Sunrise

“Open the gate!” he yelled.

Ed and the guy currently in charge of Stockton, Lawrence Mason, hopped on our Bikezilla, and we raced across town. Lawrence ordered the west gate opened, and we biked out into the snow, yelling “Nylce!” and looking for her forces. We found them about two miles out, hidden by a low rise in the road, ready to attack.

“Stockton’s already free,” I told Nylce as we pulled up. “You took the city without us? Damn, Chief, I knew you were a badass, but that’s just ridiculous.”

“No,” I said, “I didn’t—Ed did. Never mind. Let’s head into the city, and he can explain it on the way there.”

I set my forces to guard the walls, looking out for the remnants of the Reds, and asked Lawrence to gather Stockton’s population in front of city hall.

It took more than an hour to call them all together. I spent the time talking to Eli, who embraced me enthusiastically, and his wife, Mary Sue, who was as cold-hearted and suspicious as ever. His kids—Brand, Alba, and Joy—were far taller than I remembered them, but if it was possible, even ski

Stocktonites flowed into the intersection in front of city hall until it was packed, overflowing with what looked to be hundreds of people, though Lawrence assured me it couldn’t be more than three or four hundred. They were gaunt and dirty, clothed mostly in rags, clearly fatigued and suffering. None of them were particularly old—I saw very little white hair—but they all looked years older than they probably were. There was a certain amount of hope in their stance and smiles threatening to peek from the corners of their mouths.

I climbed to the second floor balcony above one of the businesses on Main Street and raised my hand for quiet. The silence was total.

“My name is Alex Halprin,” I shouted into the stillness. “I’m the duly elected mayor of Speranta. Ed Bauman has told you there is a place for you in our community, and I’m here to affirm that promise.” They interrupted me with cheers. When it got quiet again, I went on.

“There is a place in Speranta for those of you who are willing to follow our laws and work hard. We have food and shelter and power—everything we need to survive this winter, however long it lasts. But we’ve built our settlement through hard work, and no one is exempt from that.

“If you wish to remain here in Stockton, you’re welcome to do so. I want no one in Speranta who’s there against his or her will. But if you remain here, you must do so under your own resources; you ca

“Red’s forces are broken, and if he survived the battle, he’s on the run.” There was another cheer. “For those of you who followed his orders, I offer forgiveness. But for Red himself, I demand justice. If he is still alive, we will find him, and he will pay for his crimes.” I punched my hook into the air to emphasize the point, and the crowd grew even quieter.

“Think it over carefully. If you’re ready for a new life, a new place, then start packing. Bring only what you can carry. The work will be hard, the hours long, the risks many. But if you’re equal to the task, we welcome you. We leave for Speranta at first light tomorrow.”

The applause was overwhelming.

Chapter 71

Nearly everyone chose to move. Speranta’s population had almost doubled in the last few weeks, to over eleven hundred. We had more than two hundred people jammed into each longhouse, and they had each been designed for 150 or fewer. It took two days to get everyone settled, counted, and placed in work assignments. Every preexisting citizen with any experience at all was put in charge of a work party. We broke ground on eight greenhouses and two longhouses all at once, by far the single most ambitious expansion project we’d yet tried.

It would have been impossible to start so many buildings at once except for the supplies the

Stocktonites brought us. They freely gave us the material Darla and I had been trying to steal when we were caught and lost our hands.

Ex-Mayor Petty agreed that all the remaining frozen pork should be shared among the whole settlement of Speranta. He didn’t have much choice; the Reds had thoroughly burned Warren. There was no town for the Warrenites to return to, and I wouldn’t allow him to stay in Speranta without sharing the pork—we were all in this together, I figured. There wasn’t as much pork left as I expected, though. The Warrenites would have been starving within a few months in any case.

Uncle Paul spent two days chasing the stragglers before he and his forces returned. He had killed or captured most of the Reds. There was no sign of Red himself, though—either he had been vaporized by our manure bomb, or he had escaped.

I had a more immediate worry than Red, though. I pulled Uncle Paul aside. “What are we going to do with all these prisoners?”

“Put ’em in a longhouse under guard?”

“Sure, but what then? We can’t afford to feed people who aren’t working. Heck, we can’t even feed the people who are.”

“I’m dead on my feet. Mind if we sit down, get something to eat?”

“Yeah. Of course not. Sorry.” He lowered himself slowly onto a bench in the kitchen area, and I poured him a cup of water and grabbed a bowl of kale chips.

“God,” he said wearily, “I am so sick of kale chips.” “You know what Darla says whenever I complain?” I said.

“Yeah. ‘Beats not eating.’ She says the same damn thing to me. So these prisoners. Why not put them to work? Like a chain gang or something.”

“Still have to guard them. And it seems like a temporary solution.”

“Hmm.” Uncle Paul put a couple of kale chips in his mouth and chewed slowly. “You ever hear about that Truth and Reconciliation Commission they had in South Africa?” “No.”

“Before your time. Anyway, they interviewed victims and perpetrators of violence in the apartheid era—not necessarily to prosecute anyone, just to bring closure. We could try something like that.”

“Have them talk to all the refugees and prisoners— sort out who the really bad ones were and who we might be able to integrate into Speranta?”

“Sure. A commission like that might help us get Mayor Petty’s bunch integrated too.”

“I know the perfect person to run it too. Thanks!” “You bet.”

Uncle Paul turned back to the kale chips as I got up to look for Zik. He was perfect to lead the commission. Anyone who had fought for Red was suspect, and who better to sort out those who might be reformed from the rest than Zik, who’d lived in Stockton and knew most of the prisoners personally? It also would give him a chance to question them about his daughter, Emily, who seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth. I told Zik that the top priority was getting rid of the prisoners—they all needed to become members of our community or be exiled as quickly as possible.

I also set up the constitution committee I had promised over a month before when we had held the vote to confirm me as mayor. I tapped Reverend Evans to run it. If he were in charge, I figured he would have a tough time arguing that the constitution was invalid. I insisted that he put my sister, Rebecca, on the executive committee and asked her to keep an eye on Evans for me.

On the evening of the second day after battle, I summoned A