And then the second man was brought in, held at the elbows by two guards. His head was bowed, his feet seemed barely to touch the floor as the men, supporting his weight, dragged him forward and pitched him onto the ground and darted away. The cheers of the crowd were deafening now, a wash of sound. Theo staggered onward, scanning the crowd, as if someone there might be bringing help. The second man had brought himself upright on his knees.

The second man was Finn Darrell.

Suddenly a woman was standing before her: a familiar face, with a long pink scar stitched to the cheekbone like a seam. Her jumpsuit bulged with the belly of her pregnancy.

“I know you,” the woman said.

Mausami backed away, but the woman gripped her by the arm, her eyes locking on Mausami’s face with a fierce intensity. “I know you, I know you!”

“Let me go!”

She pulled away. Behind her, the woman was frantically pointing, shouting, “I know her, I know her!”

Mausami ran. All thoughts had left her but one: she had to get to Theo. But there was no way past the flames. The viral was almost done with the cattle; the last lay twitching under its jaws. In another few seconds it would rise and see the two men—see Theo—and that would be the end.

Then Mausami saw the pump. A huge greasy bulk, connected by long trailing hoses to a pair of bulging fuel tanks, weeping with rust. The operator was cradling a shotgun across his chest; a blade hung on his belt in a leather sheath. He was facing away, his eyes, like everyone’s, trained on the spectacle unfolding beyond the fluttering wall of flame.

She felt a flicker of doubt—she’d never killed a man before—but it was not enough to stop her; in a single motion she stepped behind the guard and drew the blade and shoved it with all her strength into his lower back. She felt a stiffening, the muscles of his frame drawing tight, like a bow; from deep inside his throat came an exhalation of surprise.

She felt him die.

Punching through the din, a voice from high above: Peter’s? “Theo, run!”

The pump was a throbbing confusion of levers and knobs. Where were Michael and Caleb when you needed them? Mausami picked the largest one—a wild guess, a lever as long as her forearm—and wrapped it in her fist and pulled.

“Stop her!” someone yelled. “Stop that woman!”