Flash led Alyssa toward the middle of the camp. I hung back, watching, wary of an ambush. We crossed a wide cleared area, within which three rings of tents were pitched concentrically, like layers of an onion. At the center of these tents there was an open plaza, maybe sixty or seventy feet in diameter.

The center area was packed with girls. Some were as young as eight or nine. Some were older, women really, but none looked older than thirty. They gathered in clusters, talking through the tent flaps, some of them huddled together for warmth.

“What is—”

“Ask The Principal,” Flash said.

He pointed to the back of a woman kneeling in the doorway of one of the tents. She was easily the oldest person in view—her black hair halfway to steely gray. She looked like . . . she couldn’t be. Or could she?

“Principal,” Flash said, “the guards caught some fresh fish.”

The woman turned, “Welc—”

Her word died as her eyes locked on mine.

“Alex?” she breathed.

“Mom.”

Chapter 61

My world lit up despite the dim light—fired into Technicolor brilliance by my joy. The last time I’d seen Mom, more than ten months ago, we’d had a terrible fight. Sometimes, in my old life, I used to hate her. Now I couldn’t imagine anything better than the elation coursing through me. She was alive! And I’d found her!

Mom charged me, wrapping me in a hug so exuberant we were both knocked to our knees. The snow couldn’t chill me—I was alight with the joy of seeing my mother again after ten long months. I cried as we embraced. Neither of us could get out any words.

Mom dragged her fingers across my face, like a blind woman might—trying to feel my features. Her fingertips slid easily on my teary skin. I clutched at her back, balling a fold of her coat up in my fist, holding on as if to prevent her from ever slipping away again.

“Principal?” Flash said. “You okay?”

Mom took a deep breath. “Yes, Lester, I’m better than okay.”

“I told you, don’t call me Lester. The name is Flash.”

“This is Alex.” She said my name as if it were an ineffable secret. “He’s my son.”

“Principal?” I asked her.

“That’s just what they call me here,” Mom hugged me even more tightly, hurting my injured shoulder. I must have let out a moan, because she said, “You okay, Alex?”

“Fine. It’s just my shoulder.”

She loosened her grip. “What happened?”

“A little truck accident. It’s fine, really.”

“Let me see.”

I held her tightly as she tried to pull away. I never wanted to let go, despite the pain the embrace was causing me.

“Alex, I need to know you’re all right.”

“I’m fine,” I said, but I loosened my grip on her, anyway. Now that she was worried, I knew she wouldn’t relax until she’d seen the damage for herself. She started stripping off my jacket and shirts.

I thought about protesting but really couldn’t summon the energy. I was still in a happy daze. And truth be told, I kind of liked the mothering attention.

“You look different. Thinner. And stronger.”

I shrugged. “You, too.” I realized she hadn’t said anything about Dad. I was scared to ask—afraid of what the answer might be. But I had to know. “Um, Mom. Is Dad—?”

“Oh my gosh, I completely forgot. Lester, would you go get Doug?”

“It’s Flash!” he yelled as he flitted away.

By then Mom had me stripped to the waist. The icy air made goose bumps rise all over my chest and arms. My right side was a beauty. Green, yellow, and purple bruises were splashed from my waist to neck, covering my side and arm.

“Good God . . .” Mom whispered.

“I’m okay.”

“Who was driving?”

I couldn’t think of an answer that would help. I just wanted to end the inquisition and get my clothing back on—I was freezing. “Um, I was on top of the truck the first time it crashed.”

“You were—”

“The other two crashes, well, I was driving.”

She was momentarily speechless. “You are not allowed to drive on a learner’s permit without me or Dad in the car, Alex.”

I gave her my best what-the-hell look. Like anyone cared about driver’s licenses in the midst of all this chaos? “I think I lost my learner’s permit when our house burned, Mom.”

“Our house? Never mind, what’re those?” She pointed at the spots on my arm and belly where I’d been shot. It looked like they were healing okay—a bit puffy and red, but scabbed over nicely.

“Oh. That’s where I got shot.”

“Shot? You got—?”

“Look, Mom. A lot of stuff has happened since Darla and I set out to find you. Don’t stress about it. I’m okay. And I found you, thank God.”

“Who’s Darla?”

“My girlfriend.”

“Ah.” She nodded, accepting that bit of information way more easily than the three truck wrecks or the fact that I’d been shot. “Pleased to meet you.” She held her hand out to Alyssa.

Alyssa took her hand. “Pleased to meet you, too. But I’m not—”

Dad rounded the corner of a nearby tent at a run, Flash trailing behind him. “Alex, you’re—!” He crashed into me with a bear hug that forced tears from my eyes—both from my joy at seeing him and the pain of his embrace. Neither of us could speak.

“Doug,” Mom said, “he’s hurt.”

Dad pulled back and looked at me. “Jesus. You look like you lost a fight with a grizzly.”

“No, just a truck.” I pulled him back into a hug with one arm, and drew my mother against us with the other. I wanted to stay there, to squeeze them both until they’d soaked into me and could never leave again. Even the stale scent of their sweat smelled heavenly.

“This is Darla,” Mom said, “Alex’s girlfriend.” She freed one arm and gestured at Alyssa.

“My name’s Alyssa. And this is my brother, Ben.”

Mom looked at me. “But you said—”

“The Peckerwoods got Darla. Shot her.” Something caught in my throat, making my eyes water. “I’m going back for her as soon as we get out of here.”

“What?” Mom said. “You can’t go charging into the middle of a gang. That’s not safe.”

Before I could even start to protest, Dad said, “She might not be alive. There’re rumors all over camp about those gangs. Say they’re eating human flesh.”

I dropped my arms from behind their backs and leaned out of the embrace. “Yes, Dad. They are eating people. They deal in slaves, too. But Darla was alive three days ago. Alyssa saw her.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Mom protested. Okay, maybe I didn’t miss the mothering all that much.

“If the Peckerwoods had Mom, would you go after her?” I stared my father in the eye.

“I would.”

I nodded and tried to fold my arms. Just the attempt hurt my right, so I picked up my shirt instead and started trying to struggle into it.

“I’ve known your mother twenty-six years. I owe her a different kind of loyalty than you owe a girlfriend.”

I couldn’t get my right arm jammed through the shirt-sleeve. “Piece of junk!” I tossed it aside.

“It’s a hard world we live in now,” Dad said mildly.

“It is the same,” I said. “Exactly the same. If you knew what we’d been through, you’d understand.”

“Guess you’d better tell us,” Dad said.

“How’s Rebecca?” Mom asked.

“She’s okay. Darla and I left her at Uncle Paul’s place. That was, um, almost two weeks ago.”

Alyssa plucked my shirt out of the snow and helped me get dressed. Ben wanted to watch the guards, and Alyssa didn’t want Ben to be alone, so when she finished helping me, they left. Mom sent Flash with them, instructing him to return in time for dinner. The fact that she’d mentioned dinner was heartening. When Darla and I had been imprisoned in Camp Galena, we’d gotten only breakfast—and not much of that.

Mom, Dad, and I ducked into one of the tents out of the wind.

“My brother’s still making out okay?” Dad asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “Doing great. We grow and trade kale—it’s worth a fortune. Get pork from Warren in return.”