Our embrace is interrupted by a gentle tap on my shoulder, and I pull back from the others and turn to look behind me. General Reece is standing there stiffly. Her expression reveals to me that our outpouring of emotion has made her feel awkward. My dad was the same-he was always teaching me not to cry, to hold everything in.
"Now you're all back together," she says, "I'll need to escort you to the Commander. It's up to him to make the final decision."
"The final decision about what?" I ask, confused.
Emotionlessly, as though it's the most obvious thing in the world, the General says: "To decide if you can stay."
My stomach twists at her words, at the sudden realization that we might be forced back out. I'd been an idiot to assume our staying at Fort Noix was automatic. Of course we wouldn't be accepted just like that.
Ben's hand reaches for my arm and squeezes and I realize he must be thinking the same thing. Likewise, Bree grabs the fabric of my gown, twisting it anxiously into her fist, while Charlie stares at me with wide, terrified eyes. Penelope whines with anguish. None of us want to go back out there. None of us can leave this place now that we've seen it. Even the thought of it is too cruel.
A nurse, tending to someone on the far side of the dorm, looks over and scowls at General Reece.
"My patients are still weak," she said, glancing at my IV line. "They need to be allowed to rest for a few days. Sending them back out there like this would be a death sentence."
It would be a death sentence in any state, I think.
Almost as soon as she says it, I become immediately aware of all the aches and pains in my body. The adrenaline of finding myself alive and safe, of being reunited with my friends and sister, has been the only thing carrying me this far; being reminded of everything my body has gone through brings the pain flooding back.
"Then they will die," General Reece replies firmly, matter-of-factly. "The decision lies with the Commander. I follow the Commander's orders. You follow mine."
The nurse looks away, immediately obedient, and the General, without another word, turns on her heel and marches out.
We all look at each other anxiously and then, prodded by the soldiers, we follow the General, flanked by her equally obedient soldiers.
It's difficult to walk down the corridor. There are aches in muscles I never knew I had, and my bones seem to creak and grind as I walk. Sharp pains race through my neck and spine, making me wince. Moreover, I'm absolutely famished. Yet I don't feel able to ask for food, worried that it may sway General Reece or the Commander, make them think that we're demanding or spoiled. If we want to survive, we need to give off the best impression we possibly can.
Ben keeps glancing at me with a worried expression, and I can see his anxiety, his fear that we might be expelled from Fort Noix and left to fend for ourselves all over again. I share his fear. I'm not sure any of us would survive that again. It's as if I'd been bracing myself all these years, steeling myself to survive this world, knowing that no other option existed. But now, seeing all this, seeing what is possible, the thought of going back to it is just too much.
We reach the end of the corridor, and as General Reece pushes open the two double doors, morning light floods in so bright I have to blink.
As my eyes adjust to the brightness, Fort Noix appears before me. It's a fully functioning town, filled with people and buildings, military trucks, bustle, noise, and laughter. Laughter. I can't even remember the last time I heard that. I can hardly believe my eyes.
It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
The General's voice breaks through my reverie.
"This way."
We're led along a sidewalk, past groups of kids around Charlie and Bree's age playing in the streets.
"We don't have many children at Fort Noix," the General tells us. "The ones that are here are educated until the age of fourteen. Then we sort them according to their abilities and assign them work."
Bree looks at the children with longing eyes: the prospect of four years of school is beyond tempting for her. Nestled in her arms, Penelope immediately reads the change in Bree's emotion and licks her face.
"What kind of work?" Charlie asks, curiously.
"All forms of labor are needed to keep this fort operational. We have farmers, fishermen, hunters, builders, tailors, and then we have more administrative duties, like assigning rations, taking registers, and the like. We have professionals, too: teachers, soldiers, doctors, and nurses."
As we're led through the town, I find myself more and more impressed by what I see. Fort Noix runs on solar power. All the buildings are only one story high, so as not to be visible from afar or attract any attention. Most of them have grass on their roofs-something the General explains is for both insulation and camouflage-and tree branches covering them.
As we stroll along, the sunlight grows warmer and brighter, and the General explains the history of the place. It seemed to come about through a combination of fate, chance, and a whole lot of luck. There were already a number of military bases peppered along the powerful Richelieu River. Due to its geographical location between New England and New France, the river had been a key pathway in the French and Iroquois Wars in the seventeenth century and, later, the French-English battles of the eighteenth century__. Because of its rich military history, those who, like General Reece, opposed the brewing American civil war were drawn to it, and helped turn it into a safe zone for defectors.
