2050: The Beginning of the End

Chapter 7: Dimitri

A door slams across the hall. I recognize the sound, based on its location relevant to my own.

Shemik.

She can't even be bothered to consider the rest of us before making enough noise to wake the dead.

Although, when I think about it, Theo and Katerina are too far away to hear it and Rose and Emilio could care less.

I suppose that means I'm the only one who minds.Admittedly, I am biased on the subject.

The way she gave up her sister's room so quickly, as though Milena's former living space holds no sentimental value to her. I grind my teeth. If I had a say in the matter, those children wouldn't have been told the time of day. They might have been  given a few supplies, but would have been sent back on the street, because we're losing enough of our own without putting two strangers' necks on the line out here.

But Shemik can't do that to people. She would never kick someone out.

Some may see it as honorable, and I might too, but I'm biased, hopelessly so and not ashamed.

I get up, deciding that, even though it's still only five-thirty or so, I'm not sleeping. I sit at my desk near the window, looking out at the darkness and letting myself fume.

I bet she let that boy have my uncle's room. How dare she! It's her fault he's dead, and she can't be bothered to ask me before giving his room to a spoiled brat?

A voice in my head says that I was a spoiled brat once, back when my cousin and I ran the streets of our Russian village.

That voice has no idea what it's talking about.

I may be a bit arrogant, yes, but I was never as spoiled as this Jason Messer.

The only reason we kept them is because they might be Rick and Molly's children.

What if they aren't?

Shemik will make sure they stay, eating our food and drinking our water, getting in the way of all my, our, daily tasks. I snarl. My head pounds, and I stand up again. This won't do.

I walk over to the window, dragging my desk chair along and sitting down before the glass pane. I lean my forehead against the glass, sighing at the coolness of the surface.

Much better. I sigh again, my headache dulled by the chill of the windowpane.

I can't believe we're stuck with Shemik as our leader now. I'd much prefer Emilio, but it seems with these things the oldest takes charge.

She's only sixteen, a full year older than Emilio, but already the girl has done so many things to make me despise her.

She killed her sister, then gave her room to a stranger. She's impulsive. She doesn't think about my, our, best interests before making a decision. She's the reason my uncle is dead.

Emilio sat me down after it happened, when I was a bitter twelve-year-old with no one left to call family in the world. He told me it wasn't anyone's fault, that it could have been me or Katerina, even little Rosalie who got attacked. That was one of the times Emilio told me to exercise my patience, and I told him I had none to exercise.

He'd sent me to my room, told me to "think" and "process things."

I'd processed, all right, and come back angrier than ever but more determined never to show anyone my true emotions again.

Then those Messer kids show up, and that boy brought my worst side out again. I have to admit, I think it's still out, but for once I don't care.

I like being angry, like having a distraction from the apocalypse, because that's exactly what it is. Shemik won't say it, naturally, but the world is ending. We should all see it by now.