Not a chance, she thought. The wrinklies, it seemed as if they just gave up on you as soon as they realized they were safe. It was like they’d had something to prove, getting out of that shithole, and then they checked out.

Her eyes burned as she headed back to the temporary cabin she’d taken. The short walk took her through a corridor so crowded with civilians and refugees and a disorderly mix of military personnel that she could have been in the emergency room of a public hospital. She closed the door of her small quarters with relief.

The girl was on her bunk, playing with a Mars Landing Barbie one of the marines had dug up from somewhere. She hadn’t spoken again since the camp, but warm and washed and safely tucked up in bed, she favored Margie with a genuine smile.

“Hello, darlin’,” said Francois.

She knew from talking to other inmates of Camp 5 that the little girl’s name was Grace, and that was all. Nobody knew anything about what had happened to her parents.

The child looked much less feral than she had on Luzon. She was still underweight, and she couldn’t stand having the lights out, but Francois was pleased with her progress.

“Would you like a drink, Gracie? Some bug juice?” She smiled.

The girl nodded.

Francois poured her a cup of the vile-tasting cordial.

She stroked Gracie’s thin, blond hair as she drank. She really needed to sleep, but now that she was back in the cabin and the kid was awake, she didn’t think she’d be able to. She didn’t like palming her off on anybody else, and truth be known, Grace threw a fit whenever she tried.

As she stroked Grace’s forehead, which was still scarred by deep cuts and bruises, the girl suddenly grabbed her hand. Her little voice was no more than a squeak.

“My daddy stayed with General MacArthur to help keep the lights on.”

Francois’s heart leapt. She hadn’t expected anything like this for weeks, maybe months. It was the best thing she’d heard in days. She positively beamed, until the girl spoke again.

“Mommy and Daddy aren’t coming back, are they? They shot my mommy, I think.”

Her momentary spasm of joy died. She couldn’t find an answer that wouldn’t crush the little mite’s spirit. Part of the reason she was cruising the edge of exhaustion was all the extra time she’d put into trying to get a line on what might have become of the girl’s family. Now, it seemed, she had an inkling of their fate. She arranged her features as neutrally as she could.

“I don’t know, honey, but I think maybe they’re with God now. Did someone tell you about your mom?”