Short Story: Children's Activity B

The smell was getting bad. There were almost twenty people in that small room and most of them hadn't changed clothes for weeks. A medium-sized man of twenty-five sat in the doorway with his back to the jamb. He could have passed for a Greek.

Photo: flickr.com

"Pike." His best friend squeezed his arm. "Don't let the floor bugs bite."

Gavin Pike shook his head. It was a weak joke, but his lips curled up anyway. Phil Petrarch would probably outlive them all. When it got too cold, when the food ran out, he'd live on his sense of humor.

The man in the doorway glanced around. Eighteen people were stretched out on the bare floor of the ten-by-fifteen room with no heat. Most had no blankets or coats. "Children's Activity B" the room was called, according to the sign beside the door.

"Are we all here?" asked an old man who was new there.

"One more," Pike whispered.

"Who is it?"

"Name is Shelly." He put his finger to his lips. There was no need to alarm the others.

Photo: sabp.nhs.uk

"How long do we wait?"

Gavin Pike shrugged.

"What if she doesn't come?"

Pike held up his index finger and cocked his head to listen.

"Tell me that's not a guard coming," said the new man.

Pike said nothing.