Astrid wanted to deny it. The words of denial were on the tip of her tongue. But she couldn’t make them come out.

“Mary’s right, everyone,” Howard said. “Astrid told us all to lie. About Brittney and about Orsay.”

“Orsay is a fake,” Astrid said weakly.

“Maybe,” Howard said. “But you don’t know that. None of us know that.”

“Orsay’s no fake. She told me something only I knew,” Mary said. “And she prophesied that a tribulation was coming soon.”

“Mary, that’s an old trick,” Astrid said. “This is the FAYZ: a tribulation is always coming, in case you haven’t noticed. We’re up to our necks in tribulation. She’s manipulating you.”

“Yeah, unlike you,” Howard said, his voice dripping sarcasm.

Every eye was on her. Disbelieving. Angry. Accusing. Scared.

“Orsay says we can step out on our fifteenth,” Mary said. “She told me to lay down my burden. That was what my mom said in her dream. Put down my burden.”

“Mary, you must know better than that,” Astrid said.

“No. I don’t know better,” Mary said so quietly, Astrid almost didn’t hear her. “And neither do you.”

“Mary, those kids need you,” Astrid pleaded.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, this had become life and death. What Mary was talking about was suicide. Astrid was sure of that much. Logic told her this was probably true. But her faith told her even more certainly: giving up, surrendering, accepting something that at the very least looked and felt like suicide could never be good. That was a joke that God would not play.

“Maybe not,” Mary said softly. “Maybe what they need is a way out of here, those kids. Maybe their moms and dads are waiting for them and we’re the ones keeping them apart.”

And there it was: the thing Astrid had feared from the first time she heard of Orsay’s so-called prophecies.

The silence in the church was nearly absolute.

“None of the littles are anywhere near their fifteenth,” Astrid said.

“And they won’t make it to their fifteenth in this horrible place,” Mary said. Her voice broke. Astrid recognized the desperation: she’d felt it herself as she endured Little Pete’s meltdown. She’d felt it so many times since the coming of the FAYZ.

“We’re in hell, Astrid,” Mary said, almost pleading with her to understand. “This. This is hell.”

Astrid could imagine what Mary’s life was like. The constant work. The constant responsibility. The unbelievable stress. The depression. The fear. All of it so much worse for Mary than for just about anyone else.

But this couldn’t go on. This had to be stopped. Even if it meant hurting Mary.

“Mary, you’ve been one of the most important, necessary people in the FAYZ,” Astrid said carefully. “But I know it’s been hard on you.”

Astrid had a sick feeling inside, knowing what she was going to say, what she had to say. Knowing that it was a betrayal.

“Mary, look, I know you’re not able to find the meds you need to take. I know you’ve been taking a lot of drugs, trying to control the things in your head.”

The silence was total in the church. Kids stared at Mary, then at Astrid. It had turned into a test of who they would believe. Astrid knew the answer to that.

“Mary, I know you’re dealing with depression and anorexia. Anyone looking at you knows that.”

The crowd hung on each word.

“I know that you’ve been battling some demons, Mary.”

Mary barked a disbelieving laugh. “Are you calling me crazy?”

“Of course not,” Astrid said, but in such a way that it was clear even to the youngest or dumbest in the room that she was alleging exactly that. “But you do have a couple of mental…issues…that are possibly distorting your thinking.”

Mary flinched as if someone had hit her. She looked around the room, looking for a friendly face, looking for signs that not everyone was agreeing with Astrid.

Astrid saw those same faces. They had turned stony and suspicious. But all of that suspicion was aimed at Astrid, not at Mary.

“I think you need to stay home for a while,” Astrid said. “We’ll get someone else to run the day care, while you pull yourself together.”

Howard’s jaw was hanging open. “You’re firing Mary? And she’s the one who’s nuts?”

Even Edilio seemed amazed. “I don’t think Astrid’s talking about Mary not running the day care,” he said quickly, with a warning look at Astrid.

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about, Edilio. Mary has fallen for Orsay’s lies. It’s dangerous. Dangerous to Mary if she decides to step out. And dangerous to the kids if Mary keeps listening to Orsay.”

Mary covered her mouth with one hand, aghast. The hand touched her lips, then went to her hair. Then she smoothed the front of her blouse. “You think I would ever hurt one of my kids?”

“Mary,” Astrid said, finding a pitiless tone, “you’re a troubled, depressed person off her meds who is talking about how maybe it would be best if those kids died and went to their parents.”

“That’s not what I…,” Mary began. She took a couple of quick, shallow breaths. “You know what? I’m going back to work. I have things to do.”

“No, Mary,” Astrid said forcefully. “Go home.” Then, to Edilio she said, “If she tries to enter the day care, stop her.”

Astrid expected Edilio to agree, or at least to do as he’d been told. But when she glanced his way, she knew better.

“I can’t do that, Astrid,” Edilio said. “You keep saying we need laws and all, and you know what? You’re right. We got no law says I have a right to stop Mary. And you know what else we need? We need laws to keep you from trying stuff like this.”

Mary walked from the room followed by loud applause.

“She could hurt those kids,” Astrid said shrilly.

“Yeah, and Zil burned down the town because you said we couldn’t stop him,” Edilio shot back.

“I’m the head of the council,” Astrid pleaded.

“You want us to vote on that?” Howard asked. “Because we can vote right now.”

Astrid froze. She looked out at a sea of faces, not one of which belonged to someone who was on her side.

“Petey. Come on,” Astrid said.

She held her head up high as she walked through the crowd and out of the church.

Another failure. The only comfort was that it would be her last as the head of the council.

THIRTY-THREE

7 HOURS, 51 MINUTES

“I DON’T SEE any big mansion,” Diana said. “I see trees.”

“Bug,” Caine called.

“Good luck finding him,” Diana said. Bug had been clearly visible during the climb up from the water. Caine had caught him once as he fell.

But as they topped the cliff they faced a line of trees, not a fabulous Hollywood hideaway. Trees and more trees.

Penny lost it then. She started yelling, “Where is it? Where is it?” and running into the forest.

“Bug!” Caine shouted. No answer.

“Yeah,” Diana said, “We trusted Bug. And here we are.” She turned and saw the boat. It was drifting farther and farther away. On its way to the distant power plant maybe. Maybe they would survive somehow. Maybe they would be better off than Diana was.

“Sheep!” Penny’s voice from some distance away.

Diana exchanged a look with Caine. Was Penny crazy? Maybe so, but was she hallucinating sheep?

The two of them started forward into the woods. Soon they saw that the trees were just a narrow belt and that beyond them lay a sunny meadow of knee-high grass.

Penny was at the edge of the meadow, staring and pointing and wobbling like she might topple over at any moment.

“They’re real, right?” Penny asked.

Diana shaded her eyes and, yes, they were real. Three dirty-white cotton balls with black faces, almost within reach. The sheep turned and stared at them with stupid eyes.

Caine acted quickly. He raised his hand and snatched one of the sheep off the ground. It flew through the air and smacked with sickening force into a large tree. It fell to the ground, white wool marked with red.