“Lucy, Lucy,” Scott repeated her name, calmly and firmly. “Stop. Sit. Stop!” He raised his voice and Lucy, breathless, sunk to the ground.

“You killed him. You killed him! And you’re going to kill Ethan too? You’re nothing. You’re evil. I wish I’d never been born. That’s better than admitting that I’m your daughter.”

Her words stung him. When she saw him flinch, she couldn’t help it—she wanted to keep going. Hurt upon hurt; she relished being able to tell him what she thought.

“You’re a coward. And I hate you.”

Her father wrapped his arms around her shoulders and tucked her into his chest. His arms were still damp from the shower, his skin warm. She tried to wriggle away, but he only increased his grip; still, Lucy struggled against him. Her tears dampened his shirt and she stomped her legs, hoping to catch his toes or his shins.

“Lucy,” her father repeated. “Lucy. Stop.”

When she wouldn’t calm herself, he raised his voice.

“Stop!”

“Why? Why do you have to be so horrible?” Lucy sobbed. “Why do you have to take away everything I love?”

Her father killed Salem.

Her father killed Grant.

Her family was alive, but what did it matter?

Lucy heard the bedroom door creak open and from the corner of her eye she saw her mother standing there holding two cloth grocery bags by the handles. Her eyes traveled between Scott and Lucy and then she set her bags on the floor and walked over to them, tugging Lucy by the arm.

“I leave for twenty minutes and everything goes straight to hell,” Maxine muttered. She wedged herself between daughter and husband and went to move Lucy away, but Lucy would not be budged.

“You were strong,” Lucy seethed. “You were my role model, my hero.” She looked straight at her mother.

“Careful,” Maxine replied, her voice steeped in warning.

“You’re nothing. You let him do this. You went along willingly.”

Maxine raised her hand. “Enough,” she yelled in protest. But Lucy did not stop. She launched an even greater attack, screaming in hysterics until she saw her mother raise her hand and let her palm fly toward Lucy’s cheek.

The sharp string of betrayal landed squarely on her face. Lucy was shocked into silence. She brought her hand up and placed it over her injury; tears welled up in her eyes and spilled over her hand and her other cheek—silently rolling down. But she did not say another word, or sniff, or dare to move.

“The punishment for insubordination is the tank,” Maxine said calmly. “You’ve already been through that once before. Did you feel like once wasn’t quite enough? If you are so hungry to die, then I’d be happy to walk you down there myself.”

“I don’t want to die,” Lucy mumbled after a period of silence. “No one else should die.”

“Then learn to live. Here.” Maxine slid out from between Lucy and Scott, rubbing her right hand with her left. She then slipped the handles of the grocery bags onto her wrists and left the room, slamming the door behind her.

When Lucy was certain her mother was no longer in hearing range, she turned to her father and lowered her eyes.

“This is not a life,” she said.

“It is the only life I can offer you,” Scott replied, and he sank downward, sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands.

“I don’t want to be here.”

“There is food here. Protection. An education. A hope for a better life. A plan for the future. My only other option was to let you die at the hands of a man who wanted to take that from us. Should I have let him?”

Lucy was silent for a long time and then she thought of everything that had happened in the last few weeks, and she simply nodded. “It’s never the right thing,” she said to her father. “It was selfish.” The word popped out of her mouth before she had time to self-censor.

Scott lowered his head. “It was selfish to want to save my family.” She was uncertain if he was asking her or tossing the statement out into the ether.

“At the expense of everyone else?” Lucy nodded a reply to her own rhetorical question.

“But you want to save Grant,” Scott answered and he raised his eyebrows. “What would you risk to accomplish that goal? What sacrifice would you make?”

The tense was not lost on her. “Want to? As in, I still can?”

He shook his head, “Lost on semantics. You’re missing the point. We do everything in our power to protect the people we love. The line between good and evil is not as black and white as you may think.” He raised his finger, but he looked defeated. “Especially when it comes to family. There are no rules.”

That assertion defied everything she had been taught by her parents. They instructed her to be a good citizen and a good friend; to live according to the laws of the land. That there was a wrong thing to do and a right thing to do—things that hurt people were wrong things to do. Moral relativism was never part of their family creed and guidelines. While her father was a self-proclaimed atheist and her mother agnostic, she had been raised in one of the most moral, ethical, and responsible households: what’s wrong was always wrong, no matter what.

She rubbed her cheek.

“Dad—” she started, but she didn’t know what to say to him. There were no words. No greeting card canned sayings that helped her navigate these murky waters of their tenuous relationship.

Scott looked up and his eyes were red. “Perhaps it’s time we go see Huck. You’ve missed it all. The explanations, the comfort. Huck will help you see…you are safe here.”

“I never guessed you to be such a lemming, Dad.”

Scott looked straight at her. “I’ve told you before that blind social behavior is not an actual trait of lemmings. It was manufactured, by a studio, for Hollywood effect. They flung those lemmings off the cliff to make it appear that they followed the first one. It’s false. A charade. There is an entire phrase, imbedded into the lexicon of our language that is a scientific lie. Perpetuating that belief by attributing my behavior to that animal is incorrect.” He tried to smile; tried to pass off his mini-lecture like a joke.

Lucy wasn’t buying it.

She raised her arms in disbelief. “Are you serious right now?”

“Yes,” Scott answered quickly. “You see…think about the make-up of an animal whose instincts would instruct it to rather die than seek self-preservation…”

With a sigh, Lucy hit her hand against her forehead. “Oh, Dad. How did you do this? You couldn’t have possibly known I was going to use the word lemming…but you’ve turned it around, to prove your point? You’re a mind ninja.”

Under different circumstances, that might have been a compliment.

This time Scott didn’t smile. “I’m serious. Monkeys, lemmings, ants. It doesn’t matter. All of our evolutionary instincts are to survive. And when humans are threatened we also naturally digress to that innate foundation as well…”

“Dad—” Lucy couldn’t handle it anymore.

“I’ve always taught my kids how to be critical thinkers.”

“And yet we’re living in an underground apartment building,” she exploded. “With blind allegiance to some crazy old dude? Dad! You and Mom told me once that you didn’t want me to attend church with Salem because their religion was based upon a crazy, narrow belief system.” She paused and searched her father’s face for clues that he knew what she was going to say next. “And here we are.” She motioned around the room.

“Huck could answer some of these things. He’s—”

“If you tell me you did this because you thought it would save our lives, fine. But if you tell me you believe him, this…everything?” Lucy couldn’t even finish her thought; the idea that her father could get caught up in some cultish organization was so unbelievable she was afraid that hearing him admit it would cause her to shrivel up and no longer exist. More than anything she had seen or heard, that fact, alone, would unravel everything she had ever believed. It was too much.