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  Reyes surveys me over his pipe. His eyes travel over to Ceres, and I find myself stiffening as I wait for a derisive remark. But all he says is, “What happened?”

  “She was in the Asylum in Toronto for eight years. She’s not right anymore.” I swallow the lump lodged in my throat; it threatens to choke me.

  Reyes nods, and then hands me his pipe; its tip is coated lightly in his saliva. I take it and pull the sweet vapor into my lungs—the first time I’ve ever smoked hashish. I expect to cough, to struggle to breathe, but all I feel is a warmth that spreads from my stomach to my chest to my head. I close my eyes and release the smoke slowly, then hand the pipe back.

  “Thank you.” My voice sounds comical to me, so I giggle.

  Reyes and the other men watch me with interest. “You need that more than we do, I think.” He shakes his head.

  “Will you help us get to the Harbor?”

  Reyes nods. “Yes, Flocker. But you better be willing to follow my rules.” He waits for my acquiescence, and I nod. “First, I ain’t gonna take you and your sister there before the ship comes on Tuesday.” I open my mouth to argue, but he silences me with a raised hand. “If the Escorts come before that, we’ll get word through le marché noir and I’ll get you out before they get anywhere near the camp. If I drop you off at the Harbor alone, you and your sister gonna die. Even if the gov’ment didn’t find you, there’s some very bad men over there. Men who work on the ships and do things because they can sail away from they’s crimes. You be safer here for the next five days. Understand?”

  I nod reluctantly.

  “Good. Also, the ship ride ain’t gonna be easy, not for you and not for your baby sister. It’s a long journey and people get sick. Especially the stowaways. You got to be quiet and stay in cramped spaces until you get to China. You prepared for that, Flocker girl?”

  “Yes. I’m prepared for that.”

  I don’t tell him anything is better than staying behind, because I don’t know if Reyes plans to come to China or spend his last days here. Nukeheads as a group are nihilistic; they know the reaction the government has to them is not localized to New Amana. They would be shunned the world over, as people who are different—as different-looking as they are, anyway—always have been. That is something common to the human race.

  Before anything else can be said, there’s a commotion from somewhere outside. Reyes glances sharply at the men. They all reach under the cot and grab ancient firearms. I instruct Ceres to remain in the tent, but grab the pistol Carlos gave me from the pockets of Nurse Carina’s pants and follow them outside.

  CHAPTER FORTY THREE

  The men march in twos and I walk right behind them. As we get nearer the front gate where Philip had dropped me off not so long ago, the noises get louder. The men accelerate into a jog and I do the same.

  The two guards I saw on the day I came to camp are at the gate.

  “Get back!” One of them orders, his weapon trained at someone outside. “This your last warning!”

  “You can’t keep us out.” The male voice is cajoling and slightly mocking at the same time. I recognize it and a shiver rolls through me. “We deserve refuge too, don’t we?”

  “Only time we let people in be with one of our drivers,” the guard says. “Come back with one of them, you can stay.”

  I approach carefully, keeping myself hidden behind the taller men. From the gap between their necks, I see him. Drew. And with him is Nathan. They look a little worse for the wear, but they’re toting along their tents in a bag.

  “They have weapons,” I whisper to the men. “Be careful.”

  “You know them?” Reyes whispers back without turning around. We’re about twenty feet from the gate, standing to one side. Drew and Nathan haven’t noticed us yet.

  “Yes. The tall one held me captive. The shorter one is his right-hand man. They were with the Rads in Ursa, but they got kicked out.” I tighten my grip around my pistol.

  “We don’t shoot unless they tryin’ to hurt us,” Reyes says. “Shootin’ attracts the wrong kinda attention. But I’ll tell them guards what you said, Flocker. You head back now, so he don’t see you.”

  But it’s too late. Drew looks up and spots us. I know I stand out in my white outfit. He lets out a boisterous laugh as I meet his eye.

  “There you are, beautiful!” he says. “You broke my heart runnin’ off with that bastard, you did.”

