Anna Monologue

Anna didn’t answer, but she led me further back in the main room to where there was a door that allowed us to gain access to a series of smaller adjoining rooms. This next room that we entered which I assumed was—The Lounge—seemed a lot dimmer than the previous one we were in, and the rhythmic beat of the music pumping throughout the shed also seemed squelched. “Anna, you made it,” a man, a zombie, one of us, said getting up from a couch near the far side of the room. “I hope everything went alright. Tell me, everything went alright?” “Fine, just fine,” Anna answered. “And, this must be Peter,” the man then asked. “Yes,” said Anna, “Peter, I want you to meet Lyle Buchanan. And those ladies on the couch looking our way are Lyle’s wife, Kim, and Irma Rose.” “Hello,” I said responding to them all while shaking Lyle’s clammy hand. Looking over at the ladies, I could see now what Anna had meant by “and others like her”, when she had earlier referred to Irma. The older woman, Irma—who was very much still alive—wore one of those get-ups that a nun would wear, equipped with a large crucifix dangling around her neck. I then believed that Anna must have been referring to her sisterhood, or other members of the cloth, which had helped to keep Foster

We fight for the smallest of the little guys. We bring our kind together from out of the depths of hopelessness. We pool resources so that we can help one another. Together, we are able to stay on top of the Feds and the U.A.C.T. We are ever vigilant on keeping an eye on them and other agencies that will do us harm. And, because of that we’re able to give our community members advanced warning when it comes to raids, crackdowns, and activity in areas that are known to be hot to us. It is because of our committee and our community members that we were able to find you, Peter. We just wish we could have found you sooner than we