32

MIN

“Told you he’s a jackass.” Tack wore a satisfied smile as he poked the fire with a stick. “Noah Livingston is a silver-spoon waste like the rest of them. We don’t need him.”

I didn’t reply. After Noah’s cop-out by the lake, part of me agreed.

He was just so . . . frustrating.

Right after we had that moment, too. For a minute I thought . . .

Tack tossed another log into the pit. The temperature had dropped off a cliff that afternoon, winter gusts swirling in off the mountains. We’d get snow soon, a thick carpet of white to cover the trailer park’s dirty lanes. I’d always liked that time of year.

Then suddenly, he was there.

Tack and I sat up as Noah came tearing down the path toward my trailer. Tack rolled his eyes. “God, does he ever learn?”

Noah skidded to a stop, gripping his knees as he gasped for breath. He’d obviously run a long way. “Min! Did . . . you . . . hear?”

Tack slouched back in his chair, clearly annoyed by the intrusion. I debated ignoring Noah, still furious with him. And hurt as well, to be honest. But curiosity got the best of me. “Hear what?” I huffed.

“The Plank.” Noah sucked in a lungful, finally getting his wind back. Then his eyes lost focus, as if he couldn’t believe what he was saying. “It’s gone. Destroyed. The liberty campers blew it up and it fell into the canyon!”

“What!?” I shot to my feet. “Are you serious?”

Noah nodded grimly, and I spun on Tack. “You said that was fireworks!”

Tack’s face turned red. “I just assumed, because of the cheering. I didn’t know some yahoos would blow up the damn bridge!”

“Why would anyone do that?” I pressed my temples. Had the world gone crazy?

Tack was shaking his head. “They’re all crazy separatists. They must think we’re better off severed from the rest of the country. Who knows, maybe they’re right.”

“That’s nuts, Tack.” The magnitude of Noah’s news was sinking in. “Fire Lake isn’t self-sufficient. We don’t even have a hospital! Without the Plank we’re trapped, and help might be a long time coming.”

The Pacific Northwest had been devastated. Oregon and Washington were federal disaster areas, with millions trapped in desperate conditions and trillions of dollars of damage to infrastructure. Where would fixing the bridge to Fire Lake rank on the list of emergency repairs? Low. Extremely low.

Noah swallowed. “I haven’t told you the worst part.”

The door to my trailer swung open and Mom emerged. She was in her nightgown, a patchwork blanket thrown around her shoulders against the chill. “What happened, Noah? After those fools blew up the bridge.” She’d clearly heard us talking.

Noah hesitated, his face paling. “It . . . it was bad. The soldiers showed up.”

I stopped breathing. “The ones from the silo base?”

Noah nodded, rubbing his forehead. “They surrounded the campers. Those liberty guys are stubborn. They didn’t know . . . The officer barely even paused . . .”

My mother strode over and put an arm around him. He leaned into her embrace like a starving man. It occurred to me that Noah had been living alone for a week, without anyone else.

“Tell us,” my mother said.

“They opened fire.” His eyes glistened.

“Any survivors?”

Noah closed his eyes. Shook his head.

Tack was pulling his hair with both hands. “Holy sh—”

A crash of metal echoed up the hill.

“You kids stay here!” Mom ordered. The blanket fell to the mud as she rushed down the lane.

I looked at Tack, who rubbed his palms on his jeans. “No idea. What should we do?”

“Come on!” I grabbed Noah’s arm. We stumbled to the common, found my mother standing in her nightgown with a hand to her mouth, staring at the gate. Gray combat vehicles were rolling up the main drag, black sunbursts gleaming on their doors.

Tack pulled me a step toward the back fence. “Let’s bail!”

“Stand right there, Thomas!” my mother shouted, startling us both.

Tack let go, uncertain. Two jeeps and a Humvee drove to within a dozen yards. Soldiers popped out, including a thin officer with a blond mustache. His men surrounded us, weapons at the ready. Any chance to escape had vanished.

Principal Myers levered himself out of the Humvee, wheezing as he leaned on his cane. He limped over to the blond officer and said something sharp, handing him a metal clipboard. The man gave him a hard look, but turned and shouted, “Lower your weapons!”

The soldiers complied, but didn’t relax. Tack shifted nervously, trying to watch everyone at once. Myers was sweating despite the cool temperature. “No need for alarm, kids. No one’s gonna hurt you.” He shot a nasty glare at the blond officer. “Commander Sutton! Tell your men to stand down.”