  “Go away, Drew,” I say sharply. “They aren’t going to let you or Nathan in. And we’re all armed.”

  Drew holds up his hands in mock innocence. “I wouldn’t dream of shootin’ at you or your people, sweetheart,” he replies. “I’m just here for some food and shelter, same as you.”

  “And after that, maybe you’d like to force yourself on some of the little girls,” I say. “Isn’t that your style, Drew?” I step forward so we are only ten feet apart. “You can’t get women to like you any other way, so you have to take what you can by force.”

  His face hardens as the cocky smile slips off. He points at me. “You can say what you like with this gate separatin’ us, bitch. But when you’re least expecting it, I’ll be right there, forcing you to your knees to get what I want. I’m not done with you.”

  The pure venom in his words makes me shudder, but the guards poke at them with their rifles then, forcing them to turn away. Drew takes one last look at me, spits on the road, and retreats. Nathan shakes his head and follows.

  I’ve just escalated things, and Drew isn’t one to forget a grudge.

  After Drew’s threat, I spend a sleepless night plotting the best ways to kill someone. The next morning, I even convince Reyes to let me keep one of his knives, just in case I cannot aim with the pistol or it gets taken from me. I slit the plastic covering on my mat and slide my knife in at night. For use during the day, I make a belt out of a strip of bandage Nurse Carina gives me and tie it around my waist.

  But two more days slide by on a haze of heat and exhaustion, and Drew and Nathan stay gone. I begin to let myself believe that the Nukehead guards scared them away. Perhaps they saw that they were outnumbered, that there was no way they could come in to this camp and get out alive, even if they did get to me.

  I am helping Ceres wash her hair when Nurse Carina bustles up to me, her face shining.

  “Just got some news,” she says. “Those government Sympathetics?”

  My hands pause in Ceres’s strands. She begins to chant a nursery rhyme.

  “They’re coming. They have a plan, a couple of ships for all of us to board.”

  My mouth falls open. Will we not need to stow away after all? We could be legitimate passengers on a ship bound for China, the journey as stress-free as possible for Ceres. “When? When will they be here?”

  Nurse Carina laughs, the sound full of sunshine. I smile, too.

  “Soon, they say. Very soon. Maybe in the next day or so.” She puts her hands to her cheeks. “Oh, my. I have so much to do. The children are not the least bit ready. We’ll have to pack clothes and food and medicine! Vika, you must help me.”

  “Of course.” I smile. “Whatever you need.”

  “Excellent.” She tousles Ceres’s hair and then heads back to the tent on the top of the hill.

  I grab Ceres’s chin so she looks into my eyes. “Did you hear that?”

  She stares at me. Blinks.

  “We’re going to get out of here. We’re going to China.” I smile gently. “We’ll get you to a doctor, Ceres. Okay? You’re going to start feeling better soon.”

  “Better. Letter. Helter. Skelter.” She grins.

  I gather her in a hug and kiss the top of her sopping wet head. “Things are going to be just fine,” I say. And I fully mean it.

  I know there will be hard times ahead as I find a way to escape to a part of Asia that’s not under the influence of New Amana’s government officials. Yes, there will be late nights filled with crying and nightmares, as Ceres heals. But we won’t have to worry about not hav
ing food or water, or breathing in air that’s killing us. We won’t have to worry about crossing oceans. I’m confident that once we’re in Asia, we’ll be able to get away. We might even get help from the government Sympathetics—surely they’ll come with us. They know what the situation is there, and they won’t expect a pregnant woman and a young girl to be involved. One way or another, I will find a way for Ceres and me to start over.

  I think of Shale, imagine him smiling at us, and feel a deep ache inside my bones. He would’ve loved Ceres. We could’ve taken care of her together. Her and our baby. We would’ve had our own happy family, somewhere, with a small garden and earthen pots in the kitchens. We could’ve had everything he was fighting for.

  CHAPTER FORTY FOUR

  Since I’ve pledged my help to Nurse Carina, she asks me to devise a plan to appease the children, who are restless as we wait.

