The survivors gathered in a solemn semicircle at the base of the bleachers. Never had I heard it so quiet.
Ben sat midway up on one side, me, Patrick, and Alex on the other.
Dr. Chatterjee perched on the top bench, staring down imperiously like a judge. Which was appropriate, given what we were dealing with.
When we’d first strolled in, Ben had blanched. But he’d swallowed his astonishment quickly, regaining his usual bluster. After the initial happy surprise of our return, everyone had looked past us at the empty doorway, the mood turning.
Ten of us had left the school. Only seven had walked back in.
No one wanted a replay of the Patrick-and-Ben brawl, so at least fifteen kids had gotten between us and Ben, steering us to opposite ends of the gym until tempers cooled.
Once everyone had settled, Dr. Chatterjee had called for a meeting. I had to say, even though we had no procedures in place for a court hearing-type thing, he was doing a pretty good job.
“You lied in your recounting of what happened at the grocery store,” Chatterjee said.
“I didn’t lie.” Ben crossed his arms, the sleeves pulling tight across his biceps. “I said they were stuck in the grocery store.”
“You didn’t say you were the one who got us stuck in there,” Alex said.
“How ’bout Dezi?” Ben said. “He’s dead because of the sprained knee Chance gave him—”
“That’s irrelevant and off topic,” Chatterjee said. He looked at me. “And no, it’s not Chance’s fault that he defended himself when attacked.” When his spectacles swiveled to Ben, the moonlight turned them into glinting circles. “But the deaths of Kris Keuser and Jenny White…” Here he paused. He rasped a hand across his stubble, regaining his composure. “Those children died because of your actions.”
“No,” Ben said. “They died because Hatchlings ate them. Let’s not lose sight of who the enemy is here.”
“You ran away.”
“Okay, okay.” Ben spread his arms wide. “You say you represent the law. Is it a legal obligation to rescue someone? In the world how it used to be, I mean. Would you punish someone for not running into a burning building?”
“No,” Alex said. “You’d just think he was a—”
“You didn’t just not help,” I said. “You locked us in.”
“You guys were surrounded,” Ben said. “I thought you were dead. I was protecting myself and my crew. Like in a submarine when you have to close a hatch, cut your losses when a cabin floods.”
“You didn’t help because it was us,” I said. “If it was one of your guys, you never would have locked us in.”
“Again, irrelevant. A mom can choose to risk her life for her own baby. That doesn’t mean she has to for any random person who might be in danger. No judge would sentence her for that.”
Chatterjee nodded morosely. “Ben is right,” he said.
Patrick stood up. Everyone in the gym stiffened in anticipation. It didn’t take much from Patrick to draw a reaction.
Chatterjee gestured for him to sit down. Patrick held a few beats and then lowered himself back onto the bench.
“A person wouldn’t be punished for not aiding someone.” Chatterjee glared at Ben. “But your cowardly actions are not befitting a head of security. You are relieved of your position. You are no longer entitled to stand guard or go on lookout duty.”
An expression flickered across Ben’s face so fast you’d miss it if you blinked. It held a kind of anger that’s hard to put into words. But then he smoothed out his features into a mask of acceptance.
Patrick said, “It’s not enough.”
Dr. Chatterjee said, “Patrick—”
“We should put him out,” Patrick said. “He got Kris and Jenny killed. He’s not safe to have as a part of us anymore.”
“My ruling is final.”
“Can we take a vote?” Alex said.
Chatterjee pondered this for a moment. Then gave a sad nod. “All in favor of casting Ben Braaten out of the community?”
A bunch of hands shot up. Chatterjee tallied them mentally. It was too close to count, and from our vantage on the bleachers we couldn’t see everyone anyway.
Chatterjee said, “All those in favor of Mr. Braaten’s remaining?”
Another set of arms rose. Chatterjee scanned the room, his lips moving as he counted. Then he said, “It’s a tie.”
Ben cleared his throat. “I haven’t voted yet,” he said, and put up his hand.
Patrick stood up, and this time no one told him to sit down.
“Very well,” Chatterjee said to Ben. “You’ll have to turn over your stun gun now.”
That same expression moved across Ben’s face, as fast as the flick of a snake’s tongue. But he managed a contrite nod. Still, he made no move to give up his gun.
“Do you want to obey, or do you want to leave the community?” Chatterjee said.
Ben smiled, the scars of his face moving into alignment. “No way I’m risking it out there.”
“Your gun, Mr. Braaten.”
Ben pulled the stun gun out from his waistband. Gazed down at it almost lovingly.
Chatterjee said, “Eve?”
Eve rose from her chair by the supply station, climbed up the bleachers toward Ben, and held out her hand.
For a moment Ben ignored her. He kept staring at his stun gun. Then he lowered his head and offered it up. It was like he couldn’t stand to see her take it from him.
Eve brought it down to the storage room and put it away. The congregation broke up.
Ben looked across at Patrick and gave a smart-ass little smirk. Patrick started for him furiously, but I grabbed his arm.
“Don’t get distracted,” I whispered. “Remember what we gotta do tomorrow.” Patrick started to pull away from me, but I tightened my grip. “We’ve got bigger concerns.”
His gaze caught on Alex over on her cot, taping her fingers in preparation for the mission. He pulled his arm free, took a step away from Ben, and headed down the bleachers.
I knew what had stopped him. He was thinking about Alex’s birthday, same as I was.
Seventeen days away.