I crawl onto the mattress and try to sleep, but all I can see is the blade coming across Ma’s neck, her limp body falling from the dam. My brain jumps ahead in time, showing me the others, leaving out no details, not even for poor Bay.

Although I can’t afford to waste water, the tears break loose. I come apart, sobbing into the mattress, the knowledge that I am going to fail my pack unbearably heavy. Just as I failed Indie, just as I failed Ma. I don’t have the power to save them.

Chapter Fourteen

The fields are blistering hot.

I joined the workers at sunrise, unceremoniously. I was allowed to bring what I could wear, so I put it all on, ensuring that nothing could be confiscated. Now, as the sun nears its peak in the sky, I harvest beans with my goggles on to avoid the dust that is kicked up by the shuffling workers. The back of my neck aches. Even with my jacket collar flipped up, I can’t escape being cooked.

To my right, Pewter keeps her attention on the crop. To my left, Brooke does the same. I can’t avoid talking about it any longer. “I’m so sorry,” I blurt out. “I’m so sorry about Marin.” They just stare at me with glassy eyes, blinking.

“Who’s Marin?” Pewter asks. It is the only thing she’s said to me all day. Like all the other workers, she is focused on filling her basket, her fingers picking and plucking, the plant leaves rustling as she moves through the row.

“What do you mean, who’s Marin? My ma. Marin. The General executed her.”

Pewter blinks at me.

“Didn’t any of you notice she’s missing?” I turn around, waiting for someone to confirm it. Maybe their grief is too immense to discuss things right now. Maybe throwing themselves into the work is all that’s holding them together.

I drop a handful of beans into my basket and angle my head toward Brooke. “Who’s the oldest in our pack now?” I whisper. “Is it Alder or Vee?”

“Get back to work.”

Worry gnaws at me. “You know who they are, don’t you? Alder and Vee?”

She remains quiet.

“Your daughter. Where is she?”

Brooke glances about briefly, then frowns.

“Do you even remember her name?”

A crease appears in her brow. “Be loyal to the cause . . .” She studies me, searching for my name, but she can’t place that either. Eventually she just shrugs and goes back to harvesting.

Whatever’s in the water isn’t merely numbing the General’s workforce, it’s chipping away at their minds, their memories, their very souls.