carrying photo albums or books (okay, just two books—the apocalypse would be a lot more pleasant with Robin McKinley along) or any of the other random junk people took with them when they didn’t need it.
Red liked Godzilla movies and in the old movies there was inevitably a scene in which Godzilla would be destroying some prefecture and a person would be fleeing with literally every single thing they owned on a little cart. There would be furniture and dishes and all this other random crap, and of course a baby perched in a basket at the top of the pile like an afterthought, like, “Oh, we’ve got Mother’s tea set packed, maybe we should bring the baby, too. We have space.”
Red knew that if she was fleeing from a giant monster with nuclear breath she would not be poking along pulling a cart of furniture. She would be running like hell to the shelter farthest from the rampaging creature, which was what sensible people did when being chased by monsters.
She also would not be fleeing directly in Godzilla’s path, which was another thing that always made her nuts when watching those movies. Didn’t anyone ever move at a perpendicular angle away from the monster’s feet? She just wanted to see one person dart to the side and wait for the creature to pass.
Red tested her go-pack until she was certain she could carry it for a long time without its weight dragging her down. When you have a prosthesis even the slightest change in weight can affect the way it fits. She knew the stump would swell a little, especially at first, and she wanted to get used to both walking and carrying. This wasn’t going to be a weekend backpacking trip. She was positive this was going to be a leave-home-possibly-forever trip, even if nobody else in her family agreed with her.
Adam wondered where she was going off to on all her long walks through the woods that bordered their house, but she was going to be more prepared than prepared. She would be fit and ready to leave. Everybody knew that the highways were always jammed up when there’s trouble and anyone who tried to drive was just going to have to abandon their car and walk anyway. She wouldn’t be the one complaining that her legs hurt and her feet were sore, and she only had one foot and one and a half legs to complain about.
And besides, she didn’t want to be a burden. She didn’t want to slow her family down or keep them from being safe.
She decided to take one of the chef’s knives from the kitchen and wrap it in newspaper, but her father caught her stuffing it inside her pack and made her put it back.
“We might well need it for that purpose in the future,” he conceded when she explained why she wanted it. He didn’t even roll his eyes when she said that it was for protection from thieves and murderers when they had to leave the house. She loved him a lot for that. Her dad never made her feel like a fool, even when she acted like one. “But in the meantime we are staying in the house and I need it to slice onions.”
Still, Red wanted to be prepared to leave at a moment’s notice, and a moment’s notice meant she needed something sharp in her pack. She spent a few hours sorting through all the stuff that accumulated in the shed—it seemed sometimes like the stuff was having babies or something, where did it all even come from?—and came across a small hand axe with a snap cover for the blade. And that was even more perfect because an axe was good for more than just protecting herself from those who would try to hurt her. She could chop wood for a fire or use the blunt end as a hammer if she needed.
Once everything was arranged just the way she wanted it, she put the pack on her back and refused to so much as step into the bathroom without it. Wherever she went it was with her. When she sat down in the dining room to eat she slung it to the floor beside her chair (ignoring Adam’s rolled eyes and her parents’