It’s sudden death.

Fun times, right?

At the end of the day when our work is finally done, the guards round us up and march us back into the school compound. But instead of heading towards the cafeteria like we always do, we stop in what used to be the outdoor cafeteria. Now it’s just a bunch of dead grass. A wilted, hand painted banner is falling off the far wall. It says, Walk for a Cure. I swallow. Reminders of normalcy are everywhere.

And then there’s this.

Kamaneva is waiting patiently in the center of the courtyard, watching the prisoners file in.

“One of you has been stealing from me,” she states.

The lump in my throat turns into a baseball. I can feel Sophia tensing up beside me, so I put a hand on her wrist. I stare straight ahead, motionless. Afraid to give myself away with just the slightest twitch of a facial muscle.

“I don’t know which one of you it is,” she goes on, taking a few calculating steps, “but when I do find out, do you know what the punishment is for stealing from me?”

Nobody answers. We all know. Execution.

Game over.

If I were wearing boots, I’d be shaking in them. Instead all I can do is stand and tremble in my cheap gladiator sandals from a trash bin, avoiding eye contact. Eating oranges have been keeping Sophia and I just a little healthier and stronger than the rest of the women in our group, and if Kamaneva ever notices that, she just might catch on. But right now, the two of us look pretty disheveled and unhealthy despite our efforts. That happens when you haven’t had a bath in weeks and you’re wearing thrift store reject clothes covered in dirt and filth.

Kamaneva studies the group. Her eyes eventually fall on me — like always. I stare at the wall. I will myself to remain emotionless. Just one wrong move and I’m toast. After a nerve-racking five seconds, she moves her gaze to the next person in line. I release a small breath. Sophia squeezes my hand.

By the time we make it into the cafeteria, my knees are almost knocking together because I’m trembling so badly. I sit down with Sophia at our spot in the corner. Harry approaches us. “What was that all about?” he wonders. “Was that really necessary on Kamaneva’s part?”

“She’s just trying to scare us,” I say.

Harry doesn’t know that Sophia and I “borrow” oranges. The less people know, the better. The more people who know your secrets, the higher the potential for them to betray you.

“Well, I’m effectively scared,” Harry replies.

“Who knows if somebody’s really even stealing from her?” I say. “She could have made up the whole story just to put everybody on edge. To keep us all on our best behavior.”

Harry shrugs.

“It’s possible, I suppose.”

Yeah. It’s possible.

I concentrate on eating my food. It feels like everybody is watching me, waiting for me to give myself away. It’s miserable. It’s the prison camp environment. Nobody trusts anybody else, and everyone’s afraid of being stabbed in the back.

Maybe I was right.

Maybe this is a lot more like high school than I thought.

Four weeks in a labor camp is enough to make anyone grouchy. My clothes are worn through with holes and my body is coated with a thick layer of dirt. I’m slowly starving, dehydrated, lonely, scared and desperate to escape. The only problem is, there isn’t any easy way out of this stupid camp.

Thirty days of observation has only told me two things that might be considered a weakness:

1. Even with all of the trucks and plumbing Omega has inside the school complex, the portable generators that they’ve installed isn’t enough to keep all the lights in the camp running. The back stretch of the fence is dark, but as far as I can tell, heavily patrolled.

2. Grease, the Omega soldier with the bad hair, seems to have gained sympathy for Sophia and I. He might come in handy.

3. I’ve pretty much got the routine of the guards figured out, and I know which troopers are lazier or less intelligent than the rest.

Omega is armed, powerful and dangerous. I, on the other hand, am tired, tiny and afraid. There’s nothing I can do. Omega never slips up. They don’t leave weapons lying around for me to steal. They don’t leave stretches of the fence unguarded. They’re on top of everything, and Kamaneva is on top of everybody in Group 13. The woman has gotten considerably crueler in the last couple of weeks. She’s started daily torture treatments and public punishments to keep the workforce under control. Every once in a while one of the officers will round up the prisoners, grab a worker for a real or imagined violation of a regulation, and beat or execute them on the spot.

It keeps everybody in line.

Omega has moved us from orange fields to empty fields. They’re making us prepare for planting, although I’m not sure what we’re going to plant yet. I’m guessing it will be something high in nutritional value. Something to keep an army going. And judging by the amount of prisoners being brought in and forced to work, I’m guessing Omega is planning on hosting a whole lot of troops. Soon.

That’s not a rosy prospect.

Everybody has a different idea about who Omega is, why they’re here, and what they want. In my opinion, it’s really not that much of a mystery anymore. Omega is a cover name to keep us confused. Global forces are involved. There’s no other explanation. They need slave labor to keep the invading troops fed, and who better than to provide that kind of work than people like me?

But what is their final goal? What’s the point of this invasion?

Power, wealth or greed, probably. The usual suspects. Besides. Who wouldn’t want to take down the United States, right?

“If you ever get the chance to escape,” I tell Sophia and Harry over dinner one night, “take it. Don’t wait for anybody else. Don’t think. Just go. Take the opportunity.”

“I couldn’t leave without you,” Sophia says firmly.

I close my eyes, because I don’t believe that. In the end, it all comes down to self-preservation. If Sophia saw an opening to escape, she’d take it without looking back. So would Harry.

And so would I.

Wouldn’t I? Wouldn’t Chris?

Yes. Chris would escape and then find a way to come back and get me out. He would never throw away an opportunity to stay alive. He’s just that kind of person.

“I just…” I begin, but trail off. “I appreciate that.”

“You’re all I have.” Sophia’s eyes go glassy with tears. “We’re like family now.”

“I’m sure your family is alive in New York,” I say, touching her shoulder.

“Not if the rumors are true and New York was nuked.” Sophia hunches closer to the table, looking at the floor. “Then they’re all dead. My parents, my brother…they’d be gone.”

“We don’t know if that’s true.”

“I heard all the major cities were nuked,” Harry adds.

I slap his arm as Sophia pales a little more.

“I mean…not all. Just some.” He tries to smile. “Honestly, how are we supposed to separate reality from rumors?”

“With common sense,” I say.

Easier said than done. At that moment, Kamaneva walks into the cafeteria. She’s wearing her blue uniform, knee-high boots and signature skin-stretching bun. Her eyes scan the room. She slowly walks down the center aisle of the cafeteria. Everyone stops eating. Sudden silence falls over the room.

Kamaneva stops at our table. Sophia keeps her head down. Harry’s fingers are trembling around the brim of his soup bowl. And I’m the only one who’s not afraid to look Kamaneva in the eye. I don’t say a word. Not that there isn’t a lot of sarcasm dying to get out of me…I just know better than to challenge her that bluntly.

She motions for me to stand up. I do.

“I believe I’ve found our thief,” she purrs.

And there it is. Just like that. A lead weight drops to the pit of my stomach as a twisted sneer spreads across her face. I can tell she’s been waiting for this moment. It’s got to be the highlight of her day. She’ll probably write about it in her journal later.