But I cannot change my mind now—and I don’t want to. Other survivors might be out there. And among them, I even dare to hope, my father.

I have sealed my fate.

CHAPTER EIGHT

When I enter my room, Bree, sitting on the bottom bunk bed, puts her book down and stares at me. That look kills me. She’s annoyed at me for rocking the boat, for bringing disorder and chaos into her previously stable life, but I decide not to sugar coat it. Bree’s matured a lot over the last few months. She deserves the truth. I sit beside her on the bed. She looks so serious, so grown up. I feel a pang of loss for the little girl she used to be.

“Bree, I’m sorry,” I begin, but she cuts me off.

“I think the Commander’s right,” she says, seriously. “Fort Noix is the first place we’ve been safe. We don’t have to worry about slaverunners or going hungry. Have you already forgotten what it was like out there? Don’t you remember how it felt to be starving? I never want to feel that again.” There’s accusation in her tone.

“But there are other people out there,” I argue gently. “Other survivors. Don’t you think we should find them?”

Bree just shakes her head. “No. I don’t. The Commander would let them in if they made it here just like he did with us. But I don’t think we should go looking for them. It’s way too dangerous.”

“What if one of them was Dad?” I contest.

Bree frowns. She looks even madder than before.

“We don’t even know if Dad’s alive,” she says.

“We don’t know for certain,” I admit. “But I have this feeling deep inside of me that he is. Like if the Commander can survive this long, then why not Dad? He was one of the best in the platoon, you heard the Commander say that.”

“But what does your thinking Dad’s alive have to do with going to Texas?”

I know she’s going to think I’m crazy, but she has to understand why I’m so adamant about leaving. “The radio message. I think it was from Dad.”

Bree looks at me sadly. “I see Mom all the time, too. It’s just part of grief.”

“It’s not like that,” I snap. “I’m not seeing ghosts.” She goes to roll her eyes but I grab her roughly by the shoulder. “Listen,” I demand. “The message is from a military base. Dad was in the military. It’s in Texas. Dad trained in Texas. He said ‘Moore,’ right at the end!”

Bree wrenches her shoulders from my grasp. “And that’s enough for you to just up and leave?”