“Stay in your lane, Myers. You’re here as local liaison only.”

Sutton glanced at the clipboard. Suddenly, I could guess what was on it.

“Melinda J. Wilder. Thomas Russo. Under Section 2.43A of FEMA Special Emergency Preparedness Act 580, you are hereby ordered to attend an emergency assembly, to be held in the town square of Fire Lake. These men will escort you. Attendance is mandatory.”

“What’s happening?” Tack whispered.

“He’s got the collection schedule,” I said. “The roster with names and addresses.”

The color drained from Tack’s face. Noah’s throat worked. Then my mother marched forward, ignoring the guns as she stormed to stand in front of Myers.

Their eyes met. He broke first, dropping his head.

Mom regarded him for a moment. Then slapped him across the face.

Soldiers moved to restrain her, but Myers waved them back. He faced my mother alone. “It’s time, Virginia. I’m sorry it’s happening like this. Our calculations were off, and things got sped up.”

“Keep your word, Andrew! Make this mean something, after everything we’ve done!”

“I promise, Virginia.”

The world stopped spinning.

My heart ceased beating.

The sun halted in its path across the sky.

Tack was tugging my arm, whispering urgently, but I didn’t notice. I couldn’t see or hear a thing. I’d retreated to a deep recess in my mind where only one fact existed.

Mom knows everything.

She turned and hurried to my side. “Min, you need to listen to me,” she whispered. “You have to go with these men. Don’t run away or resist.”

I gaped, unable to breathe. Was about to be sick. Then I shoved her with both hands, suddenly and explosively furious. “How could you!?”

For the first time in days, Mom met my eyes squarely. “I did what I had to. I’m sorry for what it’s cost you.”

I stared in disbelief. Wanted it to be a dream. But I’d known this was coming since the moment I saw my mother’s signature.

“What is this, Mom? What’s going on?”

She seemed about to answer, but Commander Sutton spoke over her. “That’s enough. Get them into the Humvee. We’re running behind as it is.”

“Livingston is here, too,” Myers said.

“Bring him. I’ll notify Control. But we have to leave now. The trouble in town might spread, and the assets aren’t all in place.”

The soldiers closed in, began herding us toward the vehicles. Tack shrugged off the first man to prod him, but two more shoved him while a third trained his rifle. Noah shuffled forward with his shoulders hunched. He looked close to losing it.

I stumbled along in a daze. Then whirled. “Why, Mom? What’d they promise you?” Our eyes met, and my voice broke. “Was I really such a bad daughter?”

Myers flinched. He glanced at Sutton, who shook his head.

Mom flew forward and wrapped her arms around me, then held me by the cheeks, our faces inches apart. “No! No. You’re the best daughter a mother could have. Don’t ever doubt my love for you, Melinda J. Ever. I love you with all my heart. This isn’t your—”

A soldier pulled me away. Dragged me to the waiting vehicles.

I saw my mother trailing us in her bedclothes, glaring at Myers and shaking her tiny fist. “Make this count, Andrew! You and that other one. You asked for too much, and we’ll never get clean. But cross me now and I’ll make you pay!”

“I’ll see it through, Virginia. You have my word. His, too.”

Mom turned, began slowly walking back toward our trailer. She seemed smaller. Older.

Something told me I’d never see her again.

Tack twisted suddenly and kicked the closest soldier in the crotch. The man dropped, writhing in pain. Tack attempted to leap over him, but three other guards converged and wrestled him to the ground, Tack bucking and snarling like a wild animal until one of them struck him on the head with a rifle butt. He went limp, and they loaded him into the Humvee.

“Easy!” Myers bellied up to the soldier who’d struck my friend. “These are core subjects. Don’t damage them!” The man looked back impassively for a moment, then pushed past him.

Noah climbed in beside Tack. I followed without a struggle, too shattered to think. Myers wedged in beside me and closed the door. In seconds we were barreling for the gate.

Myers spoke into a radio. “Lowell, Myers here. We have Livingston with our task group. Proceeding to staging area. Myers out.”

I looked up at him. “Staging for what, Principal Myers?”

He winced, perhaps at my use of his title. A reference to his position of trust. He seemed about to speak, but a rumbling in the hills cut him off. The jeep slid on the narrow gravel driveway up to Quarry Road, but managed to find traction. We reached pavement and turned for town.

Myers sat back, wiping sweat from his face.

“Principal Myers?” I repeated, but he shook his head, his mouth a grim line.

“Almost time,” was all he said.