  The idea hits me the next morning—Ceres’s birthday is in only a month and a half. We decide to throw her a special birthday party and dance, to which all the children are invited. When I ask her what she thinks of this idea, Ceres squeals and twirls in the grass, the pants and belly area of her too-big coveralls expanding with air. Her hair glides through the air around her, and I laugh at her naked delight. I can see, for a fleeting moment, the five-year-old we lost forever.

  I want to help Nurse Carina set up the tent for the party, but she shoos me away and insists she can get everything ready by herself. I wander around aimlessly for a bit, and then decide that I will dress Ceres up. It is not usually my nature to dress up—after all, such things have always been expressly forbidden by our government as being too anti-feminist—but it comes easily enough.

  First I have to corral Ceres to sit down in front of me in the shade of the tent. The sun beats down on us mercilessly today, making the tent only a few degrees cooler than an oven, but she is caught up in the excitement of the dance and does not mind.

  “I’m going to braid your hair, okay?” I say, finger-combing her silken strands.

  “Okay, okay, okay.” She claps her hands.

  Lynx plops down next to me on the grass and watches my fingers glide through Ceres’s hair. After a moment, she gets up and saunters away.

  I begin to crisscross sections of my sister’s raven locks, weaving them in the way my mother taught me. During my school years, braids kept my hair out of my face, but I think having her hair styled will be good for Ceres in other ways. Perhaps it will help her feel like a normal teen. Perhaps she will dance tonight.

  As the thought flits through my mind, I find my heart clenching with the need to see Ceres do something childish—just let go and dance. I hope the children won’t laugh at her, or that, if they do, she pretends she can’t hear them. I want her to feel beautiful, if even for just a few minutes.

  I’m so lost in my thoughts that I don’t realize Lynx has arrived back, her hands full of purple wildflowers.

  “For Ceres’s hair,” she says. “Won’t it be beautiful?”

  I smile. “Absolutely. What a lovely idea.”

  I watch as the girl lovingly adorns my sister’s black hair with the brilliant violent blooms. Then, I ask, “Would you like me to do your hair, too? For the dance?”

  She looks at me as if she cannot believe her ears. “My hair? But it’s not nearly as beautiful as Ceres’s. The flowers would be wasted in it.”

  I grab her around the shoulders and swivel so the spot in front of me is clear. Then I push her down and begin to work on her hair. “Nonsense,” I say casually. “Your hair is just as beautiful.”

  She sits still and quiet the entire time I work on her braid. When Ceres returns with a handful of white flowers for me to twist into Lynx’s hair, I notice Lynx swiping at her cheeks. When she sees me watching she turns around quickly so her back is to me once again.

  “Thank you,” she mutters. “Thank you, Vika.”

  I smile and hum one of Ceres’s nursery rhymes as I work on Lynx’s braid.

  A line forms around me as I finish. Two more Asylum girls shyly ask if I will braid their hair. Soon I am braiding a whole group of girls’ hair. After that, I decide to work on their clothes. Yellow coveralls aren’t very becoming, we decide, so I loop some twine around their belt loops on either side of their waists and string it tight to cinch in the waist. Some of the girls make flower cuffs out of wildflowers and grass. Others grind red and pink flowers into a paste and use it to stain their cheeks and lips. I watch in wonder as they are transformed from lost little girls to graceful young women.

  While Ceres talks to Lynx, I slip away. I have an idea, although I am not sure it will work. I want Ceres to feel as normal as she can tonight, but I also want the other kids to have fun like they’ve never had. And when I really think about it, the Asylum kids are not the only ones who’ve never had fun. There’s another group like that, too.

  I stop outside the Nukehead women’s tent and call for them.

  The flap opens, and the mother of the little boy sticks her head out. When she sees me, she smiles. “Hello. Got more Stevia for Alexander?”

  I laugh and show her my empty hands. “Not this time, sorry. I actually came to talk to you about something. Do you know all the teenagers in your part of the compound?”

