"This floors yours," the soldier opened a guarded steel door. "Civilians are to remain behind these doors until you leave."
I gulped at the thought I'd be buried here until Noah decided it was time to move on.
I stepped through the doors to view my temporary coffin.
It was rectangular with an open-plan kitchen, dining, and living space with doors along both long walls. I sat down in the comfiest spot on a corner sofa and nestled in whilst waiting on everyone else to come in and get settled.
Supplies were handed out to fill the kitchen and toiletries for the bathroom. There was also a few boxes of clothes placed on the tables for people in need of a change of clothes.
It was very much like watching refugees on the TV. Only there was no screen, and I was one of those refugees.
Noah sat beside me, placing a hand on my knee, I flinched at his touch.
"So we're still going with the story that she's Alex's?" He asked, his voice coy.
