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Penelope never knew the outside world. Penelope grew up alone. Her parents were with her for a few years but left. She was very young when they left. About five years old. And that was it. Her parents left her in their apartment in the Boston QZ.

The days went by. Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months of waiting for her parents to come back. And months turned into years.

It didn't take long for Penelope to lose hope for her parents to come back. Some nights, she'd wait by the front door, in the living room, staring at the apartment door. Willing it to open and her parents come through the door with happy smiles on their faces. With all kinds of goodies that Penelope came up with, and great news.

One thing her parents left her with was her medical condition. Penelope was given a nasal cannula for her lungs. The Boston QZ had terrible air, filled with smoke from the burning dead bodies. The smoke from the fires had injured Penelop's lungs as a child, leaving her with some sort of respiratory failure. Before her parents had left her, they had tried everything to cure her breathing. Since then Penelope has been using a nasal cannula with an oxygen tank 24/7.

Her parents would smuggle in all kinds of medicines for her, going to FEDRA hospitals that normal people in the QZ were not able to go into. Penelope had grown up in hospitals, connected to all kinds of wires. She doesn't remember it much.

She never knew why her parents left her. That's what stuck with Penelope. She had always hoped that there was a reason for them leaving. Not just because they were tired of her, but because they were going on some type of adventure for Penelope, their daughter. Penelope thought they loved her, as her parents would, but that hope simmered and withered down in her mind with each day that passed.

Penelope horrifically realized one day, when she was helping the seniors for ration cards, one of the old ladies had asked her where her parents were. Penelope didn't know how to respond. How could she? With a shrug? Or just ignore her?

Instead, she replied with; "Oh, they left. Years ago."

The old woman looked at Penelope with pity. She asked Penelope, "Have they passed?"

"No, no, they aren't dead, they just left me." Yeah, that sounds nice and blunt. Something a nice elderly lady would want to hear, right? Wrong.

She told the old lady, and she looked horrified.

"What do you mean they left, sweetie?" She asked the child in front of her, the same child that had been caring for her for the past few months.

"They left, that's it," Penelope said simply with a shrug.

Her only memories of them were her mother and father leaving their small one-bedroom apartment in the Boston QZ. Leaving her.

She was alone, with no one to care for her, and no way for Penelope to provide for herself.

From that day forward, Penelope has stayed holed up in the apartment ever since. Only leaving to get her rations and ration cards. She worked here and there, mostly helping out with the seniors in the Boston QZ. Like the old woman that asked her where her parents were. Not the best memory of hers…

Penelope would rarely leave the house, only to help out with the seniors to be given ration cards, then to purchase rations for herself. Then heading home, for another three weeks of solitude.

It's not that Penelope didn't want to be around people, she just found staying home and studying on the scraps of paper she found to be more interesting than sticking her nose in FEDRA business–or even the so-called 'Fireflies'.

For about three years this went on.

Penelope stayed home for weeks, only to leave her house when the rations were low, to work for about two days straight. Then return home with stocked-up food and rations.

Nine years without her parents. Nine years of her being alone.

* * *

Somewhere in Penelope's room, she heard static. The curious child walked from the living room where she was studying an old book that was left in the apartment from 'the old world'. She looked around in confusion. The static continued and got louder. She heard a distorted voice coming from the room and set down the waterlogged book.

Penelope stood up, and made her way to the bedroom, walking as quietly as possible. Who knows, someone might have snuck into her bedroom from the fire escape.

There was a wooden bat that Penelope kept in her living room, right beside the bedroom's door. She swiftly grabbed it and stood at her bedroom door. She breathed in and closed her eyes, readying herself for whatever may be in her bedroom. Before she put her hand on the doorknob, she listened into the room, pressing her ear to the door.

She heard, "...Penelope… Penny…" coming from the room. She breathed in quicker, gripping the band tighter.

Penelope barged into the bedroom with her bat over her head, and she let out a shriek. Only to find the bedroom empty.

Nothing in the bedroom. Her bed is the same, covered in fraying bedsheets and two pillows, leaning against the wall just below the windows. The closet door closed. Shut tight. Penelope's dresser is covered with books she's been reading, and some supplies like duct tape and some scissors. The static kept getting louder the more she walked into the room.

Penelope let her arms fall. The bat knocked the dresser, knocking off some of the books. They fell with a thud and scattered in front of her. She crouched down to pick them up–hurriedly–and wandered over to the closet.

