What if it happens again? What if we show up and we’re turned away? What if we can’t count on anyone anymore? Why ask for help, and let yourself be vulnerable in the process, if you know it won’t be given to you?

Every face in the room reflects the same worry, and the worst thing is—it never even crossed my mind. Not like that. Not like the existential dread of being both abandoned and denied.

What if they leave us again?

“We go anyway,” Emerson says. They swallow hard, but they sit up straighter, and they stop tapping their foot. “We try. We try, because I want to believe not everyone will turn us away. I’ll be the one to get in line if you want me to.”

“At least you don’t look threatening,” Josie says, her words snide and teasing all at once. “They may even take pity on you.”

Emerson raises their splinted arm and gives her a one-finger salute.

I slowly breathe out.

Casey chokes back a laugh, and someone else giggles. It defuses the tension enough for the undercurrent of conversations to start up again, but Riley and Mackenzi are still scowling.

“We’ll come too,” Nia says loudly. She nods at Logan, who smiles wryly and signs, “Maybe they’ll take pity on me.”

“I think Emerson is right,” Casey says, adding his voice to the chorus. “We need to try. I would come if I could.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” I say immediately. I narrow my eyes at him. He’s not. Not if I can help it. We can’t spare him. He’s no more a doctor than any of us, but by this point, he’s the closest thing we have. And I don’t want anything to happen to him.

Casey scowls, but I’ll deal with that later. I continue. “As for the others, how about this? A plan and a contingency plan. We send Nia and Logan, if she feels up to it, as representatives of Hope, on behalf of all of us. Emerson can pretend they’re one of the townspeople, in case the authorities are difficult. And Riley and I follow the three of them from a distance to keep an eye out for trouble and escape routes if we need them.”

I turn to Riley, who jiggles her jaw and sucks in a breath. Then she nods. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Good.” I don’t even have to pretend to smile. “Thank you.”

“We’re going to have to find you some decent clothes, Emerson,” Riley says, eyeing me. “If you want to pass as a normal person, that is.”

Emerson wrinkles their nose. “Normal?”

“A baby-blue polo shirt and slacks,” Mackenzi suggests.

“A three-piece suit. Someone’s holiday outfit,” Josie smirks.

“A jacket made from raccoon pelts,” Khalil throws in. “Thematically appropriate and all that.”

“Whatever people in the real world look like,” Isaiah says solemnly, and it’s so well meant and absurd that we all laugh. It lightens the mood for the rest of the night, while we plot and plan increasingly ridiculous scenarios. It takes the fear out of the situation, but the weight on my shoulders grows heavier.