was possible to feel that way again.

4

The wallaround Monument isn’t a gray stone castle wall, which is what I’ve been picturing. It looks like a tall fence that’s gradually been cobbled into something stronger with whatever fortification materials were available. It does have a gate, however, and armed guards that open up at our approach.

They won’t let us in until we’ve been searched and questioned. They take Cole’s weapons and mine and Breanna’s knives and tell us we can get them back when we leave or when we’ve settled in (which clearly means when they can trust us). Cole doesn’t like this. That much is obvious. But he doesn’t object.

Inside the wall, Monument looks like any small town we used to pass through. There’s a main street with some storefronts and a couple of churches and then residential streets coming off it. The main street buildings appear to be used for different purposes now, and there aren’t any cars driving around. Theresa and Ned park their truck with a few other vehicles near the gate, which is evidently where it stays until someone takes it out again.

Otherwise, people move around on bikes or their own feet.

There’s a community garden. And common cooking and dining areas. They send out hunting parties and guard the town’s perimeter. They clearly divide up the labor. And people seem to like each other.

It’s a miracle.

That’s what it feels like to me. Breanna too, if her awed smile is anything to go by. We tour the town, asking questions so we understand everything that’s happening. We chat with random people we pass and can’t see any sort of warning signs or red flags.

Even Cole seems pleasantly surprised. He says this feels like a good place for us to stay.

I agree. So does Breanna.

This is as safe a place as exists in the world anymore, and we’d be fools to leave these walls for no reason.

By the end of the day, it’s been decided.

We’re staying here. Breanna and I agree that we’ll try to fit in as best we can and make it clear we’re helpful and trustworthy.

Cole doesn’t say anything about staying, but maybe he will.

Or maybe he’ll at least come back.

They give us rooms at a guesthouse, telling us that we’ll get our own house here after a couple of weeks if we decide to stay. We can pump well water to drink—as much as we need—and to wash up with before bed.

They even give us nightgowns. They’re worn and dated—they look like something Theresa might wear—but I don’t care a thing about that. Breanna and I are sharing a room. We wash up and change into the gowns and have a long whispered conversation in bed about how good the town seems and what we’ll do to make sure they want us to stay.

She falls asleep after a while, but I’m too wired to sleep.

I’m skeptical by nature and experience, but all the signs point toward this being a good place. A safe place. Somewhere we won’t be taken advantage of. Where Breanna won’t have to fuck a man to be allowed to stay.

Cole could make a home here too. He hasn’t said much all day, but from his responses, he’s never found somewhere like this before.

Why would anyone leave?

Once I start thinking about Cole, I can’t stop. Breanna sleeps peacefully in the bed beside me, and I toss and turn and try to relax and can’t even start.

Finally I give up and get up. I’m not sure where I’m going, but my body automatically turns to the right and down the hall toward the room they gave Cole.

I tap on the door.

It opens after a few seconds, swinging wide to reveal a tense, worried Cole.

“Hey,” I say, flushing as I see his urgency. “Sorry. Everything’s fine.”

“What’s going on?”

“I just couldn’t sleep. Breanna’s asleep, and I was just lying there. Did I wake you up?”

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