Bexley walked between the buildings, scanning doorways for anyone who might recognize her family name. She kept her journal tucked under one arm. Three days outside the bunker and she still didn't know where to start looking. The town was bigger than her maps had shown. Her mother and brother had left her behind, but she had decided that didn't matter if they had a good reason. A small fort stood at the edge of the path, built from wood planks with metal sheets nailed to the sides. A white flag hung from the top. A child sat inside the entrance, pushing stones around in the dirt. Bexley slowed. The child looked up. "You looking for something?" the child asked. Bexley hesitated, then nodded. "My family," she said. The child tilted their head. "What's their name?" Bexley opened her mouth, but the child spoke first. "Was it Garrett? A man came through asking about bunkers. Said he was looking for his sister." Bexley's chest went tight. That was her brother's name. The child kept talking. "He said he left to find work but he's been searching for an old bunker around here." Bexley pulled out her notepad, the one with rabbits printed around the edges. Her hands shook as she clicked the pen. She wrote Garrett's name at the top of a fresh page. Below it she wrote: looking for me. The child watched her write. "He went north two days ago," they said. Bexley looked up from the page. North was a direction she could follow. She had a name now, and a trail, and her brother was searching too.

Bexley started north the next morning, following the trail the child had given her. She kept her journal open as she walked, noting landmarks that appeared on none of her bunker maps. The town stretched farther than she had expected. More buildings. More people. More places her brother might have gone. By afternoon, she reached a brick building with a painted sign that read Downtown Soup Kitchen. The smell of cooked vegetables drifted through the open door. People in worn coats clustered near the entrance, talking in low voices. One of them glanced at her, then looked back at the group. Bexley heard a name she didn't recognize: Minerva Doodle. The woman in the red cloak was saying someone had been asking questions about a girl from a bunker. Bexley stopped walking. She approached the group slowly. "What did they ask?" she said. The woman in red turned to her. "Minerva left notes with everyone who comes through. She wants to find someone who just came out of a bunker. Is that you?" Bexley nodded once. The woman reached into her coat and pulled out a folded piece of paper. The handwriting was careful and looped. It read: Bexley, you are welcome to visit my farm. Below it was a signature with a small heart: Minerva. Bexley took the note and read it twice. Someone knew her name. Someone who wasn't her brother. She opened her journal and wrote: Minerva Doodle — knows I exist. Below that she wrote a question she couldn't answer yet: How? She had two leads now instead of one. Her brother was looking for her, but someone else had found her first. That changed what she needed to do next.