September 1st, Monday

September 1st, Monday.

It was a strange hybrid village located deep in the forest, born out of despair. The camp had been built quickly and fervently, a mix of wooden houses and prefabricated containers. It looked like a bizarre, improvised cross between an Amish community and an ecovillage.

There were vegetable gardens, communal kitchens, solar panels, and even a small open-air amphitheater for prayers and sermons. Modesty was enforced both in clothing and behavior, and a list of moral codes was posted in nearly every shared space. A few trusted members were allowed to leave for the city and shop if someone gave them a list of what they needed.

The place had electricity, and the internet existed, though it was heavily monitored. Only certain websites and apps could be accessed from that network, and only content approved by the leaders was considered entertainment. Zek’s livestreams were sometimes shown on public terminals, along with sermons by authorized apocalyptic preachers. News was filtered by religious leaders, who only shared what aligned with their narratives. There were no TVs in the homes—only big screens in the community hall.

Iris sat on a wooden bench outside her new home, wearing a long, simple white dress. Her dog, Cannelle, a medium-sized brown mutt, lay nearby, watching the chickens that roamed freely around the community.

She had plans to try to escape. At first, she looked for loopholes. She tried using other people’s phones, volunteered for tasks near the edge of the camp. She even tried writing a letter to her Uncle Thierry and Aunt Rita.

But there was always some flaw in her plans. No signal, no opening, or someone always watching. She felt like a child again—not out of nostalgia, but because she was extremely limited and constantly watched. She also felt she couldn’t just abandon Cannelle like that. After all, what kind of veterinarian would she be if she abandoned an animal?

Then she heard a sound from the neighboring house. Jonas stepped out, his hair a little longer and messier than before, looking sleepy in a plain white T-shirt and black pants. Thérése peeked out briefly but quickly closed the door.

“Hey. Sit here,” said Iris, patting the bench beside her.

“Feels like a coincidence, huh? Being neighbors here too…” Jonas replied.

“Yeah… You and Thérése arrived yesterday. How are you finding it so far?”

Jonas just took a deep breath, unsure of how to answer. Thérése walked toward the communal kitchen to help knead dough. That was one of the few distractions people had there.

“They said they’d let me study if I came here…” Jonas said. “But yesterday was just chores. They said Thérése and I are too young to inherit my grandma’s house, and the bank says she has debts. I don’t even know if that’s true, but… I can’t fight it. I’m not even eighteen…”

“And the bunker construction job?” asked Iris, with a look of pity.

“The government and the companies started paying more attention. Now they only accept full-time workers and fired all the minors. And with my documents still pending, they say I could face legal problems if I try to leave the region. So I’m stuck,” Jonas said, trying to laugh at the absurdity, but failing.

They sat in silence for a while, until they heard footsteps from the right. It was Renata.

“She’s here too?” Jonas asked.

“Yeah, but still the same as before,” Iris whispered, so Renata wouldn’t hear.

She looked more tired than ever. Her skin was pale, her hands stuffed into the sleeves of the long red shirt she wore. Her hair was the same, as were the loose pants and worn-out sneakers. She hadn’t adapted to the community’s clothing, and no one had tried to force her—probably because no one wanted to deal with her.

Her mother, after finding out her husband had a mistress—non-apocalyptic, to make matters worse—decided to separate, and ended up not only beaten up by him, but also abandoned, as the man used it as an excuse to finally leave. She went to file a report at the police station, with a black eye, only for the officer to say she was “making things up.” She decided to go to the religious camp, bringing Renata with her, who didn’t have much choice. It was either that or try to live with her father on the other side of the country, a man who had never seemed to care about his daughter.

“Hi,” said Jonas, waving to Renata, who just looked at him with little interest.

“You okay, Renata?” Iris asked, trying to be friendly.

“Do I look okay?” Renata replied with an ironic smile.

“Anyone else from school here? That blond guy who talked to you, Lucien…” Before Jonas could finish, Renata glared at him.

“Don’t talk about that guy. I thought he was different. He didn’t treat me like trash. But in the end, he fooled me,” said Renata.

Jonas and Iris exchanged a glance, thinking it best not to bring up the topic again, but Renata kept talking.

“And that damn Zek, they keep playing his shitty music video here all the time. What a joke.”

“Don’t talk bad about Zek. Jonas is a fan,” Iris teased.

“I liked his old videos, they were funny. Now he’s just doing crap,” Jonas defended himself.

“Yeah, real funny. He yells at his mom on every livestream and people still worship him. He says the moon is made of cheese and there are idiots who agree and give him money. Meanwhile, my mom cries every night and prays for us to be saved, and honestly, I don’t even know if she’s praying for me,” Renata continued.

“I… I’m sorry,” Iris said.

“I don’t want pity.”

“It’s not pity… it’s empathy.”

Renata just stayed quiet, not moving away from the two. A few meters behind them, a man, that looked like a priest, dressed all in white walked past, glanced at them without saying anything, and kept going.

“Hey, wanna go out with us later? Just for a walk around,” Jonas asked.

“A walk? Where to?” Renata replied.

“I don’t know. Does it matter?”

“Guess not. There’s not much here anyway…”

They stayed quiet, then Cannelle got up and sniffed Renata, who gave the dog a pet on the head, cracking a small smile.

“She likes you. Do you have any pets, Renata?” Iris asked.

“Yeah… a cat. Though he’s not too fond of this new house. Does Jonas have any?”

“No. My sister’s allergic,” the boy replied.

“Do you have siblings, Renata?” Iris asked.

“No. I’m an only child…”

But the teens' conversation was interrupted by an announcement over the community’s loudspeakers.

“Attention: Morning sermon in thirty minutes. Prepare your hearts and minds.”

Jonas made a face, and Iris rolled her eyes.

“I’d rather die than sit through those boring sermons…” Renata grumbled.

The three of them laughed softly at it all. They might have been trapped and disillusioned, but they didn’t seem to be alone.

201 days left.