Outside the open apartment gate a small pack of children threw rocks at passing cars. The broken system had failed them again. No one needed a car to get around in the city. Public transportation had always been enough. But now it was time to get out of the city, and the only way to flee far enough and fast enough and in enough of an armed shell was by car. While rich businessmen and –women, CEOs, and government officials sped past in cars—a wonder they didn’t collide as they hopped the curb to get around one another or around another desperate soul who flung himself into the street in an attempt to hitchhike his way out—these children were left behind. Their parents were left behind. Boarded inside the house, Rosie’s father sobbed into his hands and rocked backward and forward on the edge of one of the rickety kitchen chairs. Joy’s mother shouted into the phone with a woman at the cab company, demanding one of the taxis that had already been hired out or fled without a passenger in the seat.
Joy, Rosie, and Eli just wanted to be seen. They just wanted to be noticed. They wanted the businesspeople, the rich people to see whom they left behind while they evacuated.
They knew that had no hope of hitchhiking, no chance of hijacking, so all that was left was to become a haunting memory.