I survived. Only a few 1,000 did. I am the only one left. My family is gone. I am alone.
"Hey, you with the scar on your back." Some man said. He was talking about the scar I have from the surgery I had as an infant to fix my spinal cord, that was before the War.
"What?" I said. I moved to get my knife, after so much war I wasn't sure I could trust any one.
"We are the survivors, and we have a choice. That choice is to stay and rebuild this place what ever it was, or go and start new."
"And where are you from? I'm from group 3." Before the war the Government would sort babies into groups by there size, 1 being tiny and 4 being huge. From then on we live, worked, played, and went to school in those groups. We were call by a number, the number depended on how many were born before you. I am 36,912.
"I'm 3,too. I'm 36,913. And what is your number?" As I looked at him I realize I know him.
"13, I haven't scene you in almost 15 years, it's me 36,912." I said the last part almost quietly. I didn't like thinking about the War, the War that lasted almost 15 years.
13 came to me and hugged me. He smelled like he hadn't bathed in weeks, which wasn't far from the truth.
" I missed you so much. I should have known the scar." He laughed.
"13, what are you going to do, stay or go? I'll stay with you, so what do you think?" I asked him. We found each other. I know it was a sign to stay together. I wasn't alone.
"I'm going." He said grimly.
"Let's get going then, no time to waste.... We will talk as we walk." I began moving forward as I spoke.