  She steps outside, puts her hand on her chin. “Most of them, I think, and if not, I know their parents. Why do you ask?”

  “We’re having a party and a dance tonight, in honor of my sister’s fourteenth birthday. I was hoping some of your older children would want to come. It’s going to be a great time.” I wipe my suddenly sweaty palms on Nurse Carina’s pants, and then cringe because they might stain from all the grass and wildflowers I’ve handled. But when I glance down, they are still pristine.

  The woman smiles. “That’s a great idea,” she says. “By the way, my name is Sara.”

  “Sara. A name from Before. It’s beautiful.”

  She goes around me and stands in the middle of a little clearing, tents on every side of her. “Lucas! Estefan! Maria! Ida!”

  Four or five teens emerge from the tents. They are all misshapen, all bent and broken in some way or another. They look at me unsurely, and then toward Sara for direction. She explains why I am here.

  “It would please my sister Ceres very much if you could all come,” I say. “She’s about your age, and just got out of the Asylum in Toronto.”

  The kids all look at each other, as if assessing what their response should be.

  I try a tactic that would appeal to a teenager from anywhere in the world. “They are busy braiding flowers into their hair and dressing up. It’s going to be grand.”

  Shy smiles cross their faces. “Okay,” one of the boys says. “We’ll come.”

  “Thank you. We will look for you as the sun sets in the sky.” I smile at them, wave at Sara, and go back to my part of the camp.

  CHAPTER FORTY FIVE

  As the sun sets, the hills turn to fiery gold, and the valleys are inky with shadow. I hear the crunch of footsteps and look up from the cot where I am sitting. A whole group of Nukeheads is approaching us, with the bigger boys and men carrying covered boxes.

  I stand up and go to Sara. She is walking with the little Alexander clinging to her hand. When she sees me, she smiles.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” she says. “When word of the dance spread, it seemed everyone wanted to come watch the children. But we brought presents to make our presence easier to tolerate.” She laughs to show she is half-joking.

  The men uncover the boxes and I see a veritable cornucopia of le marché noir gifts: chocolates, sweet wine, mead, grape juice, candles shaped like flowers, jewelry for the girls, and a few pairs of shoes for the boys. The Nukeheads point to it in a “help yourself” gesture, and the Asylum kids swarm the boxes, taking what they like, but also generously sharing when someone else reaches for what they want.

  I watch with a smile on my face, and then turn to Sara. “Thank you. You didn’t have to go to so much trouble.�
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  She waves a hand. “It’s no trouble. We’ve never been to anything like this. After we board that ship to Asia, all of this will go to waste anyway.”

  Heartened to hear that Sara and sweet Alexander will make the journey with us, I smile and tickle the little boy’s chin. He giggles uproariously.

  Nurse Carina has arranged the tents beautifully, with mats and cots scattered around so the children can sit when they’re tired of dancing. On the cots, we arrange the food and drinks, and then a few of the children go around lighting the candles so the entire area glows like a drop of liquid gold.

  Ceres comes up to me, a necklace glinting at her throat. “No…music,” she says, her eyes sad. Nursery rhymes and ditties were a big part of Ceres’ life when we lived together. And judging from the way she’s been humming and singing these past few days, she must’ve learned more from the other, older children at the Asylum. Perhaps it’s one of the things that carried them through those dark days.

  “You don’t need music,” I say. “Just dance!” I begin to sway, but she is not convinced.

  None of the other children are dancing, either. They all look to us, the adults, to rectify the situation.

  “It’s not a real party without music,” Lynx says, and she looks like she’s about to cry.

  I look at Nurse Carina in alarm, but she shrugs.

  Sara goes to Reyes and some of the other men and whispers to them. When they turn around, they are smiling.

  “Okay,” Sara says. “You asked for music, so you’re going to get music—Nukehead style.” She pats out a beat with her hands, and then the men begin to sing.

  Their song is captivating, hypnotizing. Some of them hit the high notes while others sing low in their throats. The tune echoes in my chest and my head, and slowly, the children begin to pair off and dance.