Chapter IX

GRACE WAS A GIFT. Areminder that good things still existed in the world. Most nights, when it wasn't my turn, David let her sleep with me. I did not question it. I curled my body around hers and kept her warm through a brutal winter, pressing her blue fingers between my thighs and her head into my chest. The cold burned off, and in the spring, we chased snakes through the tall grass and found a rabbit's nest. Once we even spotted a fox sliding through the huckleberry bushes.

I taught her how to add double digits using a stick and by scratching numbers into a patch of dirt. We dissected owl pellets, too. I showed her the mouse bones like I'd been shown in elementary school. Summer came, and the compound reeked of rot. But we savored the heat and drank it up. In the evenings, we washed in the creek to keep cool. She'd hunch over while I cupped my hands and let the water flow down her spine, which I called a dragon's tail. We sang "Ring Around the Rosie" and played cat's cradle with twine.

And I remember being happy then.

Is that wrong? Is that bad? That I found the smallest seed of joy and nourished it? She was mine. And I wanted to be everything to her. Tried to be everything. Sister. Mother. Teacher. Savior. Anyway, what's that saying? The days were long but the months short? Is that how it goes? It's how it went for me. Time had less and less meaning. I'd finally given in to it, I think. Finally lost myself in the prism of David's world, trapped forever in the sentinel trees, cinder blocks, and plastic sheeting. I let the wilderness inside. Let the darkness swallow me up, and I smiled all the way down.

The edge of fall was in the air. The sky was a dark gray. I'd been watching the clouds all day as they grew over the mountains, more and more pregnant with ocean rain. Salmon were spawning in the creek. The water thick with blue-backed and bright red bodies. We reached right in and plucked one up. A female full of eggs that we cooked over the fire.

Grace picked at her plate. "I wish this was chicken nuggets," she whispered.

"Pretend it's chicken nuggets," I cajoled. The dogs lay around the campground, mouths open, breaths foggy. Star was next to me. She'd taken a liking to Grace, too. Always following us around, nipping at our heels. Chasing us through the trees.

I felt eyes on me. David watching.

"Take a bite," I told Grace, low.

"I'm not hungry," Grace said, loud. Too loud.

David rose from his chair. "Grace," he called, voice rolling across the compound like a bad omen. "Come to me."

A fluttering. Fear beating its wings.

"No." Grace wrapped her arms around my waist, pressing her nose into the softest part of my belly. "No."

When I was five and Sam was fifteen, she got a Life Saver stuck in her throat. Sam had charged into the kitchen from outside, her face red and sweaty, her breath wispy, like the air was passing through the tiniest pinhole. Mom called 911, all while rubbing Sam's arm, telling her how brave she was. My mother had this unique ability—she could stand in front of a moving train and say everything would be fine. Just fine. Don't you worry. Anyway, she couldn't do the Heimlich because technically, Sam wasn't choking. Tears rolled down my face. I blubbered, I love you, Sam. I love you so much. Eventually, the Life Saver dissolved. Sam could breathe. But in those few minutes, when she had to fight for the slightest bit of air, I would have traded places with her. It was the same with Grace.

"It's my fault," I lied. "I brought up chicken nuggets."

David floated toward us, hands in his pockets. His lips twitched. He'd been in a mood lately. Spending more time in his room, watching television. Then bursting out to pace the compound, running his hands through his hair, jaw flexing, wounded eyes ringed in mania and mouth spewing nonsense. Like how the government was undergoing a dangerous and dramatic shift. It wanted authoritarian control. There was a whole new world order. He was being left behind.

"In some cultures, lying is punishable by death." He stopped feet from us.

I opened my mouth.

"Don't," Charity cut in on a whisper.

"Without discipline, there is disorder," David declared, creeping closer. "Those who do wrong must be punished."

I rubbed Grace's back, the space in between her bony shoulders. "I agree." I nodded. Then I started to pry Grace's arms from around my waist. Her grip loosened. I stood, a steel rod in my spine, ready to take her place. David's eyes flashed so subtly that I almost didn't notice. But I did. And it made my skin crawl.

The sky opened its gray mouth, and fat raindrops started to fall. Grace was yanked away from me. Michael had her by the waist. She kicked and screamed and cried out my new name, Destiny. She was kind of beautiful in her anger. Such defiance, so much spirit. I'd have to break her of it.

A clash of elbows, a well-placed knee, and Grace managed to break away. She latched back on to me. "Don't let me go," she said, arms like chains dragging me down. In that moment I realized, somewhere along the way, I'd become afraid to be angry.

David stood by. Patient. Calm. Waiting to see if I passed his test. If I huddled over Grace, her punishment would be worse. One by one, I pried her fingers from my hips. Her will was strong. But mine was stronger. I leaned down and put my mouth to her ear. "Go on," I whispered, tongue as dry as salt. I held back the tears. I didn't want her to see me cry. I didn't want her to cry more. "Pretend you're a Valkyrie. A brave warrior who gets her power from the lightning."

Charity nodded at me. I knew what I had to do. I pushed Grace away from me. "Nooo," she wailed. Michael lifted her in his arms. He carried her to the concrete bunkers. And the whole time, Grace called for me, her arms outstretched. I turned away from her and sat down, the rain pelting my back.

"You indulge her too much," Charity whispered, spoon near her mouth, eyes flicking over my shoulder to David, no doubt.

"I don't," I whispered back. My denial was thin. Maybe I did. Star nosed at me. She'd lost some teeth a few months back, and I'd made a little mobile out of sticks with them.

Charity managed a pale smile. "You do. It's better not to get too close," she said, her voice pounded down by the rain. We did not speak of Hope. Of what we'd done with the seeds before. Of what I'd done after. Or why we did it, to avoid getting pregnant, and that we might get pregnant now. I was terrified of it. I imagined all the scenarios. What if I did get pregnant? Would I try to get rid of it on my own? Or would I have the baby? What if David gave my baby to Serendipity, then killed me after he got what he wanted? I wish I could have talked to Charity about it. But she had tunneled into herself. Barely spoke. And she always seemed a little haunted, with ghosts in her eyes.

"You look at Grace like you hate her sometimes."

Charity remained silent. She didn't deny it. "You did the right thing," she said finally. "David would have made it worse."

I murmured my agreement. My love for Grace was in direct correlation to my fear. I was in a constant state of agitated worry. She was getting so thin, so frail. Most nights, while she slept, I placed my hand on her chest just to feel her lungs inflate and deflate. The only time I knew she was truly safe was when I could count her breaths. I dared to glance over my shoulder, at the bunker where Grace was locked away. My gaze snagged on David. He smiled a small, feral smile, something percolating in the depths of his expression. And then, even though my stomach ached, I ate every single bite of that salmon. All of it. Even the crunchy, burnt skin.