Take Me Home • h. styles ✔

Epilogue

     “Good day, ladies and gentlemen. In just a few minutes, we will finally arrive in London where you will be joining our fellow citizens all coming from the different refugee camps that the British government has established during the Plague. As we come near to your new home, it is important to take note that most of the parts in every district of the city are being watched over by the British Forces, who are responsible for your safety.”

     Sergeant Jamie Houston continued to voice out her broadcast as our train moved closer to the city. There was not a single word that I didn't want to miss out for I knew that everything that she was saying was important to listen to. What I liked about her was the way how she made her tactic in speaking to all of us inside. She was quite open-minded, taking the friendly approach so as to make all of us comfortable without hearing any of the stern and humorless military conduct that we had experienced over the past few months.

     “I have some good news to all of you. After ten months of comprehensive restoration, you will be all living life like it was before all of this happened. You’ll be able to lather yourself up with hot and cold water, we have sufficient facilities to accommodate your medical needs, 24-hour electricity, supermarkets, playgrounds for our little children, cozy beds to relax in your new homes, and for the guys out there looking for fun, we have a bar to get your gear up.”

     Everyone laughed after hearing the last words of her good news. It was such a sight to see people smiling and exchanging laughter after everything that we had been through. As a matter of fact, it was a delight to see to be in the company of many people other than myself over the past couple of months. I couldn't be more thankful to God for all the things that had happened after everything that the Plague had brought to us. We were given a sufficient amount of things that we needed in order to survive – we had food, water, shelter, virtually anything that we could ask for us to be able to live and carry on with the newest chapter of our lives.

     “Are we there yet, mommy?” I heard Emilie ask her mother right across from where I was seated.

     Emilie Clayton and her mother, Jenna had been two of the people I became close with during our days in the refugee camp. Unlike me who had to endure the world on my own for the first few months, they were once a big family who were there for each other to rely on. However, fate had been quite unkind to them as well, and it was a tragedy for them in trying to forget how six of their family members sacrificed themselves for their own sake.

     Emilie’s father, Andy, reminded me so much of one of the people whom I would never forget in my life. Just like Mike, he had to give up their own home and sacrifice his life with the pure intention of saving his family, and Jenna had to carry her 8-year old daughter by herself and ran as much as she could before any of Them could take away their lives. Being the two remaining survivors of their family, they were able to get the call from the British Forces on the radio just like what we had heard last year and made it to safety, and here they were, all safe and trying to overlook the past as Jenna hugged her daughter tighter in her arms.

     “We’re almost home, baby,” she said, her hands squeezing her little girl’s arm in assurance. “Look baby, Super Harry’s excited as well.”

     “Yeah, Em. Want me to take you to the playground later?” I asked gleefully.