Free The Sky Grew Dark (The End of the Golden Age) by E.L. Montclair Page B

My brother Joey decided to dig two different tunnels in the wall. He made them U-shaped, and big enough that he could fit his body all the way through, if barely.
    For now we would keep all the hens together and the rooster in the dog carrier. After a bit we would let him fertilize some eggs if we needed to. The same would go for the rabbits. The male would stay separate of the female unless we needed them to breed. We used the leaves and mosses the boys had collected to line the rabbits’ and hens’ nests.
    Our other supplies consisted of matches, a few tools, seeds, two hand guns, fishing poles, sleeping bags, lots of canned food, water, a bag of chicken feed, a bag of rabbit pellets, one set of dishes/utensils per person, and one change of clothes per person.
     
    We noticed almost immediately that the propane was running out faster than we had planned. We cut down the time we used artificial light, relying on the dim light that came through the cave door for any activity, and going to bed as soon as night fell. We also decided to eat cold food one day a week.
    Then there was the fact that I was carrying a baby. We had tried to pretend we were all ok with it, but everybody was a little nervous. I had a few minor complications with each of my other pregnancies, but nothing big. The delivery was always fine, and I was pretty sure I could do it without an epidural. One of my cousins had all three of her kids at home, and I felt we could handle it. I had brought a book about home birth, and I proceeded to study it as often as I could, preparing Ian for what part of this was his responsibility.
    When the Strike happened I was 23 weeks. We had just found out we were having another boy, so we focused on names. My brother thought we should name him something significant, due to the fact that life as we know it would probably never be the same again. Something that sounded straight out of a Tolkien book, like Aragon. That would be a no.
    My husband, on the other hand, wanted to name him Axel. Seriously? I didn’t care that we were in the middle of nowhere, and we could actually change his name if we wanted to later, Axel wasn’t going to happen. I made a few suggestions, but then the oversized boys got stuck on another name: Maximus. We left the name thing alone and focused on other things.
    It had been determined that we should leave our cellphones and chargers in the cars, in case they could be traced. Not that they would do us any good if we had them with us. It was unbelievably odd to be without any kind of electronics. No games, weather, news, movies; nothing.
    Everything seemed to be going well. The chickens were laying eggs. The rabbit was pregnant with her first litter, and should deliver within two or three weeks. Even though I longed for a hot bath, things really weren’t that bad. We ate, we drank, and most importantly, we lived.
     
    The day before the one month mark I started having contractions. This was not good, putting me at only 27 weeks. I went on unofficial bed rest. Basically, I didn’t do anything, but tried to drink plenty of water. With our water being rationed out, that was a little bit of a problem.
    I quickly found something to do. I had the boys bring me leaves and branches from the cave, and I bundled them tightly together for use as fire-starters later on. I also had a little secret. I had stashed my violin in my blanket roll, and hid it as soon as we got into the cave. I wanted to have something to bring some comfort and pleasure if we were out here for a while. There was so much unknown before us. We could be out here for weeks or even months, and I wanted to have something to enjoy.
    We all slept near the mouth of the cave. My dad and Ian closest, the women and children in the middle, and Joey and Grandpa on the opposite end, toward the belly of the cave. The first few nights I had difficulty sleeping. All I could think about was spiders. It was pitch black, and there was no option of light