He glanced toward the two men, who were looking at him expectantly, as if everything depended on his answer.

“Okay, yes.”

Billie nodded. “Then put your clothes on and do everything we tell you.”

Chapter Fifty

FIFTY

Mausami in darkness, dreaming of birds. She awoke to a quick bright fluttering beneath her heart, like a pair of wings beating inside her.

The baby, she thought. This baby is moving.

The feeling came again—a distinct aquatic pressure, rhythmic, like rings widening on the surface of a pool. As if someone were tapping at a pane of glass inside her. Hello? Hello out there!

She let her hands trace the curve of her belly under her shirt, damp with sweat. A warm contentment flooded her. Hello, she thought. Hello back, you.

The baby was a boy. She’d thought it was a boy since the start, since the first morning at the compost pile when she’d lost her breakfast. She didn’t want to name him yet. It would be harder to lose a baby with a name, that’s what everyone always said; but that wasn’t the real reason, because the baby would be born. The idea was more than hope, more than belief. Mausami knew it for a fact. And when the baby was born, when he’d made his loud and painful entry into the world, Theo would be there, and they would name their son together.

This place. The Haven. It made her so tired. All she could do was sleep. And eat. It was the baby, of course; it was the baby that made her think about eating all the time. After all the hardtack and bean paste, and that awful strange food they’d found in the bunker—hundred-year-old goop vacuumed in plastic; it was a miracle they hadn’t all poisoned themselves—how amazing to have real food. Beef and milk. Bread and cheese. Actual butter so creamy it made the top of her throat tickle. She shoveled it in, then licked her fingers clean. She could have stayed in this place forever, just for the food.

They’d all felt it right away: something wasn’t right. Last night, all those women crowding around her, holding babies or pregnant themselves—some actually both—their faces beaming with a sisterly glow at the discovery that she was pregnant too. A baby! How wonderful! When was she due? Was it her first? Were any of the other women in their group also with child? It hadn’t occurred to her at the time to wonder how they’d known—she was barely showing, after all—nor why none had asked who the father was or mentioned the fathers of their own children.