Over the next few weeks Yakov was the most and least popular person in Kilda. The adults scoffed at him while the kids reveled in the possibilities his speech had planted. Yakov — as constantly reminded by Hans — tried to forget his adventure and focus on the tasks at hand; finding food for the impending winter was top priority for all non-essential townsfolk. Town guards worked double shifts, alternating between minding search parties and ensuring raiders kept their distance. Tensions were high.

     The fat man had called another meeting shortly before Yakov’s return. Yakov gathered that amidst all the blubbering, sweating and weaseling the fat man managed to convince the town to go on the offensive, to perform raids against other suburbs. After all, argued the fat man, they needed to survive and taking supplies by force was the easiest way — at least until casualties mounted. While Hans avoided duty on account of his back, Ivan was not so lucky. Yakov could’t stand the thought of his brother under fire, or worse.

     Pushing these thoughts from his mind, Yakov suddenly realised where his feet had taken him: back to the deserted suburb. The house with the red wallpaper seemed empty now and it was his fault; if only he had returned sooner instead of wasting time fawning over Jane. He sat with his back against the wall, head in his crossed arms, and shut his eyes. It was pointless to think about that wonderful place, yet Yakov let his mind wander back at every opportunity. Since he had never learned the name, Yakov christened it Eden.

     Yakov looked up, tears welling in his eyes. It would be difficult but he knew what he must do.

* * *

     Under cover of darkness, Yakov looked back towards his house. He commited the vision to memory; the row of two-storey terrace houses, most missing front doors or windows, had been integral to his childhood. There had been no goodbyes, though he had written notes to all — including Ivan, should he return; writing Pietra’s note had nearly broken his heart, he wished he could scoop her up in his arms and carry her but he had to face facts, she would just slow them down. He promised to return for her, one day.

     “Is everyone here?” Yakov asked the assembled crowd. Convincing others to follow him to Eden had been easy.
     “I think so,” whispered one, “Dudley chickened out but won’t dob.”
     “Let’s go before any of us do, too,” said another, unable to hide his apprehension. Yakov recognised him as the younger brother of one who hadn’t returned.
     “Agreed. Move out,” Yakov ordered; his voice unexpectedly sounded like a leader.

     As the view of Kilda’s rickety guard towers faded, Yakov sighed. A crashing sound ahead roused him from his daydream, the kids slipped behind the nearest cover. Yakov approached the source of the sound.
     “Hello?” he whispered. Someone dwarfed by a backpack stood from behind an overturned car.
     “Why should I miss out on all the fun?”. It was Pietra!