I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

“It’s decided,” Nick says.

In less than a week, we are going to Reformation—where the death squad was taking me, the heart of the Angelic Movement in Acheson, and one of the worst places I have ever been—to kill as many Angels as we can.

The next four days slog by but pass far too quickly. I wake up every day sluggish and crash every night exhausted.

I imagine this is what Theo felt as a new death-squad soldier, reeling from a taste of the Flood and desperately trying to keep up. Cormac avoids me, but I still hear him bragging about his rich parents, as if that matters anymore. I ask Aisha about her doomsday-prepper family, and she talks about underground bunkers in West Virginia until she gets distracted by Sadaf. I learn Faith used to be in the coast guard when she goes on a soft-spoken but firm tirade about the inherent cruelty of the armed forces and what a mistake it was to join. We quiz each other on maps of Acheson to make sure we can get back to the ALC if we’re separated. Nick teaches me how to load and unjam a pistol, and I pretend I’m not staring at him more than I’m looking at the gun.

Nobody notices I’m only taking half my allotted water rations and barely any food. The pantry empties quickly. Even when a boy named Micah butchers rabbits and squirrels in the courtyard, it barely makes a dent in how much food we go through a day. Taking even a granola bar makes me feel guilty.

The first respite I get is lunch with Salvador on the second day. We’ve got a back table in the kitchen, and I’m picking at half a can of tuna. The two of us are supposed to be studying Reformation’s floor plans—Aisha found a copy of the blueprints in City Hall months ago, and they’re currently laid out on the table—but I already know the layout, and Salvador insists on a meal break.

I don’t know much about Salvador, and xe seems quite fine with that. My one question about xyr scars is met with a wink and, “Care to tell me why you were kidnapped by Angels?”

I glare.

“Exactly.” Xe leans back in the flimsy plastic chair, gesturing at me with xyr fork. “But I’m curious, so humor me. What convinced you to join? Because the Watch ain’t fun. I’m sure it’d be easier to scrub the floors and let us do the hard shit.”

There’s not much to say. “Nick recommended it.”

“That can’t be all.”

When I frown, xe can actually see it, since eating is one of the few times we take down our masks. I’ve tried waiting around for Nick to eat, but he always takes his food upstairs. Salvador taps at the scar on xyr lip, which has bent xyr mouth into something uneven.