“Ethan?” Maxine interrupted. “I’m sorry. But we have to know…where is Ethan?”

The question caught Lucy off-guard. She buried her head again into her mother and scrunched up her face, her eyes closed tight, blocking out the light, and the sight of her parents. “He didn’t come.” She stopped and realized that didn’t was not the same as couldn’t.

Her response was followed by silence.

And her silence seemed to freeze them; at first Maxine brought her hand up over her mouth, then she took a deep breath, brought her hand down purposefully and steeled herself for the news. Her mother’s voice whispered in her ear. “It’s okay, Lucy. It’s okay. I just need to know. A mother needs to know. Why? Why didn’t he come?”

A lie formed first. She wished to tell him that he was fine, but staying put—that venturing without him was an act of bravery instead of necessity. When Lucy looked at her parent’s faces, full of concern, fear, and expectancy, Lucy knew that the truth would hurt more. The lie may make her look brave, but the truth would cut them deeper. And as happy as she was to see them, hug them, take in their smell again; she realized she was angry—hovering right there beneath the excitement and the relief, was pain.

If she hadn’t been so overwhelmed by everything—the hole in the earth with its fully equipped hospital, drowning in a tank, seeing her parents for the first time in weeks—she might have been functional enough to tell them all of the ways she had pained at their absence. Instead, she said what she could simply and without embellishment.

“He’s hurt,” Lucy told them.

Maxine drew in a sharp breath and turned to Scott, her eyes narrowed.

“Hit by a car. His legs were crushed. When I left, he was fine, but deteriorating…”

“Good God,” Scott said and he took a step away from his wife and daughter. “I’ll need to…” he trailed off. He took a step toward the door and then a step back toward Lucy. “What else?” he asked her. “Tell us everything.”

“Huck would send the army off for one of his kids. He owes you the same courtesy,” Maxine said to her husband, speaking over his questions to Lucy. She shifted her attention, even though she still held one of Lucy’s hands. “You tell him. You tell him to send the planes.”

“Come on, Maxine. You know I can’t just walk in there and make that demand. Not now, anyway.” Her father put a hand on his wife’s shoulder, but she shook him off. Lucy felt embarrassed to be privy to their argument and she tried to shrink away from the conversation.

“Not now? Then when? You promised. And I don’t take broken promises lying down,” Maxine added. Then she ran her hand across Lucy’s brow and tucked a piece of blonde hair behind her daughter’s ear. “No secrets anymore, Scott.” She said this while rubbing her thumb against the freckles over Lucy’s nose and she smiled. “Didn’t you say that to our kids when we got here? No secrets. We’re a team?” She dropped her voice down to a whisper. “And here is my wonderful Lucy. Oh, Lucy. I missed you.”

Maxine’s tears dripped freely and Lucy’s heart broke to see her mother in so much pain. She looked between her mother and father.

Scott ran his hand through his hair and he nodded. “Let’s get out of here,” he instructed. “Come on, girls.”

“Yes, come sweet one, come,” Maxine cooed to Lucy. “We’ll go home.”

Lucy looked up and searched her mother’s face. “Home?” she asked. “You call this home?”

“Home for now,” Scott answered. He put his hand out and Lucy took it; then he pulled her into his side and kissed the top of her head. Scott leaned his lips down to his daughter’s ear and whispered. “You’re a beacon of hope, my darling. Your mother needed hope. I’m so glad you made it.”

Lucy smiled a tight-lipped smile as her father led her out into the hallway; his hand moving to her elbow as he steered her to the right and down into the dim lights that reflected off of shiny metal walls.

It was the first time Lucy had seen the insides of this tomb.

Her eyes grew wide, and her body grew cold and tense.

“What is this place?”

Her father clapped his hand on her back. He smiled with renewed enthusiasm; as if someone had flipped a switch. “We are in an amazing place. A scientific marvel.”

“A cavern. An underground dome,” Maxine echoed a half-step behind them. “Your father is very proud of it.”

“It’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen. Lucy, just wait. Just you wait.” Scott’s voice rose and changed pitch; it was his tell that he was excited and gaining momentum. “You don’t even know the times I wished I could tell you about this place. How many times I almost let it slip!” He clapped his hands together as they approached an elevator. Sliding his finger across a touch-screen, a light switched from red to green, and from somewhere in the belly of the dome, an elevator began its descent toward them.

“Is it safe?” Lucy asked in a small voice. She backed away from the doors, but felt her mother’s hand press against her back.

“Is it safe,” her dad repeated and he scoffed. “That’s the whole point. That was the whole point. You’re safe now. As safe as you will ever be.”

Scott placed his hands on her shoulders and gave them a squeeze. His eyes were bright and eager—like a child on Christmas morning.

The elevator doors opened, beckoning them into a sterile metal box.

And together, as a family, they walked inside. The silent doors sliding shut behind them.

Floor B. Pod 6. Room 8. A silver plaque screwed into place right above the peephole read: The King Family – Scott, Maxine, Ethan, Lucy, Galen, Malcolm, Monroe, Harper. CL 1. Lucy reached out her hand to touch her name and Ethan’s name. How strange to see it there, so plain and organized. Carved into the metal before the Release; an optimistic statement of faith that the Kings would arrive to this place together.

She looked to her mother, whose eyes looked away from the plaque and the reminder that they were still an incomplete family.

Scott King opened the door. As he swung the door wide, Lucy peered into the first room. It was dark, windowless, brown walls with low ceilings, and a spattering of light in the form of low-wattage bulbs burning in sconces along the walls, casting pools of white upward and creating shadows in the corners.

“Go on,” Maxine whispered.

“Our little apartment,” Scott added.

Lucy looked between her parents and then peered inside the room again. All Lucy could think was that they had to leave their beautiful house, with a backyard, sun, and windows and move themselves into a cramped and dark space no bigger than a hotel suite. She had not known what to expect when they reached Nebraska, but this was not it.

Tentatively, Lucy stepped inside. But it took no longer than a second for her to want to back right out again; the room smelled stale—fresh air pumped in through vents in the ceiling, but it was artificial, dry. The furniture was stiff and old; perhaps Huck’s interior designers had fashioned the apartments with the leftovers of some consignment shop.

She stood in a small foyer. Inside a wicker box was a collection of shoes. Tennis shoes of varying sizes and one small pair of glittered slip-ons.

Harper.

The moment she thought the name, the dark apartment was flooded with light. Bright track lighting along the ceiling flickered on and out from behind couches and chairs, her siblings poured, yelling and screaming, “Surprise! Welcome home, Lucy!” Even Galen, his adolescent demeanor grounded in perpetual disdain of his entire family, couldn’t help but rush forward and greet his sister with a warm embrace.

Absorbing the affection from her siblings overwhelmed Lucy. She closed her eyes and let them attack her with pats and kisses; she collapsed to the floor and Harper climbed into her lap.