She yanked a few times on the closet door, it opened with a creak, and some dust fell from the ceiling. Penelope's parent's clothes still hang in the closet, messily hung up. Her clothes are all in the dresser, so there would be no need for her to use the closet–hence why the closet has been shut all these years. Penelope reached to the bottom of the floor, running her hands over the mounds of clothing. Her fingers caught on a metal hanger, and she yanked it from the pile. She threw all of the clothes behind her haphazardly, rushing to find the source of the static.

The clothes landed all over the room, on the bed, and over the dresser. Penelope pulled the shoes at the bottom of the closet and tossed them like clothes. Once the shoes and clothes were out of the closet, the hardwood floor came into view. Penelope hunched over the hardwood floor, finding nothing, the static continuing. Even louder.

She sighs and pushes up from the floor. She turned around and raked her fingers through her hair. The static quieted, "Penny… If you can hear me…" came from the closet again.

She whipped around and stared at the closet.

"Where is this coming from?" Penelope huffed in frustration. She walked out of the bedroom and wandered into the kitchen to find a chair. Once she found what she was looking for she grabbed the kitchen chair and dragged it into the bedroom in front of the closet. She kicked the pile of clothes and shoes away from the closet and climbed up the chair to look on the shelf in the closet.

Penelope knocked off books and random trinkets in the closet onto the floor. Her hand brushed the wall of the closet and felt an unnatural bump. She turned around in the closet to the door frame and saw a letter resting on the doorframe. She snatched it and set it in her pocket for later. Hidden above the letter was a latch in the ceiling.

She yanked on the latch as her name was repeated from the static. Her arms and legs were covered in goosebumps, still very much on edge from hearing her name so many times. The latch on the ceiling fell, hitting her head. She let out a yelp, the corner of the latch hitting her left eye. Penelope's hand flew up to her eye and rubbed it. Her eyes let out tears but she pushed forward.

She reached her hand into the hidden latch and brushed it against a shoe box. It was heavy, and wouldn't move. She stood up, reaching for the box. It sounded like the static was coming from there, so she tried to bring it down so Penelope could search it. Once she got one hand on the box, she started to pull it down, the weight making her arm strain. Once it came free, she grabbed it with both hands, trying to prevent it from falling straight on her face.

Penelope struggled to let it down from the weight. Once it was out of the hatch, she couldn't hold it any longer, and Penelope watched as it fell to the floor with a loud thud. The cover on the shoe box fell off in the process, revealing what was in the box.

She jumped off the chair, and fell to the ground, towards the shoe box. Penelope fixed the oxygen tank around her shoulder and made sure her nasal cannula was on her face securely–an odd habit of Penelope's when she's nervous.

What lay in the box surprised Penelope. There was a handheld transceiver, known to her as a two-way radio. She ignored what else was in the shoe box momentarily as she picked up the radio. Once she picked it up, it started to make more noise.

"Penelope. If you're hearing this, this is Mom. I know I'm sorry. It's been so long–"

Penelope's eyes watered. Her mother ? Penelope thought they were dead – killed by FEDRA or Infected. Penelope hurriedly clicked the button to say, " Mommy ?" Penelope's voice shook, and she let out a shaky breath.

The two-way radio squeaked. She heard a gasp from the radio. "Penelope! Listen to me, baby, you need to focus on me."

Penelope nodded, as if her mother could see her motions.

"You're Dad and I are safe, but not for long. You need to head to the Fireflies, I know. But they'll have medicine for you and supplies." Her mother spoke quickly, letting out a grunt at the end of her sentence. It sounded like she was fighting someone–or something–while talking to her daughter. Many voices were overlapping through the two-way radio as Penelope's mother spoke.

"The Fireflies?" Penelope asked, clicking the button to speak, cutting off what her mother was saying.

"Yes. I know baby, the Fireflies." Penelope's mother spoke quickly. "Look, I don't have much time to tell you. Please head to the Fireflies–tell them that Andrea and Scott sent you. They'll know what that means."

Penelope's mind was spinning. Go to the Fireflies ? The terrorists? No way. And her mother and father being alive? After nine years they decided to contact her. How nice.

"Why now?" Penelope hurriedly asks before she can even make up her mind. "Why contact me now? After what , nine years?" She waits with bated breath for her mother to answer her.

