For three days, the small community hunkered down, as was custom when new refugees came in. Brian had found the length of time sufficient to weed out any troublemakers and it also forced the newcomers into roles within the community. It was also, coincidentally, the longest Brian had ever seen a gargoyle masquerade as human. So he locked the gates and put the shelter into lockdown.

The shelter was a long series of tunnels that led to an ancient monastery set far up the hilly terrain. The monastic grounds were being excavated and explored when the weather was good. While the buildings themselves were ruined back in the 16th century during the dissolution, the grounds may have still been useful, so Brian was taking the time to slowly uncover its secrets. But now the complex was in the required three day lockdown. No one in, no one out for seventy-two hours.

In the years since the Cataclysm began, Brian had only encountered a gargoyle once. It was shortly after he had pulled Danny Angus and his mother from their apartment and ushered them into the basement bunker. The three of them and four others from the building had locked themselves into the bomb shelter and rode out the first wave of invasion for three days.

In the first twenty-four hours, Brian had rationed water and food very carefully. He was precise in how much food they had and how long they could withstand hiding. Danny's mother, Mrs. Angus, had refused her portion and given it to her son. The next day, the same. By the time Brian had noticed that she wasn’t sleeping and the sulphur stench permeating their hideout was coming from her, it was too late. All hell broke loose.

The gargoyle had killed the other four and its mask was slipping. Brian and Danny watched in horror as Mrs. Angus's chubby, papery-skinned face seemed to bulge and turn purple. It became leathery and thick, the nose disappearing to two slits and the eyes pushing out, widening the bridge of her nose grotesquely. Immediately after, like a mirage flickering in the heat, a maroon skinned, six foot demon stood where Danny's mother had once been. Its leathery wings unfurled and its clawed toes gripped the concrete floor in a loud screech.

Without thinking, Brian had grabbed Danny and pulled him toward the bunker entrance, dragging the stunned man behind him. The entire run to the door, Danny was between Brian and the monster and the monster made no move. But as Brian ushered Danny through the door first, the beast seemed to lock onto Brian and let out a horrible scream. The terrified man dashed out and slammed the door behind him, narrowly escaping the sharp, talon-like claws that grated on the metal door a second later.

Danny clapped Brian on the shoulder, startling him out of his pensive mood.

“Dawn of day four, Commander.” Danny’s grin was as bright as the rising sun and it made Brian smile back. Relief flooded them both. “Don’t hang on to that time. It was awful for everyone.”

“Right,” Brian agreed.

He stood from the creaking leather chair at his desk and cast a wide glance around. The tunnels that led from the monastery were vast and confusing, terminating in a huge room that was cavernous and echoed with each voice and footfall. Brian and Danny had done their best to separate sections out for privacy for each group of survivors, denoting small spaces for everyone to keep as their own “room” with wooden crates, stacks of books and machinery, handmade shelving units, and ugly bunk beds. It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t ideal, but it was all they could do for the time being. Until this secure space was rendered useless, they waited, digging in and making a life as best as they could.

“Let’s go see how the newbies are doing.”

“Sir, I told you, she don’t talk.” The old lady seemed annoyed that Brian would want to talk to the diminutive girl.

“I understand that.” He was being careful to not adopt his commander stature. He wanted the old woman, who’s name was Sylvie, to relax and let him see the girl. Brian was sure he was dealing with a mystery he would probably need the answers to at some point. “But I can ask her questions and she can shake or nod her head.” Sylvie’s eyes narrowed. She clearly didn’t trust Brian nor his giant friend behind him.

“She don’t like men.” Sylvie finally said. Brian lifted his head a little, his mouth in a thoughtful knot. Assault and abuse was rampant in the roaming packs of drifting survivors.

“I promise you, nothing will happen to her. I don’t tolerate anything like that in my group.” He laid his hand solemnly on his chest and knelt down to face the seated old woman. “Sylvie, you’re all very safe here. While I can’t promise you complete asylum from the monsters, I can give you my word that no single human being in this conclave will harm any of you.” He waited as Sylvie chewed on her tongue, her mouth working in a slow, preoccupied way.

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“Make him leave. She don’t like him.” Sylvie wouldn’t even look at Danny. Brian agreed, nodding Danny away and turned back to the woman.

“He’s the most gentlemanly of the bunch,” Brian said conspiratorially, trying a half smile on the suspicious old woman. “Wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“We all saw him fight off those monsters.” Sylvie’s whisper was sharp in Brian’s ear.

“Yeah, well they aren’t flies, are they?” He smiled at her again, trying his best to win her trust. “I just want to ask her a few questions.”

