“I know you’re all worried about those who didn’t make it in here. I am too. We barely made it ourselves. And some of you may be wondering why we didn’t stop and help. I can tell you right now that if we had, this would be an empty cavern, and we’d all be dead in that valley. That’s hard to hear. As the man responsible for us being in this situation . . .”

Emotion reared its head.

He let the tears come, let the tremor disrupt his voice.

“From my place at the back of the line,” he said, “I saw what was happening to our people above ground. I know what these aberrations are capable of. And I think we all need to start coming to terms with a hard, hard truth. There’s a chance we’re all that’s left of Wayward Pines.”

Someone yelled, “Don’t say that!”

A man stepped into the circle. He was an officer of the fête, still dressed in black, still carrying his machete. Ethan had never exchanged words with him, but he knew where he lived, that he worked at the library. He was slim and fit, with a shaved head and faint stubble across his jawline. He also carried that whiff of unearned arrogance that seems to cling to those who crave authority for the sheer sake of power.

The officer said, “I tell you what you do. You get on your hands and knees and crawl back to Pilcher and beg the man’s forgiveness. Tell him you did this. Tell him you brought this shitstorm down on our heads all on your very own and that we want to go back to the way things were. That none of us signed up for this.”

“It’s too late,” Ethan said. “You all know the truth now. You can’t unknow it. There’s no easy way out of this.”

A short, squat man—the town butcher—pushed his way into the circle.

He said, “You’re telling me my wife and daughters are dead. That at least a dozen dear friends of mine are dead. So what are you saying we do about it? Hide in here like a bunch of cowards and write them off?”

Ethan moved toward him, his jaw tensing. “I am not saying that, Andrew. I am not saying we write anybody off.”

“Then what? What are we supposed to do? You pulled the wool away from our eyes. But for what? To lose most of our people and live like this? I’d rather be enslaved. I’d rather be safe and have my family.”