My feet ached so very badly. I had been walking for almost a week now. My mom walked at my side, pulling a suitcase behind her. Unfortunately for my feet it was my turn to carry the back packs. We had two that we haphazardly stuck on top of each other on our backs. With each step my feet felt the weight of our clothes, rations, and whatever soap we could find. I would never complain though.
I wanted to do my best to help her. I am younger and more fit, therefore I tried to not let my mom carry the heavy items. A business complex was sitting on the horizon, maybe five hundred feet away. We could rest there. As we approached we became tense, while the thought of rest was nice, there was always the potential danger from other people. People were becoming desperate and rash committing acts they never believed themselves capable of.
I walked ahead of my mom, partially because the fatigue was slowing her, but partially because I knew I could keep her slightly safer this way. Ahead there were several tall buildings, office buildings where you could see a cubicle in every window. Outside the buildings there was a well kept landscape with some picnic tables for the workers. It would have seemed serene it if weren't for the obvious refugees sitting at the tables and occupying the nearby abandoned fast food stores.
It seemed safe, people were sharing their food instead of fighting for it. There was a sense of hope in the area that kept everyone calm. I quickly realized why. A train station sat just outside the tallest office building. It was still running.
That meant I could see my dad and little brother again.
