Most of the women have slowed, trying to take in their new surroundings. One woman raises her hand and asks, “And we can call home?”
“Of course! If you have phone service at home, or anywhere else, you’re welcome to call. The phones are just there beyond the dining area. The kiosks. Do you see?”
She nods, eyeing the bright blue booths.
Rex scans everyone for any further questions, then points to an enclosure dividing the rear of the hanger from the rest. “I’ll be in there, but all you have to do is hit any buzzer—they’re all marked and in every space—and I’ll come right out. Any final questions?”
No one says anything. Like Charlotte, most of them are looking around at this new and strange place. With a final nod, Rex departs. Even his steps look friendly, jaunty, and entirely non-threatening.
Tabitha’s arm across Charlotte’s shoulders tightens a little, nudging her. “Want to find our room?” she asks.
“Sure,” Charlotte says, but eyeballs everything as they head toward the cubicles.
As promised, the cubicles are marked with neatly printed cards set into metal slots. Unlike an office cubicle, each has a ceiling and regular height walls. It’s a real room, however temporary. Theirs is a two-bed cubicle.
“Well, I didn’t expect this,” Tabitha says, entering their cube.
The beds are twin sized, but neatly made. Fluffy comforters inside wrinkle-free duvet covers make the beds look rounded and inviting. A nightstand between the two beds has an alarm clock, a small vase of bright flowers, and one of the buzzers. A shelving unit on one wall contains colorful bins obviously meant for their belongings. In front of the other empty wall is a minimalist desk, complete with a lamp. On the surface are two binders.
It’s not at all what Charlotte thought it would be.
A sliding door allows them to shut out the rest of the hangar, though not entirely. They both look at the adjoining wall when the sound of someone else sliding their door closed leaks through. Less than ten seconds later, a tap sounds out on their door.
Tabitha slides it open tentatively. A young man has both their overnight bags. “Delivery!” he exclaims, rather too brightly. “These were marked as your bags for tonight, so I brought them. I can bring the others or I can arrange to have them loaded and ready for the train. Which would you like?”
Her mother reaches for the handles of the bags and the man steps back quickly, though the smile stays in place. She says, “Thank you. Just load the other bags, if you wouldn’t mind.”
With a quick nod, he’s gone. After looking around the tidy space and trying to decide if unpacking is worth the trouble, Charlotte shrugs at her mother and says, “They’re very…um…polite?”
Tabitha snorts and tosses her bag on top of one of the beds. “Overly cheerful is more like it. They’re like cheerleaders who raided the controlled meds cabinet.”
Charlotte giggles, then presses her hand to her mouth to keep the noise inside their cubicle. “I didn’t think it would be like this. Did you, Mom?”
Tabitha unzips the suitcase with sharp movements, but Charlotte can tell she’s thinking about her answer. When she flips the top open, she says, “I’d considered it. Before Pete took his girl and went, we discussed it. He’d gotten reports it was like this. In a way, it makes sense.”
“So we don’t die?” Charlotte prods.
With a nod, Tabitha leaves the suitcase to stand in front of Charlotte. “Yes. Whatever this thing is, it’s brought on by feeling trapped. Or maybe helpless. Who knows really, but what matters is that penning us up and making us prisoners will bring it on for many, or maybe even most women. That would defeat the purpose, so this makes sense.”
Charlotte turns toward her own suitcase, considering her mother’s words. It’s strange, but also true. Whatever happened to make women die—and some men too, though no one realized it until much later—remains unknown. At some point, perhaps it will end. Perhaps it will wear off like a vaccination. Maybe it will run its course like a summer cold. But if all the women are dead before that happens, then the human race will also be dead.
“You okay, sweetie?” her mother asks, worry in her eyes.
Charlotte smiles and nods. “So far, so good.” She pauses, pulls out some neatly folded pajamas from her overnight bag, then says, “Maybe I should keep taking the pills though.”
Willa
There is a group of men and because of that, there is fear. Beau points down the main park service road, then makes a blade of his hand and veers it off into the dense forest to one side.
“They’re on the other side of the twin trails, by the small falls that feed the pool there. Reports are there are between twenty-five and thirty of them, but with so much moving about, there’s no way to tell for sure. It could be more.” He pauses and looks at the faces around him, then says, “They’re all armed, but they’re not using guns to hunt, which means they’re smart too. They don’t want to tip us off that they’re here by making noise.”
Willa draws in an uneasy breath, then exchanges a look with Bee and Ellie. They lead the most hunting parties and are most familiar with that area. “Advantages?” she asks, knowing they’ll understand what she means.
Bee points with her bow to the forest. “That direction slopes ever downward, which means we have the high ground here, but the road curves so sharply that they’ll have cover until they get fairly close. Or they could go through the trees, which would give them even better cover and make it difficult to set a watch. It’s treacherous going if they take to the woods, so that may negate the advantage of cover. Plus, there
