Jack rushed down the stairs with a paper grocery bag in his arms. He nearly made it down into the dingy, rank basement when there was another loud crash. The ground shook above his head and dirt and rocks pelted him. Then he spotted Dakota. She was wrapped up in the raggedy blanket he had found and hiding in the dark corner where he had left her. She was coated in dirt, her sweet face stained with tears. Her big eyes were red and she was moaning for Jack. He rushed over and gave her a big hug and a can of beans. As he wearily dropped the brown bag to the ground, spilling all its contents, he said, “It was all I could find in the cabinet. No one’s lived here for a long time.” “J-Jack, are w-we, are we gonna l-live?” she stuttered out. “For sure, Dakota. Dad’s gonna come back with the others & rescue us! You’ll see!” Jack didn’t really believe a word he said. He was 14 and too old for optimism. Besides, he had already seen his father’s corpse lying face down in the street. Jack knew they had gotten him.