The old woman finally nodded and turned to shake the girl awake.

“Do you have a name?” Brian asked. The black curls bounced as she shook her head. Brian frowned, ticking off the question on his sheet before him. The girl and the old woman sat across his enormous wooden desk, an exciting find in the cavern when they all stumbled in a few months ago. The girl was still bundled in a black wool coat several times too big and the gauzy black cloth was now wound around her neck in a loose cowl. Her hands were hidden within the long sleeves and it appeared she had on several layers as she was bulky underneath her coat. The small girl must have been freezing.

“Maybe you just don’t remember your name. Trauma can change our memories.” He made a note to ask this again later. The girl shifted, restless and clearly anxious.

“Have you gotten enough to eat?” The girl nodded and her mouth twitched up into a quick, soft smile. Brian ticked the question off.

“And your sleeping area is adequate? Enough blankets and privacy?” The girl hesitated, a slight frown denting her pale face. Brian could see the girl thinking.

“Sir, I don’t–” Brian held up a hand, cutting Sylvie off.

“Please let her try to answer, ok? I can see you clearly care very much for her, and I’m glad she has you take care of her, but I need to know that she can follow directions and feel comfortable communicating her needs to me.” Sylvie sat back and seemed to shrink. Brian immediately dialled back his annoyance with the old woman and smiled at her gently. “Thank you, Sylvie. You’re a good woman.”

Brian scanned his list of questions and skipped several of the ones he usually asked about encounters with the monsters, what the newcomer might know about them that he could add to the notebook he was keeping. He would have to dissect those questions later and reword them so as to be answered with a yes or no. His eyes stopped on “birthdate”.

“And your age. Let’s see…” He put the end of the pen in his teeth and thought. “Were you born before the cataclysm? Before the monsters came?” She nodded.

Brian carefully ticked off the question, making a note beside it.

“More than ten years ago?” The girl nodded. Brian ticked, made note.

“More than twenty years ago?” The girl nodded. Brian was about to make another tick but he looked up. His eyes quickly scanned her, trying to avoid her notice. She didn’t look older than twelve at most. He made note that she was an adult and put an asterisk near his comment.

“Right,” he said as he sat back, the pen back in his teeth. “More than thirty years ago?” The girl hesitated. She seemed to be thinking. Finally she nodded. Brian threw his pen down and sighed.

“Look, this isn’t going to work if you’re not honest with me. I have the lives of everyone here to think about, nevermind my own skin. I need to know more about your party and you’re the only one I don’t know anything about. Can you see why that worries me a little?” He gestured to the three sheets of questions that had already been filled out in detail on his desk between them. He leaned forward on the desk, his hands clasped together in a silent plea.

“Sir, if I may,” Sylvie said deferentially. Something about the interrogation style room that had been erected as his office seemed to make Sylvie cow even more than her usual soft domestic nature. The bright halogen light above his desk did not help, he had to admit. It cast a serious and eerie light across his features, which he knew had not fared well in the years.

“Yes,” Brian sighed. “Fill me in with what you know.”

“Yes, of course,” Sylvie straightened a little and cleared her throat. “Well, sir, it’s just that I’m not sure that she’s–” her voice dropped to a whisper. “I don’t think she’s from an English speaking place, sir.”

Brian had not considered that the girl maybe had not grown up speaking English. It had come to be so universal, especially post-cataclysm, that he had yet to meet anyone who couldn’t communicate at least basically in English. Even when Brian and Danny had crossed from New York to London to try to find Danny’s last family members, they had not encountered anyone that couldn’t speak and understand passable English.

Brian looked carefully at the girl’s face and tried to imagine her in clean clothes, her hair combed, her face brightly lit and smiling. His mind cycled through different styles, picturing her in traditional garb from eastern Europe, a short bobbed haircut from France, a gauzy and modest hijab. Nothing seemed to fit his personal stereotypes and he shook his head and clicked his tongue, a sound he often did when he had reached an impasse.

“Right, well,” he sighed again. “I will ask around for anyone that might speak any other languages, even conversationally.” Something in the girl’s face caught Brian’s eye and he looked into her eyes. She looked like she was pleading with him, her eyes flickering from side to side as she met both of his eyes. Tears were welling up, tinted gold from her extraordinary irises.

“Hey, hey, it’s ok,” he said, reaching a hand out. “You’re safe here.” He held out his hand to comfort her. Slowly, the girl reached out and touched his palm. Her touch was icy and dry and Brian couldn’t deny the shock that he received when his gut very loudly whispered in his head.

Run.