The second bit of luck was that the river flowed from the distant Green Mountains bordering Vermont. When the war finally broke out in New York, the mountains sheltered the fort from the winds carrying nuclear radiation. While the rest of the population succumbed to the radiation and disease that resulted in the biovictims, the military personnel hiding out in Fort Noix were protected. At the same time, the good source of clean running water provided them with an abundance of fish, so that when supply routes were blockaded, bridges blown, and villages leveled, the people in the fort survived.
The wars that had raged around these parts had another unlikely outcome. Since most of the local towns were flattened, the surrounding forests had a chance to grow. Soon, a thick barrier of evergreens surrounded Fort Noix, reducing its chances of being found to virtually nil, while providing wood for fires and game for hunting.
Once the sound of bombs stopped and the fort's residents knew the war was over, they sent out scouts and quickly realized the human race had obliterated itself. After that, they cut themselves off completely and set to work expanding the fort into a town, and building civilization again from the ground up.
By the time General Reece has finished her story, I'm in awe of her. Her calm and military steeliness reminds me of my dad.
As we walk, I can't help but feel overwhelmed by every little detail. It's been so long since I've seen civilization. It's like stepping back in time. Better, even. It's like stepping into a dream come true. The people milling around me look healthy and well cared for. None of them have endured starvation. None of them have had to fight to the death. They're just normal people like the ones who used to populate the earth. The thought makes a lump form in my throat. Is it possible to start again?
I can tell the others are as overwhelmed as I am. Bree and Charlie stay close together, side by side, looking around with awe. They're both clearly excited and happy to be in Fort Noix, yet also anxious at the thought of it all potentially being taken away from us.
Ben, on the other hand, seems a little dazed. I can't blame him. To step out of our brutal world and into this one is beyond disorienting. He walks slowly, almost as though in a trance, and his eyes glance furtively from side to side, trying to take everything in. I realize as he walks that it's more than just being overwhelmed. It is like how my body could only reveal to me how exhausted it was once I was safe. Ben's mind, I'm sure, is revealing to him just how much he's been through: the death of his brother, fighting in the arena, every near-death experience. I can almost see that his mind is preoccupied with thoughts as he sifts through his memories. I have seen people suffer from post-traumatic stress, and his face bears the same look as they'd had. I can't help but hope that his appearance doesn't hamper our chances of being accepted here.
Soon, we're off the main street and walking down some smaller, winding roads that lead through the forests. This time, it's Charlie who starts hanging back, trudging a little way behind the rest of us. I drop my pace and draw up beside him.
"What's wrong?"
He looks at me with terrified eyes.
"What if this is a trap?" he says under his breath. "What if they're taking us to another arena?"
His question makes me wonder whether I'm being too trusting. I think back to the man who stole our supplies when we were on the run from the slaverunners. I'd trusted him and I'd been wrong. But this time it's different. There's no way Logan would have directed us toward danger.
I put my arm around Charlie's shoulder.
"We're safe now," I explain. "You don't have to be scared anymore."
But as we go, the canopy thickens above us, blocking out the daylight and making dark shadows crowd in around us. Something about walking this long, dark path reminds me of the arenas, of walking those corridors knowing that a horrible, painful death was all that awaited me. I can feel my heart begin to hammer in my chest.
The sky gets darker and darker as we go. Bree must notice something is wrong, because she snuggles into me.
"You're sweating," she says.
"I am?"
I touch my brow and find that I've broken out in a cold sweat.
"Are you okay?" Bree adds.
But her voice sounds strange, distorted, like it's coming from far, far away.
Suddenly, there's a hand on my arm, and I scream as I see Rose's black, wizened hand latching onto my arm. I lash out, pushing her away, scratching at her hand with my fingernails.
Then all at once the panic is gone. I come back to the present and realize that it wasn't Rose's hand on me at all. It was Ben's. He's cradling it against his chest, and deep scratches run along it. He looks at me with an expression of pure anguish while Penelope yap-yap-yaps her distress. The soldiers around us politely avert their gazes.
I look down at Bree and Charlie, my heart hammering.
"I'm sorry," I stammer. "I thought… I just…"
But my words disappear.
"Maybe we should take you back to the hospital," Ben suggests in a soft, persuasive voice.
"I'm fine," I say, sternly, frowning at their worried expressions. "I thought I saw something is all. It's no big deal. Come on."
I stroll ahead, leading the pack, trying to gain back some sense of myself. I'm not the sort of person who crumbles in the face of adversity and I'm not about to become the sort who is haunted by the past.
Yet as I continue to walk, I'm not so sure I can leave the past behind.
We turn a bend, and I see it: the short, squat building that must contain the Commander's office. I brace myself, heart pounding, as we walk.
The outcome of this meeting, I know, will determine if we live or die.
