‘Hey!’ he yells to Paige. ‘The gangs who hit us went that way.’ He swings his rifle to point north up El Camino Real. ‘I shot several of them. They should be easy pickin’s for you and your pets.’

He lowers his rifle and slings it over his torn shirt. ‘Never let it be said that we didn’t feed our honored guests.’

There’s a moment when everyone watches Martin. Then one by one, the Resistance people lower their guns.

Paige looks down at me from the sky as her locusts circle low above us like vultures. She looks both eager and confused, like she’s not sure what she’s supposed to do.

She’s looking to me for answers, but I don’t know what to do either.

‘Yes!’ says my mother as she runs toward Paige, waving her arms in the direction that Martin pointed. ‘Go, baby girl. It’s lunchtime!’

That’s all the permission they need. The locusts fly north along the road with my sister.

‘Be careful,’ I call out.

I’m horrified. Relieved. Scared. Confused.

Nothing is as it’s supposed to be.

Chapter 51

51

I keep expecting Obi to show up and take charge, but I still don’t see him. Not knowing what else to do, I continue to help carry the wounded while looking for Obi.

The injured sometimes scream and are sometimes too silent as we carry them into the main building. I have no idea if there’s even a doctor there, but we carry injured people in as though there were a full hospital in there.

We act as if this Spanish-style high school building is full of doctors and equipment. We tell the patients they’ll be okay, that the doctor will be with them soon. I suspect that some of them die while they wait, but I don’t stop to confirm as we lay down the wounded and head out for more.

There’s a rhythm to it, this task of carrying the injured. It gives us all something to do, something that feels organized and proper. I shut my brain off and just move like a robot, one wounded after another.

Surprisingly, everyone else behaves as though there’s order as well. Some bring water to people who need it, others gather crying children and reassure them, while others put out the fire still lingering in one of the buildings. There are people who stand guard with their rifles pointed at the sky, protecting the rest of us.

Everyone steps into a role to help without being told what to do.

That sense of organization falls apart, though, as soon as we find Obi.

He’s in bad shape. His breathing is shallow, and his hands are freezing. He has a wound in his chest that has soaked his entire shirt in blood.