It was clear that Alex was training for something.

Chatterjee stood and watched her, his forehead grooved with furrows. He seemed worried.

In between lookout shifts, Patrick paced around the school grounds. There was a building sense of anticipation, of unease. I sensed that something was coming, a storm brewing inside him and Alex, inside even me, but I couldn’t grasp what it was.

That night a hand shook me gently from sleep. “Okay, Junebug,” I murmured, rolling over. “Let’s get you back to—”

But it wasn’t Junebug. It was Eve.

She crouched beside my cot, her eyes wide with concern. “When you and Alex were gone, it was awful,” she whispered. “Patrick did his best, but he had the mask on and the tank, so he could only do so much.”

Her gaze lifted past me, and I turned to follow it across the gym. By the double doors, Ben sat watch, alert as ever, a shaft of moonlight falling across his eyes. When I turned back, I was surprised by the fear in Eve’s face.

“Chatterjee couldn’t control Ben,” she said. “He’s getting worse and worse. What’s gonna happen to the rest of us if all three of you are gone?”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “Where are we going?”

Disappointment flickered across her eyes. “Oh, Chance,” she said. “You really can’t tell?”

“No.”

“You’re so amazing sometimes, but then you’re also so … young.” Eve leaned forward and gave me a peck on the cheek. Before I could respond, she scurried off toward her cot, keeping her profile low to the ground so Ben wouldn’t spot her.

My cheek tingled where her lips had touched. I lifted my fingers to the spot, my thoughts churning. It took half the night, but I finally worked out what Eve was talking about. Perhaps I’d known all along.

Alex said it first.

It was the next day. She, Patrick, and I were on northeast-quadrant lookout in Tomasi’s room. Alex hopped off the desk, landing strong on her feet. She stretched her left leg to the side and pulled it up, testing the muscle.

“I’m not gonna let happen to them what almost happened to me,” she said.

Patrick bobbed his head in agreement. I wondered if it was something they’d discussed or if it was something they didn’t have to discuss. Maybe it was one of those couple things where one just knew what the other was thinking.

Then Patrick said what we always said: “We got work to do.”

“The kids at the cannery?” I asked.

Alex didn’t respond; she just kept testing that leg, her gaze far away. I thought about my hushed conversation with Eve last night and the worried expression Chatterjee had been wearing more and more often. It seemed he also knew he’d be unable to keep control once we left.