“Then it is true. You helped unleash this virus. That killed our friends. Family. Everyone. You did this.” Even Lucy was scared at how she let the indictment fall so matter-of-factly. She closed her eyes for one brief moment and the image appeared of Salem’s body in the ground, heaped on Leland Pine’s wife: One direct and one indirect victim of her father. She couldn’t look at him without seeing what he had done. Her dead classmates. Him. The bloated bodies they encountered in Portland and beyond. Him. Salem. Him.

“What you said is not untrue,” Scott answered her. His voice felt far away. “But it’s not the truth. Do you understand?”

Lucy didn’t answer. Instead, she closed her eyes and wished for the shaking to stop.

There was a knock on the bedroom door and her father opened it a crack and peered out at the disruption.

“They brought a note for you,” Maxine said tersely. “They’re calling you in.”

“In a minute,” Scott answered.

“Send a note to Huck that you are going to spend time with your daughter. Work can wait.”

Scott didn’t answer her. He waited a beat and shut the door. Lucy pictured her mother on the other side of the wooden barrier seething and waiting. The blankets felt nice against her skin and Lucy had no desire to move from this spot.

“I want you to listen, Lucy. I want you to listen to me,” he said. He stepped away from the door and back toward her body, still curled into a fetal position. “I raised you to be a good scientist. A good researcher. Ask questions, understand the world around you, don’t take anyone’s answer at face-value. Right? Haven’t I? Isn’t that what I’ve always said?”

Lucy nodded weakly.

“This is no exception, then.” Scott sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned on his knees. While he was bending over, Lucy stole a glance. He too had planned for the joyous welcome—he had hoped to find his little girl, still turning to him for all the answers, intact and willing to carry on like before the Release. “That’s all I can give you now. Just…don’t jump to conclusions. And whatever you do,” he lifted his head and Lucy didn’t have time to look away; her eyes locked with this. “Whatever you do,” he repeated, “don’t punish your mother for this.” His tone turned steely and threatening. “You have no idea what she’s been through. She doesn’t deserve your disdain.”

And with that lecture, Scott King rose and walked to the door. Lucy still stared into the space her father had occupied only seconds earlier. “Wait,” she whispered, her throat dry. Scott paused and turned to her; he looked at his daughter with concern and compassion.

“Yes?” he asked in a quick breath, hopeful.

“Save him,” Lucy said without looking at her dad. “Don’t lie to me. Don’t say you can’t. I know you can save him. I know it’s up to you. And if you don’t,” she paused and lifted her eyes and narrowed them, “I’ll never forgive you.”

Scott King sighed and frowned. Then he turned without replying and left her alone.

“Chocolate milk and a granola bar?”

Lucy cracked open an eye and saw her thirteen year-old brother Galen standing by her bedside. He looked down at her and held up the goodies for her to see.

Her eyes were swollen from the crying. Her face felt tight with dehydration and when she smiled at her brother, her dried tears stretched along her skin. She took the milk—in a plastic cup—and sat up to take a sip. She ached and felt dizzy; Galen put a tender hand on her arm and the touch felt odd, unlike him, and out-of-place. Unsure of how to respond to his brotherly compassion, Lucy shied away from the touch and, after downing the entire drink, reached her hand out for the granola bar.

“Thanks,” she said as she bit into the chewy oats. “Did Dad leave?” she asked with her mouth full of chocolate.

“A little bit ago, yeah,” Galen said and he sat down on the bed next to Lucy. “Mom won’t tell us about Ethan.” He looked at the floor. “She said we’ll discuss it later, after we get you better.” Galen paused. “It’s been really hard.”

Lucy turned to her brother. The middle-child of their clan; capable of being simultaneously annoying and unassuming. He liked to read and help their mom bake, which Ethan never tired of mocking. Unlike the perpetually dirt-stained, snot-streaked, booger picking twins, Galen enjoyed keeping up his appearance, and in the sixth grade had taken to ironing his own shirts after Mama Maxine berated him for his unrealistic demands on her laundry schedule. He wasn’t quiet, but he was often talked over. And he’d taken to watching old Hitchcock movies instead of the dumb comedies and action films that his peers preferred.

But he was still her little brother—and Lucy had enough stories of rude comments spoken over shared toys, fights over bathroom time, and a history of Galen’s pre-pubescent contempt for family, that she hadn’t really looked at her brother as anything other than someone to share space with. Just when he’d endear himself to her, Galen would undo it all with sarcastic comment or an ill-timed prank.

Without warning, Lucy leaned over and wrapped her arms around Galen’s upper body. She held on as tight as she could. He rocked backward under her impromptu hug and then laughed.

“So, you missed me too, then?” Galen asked as Lucy sat back, her eyes glistening.

“I never wanted to believe that any of you were gone,” she said and swallowed the rest of her snack. “And then when Ethan let me listen to mom’s voicemails and there was hope—”

“You should’ve seen her,” Galen said with wide eyes, remembering. “She went crazy.”

Lucy didn’t admit that the news was refreshing. That somewhere in the back of her mind, even still, she wondered if any of them had tried to come for her, tried to save her.

“She wouldn’t stop crying,” Galen added.

“Good,” Lucy said. Then she sighed, regretting the knee-jerk reaction, and shot a look to her brother. “No, I didn’t mean that. I thought everyone left me to die…”

“Have you ever seen mom throw a punch?” he asked with a smirk.

Lucy shook her head. “I don’t believe you. She didn’t.”

“She did.” And Galen laughed at the memory. “Some men-in-black type. Sunglasses, suit. Right in the jaw. Bam.” He mimicked the man’s head tossed back from the force, complete with sound effects. Then his smile disappeared. “The guy said fine. She could go get her children. But that this plane was leaving with or without her…and that per Mr. King’s orders, the children who already boarded would have to stay. There was no time to wait.”

“She had to choose,” Lucy stated the obvious conclusion, just to hear it out loud.

“We didn’t even know what was going on outside.”

Lucy raised her eyebrows. “The virus?”

“We thought we were at war.”

“It was a war.”

“You know what I meant.”

They were silent for a moment.

“It hasn’t been good,” Galen said again. “They’ve been fighting. About you. About Ethan. I know that you don’t want to be here—”

“That’s not it at all,” Lucy interrupted. “It’s just…” she weighed her words, “this place…it isn’t what I thought it would be. It’s all so…strange. I need time to adjust to it.”

“This place isn’t so bad,” Galen said. “I thought so at first. But—” he hesitated. “I’ve heard Mom and Dad talking. I’ve listened to them at night. Everyone else is too young to understand…but I get it. And because I get it, because I understand…I think I can appreciate this place.”

She raised her eyebrows. “What do you understand?” she asked.

“The world was going to end no matter what. Dad saved us. He really did, Lucy. He saved us from dying out there…saved us from everything that was going to happen in the world. This place is only temporary and then we get to start over. I don’t know,” Galen trailed off. “I’m glad Dad did this for us. I think he made the right decision. And I kinda like it here.”