"I hate them, I hate them, I hate them!"

Marylou slammed her fist on the kitchen table, eyes up towards Grandma Teresa's kind blue eyes.

"Take off your shoe, honey."

"Why can't I live with you? You said the Super Security people could make me live with you."

"It's Social Security." Her grandmother tousled her hair. "And I'm still talking to them. These things take time, Marylou. The sock too."

"It's nothing, it doesn't hurt anymore." Marylou paused. "If I didn't come back they wouldn't even notice, I bet."

"I'm sure they wouldn't, but if I took you in without their authorization, that'd be kidnapping." Her grandmother took her little feet in her lap and examined the sole. "Did you wash it with soap like I told you?"

"Yes," Marylou said, grumpy. "It's fine, grandma."

Grandma Teresa pulled a cotton ball and some patch and made an improvised band-aid for Marylou's foot. "There you go. Now be careful next time where you walk around that house. Your parents aren't exactly neat people."

Marylou put her shoe again. Grandma Teresa got up and went for the counter to refill her mug.

Marylou stared at the back of her grandma's head. "They use drugs, don't they?" she asked, before she could stop herself.

"What?" Teresa turned back.
"That glass thing I stepped on, it's a drug pipe. My friend Billy told me."

"Which friend? At school?"

"No. He lives in the trailer park with us. He said his brother has the same kind of pipe. He said it's for drugs."

Grandma Teresa seemed to think about this for a very long time. Finally, she returned to the table, sat down and smiled. "Don't you worry, honey. You'll come and live with me soon, and I promise I don't keep any glass pipes in the house. Okay?"

"But it's for drugs, right?"

Grandma Teresa stirred her mug, then blew on it. Then she said, simply, "Yes. It's for drugs."

"Okay."

They drank in silence.

"Grandma Teresa?"

"Yes?"

"I'm scared of them."

"Of your parents?"

"Yeah. When they laugh. When they use the glass pipe... thing. I get scared."

"Why do you get scared?"

Marylou shrugged. "I don't know. They get different."

"Do they hurt you?"

"No. They just get really happy. But it's a weird happy."

Grandma Teresa looked down, and for a really long time it looked like she was hunting for the right words. Finally she took Marylou's hands on hers and said, "Do you know what you're supposed to do if you find a black bear in the woods, Marylou?"

"Run like hell?"

"No. That's the worst thing you can do. Every survivalist will tell you the same thing: if you see a black bear, never run. Because if you run, then the bear will know you're scared of it, and it will chase you.

"You see, bears aren't very smart, so when you run into one, you're the one who has to tell him who's supposed to be afraid, because it doesn't know. So when you run, what you're doing is telling the bear that you are the weak one. You are the prey and it is the predator. And so it chases you."

"But you can't fight the bear, he's stronger."

"Yes, but it doesn't know that. So if you don't run – in fact, if you stand on your two feet and open your arms to look bigger and if you make scary noises, it'll think you're not scared at all, and it'll think that you must be the stronger one, and that you are the one hunting it. And it'll run away."

Marylou narrowed her eyes at her grandma. "No way."

"It's true." Teresa pulled Marylou's hands toward her, leaned in and smiled, their noses almost touching: "You can beat a beast three times your size without delivering a single blow... all you have to do is not be scared. Don't let fear control you, and you can do anything."

Marylou thought about this. Then she said, "What if the bear has lasers?"

Grandma Teresa considered this. "Well, then you're screwed," she said, and then he got up for more coffee.

A loud crash dragged Marylou from her sleep. She blinked awake and scanned the dark corridor. Vague shapes came into focus before her eyes. Open doors, water fountains... all merely suggested in the darkness of the school building.

Reality came rushing back to her. The school. The Storm. The girl. Evil Noodle.

"Amy?" she called to her side, feeling the floor blindly.

"Over here."

Marylou felt the girl's arm and pulled herself to sitting position against the wall. "Did you sleep well?"

"No."

"Yeah, me neither." Marylou puffed her cheeks. "You hungry?"

"Yes."

"Yeah, me too."

The corridor was cold and dark except for the four slivers of moonlight escaping from each side of the board on the window. Marylou felt Amy stir in place and rearrange herself against the wall.

They sat there, listening to the applause of the rain against the roof and the external walls, watching the rattling of the plywood board on the window, waiting for morning to come so they could prepare to leave in search for food and a new shelter. The rain was falling hard, and the wind travelled through the walls and down the corridors of the school in a deep howl, reaching them like a whistle of some ancient, invisible beast.

"Who's Teresa?" Amy asked, suddenly.

"What?"

"You were saying her name just now. When you were sleeping."

Marylou studied the lines in Amy's face, softened, almost invisible in the dim light coming from outside. "She was my grandma," she said, finally.

"Is she okay?"

"Why?"

"You were screaming for her to be careful. You were saying 'Don't go, Grandma Teresa! Don't go!'"

Marylou didn't answer.

"Did she die in the Storm? Were you with her?"

"You know what? Let's talk about your family?" Marylou turned to the girl. "We talked about my parents, you've met my snake, you know where I live and you know my grandma's name now too, apparently. Let's hear a little bit about your life. Tell me about your parents."

"They're dead," Amy said, quietly.

"Well, no shit they're dead. Everyone's dead." She paused. "You said your father saw a Ghost, once. Tell me about that."

"I don't wanna talk about it."

The wind blew harder, and a second loud crash informed Marylou that, somewhere deep in the bowels of the school building, yet another of her window boards had given in.

"Well, fuck, Amy, we gotta talk about something. I don't wanna sit here until morning listening to a growling competition between our stomachs."

Amy sniffed. "My father liked guns."

"Okay. That's something. Your father liked guns." Another crash reached them. "I can work with that. What was he, like a cop?"

"No. He just liked guns. He said we needed them for protection from the government and the communists."

"Oh. Got it. He was crazy."
Amy didn't answer.

"Hey, I'm not judging," Marylou explained. "My parents were a lot worse than conspiracy theorists, believe me."

Another crash reached them. The way the wind was blowing, the sheer strength of the raindrops pattering against the walls – it made Marylou think of the Fall. The rain had been falling harder for days now. It was looking more and more like that first week. Something was happening again.

She pushed the thoughts away.

"So, your parents," Marylou continued, forcing herself to ignore the deafening rattling of the board in front of them. "What were they called?"

"I don't wanna talk about the anymore."

"Okay. Did you have any brothers or sisters?"
Amy didn't answer.

"A boyfriend?" Marylou turned to face the girl. "Ever owned a pet? Got really drunk and did something stupid? Have a favorite soda?" She puffed her cheeks. "Nothing? All right, I'm all out of small talk."

"Nixon."

"What?"

"We had a dog," Amy said. "His name was Nixon."

"Your father liked guns and had a dog named Nixon." Marylou laughed. "Okay, maybe my parents weren't so bad after all."

Amy didn't answer. Marylou tapped her fingers on her knee, restless. Her eyes went for the board on the window in front of them.

The rattling grew louder and stronger. The board shook violently, the water bloating the wood and dripping from the front like sweat. Then, in a sudden burst, it collapsed, and the rain poured down from the window onto the floor in front of Marylou and Amy.

"Well..." Marylou got up and offered her hand to Amy. "I think that's our cue."
"Where are we going?" Amy asked, as Marylou pulled her up on her feet.

Marylou looked from the girl to the hammering rain out the window, then back to the girl. "I don't know, Amy. Somewhere dry."