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After what felt like hours, the doors to the holding room opened again.The low hum of the space shifted as more lottery winners were ushered inside, their footsteps echoing briefly before being swallowed by the quiet of the large room. Cora watched them file in, cataloging faces without meaning to. It had become a habit of being a nurse - counting people, noting posture, gauging fear. What held her attention more, though, was the soldier. He had arrived not long after she and Jack, and hadn’t moved since. Bald-headed, broad-shouldered, standing upright near the wall with his hands resting beside him. No pack. No bag. No visible personal effects at all. He stared straight ahead, unblinking, as if still waiting for orders no one else could hear.

Cora’s gaze shifted back to the newcomers. A young couple entered first, fingers interlaced so tightly their knuckles had gone pale, foreheads nearly touching as they whispered to one another. Behind them came a handful of singles—men and women, mostly around her age, give or take a few years. Strong bodies. Clear eyes. People who still looked like they had time left in them. She noticed the pattern without wanting to.

Looking back down, she found Jack sitting cross-legged on the cot. He had pulled his favorite toy from the pack—a small, scuffed animal with one ear half-missing. He ran his thumb along its fabric absently, grounding himself in something familiar. Cora swallowed and looked away.

An officer entered moments later, followed closely by two security personnel. The room seemed to tighten around them. The officer carried a tablet tucked neatly against her chest, her expression calm and neutral in the way that suggested she’d delivered this speech more times than she could count.

[I]“Attention, please,” [/I] she said, her voice carrying easily without amplification. [I]“We will begin personal effects processing shortly.”[/I]

A ripple passed through the room—bags pulled closer, arms wrapped protectively around packs, shoulders drawing in.

[I]“Only issued equipment will be permitted through the tear,”[/I] the officer continued. [I]“All other items must be surrendered at this time. Please form a line.”[/I]

No one moved. The words settled heavily, hanging in the air like a test no one wanted to fail.

Then a woman about Cora’s age stood abruptly, her movements sharp, almost defiant. Her jaw was clenched, eyes bright with restrained panic.

[I]“Even pictures?” [/I] she demanded. [I]“They’re just paper.”[/I]

The officer met the womans gaze evenly. [I]“All non-issued items. This was addressed in the letter you received, no exceptions.”[/I]

Whispers spread through the room like static.

Slowly, deliberately, Cora reached into her pack. There wasn’t much left. She had already stripped her life down to survival—clothes, essentials, nothing sentimental. Or so she’d told herself. Her fingers closed around the thin fabric bracelet Jack had made her from scrap thread, colors faded and uneven. Beneath it, Adam’s ring. Worn smooth from years on his hand, then hers. Warm, somehow, despite everything. Her chest tightened.

She couldn’t.

[I]“Form a line,” [/I] the officer said again, her tone unchanged. [I]“If you refuse to surrender any non-issued items, you will not be permitted through.”[/I]

The finality of it struck harder than the words themselves. Slowly, people began to move. Some hesitated, staring down at their packs as if weighing the mass of memory against the promise of a future. Others stepped forward quickly, eyes down, already resigned. A few clutched items to their chests for a moment longer before letting them go. The woman who had asked about pictures didn’t move.

[I]“I’m not giving them up,” [/I] she said, voice shaking now. [I]“They’re all I have left.”[/I]

The officer didn’t say anything. She simply nodded once. The security personnel stepped forward.

[I]“No,” [/I] the woman said, backing away. [I]“You said we were chosen. You said—”[/I]

Her words dissolved into panic as one guard took her arm. She struggled, desperation sharp and sudden.

[I]“You can’t do this,” [/I]she cried. [I]“I passed! I did everything right!”[/I]

The room froze.

The woman’s cries echoed as she was escorted toward the door, her voice breaking into sobs that cut off abruptly when the door closed behind her. Silence followed. No one spoke. The line formed more quickly after that. Cora stood when it was her turn, her movements careful. She knelt in front of Jack, taking the stuff animal from him. Jack started to reach for it, crying out, as she kept it out of reach. She stood and stepped forward, her hands trembling as she placed the bracelet, the ring, and Jack’s animal into the collection bin. 

Her gaze met the officer. No words exchanged, just a look that could possibly kill. 

Cora returned to Jack, her chest aching, her hands suddenly empty. Jack didn’t understand and she couldn’t explain it to him. She picked him up and headed back to the corner of their small world. Their cot. She felt every sob, every tear of her boy on her shoulder. 

Everything. That was the cost of a new life. 

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