Sunrise

The streets of Warren were deserted and silent— normal since no one in their right mind wanted to be outside in the subzero temperatures. The five of us flitted from house to house, keeping abandoned houses between us and the few that were occupied. At least the weeks of campaigning were good for something—both Darla and I knew exactly where everyone lived.

We reached the back door of the clinic and eased it open, slipping inside like invading winter ghosts. Dr. McCarthy and Belinda were reading at the front desk by the light of an oil lamp—he had a paperback novel with a beach scene on the front, and she had a heavy medical textbook.

“Another slow day?” I asked.

“Yes, thank God.” Dr. McCarthy smiled as he stood and shook my hand. “Was meaning to get out and check on you folks soon. Just hadn’t gotten around to it.”

“You hear about last night?” Uncle Paul asked.

“Last night?”

“Someone burned our barn and greenhouses,” I said.

Dr. McCarthy swore. “It’s not the volcano I curse most in this mess—it’s the knives we keep sticking in each other’s backs. The Reds are back?”

“No,” I said flatly. “Whoever attacked us came from here.” “You’re sure?”

I nodded.

Dr. McCarthy swore again. “There’s a lot of bad feeling around. Some folks feel like you led the Reds here. Mayor hasn’t been helping things any. But I didn’t think it had gotten that bad.”

“Is the mayor behind the attack?” Uncle Paul asked. Dr. McCarthy paused, scowling. His nose wrinkled as if he were catching a whiff of well-rotted road kill. “If he is, I haven’t heard anything about it. Doesn’t seem like his style—he’d want to arrest and try you, all official-like.” “Whoever attacked our farm last night has our panel van and pork,” I said. “We need it back.”

“Is it safe to talk to Mayor Petty about it?” Uncle Paul asked. “You think he’ll try to arrest Alex?”

“If you’d asked me an hour ago, I would have said it was perfectly safe. Now . . . I don’t know.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that, and the conversation lapsed into uncomfortable silence.

“Why don’t I walk downtown and feel him out?” Dr. McCarthy said at last. “If things seem on the level, then we’ll all go meet with him.”

“Ask him to come back here,” Darla said. “Whether he’s behind it or not, someone in this town means us harm. I’d rather not walk around outside any more than we have to.” “I’d like to talk to my mother too,” I said.

“Me too,” Rebecca said.

“She’s not out at the farm?” Dr. McCarthy asked.

“She left yesterday,” I said. “I’m hoping she’s here.” Dr. McCarthy laid one hand on my shoulder and another on Rebecca’s, squeezing gently. “Things okay?” “Not really,” I said. I bit the inside of my cheek hard, suppressing a sudden urge to cry. Rebecca turned, pulling away from his hand.

“I’ll do what I can.” Dr. McCarthy let his arms drop and reached for his coat.

Dr. McCarthy was gone for more than an hour. I paced nervously, wondering if he would come back with a posse in tow to arrest me. I trusted Dr. McCarthy, but once he told Mayor Petty I was here, anything could happen.

But only three people were with Dr. McCarthy when he returned. First through the clinic’s door was the mayor, his wheelchair pushed by Sam Moyers, his twenty-something nephew. Sam wore a sheriff’s badge on his coveralls and a huge chrome revolver strapped to his hip, which was strange. When Darla and I met with him before the election, he told us he’d worked on a road crew before the volcano. He was no kind of sheriff.

Behind them, Mom walked in. Rebecca called out and ran to her, stopping a few feet away as if she were caught between the opposing forces of two magnets, suspended in the room between me and Mom.

I started to smile involuntarily and then felt my lips freeze on my face. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. Why had she left us without so much as a goodbye? What did it mean that she was here?

Uncle Paul spoke up before I could, addressing Mayor Petty. “We’re looking for our pork.”

“Doc told me all about it,” Mayor Petty said. “Terrible, just terrible.”

“You have anything to do with it?” I asked.

“Of course not! In fact, I brought our new sheriff along to take your report. We’ll do everything we can to help you track down your stolen property.”

“New sheriff?” I whispered to Uncle Paul.

“Vaughn Frenchman died before you got here last year,” Uncle Paul replied. “Pneumonia.”

“Was high time to appoint a new sheriff. And Sam will be a fine replacement,” Mayor Petty said.

“Alex,” Mom said, “I talked to the mayor. It’s all worked out. We can all move here. You sign an apology statement, and everything’s forgiven. We’ll get one of the empty houses—more if we want—and a share of the town’s food.”

I was too whipsawed by the multiple conversations to respond at first. Instead, Rebecca said, “C-couldn’t you have told us where you were going? Told me? I thought you’d left us!”

“Oh, honey.” Mom held her arms wide for a hug. “I’m so sorry. I only wanted to take care of things. Take care of you. I should have told you where I was going. Will you forgive me?”

Rebecca sniffled loudly and then ran into Mom’s arms, clinging to her.

“Mom,” I said as calmly as I could, “we can’t move to Warren. It’s not safe here. There’s no wall.”

“We had an election over that issue, son,” Mayor Petty said. “And we settled it.”

“It’s safer here than on our own,” Mom said. “And there’s plenty of food. We can be a family again.”

“I’m sure Mayor Petty will loan us some food, given that our farm is part of Warren,” Uncle Paul said. “Help us get going at our new location.”

“Sorry, Paul. The new food distribution policy allows for sharing only with people inside the town limits for the duration of the emergency. Technically that means Mrs. Halprin’s family doesn’t qualify. But I’m willing to make an exception if he signs that apology.” Mayor Petty waved a piece of paper.

“I’m not moving to Warren,” I said.

“You won’t sign a simple apology just to stay with your mother? You’d rather move to the frozen wasteland around those windmills?”

“I wish you hadn’t told them where we’re going,” Darla said, her disgust plain in her voice.

“You stay out of this!” Mom said.

“Mom! It has nothing to do with the apology! I already apologized. I’ll sign the stupid paper—I don’t care about that.” I snatched the paper out of Mayor Petty’s hands and groped futilely for a pen. “What I want is a future. A safe, stable future. We can’t get that in Warren.”

“There’s food here,” Mom said. “That’s a future.”

“For a while,” I replied. Mayor Petty extracted a pen from the pocket of his jacket and held it out to me. I scribbled my name at the bottom of the page.

“You really should read that,” Darla said.

“What does it matter?” I didn’t care—about Warren, about Mayor Petty, or about what any of them thought of me. I was trying to convince myself I didn’t care about Mom either, but it wasn’t working.

Mayor Petty took the paper and pen from me as a slick smile creased his face. “The family reunion is touching and all, but I believe you wanted to report a theft?”

“That’s right,” Uncle Paul said. “Panel van we got from Stockton. You know the one.”

“Reds took it back?” Sheriff Moyers said.

“Tracks led here,” Uncle Paul replied.

“Maybe they drove it through here to make it look like someone here took it.”

“Could be,” Uncle Paul admitted.

“You know, if you had a wall, people couldn’t drive through town willy-nilly,” I said.

Both Mom and Mayor Petty shot me nasty looks.

“I’ll write up a report when I get back to the office,” Sheriff Moyers said.

“Could you canvas the town?” Darla asked. “Peek in every shed and garage large enough to hide a panel van?” “I’ll keep my eyes peeled,” Sheriff Moyers said.