“Ainsley—”

“No,” she whisper-yelled. “Stop, please.” Joey turned and looked at them, but then quickly turned back to the movie. She rolled her eyes.

“I could fall in—”

“You’re feverish.”

“And you’re not listening.”

Darla shot them a glare. “Hush up, kids.”

He rested his head against her shoulder; she seemed tense and rigid. Then he reached up and tried to grab her hand, but Ainsley pulled back. She leaned down and put her lips next to his ear. “Please, Ethan. I’m sorry. I’ve already loved too many people who aren’t around anymore. Don’t make this harder on—”

“You?” he whispered. Then he brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed it gently. She made a soft sound of protest, but didn’t pull her hand away. “It’s okay. I understand. Just hold my hand…be my fake girlfriend. Just for tonight and then I won’t ever say anything about it ever again.”

“Perfect,” Ainsley whispered and she gave his hand a squeeze.

They settled in together in the darkened yard, the story of love and loss and good and evil playing out before them, blanketing their features with whites and blues. Teddy sat wide-eyed and Darla held him close; everyone cheered and booed and celebrated together—bonding over something that they would have taken for granted a month ago.

Ethan closed his eyes and felt the fever envelope his body, numb his brain, send him spinning, but he didn’t let go of Ainsley’s hand.

For a brief moment, the Oregon survivors pretended everything was normal. They could not see or understand the dangers and tragedy lurking just around the bend.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Maxine was a shriveled mess. Her nose was red from crying, her eyes bloodshot. She looked from Lucy to Scott with her mouth open in shock, a crumpled tissue in her hand. It was morning and Lucy hadn’t slept—from the looks of everyone else in the room, no one in their small underground apartment had much sleep. Upon waking, her parents had called an obligatory family meeting. Galen collapsed with a grumpy yawn on the floor; the twins sat beside him, and Harper had tried to crawl into Lucy’s lap, but Maxine called her away.

Lucy secretly wondered if Cass was on the other side of their bedroom walls with her ear pressed to the sheetrock, attempting to eke out all the details of her failure.

The guard sold her out. Scared into submission after Blair’s original antics, he told Huck, who sent a note to her father.

She hadn’t stood a chance.

All her plans for saving Grant seemed to slip right out through her fingers. But while hysteria was building beneath the surface, Lucy stayed outwardly calm. She sat on the floor in the middle of the room and watched her mother cry her way through a lecture.

“And the mangoes, Lucy. For a dog?”

An attempt to lie about the mangoes unraveled when Galen inadvertently mentioned that the mechanic Kip was pedaling the fruit in the Center later that afternoon.

“This is not you. This rebellion. This disrespect. Who are you and what have you done with my real daughter?”

Lucy raised her eyebrow and didn’t say a word.

“Oh, I know what that look means little lady, but don’t you dare turn this around on me.”

“Do we have to be here for this?” Galen asked and he rolled his eyes.

“We’re bored,” Malcolm echoed.

“This is a family discussion,” Maxine snapped at them and the boys sulked.

The knock on the door made them all jump.

“No, no, no,” Maxine cried and she looked around wildly. “Scott?” she said his name with a tremor. “They wouldn’t take her away without letting us know. You told him we would handle it. Did you tell him we would handle it?”

There was another knock.

Scott closed his eyes and then pivoted. He opened the door a crack, took a note, said thank you, and shut it again. Unfolding the sealed paper, he looked up at the whole room and then his shoulders sank. He walked over to Lucy and handed her the paper and she took it, unfolded it, and looked at the message.

“Is this for real?” Lucy asked.

“It’s his seal,” Scott replied.

Maxine rushed over and put her hand out for the note. Lucy handed it over and crossed her arms.

“What does this mean?” her mother asked. “What could this possibly mean?”

After clearing his throat, Scott pursed his lips and inhaled. He looked at his family, all of their eyes turned on him. “It means what it says,” he turned back to Lucy. “Go get dressed.”

She obeyed and slunk away from the family room and into her shared room, slipping back on the sundress her mother set out for her the first time she went to the Sky Room. Using her fingers as a comb, she untangled her hair and then pulled it into a ponytail. By the time she walked back out, the rest of her family had scattered and only Maxine was waiting for her.

“Huck never meets with people,” she said, more like a reminder. “Good manners and protect yourself…”

“Mom. I’m fine,” Lucy replied.

Her mother sniffed. “Everything your father sacrificed so we could survive—”

“I get it, Mom,” she said. “You’re starting to sound like you’re only trying to convince yourself.” And Lucy walked right past her mother, out the door, and down the hall toward the elevator.

Huck and the Sky Room awaited her for an early breakfast.

When she stepped off the elevator, she noticed the difference right away. The buzz and hum of people congregating for a meal was notably absent. Instead she was greeted with silence. She took several tentative steps and her shoes clapped with loud urgency against the floor. The hair on her arms stood on end. There was nobody up here—the space felt vacant and hollow. Lucy contemplated her fate if she ignored Huck’s breakfast invitation and slunk back downstairs. Would she be allowed to refuse him? What would happen then?

No. Lucy had wanted this meeting to happen. She had requested it and she would not become a coward now when there was so much to lose.

With a deep breath, she forced herself to enter the room. And just like she predicted, the room had been cleared. All the tables were gone, sans one. The single table sat in the middle of the room, directly under the apex of the artificial ceiling. Fake sunlight tumbled downward and washed the room in an eerie glow.

Huck waited.

He waved as she entered and pushed his chair back to stand.

Steady, steady, Lucy thought to herself. On her approach, a single server appeared from the side and pulled out her chair for her. She slipped into place and then the waiter pushed her chair back in. To keep busy, she ran her hands over her dress, smoothing the fabric along her thighs. When she looked up, Huck was smiling at her.

“Lucy King. Thank you for being my guest of honor this morning at breakfast. I am delighted that you agreed to meet me,” he said and he waved for the server, who brought over two tall glasses of a sparkling drink mixture.

Lucy took a sip, the sweetness was overpowering, and she set it back down, swallowing quietly. “I had asked if I could see you,” Lucy replied. “I wasn’t expecting it to actually happen.”

Huck put down his own drink and looked straight at Lucy. “Many people request to see me. Some have questions. Some have solutions. Most have requests. Others just want to be close to the leadership. It makes them feel protected…or above the others…if they can feel like they have my attention.”

She didn’t know how to respond, and so she looked around the empty room nervously. It was just the two of them, alone, and Lucy felt all of her rehearsed arguments and appeals just beyond her mental reach.