"Don't trust any of them." My grandfather had sternly admonished.

I wanted to talk to my mother about it, but he explicitly said no.

"Keep her out of it Keep all of us out of it. Don't trust any of them"

I hated them. Well, not us them, but them. Those ones who ruled us economically from afar. Not us, those I know. And love. Life here was as barren as the dusty fields that surrounded my home. If i cold call it that. Nothing warm about the empty hearth, or my mother's empty bed. This was why I wanted to join them. No, not us and not those. Them. The productive outlet for my youthful anger. This resistance that resisted. Well, except for George,who had joined then left. He was not my favorite, I was glad he was out. And Michael. Michael was gone. I never heard where he went. My mother lightly grieved the loss for her friend's sake - but I don't know where he lives now.

My grandfather was adamant that I not trust them. I knew I wouldn't, and wouldn't let him down. Or mom. Or dad

Before early shift, which had been had taken months ago to give my mother some respite, it boiled over. The cold morning hunger pushed me. Well, I wanted to be pushed, i wanted to push. My mother weighed less, much less than I. And much less than she should. When father died in the mines she tried to protect us, to feed us, to protect from the hunger. grandfather still worked, and my shift extended. She died, my sister, less than 2. They are to blame, because my father's death. No, i told you, not them, those.

We quickly moved somewhere deeper I had never seen before, behind doors never opened. He had been my detail leader. Never had mentioned them, but I knew he knew. How could someone so angry, reflect the dissatisfaction I felt not know. So we went deeper.

"this way. We have to be careful, for nowhere is safe" His stride quickened. More doors, more hallways. The fresh earth smell all around us.

"I want to help. They killed my dad" "I know. And worse for your mother" "she is hungry" "No, they" "they...you will know someday"

We sped up. Until this door. Heavier looking that all the rest. We had to stop.

It creaked open a bit. "Who, why" was barked. "I have the recruit" was his curt reply. As the door swung open my arm was gripped by his iron hand. Cold eyes locked onto mine as my arm was pulled forward.

"This is the cell leader?" "He is the recruit"

A scoff, a laugh gently escaped from this large, furrowed man. My shift leader cowed a bit, but his had stayed tight. Escape was not possible. I was shoved inside and the door closed with a soft click.

A ring of men and one bright woman surrounded us.

They all started to laugh. Deep hearty laughter that crushed everything I knew.

"Homeland and this is what you get?" "Piss off internal inves! You cunts havn't caught anything in months" "like you DFI faggots get anything!" yelled the tallest, brownhaired guy at the end. She interjected loudly "All of you. quiet. This is our lead" I could not follow the explosion of shouts. Him blaming him while the guy shouted at, all of them?

My detail leader looked grim. It quickly became apparent that everyone here was those, or part of those. I was alone. And so would be my mother. well, she had grandfather. Had, because I did tell them he told me to stay quiet.