“She had an asthma attack. Can you believe it? With the war and the slaverunners and nuclear destruction it was her own body that killed her. She’d run out of medication and that was that. She was six years old.”

Six years old. The same age as Trixie.

“My brother was killed by slaverunners,” Ben says.

His voice is as clear as a bell. It’s the first time I’ve heard him truly admit his brother is dead. For a long time, he was clinging onto the hope that he was alive, but it seems that he’s finally accepted reality.

“You had a brother?” Ryan asked.

I think it’s the first time I’ve heard Ryan and Ben behave cordially to one another since they first met back at Fort Noix. Finally, they have something in common, something that can make them realize they’re not so different from one another, that they’re both on the same team.

“I did,” Ben says. “It’s how Brooke and I met. We were chasing the car that had Bree and my brother in it.”

“He was brave,” Bree said. “Right up to the end. He didn’t let the slaverunners hurt me. And he loved you. He said you would come for him.”

There’s a long silence.

“Thank you,” Ben finally says. I can hear the emotion thick in his voice.

“Flo wasn’t my only sister,” Charlie says suddenly. “I had two other ones, Daisy and Rebecca. Flo was the oldest. I was the youngest.”

“I didn’t know that,” I say into the darkness.

I can hardly believe we’ve all been beside each other so long without getting to know the fundamentals. It’s just another thing the war stole from us: socialization, communication, friendship. When your life is reduced to fighting and surviving, there’s never really a good time for a chat.

“That’s why Flo wanted me to be stronger,” Charlie adds. “She didn’t want me to get taken like they were.”

“Was it slaverunners?” Molly asks.

“Yes,” Charlie says. “Slaverunners.”

No one asks anymore. The very fact that we’ve even spoken feels like the beginning of a healing process has begun. It’s like we’ve stepped over some invisible line, broken down one of our guarded barriers. In this awful, terrifying world, opening up to each other about our pasts has been one of the scariest things we’ve done.