Chapter 2

MARGARET

Iput another shirt into the small pack that I would be taking on the journey then took a moment to sit on the bed. I cast my gaze around my small quarters. The walls are covered with pieces of art from my grandchildren. As I look at each in turn, the memory of each and every one of them comes to mind. Exactly which child, how old they were, and when they gave it to me. Each piece is a treasure, to me. They would be meaningless to anyone else, but this is what a life is built on. Memories.

Memories of experiences had and shared. As I've gotten older the experiences I've had have become tamer. Oh be honest Marge, they've become downright boring. Ever since I lost Henry, so many years ago, I settled into a role of being a matriarch, but not much else. No new adventures and I'd always been fine with that, so what am I doing now?

I'm protecting them. That's what a matriarch does.

True, for as far as it goes. But if the wisdom of age has taught me anything it's that just because something answers a question, it doesn't mean that's all there is to it. And I know myself well enough to know that's true in this moment.

When I first volunteered that was the reason I was doing it. To protect not only my own kin, but my adopted kin as well, which is all the survivors. But then Mohlad stepped up and I can't deny that the appeal of this journey took on an entirely new dimension.

Rising to my feet I walk over to the small sink and look at myself in the mirror. Not bad for a woman of my age. Sure, the laugh lines are deeper than I'd like and the forehead lines, ugh, I've struggled with those for a long time. The gray at my temples has increased since the crash, but my hair still has a lot of life and shine in it overall, even if its color is fading from the once vibrant red it formerly held.

My green eyes, I always thought they were my best feature if I'm honest, are still as bright as they ever were. I smile and sure it makes the lines deeper, but it also makes my eyes light up. I push on my face, testing to see if the old look is still hidden under the soft sag that age has brought on. I turn my head one way then the other examining myself when someone knocks on the door. I stop my silliness and go to answer it.

"Gram-gram!" I'm pushed back from the doorway by Mikel, one of my grandsons, who tackle hugs me around the legs while barreling forward.

I walk backward with him laughing. My daughter, Andrea, is in the door with her other two children. She has her angry, I'm about to scold you look on her face. I'm not surprised, nor worried about it. This is who she is, protective and loving, and harsh at times, but always with a big heart underneath it.

"Hi Ands," I say, flopping onto my bed as Mikel climbs over me.

His sister, Bea, and younger brother, Kyle rush into the room and climb up on the bed with me, rolling over each other and laughing.

"Mom," Ands says stiffly as she walks into the room.

"So you were elected to talk me out of it?" I ask.

"Elected?" she asks arching an eyebrow. "Why would one of us be elected Mom? Because you've lost your mind?"

"I have not," I say, grabbing Mikel and tossing him onto my lap then blowing raspberries on his tummy.

He laughs and wiggles, trying to get free. Kyle tugs on one shoulder while Bea sits down at my side and produces a book that she opens and points at one of the pictures.

"No?" Ands asks. "You think a woman, any woman?—"

"Much less one my age," I interrupt and fill in for her.

"Well," she pauses long enough to glare, "you have a point, but I didn't say it."

"No, you didn't, I did," I laugh, pulling Mikel back into place so I can do the raspberries again.

"Fine," Ands huffs. "You can't do this. All of us, we, we, uh, we forbid it. That's right. Forbid it."

"Forbid?" I ask, dropping my voice half an octave to the tone she well knows means I'm serious. "And you think you can ease the impact of that statement by bringing my grandkids to distract me?"

She caves, if only a little, and probably no one but me would notice but she is, after all, my daughter and if I don't know her well then who does? I smile, pick Mikel up and stand, turning to toss him onto the bed where he bounces and laughs. Leaping to his feet he demands I do it again.

"One moment Mikel," I say holding up a finger. "Guys, I need to talk to your mommy, okay? Can you all be good for a moment?"

The kids each give their assent and I lead Ands to the door and out into the hall. I look around to make sure we're more or less alone before confronting her.

"You knew that wasn't going to go well," I say.

She deflates further, her shoulders sagging, and shakes her head.

"I had to try," she mutters. "We had to. Mom this is crazy. You're… you're old. You have no business going out into that desert with one of those aliens. None! Stay here. We need you."

"Ands," I say, placing my hands on her shoulders. "You know how much I love you. All of you."

"So don't go!" she says, her voice cracking as tears form in her eyes.

"I have to," I say. "And I want you to understand why. It's not only for you, all of you, but for everyone too."

"That doesn't make it right," she argues.

"No, nothing will make it right, but I want you to know this too. I'm doing it for me. I need this Ands. I need to know that I still have some life left in me. And I believe I can do this, but if I fail, well at least I'll fail doing my best for you and all the rest of the survivors."

Tears stream down her face.

"We don't want to lose you," she says, her voice cracking and shaking her head while sniffing. "I, Mom, I don't want to lose you."

I do the only thing I can, I pull her into the tightest hug I can and hold her until the tears pass.