“That and a feeling right in here,” I say, touching my heart, “that Dad is alive out there somewhere and now that we’re strong enough to find him we should.”

Bree sighs heavily. “Nothing I say will change your mind, will it?”

I look down into my lap, ashamed. “You know I don’t want to leave you.”

“Do I?” she snaps.

“Of course I don’t!” I cry. “You’re my sister. I love you.”

She flashes me a haughty look. “You left Mom.”

The words sting more than a slap to the face. My little Bree, whom I did everything in the world for, is challenging me over one of the hardest decisions I ever had to make, one that I made to make sure she stayed alive.

I’m not prepared to argue with her. It feels as though being at Fort Noix has turned her from a helpless kid into an independent one. She’s acting like she doesn’t need me anymore. Maybe she doesn’t.

I stand from the bed and climb into the top bunk. With an angry sigh I stare at the ceiling.

“I love you, Bree,” I say. “Whatever happens, remember that.”

She doesn’t say anything back.

*

I pace down the darkened corridor, tiptoeing so no one can hear my footsteps. I’m deep in the bowels of Fort Noix, though I can’t quite recall how I got here.

At the far end of the corridor, light seeps out from beneath a door. It’s one of those big steel doors like in a submarine. I realize then that I’m far, far underground.

I creep up to the door and press my ear against it. Inside, I can just about make out a deep rumbling voice with a strong South Carolina accent. It’s the Commander.

I can only hear some of the words he’s saying but it’s enough to gather that he’s speaking to someone about the radio message, about the group of survivors in America. Then I pick out something that makes my heart stop.

“Laurence Moore.”

That’s my dad’s name. What’s the Commander doing talking about my dad?

I shove the door open. The Commander’s back is to me. He’s bent over a large machine which I assume to be some kind of radio device. It takes up the whole other half of the room. A single light bulb hangs from the ceiling, casting a dirty dark yellow light over the room, making the shadows stark.

When I barge into the room, he spins around to face me. But it’s not the Commander I come face to face with. It’s my dad.

He’s in full military gear, looking exactly like he did the last time I saw him. Behind him the radio bleeps and crackles.