Ashen Winter

“Just a second,” I said, glaring at my father. “I found you, not vice versa. And I owe Darla. My life, if it comes to that.”

“If we could put a stop to the disappearances, be sure the people we promised to protect are safe, we could all try to break out together. But you’re too young to—”

“I’m not some kid.”

“Wait, what’s this about people you promised to protect?” Alyssa asked.

Dad explained the girls’ disappearances to Alyssa. He seemed relieved to change the subject.

“You need to catch whoever is kidnapping girls?” Ben asked.

Dad nodded.

“The goal of an additional operation is to catch the unknown people kidnapping girls?” Ben said.

“Yes,” Alyssa said.

“That is an easy tactical problem,” Ben said. “Prepare an ambush. Use whatever the unknown persons want as a lure. Would the Sister Unit suffice as a lure?”

“No!” Alyssa said. “No way. Forget it. I’m no one’s bait. Not anymore.”

Chapter 62

By that night, we’d worn down Alyssa’s resistance. She wandered up and down a deserted corridor between two rows of tents. I listened carefully and caught fleeting glimpses of her through a peephole I’d cut in the back of one of the tents. Alyssa had dressed in the brightest clothing we could find. Dingy, cream-colored pants and a flaming-orange jacket.

She was a dim candle wrapped in oppressive darkness. Or maybe the night just seemed oppressive because I was so thoroughly trapped: first by the camp and second by Mom and Dad. They wouldn’t leave without protecting the girls, and they forbade me from leaving without them. I didn’t think they could stop me, but I wanted them to come, too. After all, Darla and I had returned to Iowa to find them. And I suspected I’d need all the help I could get to free her.

Ben was still out observing the guards, preparing an escape plan. If we could figure out who was kidnapping girls and put a stop to it, maybe we could all try to leave together. Dad even assigned two prefects to keep Ben out of trouble.

Dad and four other prefects were hidden in tents near me. I expected the prefects to be men, but most of them were women. They called Dad The Dean, which seemed weird, but I guessed it was better than Head Boy. Dad had offered me a knife—really a crude shank, made with a sharpened scrap of metal, but I’d turned him down. There weren’t enough knives to go around, and I figured I’d rely on my hands and feet. I knew a bit about knife defense, but I’d never been trained to fight with a knife—that wasn’t something we did at my dojang. My right arm was still sore, but I’d been stretching it—I would be able to use it if I had to.

Mom hadn’t wanted me to help with the ambush. She’d fought with Dad at length over it. Alyssa finally a

Alyssa paced slowly and endlessly back and forth. I’d tried to nap during the early evening but hadn’t slept well, so I was tired. I started silently counting out the “This Little Piggy” nursery rhyme, tapping my fingers on my knee, both to keep myself awake and to keep track of time.

More than two hours had passed when Alyssa stopped near my tent. “This isn’t working,” she whispered. “How long do I have to keep doing this?”

“It won’t work at all if you talk to me,” I hissed back.

I heard my dad’s voice from another tent. “We’re staying out here until dawn. Now shut up.” His tone shocked me—Alyssa was doing us a favor; she didn’t have to spend her whole night trying to lure an attack.

Alyssa sighed and resumed pacing. As the night dragged on, her pace slowed. She dragged her feet, trudging as if she were more asleep than awake. I lost count of my This Little Piggies somewhere past two thousand. It had to be nearly dawn.

I caught myself nodding and bit my lower lip, hard. My knee was numb where I’d been tapping out the nursery rhyme. I returned my attention to the peephole in the tent just in time to see a dark shape collide with Alyssa’s back. She fell into the packed snow and shrieked.

I lunged down, sliding under the back edge of the tent. I reached Alyssa in seconds. The guy who’d run into her was reaching down toward her. I caught his hand and cranked it into a wrist throw. He cried out, and I stepped forward, over Alyssa, hooking my leg behind his and tossing him to the ground. We were surrounded by my dad and the prefects now, but I didn’t need any help. I allowed myself to fall on top of the guy, placing my elbow against his throat.

He made a hoarse, choking sound. Dad shook a little hand-powered flashlight—a rare luxury someone had smuggled into the camp and given to The Dean. He shined the beam on the guy’s face. One of the prefects helped Alyssa stand.

“I think I recognize him,” Dad said. “Let up a little, would you?”

I took some of the pressure off the guy’s neck. He started coughing and shaking—I could feel his neck convulse against my forearm. When he finished coughing, he began cussing, ru

“Shut up!” Dad barked. I’d never heard him say “shut up” in my life, and now he’d said it twice in one night? “What are you doing out here?”

“That you, Doug?”

“Yeah, Deke, it’s me. What’re you doing out here?”

“Needed to piss something fierce. Ain’t any camp rule against an old man going to the latrine, is there? Anyway, this kid scared it right out of me.”

I felt dampness against my hip where I was lying on him and caught a whiff of urine. Great. I scrambled up.

Dad reached down to help him up. “Sorry, Deke,” Dad said gruffly. “Thought you were trying to abduct this girl.”

“Well. Sorry I ran her over. Too blasted dark to see anything at night.”

“That’s the truth. Look, Deke, don’t tell anyone we’re out here.”

“You don’t think it’s one of us taking them girls, do you?”

“Don’t know. Could be. There were psychos in the world before the volcano. Still are, I figure.”

Deke’s hands were pressed over his groin. “Okay. I’ll keep it quiet.”

“Pack it in for the night,” Dad said to all of us. “It’s almost dawn, anyway.”

Alyssa stepped toward me, holding her side.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “Just sore from falling. Walk with me? At least as far as your tent?”

“Sure,” I said.

Alyssa grabbed my arm for support, and we trudged away in silence. I was too tired to start a conversation, and maybe Alyssa was, too. It felt like a companionable silence with her leaning against my arm, both of us recovering from a long and tense night.

By the time we got to Dad’s tent, the sky was starting to lighten. Alyssa turned to face me. I saw Dad following us. During the day, Dad used the tent; Mom and another woman slept there at night while Dad patrolled. I cracked open the flap and glanced in. It was empty—Dad told me that Mom often left before dawn to fulfill her duties as The Principal.

“I think I’ll lie down,” I said.

“Me, too,” Dad said. “I’m beat.”

“Um, can I talk to Alex? Alone?” Alyssa gestured at the tent.

Dad was quiet for a moment as he looked at her. “Yeah. I’ll find somewhere else to nap.”

“Thanks.” Alyssa pulled the tent flap aside and crawled in.

It was more than a little a

Dad caught my arm. “Alex. You did good.”

“Thanks.” I started to turn away again, but he held on.

“What you do is your business, but, um . . . we lost one woman in childbirth already.”

I had to suppress a groan. Uncle Paul had lectured me literally ad nauseum on this subject last year. “We’re just going to talk. Besides, Darla and I—”