Flash Fiction: It's Not Safe To Be Brave

word count: 299          

         No child was ever left behind.
         Every town was searched, over and again from church-house annexes to library basements and every barn and wine-cellar to be found. Every inch ransacked with the scrutiny of a surgeon. There could be no mistakes. A child could easily tuck into cupboards and closets, even burrow beneath floorboards and decks. With each passing day the list grew shorter and shorter. Names crossed out and forgotten.
         How things changed is a complicated mess.
         No one person could be blamed. For every silent voice a choice was made. Quiet, keep in line. Don't stand out. It's not safe to be brave.
          It began with the isolation of states, then quickly turned into chaos as a country once open to all within its boarders put up fences and roadblocks at state lines. Soon there were blackouts, food and water shortages, then the total collapse of an organized national government. Disease began to spread and, before the year was out, medical care became as obsolete as the HMOs that had once reigned over it.
         Everyone was afraid.
         It was fear that lead to the hunt.
          It started in 2011.
         He heard a crack in the wooden floor above.
         It came out of nowhere.
         They always come, he thought. Momma said run. But where?
         It would never be far enough.
         Brisk footsteps stopped, right above him.
          A shadow blocked the light that seeped through the floorboards.
         They won't hurt children, Momma had said.
         Why do we keep running?
         Here eyes lied to him. Regretful, russet lies.
         Because Momma loves you, sweetie.
         I know, Momma.
         He heard men talking. Desperate commands.
         Then the splintering of wood.
         Promise me, Momma had said.
         Of course, Momma.
         Don't let them see you cry.
         I won't, Momma. If you won't.
         But she had.