Peter advanced into the room. Whoever had constructed this place, he thought, they had built it to last. The room reminded him of the library, only the books were crates, and the crates contained not words but weapons. The leftovers of the last, lost war, boxed and stored for the war to come.

He moved to the nearest shelf, where Alicia was standing with Amy. Since the incident at the buses, the girl had stayed close, never venturing more than a few meters away. Alicia had pulled the base of her sleeve over her wrist to wipe away a layer of dust from the side of one of the crates.

“What’s an RPG?” Peter asked.

“I have no idea,” Alicia said. She turned, smiling, to look at him. “But I think I want one.”

Chapter Forty-Four

FORTY-FOUR

From the Journal of Sara Fisher (“The Book of Sara”)

Presented at the Third Global Conference on the North American Quarantine Period

Center for the Study of Human Cultures and Conflicts
University of New South Wales, Indo-Australian Republic
April 16–21, 1003 A.V.

[Excerpt begins.]

Day 4

So I guess I’ll just begin. Hello. My name is Sara Fisher, First Family. I am writing to you from an army bunker somewhere north of the town of Twentynine Palms, California. I am one of eight souls traveling from the San Jacinto Mountains to the town of Telluride, Colorado. It’s strange to say these things to a person I don’t even know, who may not even be alive when I’m writing this. But Peter says someone should keep a record of what happens to us. Maybe someday, he said, someone will want to know.

We have been at the bunker two days. All things considered it’s pretty comfortable, with electricity and plumbing and even a shower that works if you don’t mind cold water (I don’t). Not counting the barracks, the bunker has three main chambers: one that seems to contain mostly weapons (“the storeroom”), another with vehicles (“the garage”), and a third, smaller room with food and clothing and medical supplies (we don’t have a name for it yet, we just call it the third room). This was where I found the notebooks and the pencils. Hollis says there’s enough stuff here to outfit a small army, and I don’t doubt it.

Michael and Caleb are going to try to fix one of the Humvees, which is a kind of car. Peter thinks two of them should be able to carry the eight of us with supplies and enough extra fuel, though Michael says he doesn’t know if he can salvage more than one from the parts we have. Alicia is helping them, though from the looks of it she doesn’t do much more than hand them the tools they ask for. It’s nice to see her not bossing everyone around for a change.