“It’s okay, Marv,” Zita said, her voice a harsh whisper. “Settle.”

Marv paced back and forth, big brown eyes swiveling from his owner to the woods around them. The golden retriever had been going on walks through the nature preserve for over a year now, but the human’s fear and uncertainty were something he picked up on easily. He pawed at the dirt at the edge of the concrete floored picnic area where they’d stopped.

His empathy was something Zita appreciated, most of the time. When she was sad, Marv’d come in for a cuddle. When someone was acting sketchy, Marv’d guard her. When she was excited, he was happy. Often confused, but happy. Marv was, when you came down to it, a big lovable dope.

But right now, she needed him calm, so she could think. She turned her attention back to her phone.

Em: Gunshots just now.

She still hadn't responded to Emily's text, didn't know what to say. The rioting in the city had gotten pretty bad - when her girlfriend told her that martial law had been declared, they'd agreed it was best that she and Marv stay hiding out in the woods instead of driving back into the city. Emily was locked down, everybody was locked down, the smoke had been getting worse - and then that. Gunshots. Five minutes later.

*Be Safe* she started to swipe, then erased it. "Be Safe" was inane. No shit, Zita. Emily didn't need inane. She needed actionable suggestions.

Another text popped up.

Em: Looks like Iron Brew is on fire

Zita: what really?

Em: yeah just showed it on news - will send vid but Comcast is being shit again

Widespread unrest but some things never changed.

Zita: guess this means we don't need to ask dale for thursday off lol

Thursday was "Meeting Em's" parents. That was Serious. It meant things were getting serious. Zita was okay with that.

Em did not immediately respond.

Marv pushed his face into her knee, as if sensing her disquiet, letting out a soft whine, and she gave him ear scritches. Had the joke been in bad taste? It wasn't actionable, but she was trying to be supportive. It was something she could do, here, an hour away. It was, at the moment, all she could do. And sometimes, when she didn't know what else to do, she made bad jokes in poor taste. It was a thing.

Zita forced her attention away from her phone. It was a bad habit of hers even in the best of times to catastrophize when someone took too long in responding - had she come on too strong? Too strange? Too real? Too weird? She pulled Marv to her side, half-hugging him, feeling him pant against her legs, brushed her single long purple bang out of her eyes and refocused on the phone.

No signal.

She looked up, biting her lip.