Gren told me most of this, because I left right after their arrival. The Dwellers weren’t the only ones who came from their Pod on the Hover. My sister, Clara, did too. As soon as I set eyes on her, I didn’t see anything else. Clara had been gone for a year, and I had missed her every single day she was gone.

“Just keep going in order,” Molly says to me now. “Take them one at a time. They all need help.”

I glance around me at the shivering, sickly bundles. What they need is a miracle. “Why do we keep giving them water if they just throw it back up?”

“Because they’ll dehydrate otherwise.”

“But they’re not keeping it down.”

Molly rises from the Dweller she’s been helping and comes over. She grunts a little as she kneels at my side. With the added work and the moisture in the cave, her joints are bothering her more than usual.

“They might keep a little down,” she says. “We have to hope for that.” She studies the Dweller before her—a girl my age—and her face softens with sympathy. The girl is delicate as a bird, with short black hair that spikes up like the leaves of an artichoke. Her green skin color only enhances the resemblance. Like that of all the Dwellers around me, her immune system collapsed. She looks ready for a burial at sea.

“Her name is Rune.” Molly runs a hand over the girl’s head, smoothing down her hair. “I spoke with her briefly when she stirred a little while ago. She’s one of Aria’s friends.”

I can’t believe she touches them. “And you’re telling me this why?”

Molly’s amber eyes find mine. She shakes her head slightly, but her expression is kind. “You could make more of an effort, Brooke.”

“I’m making an effort, Molly. Many efforts, in fact. I’m giving them water. I’m holding buckets while they retch. You know the boy? The burly one—Soren? He vomited on me ten minutes ago. Spewed on me. Look at my sleeve.” I hold it out, showing her. How much more am I supposed to do? I left my sister’s side to be here.

Molly watches me like she’s not sure if she wants to say something else. I notice the lines around her eyes. Her face holds a sheen of perspiration, a few heavier drops beading over her thin lips. She’s exhausted. She’s been here since the Dwellers came in. I wish she didn’t care so much about everyone. It’s sucking the life out of her.