The Apocalypse Blog
by Melanie Edmonds

Today, I stopped worrying about Dad or myself so much. Instead, I started worrying about all of us.

This morning, while I was sleepily climbing into my stained jeans and wishing that Iona would quit sneaking into my bed and curling up against my spine in the middle of the night, Jersey came up to me. She barely paused next to my bunk, the hitch in her step giving her just enough time to deliver a single word. Just one.

“Tonight.”

I met her eye and there was no doubt about what she meant. None at all.

Tonight’s the night. The pieces are in place. Tonight, we leave Haven behind us.

 

I was vibrating with the news as I walked across the compound this morning. I wanted to tell Jonah out of some kind of reciprocal urge, to give him a warning in exchange for the one he gave me yesterday.

I bit my tongue all the way to the infirmary – I like Jonah, and the warning was kind of him, but I couldn’t return the favour. It would be unfair of me to put him in that position, having to keep another secret for us, even if he was inclined to. I can’t risk endangering everyone like that, anyway; I’m not sure enough of his intentions.

 

If I think about it too much, nerves claw up the inside of my throat and my field of vision narrows like a heart attack. At the same time, there’s a flutter in my chest that wants to take wing – part of me is already soaring free.

How’s it going to start? When will the tap come? And where – to my shoulder, the window, the door? It’s raining now – should I be trying to get some sleep while we definitely can’t go anywhere? I probably should. But I don’t think I could settle enough for that; there’s too much buzzing around inside my head.

Am I ready? Do I have everything? I shoved a few things in my pack this morning, but there wasn’t any time before I had to leave for the infirmary. Luckily, I keep my most precious possession with me all the time – namely, the laptop – and the few bits of clothing I have to my name will be all of a handful to scoop up and stuff in a bag. I’ll be ready. I have to be ready.

 

Deep breath. We’re as ready as we’re going to be. It’s time to leave. Time to put Haven in our mirrors.

I can’t wait. I’m terrified. Soon has finally come.

Wish us luck!