If destruction be our lot, we must ourselves be its author and finisher.

—ABRAHAM LINCOLN, “LYCEUM ADDRESS,” JANUARY 27, 1838

Dear Jude—

I had to go alone. This is what I should have done the first time I went back to the city. Don’t be angry. We all have our jobs and I need to know you’re safe if I’m going to do mine. I should be able to keep Bennett occupied long enough for you and West to get everyone to Southern California. Don’t let West change his mind and go back to Virginia City. It’s too dangerous. The one thing we know for sure about Bennett is that he’s a liar.

I love you. And I will see you again. I promise.

Clover

West looked up at Jude. Shock was a block of ice in his belly. “What is this?”

“Just what it looks like.” Jude paced toward the door to West’s motel room, then turned and came back. “We have to go find her.”

Oh God, Clover. West felt fragmented. He couldn’t pull the parts of himself together enough to process the idea that his sister was gone. “Have you looked for her? Maybe she’s not—”

“She’s gone,” Jude said. He shot out one fist against the wall. “She left me here and she’s gone.”

“Left you here.” West contemplated the carpet between his feet, then looked back up at Jude. “You knew she was leaving. You knew—”

West was on his feet, Jude’s shirt in his hands, pushing him against the closed motel room door. “Where the hell is she?”

Jude didn’t fight back. He lifted his chin and said, “She went to Bennett. We were supposed to go together. Jesus, I fell asleep.”

The anger drained out of West, along with just about everything else. “What was she thinking? What could she possibly—”

“She wanted to go back to work for Bennett when Leanne told us he wanted her to. She thinks that’s how she can help the rebellion. And—” Jude inhaled slowly. “She’s right. She was right then and she’s right now.”

“Christ. How can you say that?” West realized suddenly that he was holding back tears. He was so tired. A wave of nostalgia washed over him—for Mrs. Finch and her chickens, for the house that had felt like a prison for so long, even for the cantaloupe farm—and choked him. He was drowning. “How long has she been gone?”

“I don’t know.”

“Jude.”

“I don’t know, okay? I can’t believe she left without me. I can’t believe I fell asleep.”

West stood up. “We have to try to find her. My dad drives fast. He can catch up with her.”

Jude shook his head. “It’s too late. She’d never wait so long to leave.”

West left the room. He didn’t know where he was going or what he should do. Jude was right. Clover was gone. She wouldn’t wait until morning to go—she would have left when everyone was sleeping. When she had plenty of time to get to the gate before anyone came after her.

The motel was teeming with more people than it had seen since the virus. Kids milled in and out of the rooms, making a low roar of noise as they prepared to leave. West leaned against the railing, looking down on the parking lot below. Vertigo brought the faded yellow lines closer and suddenly he knew exactly what it would feel like to jump.

“West?”

He pushed away from the railing and stood upright, his head spinning. Leanne was next to him. She’d gone to look for Clover’s car as soon as Jude came in with the note. “Well?”

“She took the car. She left whatever was inside it on the sidewalk, so we can try to take it with us. She’s gone, West.”

“She thinks we’re going to go to California without her. How can she think that?”

“What other choice do we have?”

Goddamn it, Clover. “Can you help me get everyone together?”

—

West led the caravan north. Back through Carson City. Back along the highway to the mountain road that would lead them into Virginia City. It had taken another hour to come to the decision to go back. An hour that left West with a pounding, sickening headache.

Leanne sat next to him, and half a dozen kids filled the back of the van. They’d fitted the mason jars of fruits and vegetables from Clover’s trunk in the footwells, and the kids were bickering about space.

“We’re doing the right thing,” Leanne said.

“I’m not so sure.” And he wasn’t. But he couldn’t leave—he couldn’t go hundreds of miles and leave Clover behind. If his little sister was brave enough to go back into the city, turn herself in to Bennett so that she could insert herself in the things he was doing, then he was brave enough to stay. “All of these kids, Leanne. What if we’re driving them right into an ambush?”

“Your dad and Adam were right. If Bennett was going to bring an army, he wouldn’t have strolled into Virginia City all on his own.”

Please. Please, let them be right. Adam Kingston and James were their secret weapons. They knew more about the Company, more about Bennett, than any of the rest of them had a hope of knowing on their own. It helped that they thought they’d be safe, at least long enough to prepare.

“It’s time to make a stand,” Leanne said. She had her good leg pulled up against her chest, her arms wrapped around it. “Clover knew that and we didn’t listen.”

Clover knew that when she went back to the city the first time. West tried to make himself believe that as he turned the last curve in the road and the schoolhouse came into view. He slammed on his brakes so hard that he caused a series of squealing brakes behind him.

Three cars were parked in the schoolhouse’s lot. They weren’t Company cars. West looked over his shoulder, through the van’s rear window. There was no going back—the road was too narrow to turn around and there were too many of them, even without Clover’s car. “We have to drive through,” he said. A woman and a man stood in the schoolhouse’s open front door. The woman pointed at them and grabbed the man’s arm, then disappeared back into the building. The man came toward them, yelling something.

Leanne rolled her window down. West put a hand on her arm. “Stop that.”

“I think—” She leaned out the window. “He’s calling your name.”

West looked back at the man. She was right. He was yelling, “West Donovan? West Donovan, we’re here to help. We’re Freaks from Kansas. West?”

“Jesus Christ.” West put the van back into gear and drove forward slowly. More people poured out of the building, though, and none of them looked like guards.

The first man reached them. He was breathing hard and was red in the face. It seemed to finally occur to him that he was acting like an idiot, because his posture shifted and he stood back from the van. “You are West Donovan, aren’t you?”

“Who are you?” Leanne asked.

“I’m Steve Woodruff. From Topeka. We got word you were here, that you might need help.”

West leaned forward, trying to get a better look. “Word from who?”

“We got a letter from Frank, through Travis.” Steve took a step closer. “He drives the train through Kansas.”

West rolled up Leanne’s window using the switch on his door. She turned to look at him. All three of the cars had tow trailers. They’d brought supplies. “I can’t believe this.”

“We almost missed them,” Leanne said. “We almost—”

West put the van in gear and started slowly toward the schoolhouse. He thought about Clover as he parked. About how brave his little sister was. How strong she was. Bennett would underestimate her. He’d underestimate all of them.