Then it’s only Bree and Dad left to say goodbye to. Bree is holding onto Penelope, clutching her against her chest. She looks like a little girl again, like the seven-year-old I raised on the mountainside, the girl who relied on me for everything. It’s as though being back in our dad’s presence has allowed her to regress. She can claim back those childhood years she lost again. I wish I could do the same.

I bend down so my eyes are level with her and Penelope. I address the one-eyed dog first, rubbing her behind the ear.

“Take care of Bree while I’m gone,” I say.

Penelope tips her head to the side as though she’s taking in everything I’m saying. Then she licks Bree’s face, lapping up the salty tears that are rolling down her cheeks.

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” Bree stammers. “I wish there was another way.”

“I know,” I say. “So do I. But this is the last fight, Bree. After this, the world will begin to heal again. I’ll be able to heal again.”

She doesn’t say what we are both thinking; that there is a chance I might not make it back at all.

I pull her into me, hugging her tightly. Over my shoulder, I catch sight of Charlie watching me. I know he’ll take care of Bree if I don’t return. She’ll have Charlie and Penelope and Dad. If there was any time for me to disappear from her life, it would be now.

I let go of her and straighten up before my own tears have a chance to fall. I can hardly bear to look into her sorrowful eyes, and so I don’t. I move along, pain swirling in my gut, and come face to face with my dad.

In unison, we salute.

“Commander,” I say.

“Good luck, soldier,” he says.

Then he reaches forward and pulls me into a tight embrace. “You can do this, Brooke,” he says into my ear. “I believe in you.”

“Thank you, Dad,” I whisper back.

And then there’s nothing left to do but to mount my motorcycle and head off into the desert, alone. I kick the engine to life and rev, making fumes spew out behind me. Then I’m off, heading away from the compound, away from the Eden my dad has created. I am leaving behind everything I care about.

I decide not to look back.

*