I clutch my sister’s body in my arms as I watch my father strangle my mother’s neck. She fights back but my father is too strong. She is losing breath quickly and her eyes fall upon Ronnie and I. Ronnie, who is only seven, cries in my chest, whimpering, holding a death grip on my shirt. My mother reaches out a hand to us, trying to touch us one last time, but her eyes are fading and soon her whole body falls limp.

My father drops her and looks pleased as he accomplishes his goal. “United States filth,” He spits. What once was Canada and half of North America, has now been taken over by a government facility called the Union. The Union and America are at war with one another. World War 5. Mexico, however, is only allies with the people who give the country the most money. My father fights for the Union because he was originally a Canadian citizen but my mother was an American. Ronnie and I follow our mother as Americans. But now, we will see how long we have to live. Our father turns towards us. His black hair is greased back and his beard was dripping with blood. Our mother lies motionless, just a few feet away. Our father walks towards us with his hand clutched into a fist, blood dripping from it. I look over at my mom who has blood dripping from her mouth and hands. My heart stops and I look up at my father.

“Ronnie you need to run,” I whisper to her. She looks up at me before I throw her as hard as I can to one side of the room while I feel my father’s fingers clasp themselves around my neck. I kick and scream but he just squeezes tighter around my throat. I’m losing air and my struggling softens. My vision becomes blurry and I realize that I’m just going to die like my mother when I’m released and I fall hard to the ground. I cough out blood and gasp for air. I wait for my vision to come back and see my little sister now getting strangled by him. “You weaklings have a choice, either join me as a Union officer or die as a filthy, puny Americans,” he turns to me, “Your choice.” His eyes are filled with hatred and fury. He wants to kill us. I used to think my father loved us endlessly, but now as I watch him try and kill us, everything changes rapidly.

I huddle up against the wall and stand up. Fresh blood was trickling down my chin, I look up at him and scowl, “I’d rather die a low class American then be supreme commander of The Union.” Ronnie then bites down on his hand. The shock was so much he releases her and she falls to the ground with a thud. I take a knife from the kitchen counter, run, and stab his lower body on the side. Then I rip it out and run it down his right eye.

He screeches out in pain and grabs his stabbed side and eye. I grab Ronnie’s hand and we head for the door. She can’t run as fast as me so I pick her up and carry her. Before I run out I look back to see my father looking at me with the eye he is not covering up. I didn’t stab his eye but I did gave him a real good scar down the middle of it. Then I look at my mother, lying still, lifeless. Tears start to form in my eyes as I run out the door. Ronnie pushes closer to my chest, trying to keep warm in the cold night.



Once we reach a forest, I set Ronnie down by a tree trunk and sit next to her. We are runaways, outcasts, abandoned and abused by our father. We have no home, no family. We are alone in the world. Our mother is dead along with our hopes and dreams. Ronnie looks up at me with her dark blue eyes; I can barely see her because of the black night. “Kimberley,” she softly whines, “when can we go home?” My heart sinks. I hug her tightly and begin to cry, “Never,” I croak. “We can never go back, that house is a murder place. Our father is a murder do you hear me, never trust him, if you ever see him again, runaway, don’t even talk to him, do you understand?”

I can feel her head nod up and down as it brushes against my chest. I look up at the sky and see the stars littering across the blackness. What was the world like before the war? Was it peaceful, caring, and loving, what was it like? I think to myself. As we sit there, under the canopy of the forest, I realize now that I must be the adult. I have to take care of my little sister, even if it kills me, she must survive I tell myself. “We have to keep moving,” I say.

“No, I want to stay here,” she whines. I pick her up and she leans into me.

“We can’t,” I say sternly. “Our father will find us and he will hunt us down. We must keep running. Till we can get as far away from here as we can.”

“Kimberley, I’m cold.” She sniffs. I am as well but she didn’t have a sweatshirt on like I do. I set her down and unzip my sweatshirt and put it around her. “Better?” she nods. “I can’t carry you all the way; can you run for a little bit?”

She stares off into the forest then back at me and nods. I take her hand and we keep running deeper in the Illinois forest.



As we run we could hear critters rummaging the forest looking for prey or prey running from their predators. Our feet hurt and we are shivering. We finally came to the border of Illinois and Indiana. I now wonder how long we ran. I don’t hesitate to step over the border getting out of the death state. A road runs through it and we have to cross it. I hold Ronnie’s hand and start to run across the two lane road when a flash of light stops us in our tracks. My heart stops and I feel Ronnie clutch my body in terror. The lights come to a screeching stop and I can see the image of an army jeep with cameo on the sides.

Someone steps out of the car and runs towards us. We were frozen in fear, we can’t move. Our legs were broken and our eyes are glued onto the man who stepped out of the truck. He wore a brown army cap with a black leather jacket, a belt which carried weapons, and black leather boots. His hair was a golden yellow color and he looks about 17 or 18. “Are you hurt, are you okay?” The man asks us crouching down to us at eye level. I step in front of Ronnie trying my best to protect her from harm he might do to us. “I’m so sorry; I didn’t see you guys, are you alright?” I look behind me and see Ronnie’s eyes stare at the man in awe and I nod.

“What are you two doing out here at midnight?” He asks us. Remember, I have to be brave, I said to myself. “I’m Kimberley Carter and this is my younger sister Ronnie. We have been abused and watched our mother die in front of our eyes, we have no quarrel with your kind, and we just need to get out of Illinois.”

The man smiles, “With our kind? We don’t want to hurt you, and it sounds like you have already had a rough night as it is. My name is Logan and I am head commander in the tribe of Outcasts.”

“Outcasts?” Ronnie softly says coming out from behind me a little. “What are Outcasts?”

“Outcasts are people who don’t have families and live together as a group. They fight for their own side and train soldiers from a very young age. I was cast out with my sister and my brother when the war just started. Canadians broke into our house and shot our parents. One of my sisters was killed and we ran away to Michigan. Soon we found and Outcast facility in Michigan. We were trained as American soldiers to fight in the war. I was ten years old. Who do you fight for?”

I was silent for a moment. “I-we are half Canadian and half American, but we fight for America. Our father…murdered our mother and he is a Union leader.” I shutter as I remember the vision of him stabbing my mom then choking her to her finale breath. Logan puts his hand on my shoulder, “Come with me, I’ll take you to my home, you need to rest and eat and…bathe.”

I look down at myself and could finally see my dirty clothes and hair tangled with twigs and mud. I then look back at Logan who holds out his hand. I look at it then back at him. I step back not knowing if I could trust him or not.

“Please, I won’t hurt you.” I look down at the ground when Ronnie darts out from behind me and runs into his arms. He hugs her back then holds out another hand for me. Ronnie looks back at me. With her dirty clothes and hair I can hardly recognize her. What if he abused us as well, what if I’m just walking into another death trap? But if he wanted to kill two kids like us, wouldn’t he have already done it?

“Kimberley, I promise you’ll be safe with me.” I take a step forward, hesitating, then run into his arms hugging him as well. For some reason I feel safe again. I am nine years old.