I felt the back of my neck get hot, but I ignored the last part. “I don’t mind getting my hands dirty,” I murmured. As I recalled, the empty northeastern field was out of the way. Perhaps we would be able to work alone.

Once we got to the big plaza cave, we started passing humans. They all stared, infuriated, as usual. I was beginning to recognize most of them: the middle-aged woman with the long salt-and-pepper braid I had seen with the irrigation team yesterday. The short man with the round belly, thinning sandy hair, and ruddy cheeks had been with her. The athletic-looking woman with the caramel brown skin had been the one bent to tie her shoe the first time I’d come out here during the day. Another dark-skinned woman with thick lips and sleepy eyes had been in the kitchen, near the two black-haired children—perhaps she was their mother? Now we passed Maggie; she glowered at Jeb and turned her face away from me. We passed a pale, sick-looking man with white hair whom I was sure I’d never seen before. Then we passed Ian.

“Hey, Jeb,” he said cheerfully. “Whatcha up to?”

“Turning the soil in the east field,” Jeb grunted.

“Want some help?”

“Ought to make yourself useful,” Jeb muttered.

Ian took this as an assent and fell into step behind me. It gave me goose bumps, feeling his eyes on my back.

We passed a young man who couldn’t have been many years older than Jamie—his dark hair stood up from his olive-toned forehead like steel wool.

“Hey, Wes,” Ian greeted him.

Wes watched in silence as we passed. Ian laughed at his expression.

We passed Doc.

“Hey, Doc,” Ian said.

“Ian.” Doc nodded. In his hands was a big wad of dough. His shirt was covered with dark, coarse flour. “Morning, Jeb. Morning, Wanda.”

“Morning,” Jeb answered.

I nodded uneasily.

“See you ’round,” Doc said, hurrying off with his burden.

“Wanda, huh?” Ian asked.

“My idea,” Jeb told him. “Suits her, I think.”

“Interesting” was all Ian said.

We finally made it to the northeastern field, where my hopes were dashed.

There were more people here than there had been in the passageways—five women and nine men. They all stopped what they were doing and scowled, naturally.

“Pay ’em no mind,” Jeb murmured to me.

Jeb proceeded to follow his own advice; he went to a jumbled pile of tools against the closest wall, shoved his gun through the strap at his waist, and grabbed a pick and two shovels.