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You can hear everyone crying across the fields.
Shrieks of gunfire collapse the airspace, the shrill noise of a family whose unrelenting, not ready to face the night which called for them over a decade ago.
Built on her shoulders; an ally, a foe, a grandmother who wanted to see another sunrise. Carrying a rifle on her shoulder the morning she found them, a pair of young orphans wandering just South of the decrepit city. Not worth it to leave them behind, let them fend for themselves.
They didn't have names. Jesse, what used to mean gift, existence. Lee, clearing. A gift of existence, a clearing in the murky fogs of that morning to make way for a family.
Brought in to an early morning sun where the farm lay quiet, the first few months after the last broadcast over radio. 'Welcome to the Brave New World.' Making sure they kept up in studies what they already lacked; tending to the fields and finding stray animals (of which Jesse BEGGED to keep, Lee turning to her and pleading as well.)
Her daughter brought home on whim, reunited with a child of her own who longed to meet her. Dani coming across her path in the abandoned mall, a small young girl with a bright future ahead of her- just needing a little extra blood to get her there.
The surprise of Bitty on a late evening sunset, where Jesse finally revealed the nature of why Dogmeat had been crying in the barn for so long. The small terrestrial welcomed in regardless of origin. That day, Semi-Colon being born out of the idea that hope and family created a need for continuation. Continuation; what the semi-colon sets out to do in every sentence. ...Though, later stylized as semi Colon, where Jesse left his mark and a man screaming of hares and god took his place.
The decade to pass felt too gradual, kind to her weary self. Jane figured there would only be so many sunrises left for her to see, before the sunset on the final day she could manage. Too many, it felt now.
Gunshots heard over breakfast- Jane gathering her eldest and Diego to go check the noise. Mara, Dani, Tori and Don inside while they charge out, the bang of a group no further than the gate bringing fire to the fields. Rifles gathered, Jane halfway to her barn before there's a sharp dig in her abdomen, striking her down across the ground.
Lee throwing herself over, rifle forgotten to use her shoulder to knock the attacker off their pattern before a cross shot through the chest forces them equal to Jane.
Turning herself over even though there's a shrill of pain firing up her spine, prone as the rifle raises from her hands to fire at the last of the intruders. The pattern of an old friend peeks through the grass, unnatural three-prong cuts through the burning brush that threatens the home.
A few blinks later and somehow the fire is out, burning wheat laid out on the ground to smolder. No doubt the smell carries, and Jane turns onto her back with a final heave. the peek of 4 heads above her, heavily swallowed as she lays back.
"...jus' tell the kids Grandma's takin' a nap. Needed t'say hi t'Grandpa Dal."
And with no effort left for breath, their faces gradually turn. A group of teenage boys and a little girl around her, laughing again like the last 70 years hadn't happened. Like she never left that little valley of Tulska.
Arms under her torso and the heavy hands of a friend not ready to let go just yet like life will give her back, whispering an apology against her head as her hand rests over his and the scars hiding under his knuckles. Son and daughter turning their heads away, the fugitive in the former time unsure of where to look but her.
The catch of wind over the farm, the morning sun greeting them in the unfriendliest of times. The orange calls; they aren't done yet.