“I just did.” She climbs back into the driver’s seat, and with a crack at the reins, the wagon lurches forward. I watch the convoy go, the wagon beds looking as full as when they’d arrived. They’ve traded something, though I can’t guess what. The General doesn’t need anything.

I force myself to move, crawling slowly back to my basket. The sun beats down, merciless.

By the time the evening water wagon shows up at the end of the day, losing my mind to the General’s water doesn’t sound so terrible. I just want to forget. All of it. Ma’s death, and how the rest of the pack is doomed, and how Flint betrayed me.

My basket of weeds is sufficient enough for one ladle of water. I drink it eagerly, waiting for my wretched memories to be lost.

Chapter Fifteen

The memories don’t fade, but instead become sharp, like a blade in my side.

Ma’s limp body as she was shoved from the dam. Brooke’s fogged eyes as she failed to recall her daughter’s name. Flint’s utter indifference at what his cowardly decisions have caused. It’s all still there, only now I’m thirstier than ever.

Lying on a bed mat with a weed-stuffed pillow beneath my head, I stare at the shanty’s crooked ceiling. My body already craves more of the drugged drink. It’s all I can think of, even when my muscles ache and my head throbs.

I’ve stripped down to my lowest layers in an effort to cool off. Everything else hangs above me on lines that run the length of the shanty. The clothes of my pack hang from these lines too, drying out the sweat while they sleep.

No one spoke after leaving the fields, just shuffled like mules to the shanties, receiving dinner from the guards on the way. A knob of corn. A scoop of beans. A chunk of dry bread.

I ate ravenously as I followed the others to our quarters, hoping my pack would come alive after the meal. Maybe once the guards were at a more formal distance for the night, life would return to their eyes and they’d speak in whispers, plotting escape.

I should have known better.

After eating, everyone promptly hung up their clothes and collapsed on their mats. Now, in the quiet, I lie on mine, thinking about how one of these mats will be empty each third day, and still, all I want is to taste that sweet-smelling water again.

I fall asleep deciding that I will work hard tomorrow and earn myself three full ladles by midday. The sooner I forget, the less it will hurt to lose the only family I know.

“Delta.” A firm hand on my shoulder drags me from a deathlike sleep. “Delta, wake up.”