Sunrise

“Ed and Alyssa are on cooking duty this week,”A

“I noticed,” I stared mournfully at my empty plate. My stomach still rumbled with hunger. Get used to it, I told my body silently

“I can get you some more,” A

“No,” I said firmly.

“How many greenhouses would it take to feed 103 people?”

“Oh, good question,” A

“You can tell me later.”

“No, no—I can get it now.” She was scribbling figures furiously in the margins of the clipboard. After a long pause, she said, “Well, assuming we can find enough bulbs to light them all, between seven and eight. Without artificial lighting, maybe eleven or twelve—assuming they’re equivalent to the ones we’ve already got in size and productivity.”

The problem, of course, was where would we get the glass, wire, and electric heating elements we needed for all those extra greenhouses? The glimmerings of an idea occurred to me, and I spent the rest of the evening talking to Uncle Paul, Darla, and Ben about it. As Ben was lecturing me on the finer points of military logistics, Dr. McCarthy walked up. “Can I talk to you?” he asked.

Ben actually quit talking—he seemed to be getting better at figuring out when to stop his nearly constant barrage of words. “Would you mind if we continued the discussion tomorrow?” I asked him.

“I would like that,” Ben said.

“Is there anywhere private we can talk?” Dr. McCarthy asked.

I led him into the base of the turbine tower. With the door closed, it was the most private indoor space we had. “What’s up?” I asked.

“Belinda and I have talked it over—we’re ready to move.”

I held out my hand. “Welcome to . . . whatever here is called. We really should think of a name for it.”

We shook hands. “Thanks. We’ll go back to Warren tomorrow, load up the Studebaker, and drive it out here.” “You sure Petty will let you go?” I asked. I was thrilled that Doc was moving; Mayor Petty would probably be exactly as furious as I was ecstatic.

“What Petty wants doesn’t figure high in my priorities right now. And he owes me—I did save his life.”

I nodded. “Be careful. Oh, and would you stop in and see Mom? Try to convince her to move? I’d really like her and Rebecca to join us.”

“Your mom seemed pretty set on staying.”

“I don’t get it. Why?”

“You know she’s seeing someone, right? I mean, I think she is. We’re not exactly close.”

“Really? Who?”

“Mayor Petty. They’re spending a lot of time together anyway.”

That was just freaking perfect. Why? It was unanswerable. And I certainly didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “I’ve gotta go.” As I reached for the door handle, I remembered the original point of the whole conversation. “Tell Belinda I’m really glad you’re moving here.”

“I will,” Dr. McCarthy replied as I left.

By the next morning, our population had fallen to 110. Seven people had died during the night. We had bandaged their wounds, carried them more than five miles to the homestead, and they had died anyway. I wanted nothing more than to get back into bed and sleep until the horror of it all passed.

I wasn’t the only one. Everywhere there were people sitting and staring into space. A woman wept quietly in a corner of the longhouse, her face turned toward the walls. A boy folded and refolded the blanket he had slept on. Every time he finished, he would look at the square of fabric, shake it out, and start again. I had to get them moving, get them doing something, anything but ruminating on the massacre.

I called all the original settlers together—ten of them, not counting me or A

“Alex,” Darla whispered to me. “You just assigned twenty-five people to scavenging lumber. We don’t have anything like twenty-five hammers, or pry bars, or anything.”

“We’ve got to get them doing something,” I whispered back. “They’re cracking up.” Then I raised my voice to address the whole group. “We don’t have enough tools for everyone. So your first job may be to make, find, or improvise what you need. A rock can serve as a hammer in a pinch, a pipe as a pry bar. The sooner we get these tasks done, the sooner we’ll be safe—with enough longhouses and greenhouses to sustain everyone.”

I expected to have arguments from some of the newcomers, but they went along, zombie-like, with everything I asked them to do. I stayed behind in the longhouse, trying to work out how we would get supplies to build the greenhouses we needed.

When Dr. McCarthy and Belinda got back with the Studebaker a couple of hours later, I had a pleasant sur-prise—Nylce Myers, the tiny woman who’d done such a capable job leading a squad during my attack on Stockton, had come with them. My mom and sister, however, had not.

After di

I started with some of the bad news, figuring it was best to get that over with, like pulling off a bandage really fast. “We don’t have enough greenhouses to feed everyone.” A murmur of alarm raced through the room. “Now, we’ll be okay for a couple of months if we ration food carefully, but we’ve got to get more greenhouses producing wheat and kale as fast as we can.

“There is good news here. We’ve built four greenhouses already. We know how to do it. We’ve got sixty-seven wind turbines available for power. There’s no reason why, with all your help, we can’t construct a farm here that will sustain us through this winter, no matter how long it lasts.

“But there’s more bad news too. We don’t have enough wire, pipe, plastic, glass, heating elements, or caulk to finish the fifth greenhouse, let alone build more. We were getting supplies from Stockton, but that source is closed to us now.” I glanced self-consciously at my hook but left the explanation at that. If they wanted to know more, any of the original settlers could fill them in.

“I propose to mount an expedition toward Chicago. All the way to Chicago, if need be. It will be a difficult trip— 150 miles through unexplored territory. I want to take a group large enough that isolated gangs of flensers won’t dare mess with us, but small enough that we can flee if our scouts warn us of serious opposition. Maybe about thirty able-bodied people. We’ll go on snowshoes and skis and try to scavenge bicycles, snowmobiles, or trucks along the way. If all goes well, we’ll bring back the supplies we need to build more greenhouses.

“We’ve also heard rumors that the government in D.C. has collapsed. By heading east, I hope we’ll be able to find out whether the rumors are true or not—whether any remnant of the old United States is left.

“The whole expedition will last about five weeks—a week to travel there, three weeks onsite scavenging, and a week for the return journey. I’m looking for volunteers—”

“I’ll go!” Max yelled.

“Particularly among our new residents. I’ll need most of the original settlers,” I fixed Max under my stare, “to stay here and get as much of the greenhouses done as possible before we return with the wiring. Please see

Charlotte—” I pointed her out, “right after this meeting to let her know if you’re willing to volunteer for the trip.”

There was a sudden murmur of conversation, and I waited a moment for it to die down.

“One more thing. We’ve always called this place the new farm or the homestead. But it’s not really just a homestead anymore. With a hundred people living here, it’s more of a village. And a village needs a name. Any suggestions?”