Hunger

clue.
    Brittney was twelve years old, overweight, with a pimply face adorned by overbearing black horn-rim glasses. She wore sweat pants pulled up too high, and a pink frilly blouse that was at least one size too small. Her indifferent brown hair was yanked to either side in pigtails.
    She had braces on her teeth—braces that had not been adjusted in three months. Braces that were accomplishing nothing now, but that she could not figure out how to remove.
    Brittney had kind of had a crush on Mike Farmer, but he wasn’t exactly impressing her.
    “We gotta get out of here, Britt,” Mike whined.
    “Edilio said anything ever happens, we’re supposed to lock this door and sit tight,” Brittney said.
    “They got guns,” Mike cried.
    Another crashing impact. They all jumped. The door did not budge.
    “So do we,” Brittney said.
    “Josh is probably already heading back to town, safe, I bet,” Mickey said. “Mike’s right, we have to get away.”
    Brittney wanted nothing more than to run away. But she figured she was a soldier. That’s what Edilio had said. Their job was to protect the power plant.
    “I know we’re all just kids,” Edilio used to say. “But we may need kids to step up, someday, be more than just kids.”
    Brittney had been in the square the day of the big battle. It was Edilio who had killed the coyote that was all over her, snapping at her throat, then seizing her leg in a jaw like a bear trap.
    She had no scars from the coyote bite on her leg. The Healer had cured all that. And she had no scar from the bullet that had burned a crease across her upper arm. The Healer had taken all the wounds away. But Brittney’s little brother, Tanner, was one of the kids buried in the plaza.
    Edilio had dug his grave with the backhoe.
    Brittney had no romantic feelings for Edilio, but what she had went a lot deeper. She would rather burn for eternity in the hottest fires of Hell than let Edilio down.
    Brittney had no scars, but she did still have nightmares, and sometimes not when she was asleep. Mike had been there that day, too, hurt worse than her. But it had left Mike scared and timid, while it had left Brittney mad and determined.
    “Anyone comes through that door, I’m shooting them,” Brittney said in a loud voice, loud enough that she hoped to be heard by whoever was on the other side.
    “Not me, I’m getting out of here,” Mickey said. He turned and ran.
    “You want to run, too?” Brittney challenged Mike.
    “Lana’s not exactly here right now,” Mike said. “What if they shoot me? I’m just a kid, you know.”
    Brittney tightened her grip on her machine gun. It hung from a strap over her shoulder. She’d long since gotten used to the weight of it. She had test-fired it four times, following Edilio’s training program. The first time she’d dropped it and burst into tears and Edilio had asked her if she wanted to quit.
    But then Tanner had made his presence known, a soft voice that spoke to her when she was scared and told her not to worry, that he was in Heaven with Jesus and the angels. And he was so happy, not hurt or afraid or lonely anymore.
    The next time she’d held on as the gun kicked in her hands. After that she’d more or less hit what she aimed at.
    “If that’s Caine out there, I’m going to get him,” Brittney said.
    “I hate him,” she said. “I mean, I hate what he did. Hate the sin, not the sinner. And I’m going to shoot him so he won’t hurt anyone else.”
    The banging had stopped. Now something different was happening. The door seemed to be bulging inward. It creaked and groaned. There was a loud snap.
    It was going to give way.
    “Run away, Mike,” Brittney said. He was weak. Well, kids were, sometimes. She had to forgive that. “But leave your pistol.”
    “Where do you want me to put it?”
    Brittney stared at the door. It was bulging, straining. Something or someone very, very strong was pushing against it.
    “On the floor. Underneath the last console. Back where no one can see it.”
    “You should come,” Mike pleaded.
    Brittney’s finger curled around the trigger. “No. I don’t think I’m going to do that.”
    She heard his footsteps retreating down the hallway. She expected the door to give way in a few seconds. And then she figured she would be in Heaven with her little brother.
    “Lord? Please help me to be brave,” Brittney said. “In Jesus’ name. Amen.”
    “It’s okay if I die, Tanner,” she said, in a different