There was silence on the other line. Penelope waited for an answer but none came. She sighed. "Mom?" she asked and waited anxiously for a reply.

After a moment, there was static, and then screaming over the radio. Penelope gasped and held the radio tighter. " Mommy !"

There was hacking over the radio and gunshots. Penelope guessed they ran into Infected–or worse. Penelope started to hyperventilate, the radio getting louder, the gunshots getting quieter.

Penelope didn't know where her parents were, she had only just found out moments ago that they were alive, only to hear that there were gunshots and screams seconds later. Who knows? They might be dead already. Penelope would never know.

Penelope threw the two-way radio at the floor. It let out a high-pitched frequency before going quiet. She groaned and wiped the tears from her face she was not aware that had fallen. She sat there for a moment, catching her breath, readjusting her nasal cannula on her face. Her chest hurt from moving around so much and had already gotten tighter and harder to breathe in recent moments.

She looked over at the heavy box beside her and rummaged through it. There must be some answers hidden in the shoe box from her parents. As she looked in the box, she grew more and more disappointed as she found survival supplies.

There was a pistol with two boxes of ammo in it. There were a lot of first aid boxes in there–about two of them–and a pocket knife. She emptied the contents of the box and searched more into it. There was rope, a flashlight with batteries, a whistle, a dust mask, a folded-up tarp, and a map of Boston.

Penelope looked at these things in confusion and held the objects in her hands in front of her. She knew these objects were important, but if her parents left, why wouldn't they have taken these things? Unless they were an extra stash for her…

She looked back at the shoe box and saw under the blue tarp something poking out from underneath it. At the very bottom of the shoe box was a shattered picture frame of Penelope, and her parents.

Penelope looked like she was about two years old, with the same dirty long brownish-blonde hair. She was crying in her mother's arms, her face was hidden from the camera. Penelope did have her nasal cannula on, with her oxygen tank poking up at the bottom of the picture.

Penelope looked at her parents in the picture and brushed off the dust and glass on the picture frame. They were smiling at their daughter, and laughing. Her father–Scott–was a doctor before "doomsday". Her father looked just as she remembered him. With his peppery hair color and clean-shaven face, and wrinkly eyes.

Her mother–Andrea–had been a kindergarten teacher. Andrea had blonde curly hair and smile lines around her mouth. Penelope remembers her mom telling her many stories about her students, telling her about her life before the apocalypse. Penelope doesn't remember much about them, since she stayed home most of the time while her parents were off in the QZ. Doing work or who knows– maybe working with the Fireflies. But, Penelope may never know.

Penelope breathed heavily, looking up at the ceiling. What was she supposed to do now? She can't leave the house–well, she can… but does she want to? No…not really. Penelope avoids leaving the house at all costs, only leaving for rations or ration cards.

Penelope gatherers all of the supplies in her arms from the shoe box, and storms out of the bedroom, leaving the bedroom a mess. She huffs, and as she walks she drags her oxygen tank over the hardwood flooring. Penelope has a backpack that she uses to store her oxygen tank, storing all of the supplies in that backpack. It's an old green canvas backpack with many pockets, but it'll have to do. She stores the pistol in her coat pocket, with the ammo in the backpack.

Penelope has never needed to use a gun, but she guesses if she's going to find the Fireflies, then it'll be smarter to start using it. Whether or not she shoots her arm off, she needs to protect herself.

After zipping the supplies into her backpack, she walks back into the bedroom, opening up the dresser. She grabs all of the necessities, socks, underwear, sports bras, t-shirts, and pants. Her coat is in the kitchen, so she decides to grab it on the way out. She fiddles with her nasal cannula as she thinks about what else she's missing.

Penelope heads back into the kitchen, grabbing an old and withered reusable bag to store all of the rations in. She grabs most of her canned food, and anything else that she would need. After gathering all of her clothes and food that she would need, she puts on her broken-apart black Converse and ties them up. Penelope grabs her oversized coat that she stole from her father and her backpack.

With all of her supplies, she groans and heads out the door.

* * *

Penelope walks along the sidewalk outside her parents' apartment. Her plum-colored sweatshirt covered her head beneath her father's oversized coat. She looks around her surroundings, many people sitting in chairs on the sidewalk. A man with an amputated arm holds a beer and laughs with his friend. She wanders around, wondering where to go.

