I lean against the cabinet, arms folded over each other, and try to get my breathing under control. With every incredulous response, the pain and anger inside me grow. When Logan returned to Hope, I walked away to the privacy of my own room and punched at the wall until my knuckles were sore, equal parts furious that she left me and relieved that she was safe.

But that felt like nothing compared to this. We were left here to die.

“They’re all trying to find ways to get by,” Nia translates for Logan. “I don’t think they did it on purpose.”

“I’m not sure that makes it better,” Khalil says.

“We have a right to survive as much as anyone,” Josie says. She rarely speaks up in these gatherings, but today, nothing can stop her. She has her fingers curled in such tight fists, I can count the bones, and the muscles in her arms flex. “Upstanding citizens. Ha. If they’re handing out food rations, we deserve to get them too. If they’re keeping people safe, we deserve to be safe. If they have medical supplies—” She chokes on the last word.

I place my hands on the cabinet and launch myself forward with a big step to get the restless energy out of my body. “Josie is right.” I grab the torn pamphlet from the table and crumple it in my hand, but I manage to keep my voice from cracking. We need to make this work, all of us. “We deserve a chance. We deserve to live too.”

“So we go get it.” Emerson sits on one of the tables, and they tap their foot against its leg. With their free hand, they’re plucking at their splint. “It says households have a right to rations, doesn’t it? We’re technically a household. If we show up, they can’t send us away.”

“Can’t they?” Riley asks, before I can. Riley’s hair has grown out, and she’s bound it back in a ponytail. She still has dirt underneath her fingernails from today’s work in the garden, and she picks at it. “Might be me, but in my experience, they can, and they will. They’re the ones who write the rules, Emerson. They don’t have to abide by them.”

“What can they do?” Mackenzi sneers. “Arrest us?”

“Shoot us,” Riley throws back. “They can shoot us. Remember? They’ve done it before.”

“I remember,” Emerson says. “I was there. But that’s exactly why we should try. Things were different back then. The military was under orders to confine everyone to their houses. They were scared. This is a different assignment. They’ll want to help us.”

I haven’t heard them so full of trust in a long time, maybe ever. And I wish I could believe it isn’t actually naivete. A reminder of the life they once had. Nothing that happened so far indicates the authorities will want to help. But… “We’ll have to try.”

“They don’t want us there at all,” Riley retorts. “Andrew said so himself!”