As she nibbled on a cracker, Lacy wrapped herself tightly in a quilt, yet she could not dispel the chill. This was a cold borne of despair, not climate, and it hung heavily about her, like a spirit haunting an old house.

In the other room, Kay Walker played the role of mother nobly and despite the conditions, instilled a sense of home for her husband and two children – as much as one could in a bunker. This was a silo, not a true house and survival was a daily struggle, a struggle everyone in the house shared. This was a harsh life and defeat was a perpetual beggar at the door, beckoning to be let in.

But for a mother, Lacy supposed, the challenge was far more difficult. Protecting one's children not only physically but mentally was a feat requiring great resolve. Lacy wasn't Kay's biggest fan but respected her for her ferocity. Kay seemed to possess a never-ending supply of determination and even though this was not the house her children had grown up in, she fought to provide her family comfort. "I will make this home," she had told Lacy once, "and if that's all I can give them in this life, then that's what I must do, and I'll make it the best that I can."

As she fussed with a loose thread in the quilt, Lacy thought of the girl. Eva. She wondered if she had made it out, if indeed that's what she had been going for. Lacy glanced through the faux window in the silo's curved wall. The pretend portals were strategically placed to make the bunker seem like a genuine home. They depicted digital scenes that represented the true time of day, but not necessarily the correct weather. Currently, Lacy stared at a sun setting behind rolling hills in the distance.

She wondered where Eva would go. The wilderness was infested with danger. The girl was armed but what if she was outnumbered? What if she encountered a pack of dogs?

Lacy didn't profess to know everything there was to know about Eva – she hardly knew her at all. What had it been, a couple of weeks at most since she'd been in Community? But in some instances, someone's makeup could be determined in only a short time. A fraction of a conversation. Maybe even by someone's stare. Eva was the kind of girl who wouldn't stand for some of Community's rules. Lacy had figured that out real quick. But who could blame her? At times it felt more like some inept detention center than a haven.

But it did have a perimeter fence. It did provide some degree of security.

"Everything alright, Lacy?" asked Kay, entering from the kitchen, carrying a tray. Tonight, they were dining on crackers with sliced cheese and hard salami. The crackers were Saltines. Lacy was particularly fond of Ritz crackers. She had grazed but left some food on her plate. Her hunger wasn't the same as it had once been – perhaps she'd just adapted to the feeling somehow.

Lacy nodded and forced a smile. "Fine, thanks."

Kay must've noticed Lacy's displeasure. "It's not filet mignon, but beggars can't be choosers." She smiled. "And in this existence, everyone's a beggar."

Lacy smiled in agreement. "True."

"Would you like some more?"

"Thank you," Lacy replied, shaking her head. "But I'm quite full."

Kay glanced down at Lacy's plate of crumbs, dotted with a few morsels of uneaten cheddar. "It's important to finish everything Lacy...it's all we've got. Food is fuel. Please. We don't need to send you to quarantine, now do we?"

"Quarantine?" asked Lacy, a bolt of anxiety shooting along her spine. "Why would I be sent to quarantine? I'm not sick."

"Are you sure? You haven't eaten much today at all – that could be a sign of sickness coming on, and we cannot risk others contracting anything."

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Kay's patronizing tone was evident, and Lacy didn't appreciate it. She was a favorite of Grant's however, and to cross those two would not be wise.

"It'd be a good idea for you to fulfill your nutritional needs as best you can," said Kay.

Suddenly feeling like another of the Walker children instead of a twenty-three-year-old woman, Lacy found herself nodding in agreement. "Right. I'll finish up."

"Good." She turned to leave but stopped. "We have a surprise tonight, Lacy...hot tea. Would you like a cup?"

Smiling again, Lacy said, "You know, Kay...that sounds delicious. Thank you." She watched Kay make her way across the cylindrical shaft of the silo to the kitchen. Tea did sound good. Hot beverages were the rarest of treats, enjoyed by only the V.I.P.'s (as Lacy referred to them) of Community...of which, Lacy was not a member.

Lacy's attention was drawn to a security monitor mounted on the wall to her left that showed the front entrance to the bunker. There were three people approaching. As they got closer, Lacy recognized two guards. The first, Wes, wasn't so bad. The second one was that bastard, Mitchell. Eva was between them.

That wasn't good. They must've caught her trying to get back inside the perimeter.

From the window, Lacy's gaze shifted to her cell phone resting on the windowsill. It had been rendered useless quite a long time ago. She didn't know why she kept it around...maybe just in case electronics miraculously became functional again. Then she could contact her husband, Mo, and they could reunite. Lacy knew this was a longshot – probably even more than that. Hopeless, maybe. But there was one thing she would remain uncompromised on: she and Mo would be together again, be it in life or death. No one could prevent that.

She hadn't seen him in more than a year.

Lacy had been on an inbound flight returning from a convention in San Francisco when it all happened. She first noticed the demeanor of the flight attendants. They moved hurriedly through the cabin, toward the front of the plane. Soon it was discovered that one of the pilots had suffered an ailment of some kind. This news spread like wildfire through the passengers, igniting great concern.

Then someone in first class fell ill. Then someone in coach.

The plane made an emergency landing on an isolated runway in Philadelphia. When it had taxied to a stop far from the terminal, that's when Lacy first heard the word quarantine.

For hours, the passengers were trapped on the plane until emergency responders determined who was sick and who wasn't. Garbed in hazmat gear, a squad of officials from what Lacy had guessed was the CDC, had arranged checkpoints on the taxiway and each passenger checked for illness.

She recalled some travelers being led to an area where white vinyl tents had been erected. She supposed they had exhibited symptoms.

Night fell and large spotlights had been lit. At one point there came shouting and commotion at the front of one of the lines. There had been a frenzy of activity, with several personnel required to subdue an irate passenger.

Lacy could think of nothing but Mo and if she would survive to see him again. She had never been so terrified. Ever.

There had been something else about that night...something of terrific significance. But whenever she tried to recall it, Lacy' memory went hazy.

In the kitchen the tea kettle issued a soft whine and Gus, lying beside Lacy's chair, rose to attention. Lacy reached down, patting the chocolate lab's broad head and his tail thumped twice on the floor. "Shh, it's okay, Gus," she whispered. She gathered the remnants of cheese from her plate into her hand and gave it to the dog. He looked up at Lacy, as if asking her permission. "Go ahead," she urged. Gus hungrily accepted and then sniffed the ground in search of more. When he found none, the dog stood, paced in a circle, and then plopped back down onto the carpet and sighed.

Gus had been chubby and happy long ago. His demeanor hadn't changed much but the dog certainly wasn't as active as he once was. Despite this, his weight had dwindled. The indentations of his ribs were visible now.

Lacy turned her attention to the pretend encroaching darkness beyond the pretend window. She was uneasy. "I miss home too, boy." She was unsure of how long Community would tolerate the feeding of a dog with so many mouths to feed. But dogs, the healthy ones, meant protection, safety. Yet some argued that dogs might betray their presence should a nomad wander near and that it was best to remain silent and allow the being to pass undisturbed. Hiding was common practice; confrontation was to be avoided.

Lacy patted Gus and spoke calmly. "I'm here, big boy." The lifeless cell phone beckoned her. She succumbed and gave it a good, long stare. As strange as it seemed, to her, the phone's presence was like having a photograph of Mo sitting on the windowsill, staring back at her. She often wondered if her need for its presence was mentally unhealthy and yet, she could never get herself to discard it.

"Don't worry honey," she said to Gus. "We'll be alright."