' I could go to an alleyway and see if there is anyone that has any kind of information about the Fireflies… but is that safe? Oh, who cares–Mom and Dad might as well be dead. I should just go back home. I'm no help to them at all. ' Penelope sighs, and shifts her backpack on her back, trying to make herself more comfortable. Making sure her oxygen tank is plugged in correctly.

Penelope walks through the sidewalk walking by a FEDRA agent. She quickens her pace, hopefully going unnoticed.

Once Penelope is sure the officer hasn't noticed her, she rounds the corner quickly, Penelope notices two men painting over a spray-painted yellow Firefly logo on a store's front. She watches the men painting over it for a moment before continuing, running into someone. Without looking up, she quickly says "Sorry!" and runs around them.

Penelope sighs to herself and walks further. She looks to her left and sees a bunch of FEDRA officers around a pit of fire. She walks a little closer to the officers, hiding behind a brick building just out of sight. She sees workers taking bodies out of cars, and throwing them into the fire. Penelope gasps, when a man throws a child's body into the roaring fire. She backs away from the scene in front of her, gasping for air.

Being around a fire does not help her breathing, as her chest starts to grow tighter. Penelope tries to suppress her coughs. She doubles down onto her knees, her head getting dizzy from the smoke. She coughs and coughs, her backpack weighing her down. After a moment, she lets out a shaky breath and stumbles away from the area.

After being away from the smoke and fire, she arrives at a crowd of people, catching her breath. Her eyes aren't as cloudy as they were before, so she can make out what is happening in front of her. A group of four is standing on a landing above everyone in the crowd. A woman stands to the left, and two men beside her.

The FEDRA officer says, "Unauthorized exit of Quarantine…" Penelope blocks out what the woman says, and instead focuses on the people.

She pushes through the crowd, noticing a woman in a red sweater crying, and the man holding her securely. She passes by the two and walks through the alleyway right behind them. Passing another FEDRA officer leaning nonchalantly on a wooden pole. The officer looks behind Penelope as she walks to the alleyway, she can't help but look where the officer was looking. It's the same man that she saw toss the lifeless child into the pit of fire moments ago. Penelope speeds up into the alleyway, afraid she would be next.

Penelope wanders past groups of people conversing, catching some of their conversations. Mostly complaining about rations not coming in. She looked at the ground below her feet and watched as her shoes and an imprint in the grass-covered gravel. She makes her way to a store she regularly goes to gather her rations. She guesses that someone there must have some information about where the Fireflies must be. Someone has to know something about them.

She opens the wooden screen door and makes her way through the corroded room. It was an old apartment converted into a FEDRA supply store where people trade their ration cards for ration. Yeah, sounds like a grocery store, but here it's more brutal. People fight over how much rations they get, or who gets what. There have been many fights here, Penelope tries her best to ignore the commotion but is usually successful. She doesn't get into any of the fights–obviously–but it is very difficult to escape the small halfway room without being involved.

Penelope walks up the stairs quietly to the second floor of the building she hopefully will find some Firefly hiding in the shadows doing some shady business. She looks to her left to find an apartment door slightly ajar with vines and plants growing on the floorboards. A strong breeze came through the door, which caught Penelope's attention. She walked slowly to the apartment, placing her hand on the wooden door, and tried to push.

The door was planted in the floor permanently, and fairly difficult to push open. She tried to use her body weight, but she was not strong enough. She pushed a few times, and it creaked with resistance. After one more push, she used all of her energy to make it through the door. Thankfully, the door came up with a creek and the plants were uprooted from the floor following the door. She jumped a little, proud of herself for opening the door by herself.

Penelope fixed her nasal cannula that had moved while pushing the door and looked up at the interior of the apartment. The apartment was covered in overgrown plants from floor to ceiling. Against the smashed-in TV in the living room was a spray-painted orange Firefly logo, and Penelope took this as a sign that she was going in the right direction. She walked over to the threshold of the living room, stumbling over the mushy wood flooring. The floors creaked as she walked, so Penelope walked in bigger strides, stepping over plants and other objects littered over the floor. She made her way to the windows in the living room, taking a look outside.

There was a plank on the roof leading to another apartment window. Outside was a brick and metal fence facing the busy street on the Boston QZ. Plants were growing creeping up the brick walls of the apartment buildings, with clothes hangers creating a spot for wild animals to live in, again, covered in leaves. The leaves from the clotheslines created a cover for people to hide behind as they went from one apartment building to another on the plank.

