“Do you know Asto? Is she still there?”
“What about Elta? Short? And with brown hair? Scar over her eyes?”
“Oto, he’s got a limp — right foot’s twisted.”
“Yand! You’d know him ’cause he squints, like this!”
They smelled of sweat and dirt, and the noise of their questions bounced off the high ceilings and echoed across the room. Names and more names, too many to make out.
Omet gave a great clap.
“Ssst! Give them a minute! Not all at once!” She shoved a few kids back, and Susan took a good breath of humid air. Kate clung to her shirt, and Jean had practically climbed onto Max’s shoulders. Nell stood elbows out, trying to keep a small perimeter of space around her.
Near Susan, two little boys danced on the balls of their feet, straining to hold back the questions.
Omet nodded. “Now,” she said. “Slow like. Of course you’re all impatient to know who they’ve seen. They must have been there a long time, to look the way they do.”
Susan glanced, half desperate, at Max and Nell, but they looked bewildered. Omet turned back to them.
“So, slow like, if you don’t mind.” She bent her head, waiting.
None of them said anything for a minute. Finally Max cleared his throat.
“You’re talking about the workshops?”
The girl looked up. “What else?”
The children had begun inching in again, and Susan could feel the heat radiating from their small bodies.
“They take you from a village?” a boy whispered.
“Mines?”
“Ruins?”
“Do you know my sister? She’s got brown hair, like me!”
Again, they were shouting. She tried to follow the rush — sisters, brothers, friends —
Another clap from Omet.
“Forgive us,” she said, shaking her head. “But we’ve lost a few, and they’re missed.”
Susan looked at the ragged little group, thin faces dusted with hair and hollowed out by hunger.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “We don’t know anything. We don’t . . .” She tried to find the right word, but there were no right words, and to her dismay she blurted the ones Liyla had supplied: “We don’t remember.”
Nell shot her a look and she cringed. The younger kids didn’t seem to register what she’d said. But some of the older ones frowned and bit their lips.
Omet’s expression darkened. “Don’t remember? How can you go through the workshop and not remember?” Even she stepped closer now.
“We’re not from here. We come from a different place altogether.”
Like a balloon leaking air, the children slumped.
“Different place?” a boy said. “What different place is there?”
Yali shoved her way through. “You sure you didn’t see Daleli? She’s my sister. Looks a lot like me. She was only took this month.”
Omet frowned and tugged Yali back. “All right, you all heard them. They don’t remember. So leave them be. We oughta eat, anyway. Isn’t it rally day?”
A few of the children nodded half-heartedly. They stepped back, and suddenly the open space around the five of them felt to Susan like a slap. She watched Omet knock Modo in the shoulder. “Come on, Modo! Is that all I get? A grunt? Don’t tell me you’re not hungry?”
The boy only hung his head. A dark-skinned girl rubbed his arm.
“His brother got took today,” she said. “The sleepy one.”
“Oh.” Omet said. She patted the boy on the shoulder. “Hey, Modo, we’ll save you some.”
The boy nodded, and Omet sighed. She swiped at her jaw and looked around at all the dour faces. “Being hungry won’t make it better, will it? Go fetch the grub, Sefi. You, too, Espin.”
Sefi was the redheaded girl who’d started the rush of questions. She and Espin ducked out of the room and returned carrying a dirty sack. When they saw it, the children brightened.
“What’d you get?”
“Good haul?”
“Any cheese today? I like cheese!”
Omet had taken charge of the food, but before she could answer, a girl rushed into the room, breathless.
“Omet! A slasher! He nearly had me! I couldn’t shut the door in time!”
Omet dropped the sack.
“Where is he? In the hall?”
She needn’t have asked. They heard the thing, whatever it was, slamming and roaring in the hallway. A door smacked against a wall, and Omet’s head came up.
“Second room!” she shouted. From the corner, she snatched a thick stick. The older children did the same, plucking weapons from the pile Susan had taken for garbage. Modo hefted a rusty chain; Sefi grabbed a piece of broken pipe.
Omet shoved an old fence post into Susan’s hands.
“You little ones stay put!” she directed. “The rest of you, come!”
They ran toward the sound, and Susan saw Max heft Liyla’s knife. Nell had armed herself with the jagged remains of a broomstick. Down the hall, whatever had gotten in was smashing itself against the walls, but the howling had stopped.
Ahead, Omet stepped lightly into a stuffy, shadowy room. What had once been tall windows were boarded, and a few broken gaps leaked sunlight onto the floor. Beside one of these, a broad animal, its head down and its back humped, stood panting, its shoulder to the wall.
“Ay! Slasher!” Omet shouted.
The thing lifted its head and turned. It had the shape of a man, but it didn’t look like one. While the sleepers’ children had the faintest coat of hair on their faces, this thing peered from a thicket of it. The heavy growth spread all over its body, and its teeth, long and yellow, curved to sharp points over its blackened lips. When it saw them, it stopped panting and growled softly. Omet lifted her stick, jerking her head to the right.
“That way,” she said to Susan. “And keep your stick up.”
Susan raised the slab of splintering wood and moved to the right to join the others in a half circle around the beast. From the corner of her eye, she saw Nell, white-knuckled and clutching the broomstick. Max held the knife in front of him, point out.
A low rumble from the creature; its eyes darted from child to child. Modo shook the chain, and with a snarl, the creature’s head swiveled his way. Omet and Espin
