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onto Ms. Bergman ’ s round face and she giggled like a girl. “I keep telling Rose that, but she is always so cantankerous.”
    “I can hear you!” Ms. Garcia called out.
    “Don ’ t worry. We ’ re doing our best,” Maria declared, letting go of the woman ’ s hand.
    Clapping her hands, Ms. Bergman rushed back into her apartment. “I told you, Rose! We ’ re winning!”
    Turning, Maria hurried down the hall, half-smiling as the two wives continued their argument. The door to the outside was propped open with a broken cement block in a futile attempt to circulate air through the hallway. She stepped out onto the metal staircase that led down to the street and held tightly to the handrail as she descended the creaking stairs.
    All the buildings in The Bastion had their primary entrances on the second floor. There were no windows or doors on the ground level of any of the buildings as a security precaution. The stairwells were collapsible, which was becoming a hazard as they grew rickety with age and the mechanisms sometimes gave away.
    Striding into the street, she immediately noted the lack of open stalls along her pathway. Usually people were hawking their wares and services as soon as the sun rose, but with the impending storm rolling over the high mountain summits the businesses would remain closed until it passed. No one could afford a loss of inventory.
    Most of the citizens of The Bastion were unemployed. Every citizen was provided with a home, rations, and basic living necessities from the city ’ s wares. Those who were able to find employment fared a little better, able to purchase services and wares with Bastion credits. But there were no opulent homes to save up for, no cars to buy, no luxury goods. Therefore, most of the citizens created their own work like the Roses had done with their laundry services. For the citizens who ran the stalls barter was a way of life. Maria was one of the few able to pay with credits.
    A drone rolled past her on its narrow treads, its screens flashing scenes of the military firing on the Inferi Scourge . Old footage, Maria noted. Soldiers patrolling the walls were not allowed to fire any of the precious ammunition stores unless absolutely necessary, and patrols outside of the walls didn ’ t exist. She sidestepped the drone and plunged down a busier side street. It was packed with government officials rushing to the monorail system to catch the train. Usually the final train scheduled to run in the morning was the least packed, but people always ran late during bad weather.
    The first drops of rain fell as she reached the stairs to the station. Clutching the slick handrail, she pounded up the metal steps. Her long braid felt heavy against her back as she pulled the hood of her gray uniform over her head. As she stepped onto the platform, a h and gripped her arm. S he almost jerked away, then realized it was Dwayne.
    “I thought you left o n the earlier train,” she said .
    Under the brim of his hat, his blue eyes were vivid and full of concern. “All my meetings were canceled for the day.”
    “Why?” Maria arched an eyebrow.
    “I ’ m not certain,” he said in a low voice, pulling her away from the rest of the commuters. “I think something is up.”
    Maria was startled to feel hope swell within her. “Do you think it ’ s true then? That we ’ re close to defeating them?”
    Dwayne exhaled slowly, then leaned toward her. “I think it may be that w e ’ re not close to defeating them.”
    Sighing as the spark of hope died within her, Maria nodded her head. “And the president made so many promises last night...”
    “The brass may be scrambling to make his promises a reality. I ’ m not sure. I don ’ t rank high enough to be in the know.” Rain beaded on the visor of his cap, then trickled off. “Why are you going to be late tonight?”
    “I have a meeting after patrol.” She wanted to tell him it was with the SWD, but she didn ’ t dare with so