He put his arm around her.

Soon, she was asleep.

He looked around.

The collective grief was a tangible thing. It seemed to weigh down the air with a thickness like water or dense smoke.

His hands grew cold. He dug his right one into the pocket of his parka. His fingers touched the memory shard that contained the footage of David Pilcher murdering his own daughter. Grasping it delicately between his thumb and forefinger, an H-bomb of rage blossomed in his gut.

Ted had copies of this footage as well, and Ethan had told him not to do anything with it. To stand by. But that was before the abby invasion. Did Ted know what was happening in Wayward Pines?

Ethan ran another headcount.

Still ninety-six.

Such frailty.

He thought of Pilcher, sitting in the warmth and safety of his office, watching on his two hundred sixteen flatscreens as the people he had kidnapped in another lifetime were massacred.

Voices roused him.

Ethan opened his eyes.

Theresa was stirring beside him.

The quality of the light hadn’t changed, but it felt much later. Like he’d been asleep for days.

Gently lifting Ben’s head off his lap, he stood and rubbed his eyes.

People were up and moving around.

Near the door, voices were raised.

He saw two separate groups, with Kate standing between Hecter and another man.

Both men were yelling.

He walked over, caught Kate’s eye.

She said, “We have some people who want to go outside.”

A man named Ian, who owned a shoe-repair store on Main called The Cobbler’s Shoppe, said, “My wife is out there. We were separated when the four groups were forming.”

“And you want to do what exactly?” Ethan asked.

“I want to help her! What do you think?”

“So go.”

“He also wants a gun,” Kate said.

A woman who worked in the community gardens pushed past several people and glared at Ethan. “My son and my husband are out there.”

Kate said, “You understand my husband is too?”

“So why are we hiding in here instead of rescuing them?”

Hecter said, “You’d be dead within ten minutes of leaving this cavern.”

“That’s my choice, pal,” Ian said.

“You aren’t taking a gun.”

Ethan broke in: “Hold on just a minute. This is a conversation for everyone.”

He walked into the middle of the room, and said loudly enough for everyone to hear, “Circle up! We need to talk!”

The crowd slowly converged, bleary-eyed, bedraggled.

“I know it’s been a hard night,” he said.

Silence.

He sensed anger and blame in the eyes that watched him.

Wondered how much of it was truly there, how much he imagined.