Penelope took a steadying breath and lifted herself out of the broken window onto the plank a foot below her. Not that far, but she was on the second floor of the apartment building, so that is a far fall.

She landed with a thud in a crouched position. Her backpack weighed so much, making her unbalanced. She swayed side to side, coming close to falling off of the plank a few times.

Penelope leaned forward and wrapped her fingers on either side of the plank to keep herself from falling off. Once she stabled herself with her backpack, she let go of the plank with a shaky breath. Her lungs were tight, making it hard to breathe, but she continued, not wanting to be stuck on a plank 20 feet in the air. She stood up and dragged her feet across the plank. Penelope made her way to the other window, holding onto the bricks sticking out of the side of the apartment building.

A rumble of engines caught Penelope's attention. It was a FEDRA truck passing the road. Penelope gasped, and crouched down again, trying to hide behind the hanging leaves.

Penelope hoped she wasn't seen. Once the noise started to get further away, she stood up swiftly and hoisted herself up the apartment building. Penelope didn't bother to look inside the apartment before jumping up into the window and landing in the room. The floor of the apartment was caved in, and once her body weight landed on the floor, it collapsed in. The floor dragged her down into the first floor of the apartment building. As she fell, she screamed out, rubble falling over her body.

Her eyes closed, waiting for the pain as she landed on the floor. With planks and leaves over her body. Penelope's oxygen tank had been punctured by the fall.

* * *

Penelope felt the warmth on her face. Her copper-colored eyes fluttered open. She lifted her arm drowsily to her face to fix her nasal cannula, when she felt nothing there. Penelope panicked, her eyes flew open. She looked around the room, not remembering a thing, breathing in hurriedly. Her head swiveled left and right, trying to find her oxygen tank or her cannula somewhere in this strange room.

Penelope sat in an old and musty medical bed, in the center of the old apartment room. Her right wrist was chained to the bed in handcuffs. She pulled and yanked at the chain, trying to free her hand. Someone must've heard her panicking because the door to her right opened with a creak.

Two women came into the room with paperwork in their hands. One of them had her punctured oxygen tank and had her other hand filled with Penelope's nasal cannula.

The women approached her bed and introduced themselves. "I'm Marlene," said the woman with dark-colored skin, and coily hair tied into a loose ponytail. She had on a gray tank top and a forest green coat. The woman behind her head is in a similar outfit, except in brown. She had fair skin and had her brown hair in a tight bun.

"And this is Haile," Marlene spoke with purpose. Haile nodded and started to scribble things down on the paperwork she had in her hand. Marlene set down the empty oxygen tank and the cannula on the table beside Penelope's bed.

Marlene looked over the young girl in the bed with curiosity. "We found you lying unconscious in one of our buildings with rubble all over you. Do you remember anything?" Haile spoke to the child. Haile walked towards the child to inspect her, and Penelope flinched.

Penelope doesn't remember much, she does remember falling. Marlene and Haile share a look once Penelope looks away from the other women.

"Is it okay if I look for some injuries on you? You've been out cold for a day." Haile spoke, waiting for the child in front of her to answer. The child looked up through her eyelashes and nodded. Haile set to work, looking at Penelope's eyes with a flashlight, and checked her pulse.

Penelope could feel a deep cut on her jaw, and many bruises forming on her bony body. Her lungs hurt to breathe in, but she tried not to panic. While being inspected, Haile took a stethoscope and checked her breathing.

"Okay, take a deep breath," Halie instructed. Penelope did as she was told, and started a coughing fit, wheezing in and out. Her lungs felt like they were on fire, and it became harder to breathe. Haile panicked and looked at Marlene.

"What's wrong with her?" Marlien hissed to Haile. Through blurry eyes, Penelope tried to point to her nasal cannula. The two women frantically grabbed the oxygen tank and cannula. Penelope hurriedly took the cannula from Halie's hands and wrapped it around into place on her face. Between gruff coughs, Penelope tried to say, "It's empty."

Marlene ran out of the room, hollering for help, ordering people around. Haile stood in the room, soothingly rubbing Penelope's arm. Penelope tried hard to stay awake, but her breath became deeper, and much harder to breathe.

Haile noticed this and grabbed onto Penelope's face.

"Stay with me! Don't close your eyes." Haile repeated multiple times to the child in front of her, shaking her face. Penelope coughed up blood, unable to keep her eyes open a moment more.