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at the designation. “What was the first thing you remember?”
    “Throwing up near what looked like the city’s power center. Northwest of here. That monster came tromping around and chased me to this area. I’ve been here a few hours,” Twenty recalled, gesturing dramatically at their old surroundings. “I wanted to draw something,” he picked up a blank canvas leaning against the couch he rested on, “But there aren’t any supplies.”
    “Tragic,” Seven remarked.
    Twenty reverently set the canvas down before he spoke. “Something happened to this city that either killed everyone inside of it or drove the citizenry away,” he said, objecting to Seven’s condescending tone. Twenty paced around the granite table, passing behind Eight and Seven. “By the looks of it, whatever happened took place a long time ago. Which I find strange because none of us recall our lives before dawn today.”
    Eight found herself at odds with Twenty. Unlike Seven, Twenty projected an awkward and aloof attitude, as if he was acting out a persona. The more Twenty spoke, the less Eight listened. A disappointment, given that Twenty was one of the city’s three survivors. She wondered if that fact bothered him and decided that his behavior came from insecurity, not malice.
    “Maybe it was that monster,” Eight suggested. She pushed her hair behind her head and sighed, unwilling to let the creature become an obstacle. How could they get the information they needed when nobody lived to share it with them? Where could they begin in a city this size?
    The idea came to her in a flash; energized, Eight’s eyes lit up.
    “What is it?” Seven growled, seeing the expression she wore.
    “I know how to find out what happened!”
    “How?” Twenty demanded, suddenly ablaze with curiosity.
    “Every city has some type of record center: a library, a city hall, a repository of information. I think if we explore outside a bit, we should be able to find a directory or a map to give us a heading.”
    Seven smiled. “And once we get to a hall of records, we find out what happened,” he said, appreciating the plan. His positivity brought a hint of pride to Eight’s posture.
    “You want to go back outside where the bloodthirsty monster is roaming about?” Twenty scoffed with exaggerated volume, piecing the plan together. His expression, angry and nauseated, reflected the bad taste his words left in his mouth. “That’s insane,” he concluded. “Why go anywhere when it’s clear that the monster ate everybody?”
    Eight didn’t understand the nature of the argument. To her, they either stayed in the opera house and died of starvation or took their chances outside. “I’ll go with you,” Seven volunteered.
    Exhaling a tiny breath, Eight realized that she feared Seven being swayed by Twenty more than going outside. “If the monster killed everyone, it seems to have miraculously botched killing the three of us. Besides, whatever occurred here took place a really long time ago,” Seven said to Twenty, and Eight realized that her friend was turning the tables on the malcontent.
    Seven was trying to convince Twenty to come with them. “How is it that we woke up so long afterwards? What happened to our memories? These are questions we have in common,” Seven pointed out, trading his condescension for diplomacy.
    For the loyalty Seven showed Eight, she decided to mend his injuries more often. She tried to hide the admiration she stared at him with and turned her gaze to Twenty. “Are you staying or will you come with us?” Eight asked testily.
    Twenty was undecided.
    “When in doubt, bet on the scientist,” Seven advised Twenty.
    Looking like he might be sick again, Twenty shrugged.
    “Whatever. Can’t remember enough of my life to value it anyways,” and he moved to close the space between them. “I wonder if those dead roses belonged to fools like us. People who didn’t realize that monsters are typically responsible for empty