kissed Sara quickly, his beard—warm, familiar, full of his scent—pressing like wool against her cheeks.
“Hungry?”
She smiled. “I could eat.”
Hollis dished her out a bowl; he and Kate had already had their dinner. He sat with her at the little table while she dug in. The meat, he confessed, could have been just about anything, but the carrots and potatoes were passable. Sara hardly cared; never had food tasted so good as it had the last few weeks. They talked about her patients, about Peter and Michael and the others, about Kerrville and what awaited there, about the trip south, now just a few days off. Hollis had initially suggested that they wait until spring, when the travel would be less arduous, but Sara would have none of it. Too much has happened here, she’d told him. I don’t know where home is, but let’s let it be Texas.
They washed the dishes, set them in the rack, and readied Kate for bed. Even as Sara drew the nightshirt over the little girl’s head, she was already half-asleep. They tucked her in and retreated to the living room.
“Do you really have to go back to the hospital?” Hollis asked.
Sara took her coat from the hook and wriggled her arms into the sleeves. “It’ll just be a few hours. Don’t wait up.” Though that was exactly what he’d do; Sara would have done the same. “Come here.”
She kissed him, lingering there. “I mean it. Go to bed.”
But as she put her hand on the knob, he stopped her.
“How did you know, Sara?”
She almost, but not quite, understood what he was asking. “How did I know what?”
“That it was her. That it was Kate.”
It was odd; Sara had never thought to ask herself this question. Nina had confirmed Kate’s identity in their clandestine meeting in the back room of the apothecary, but she needn’t have; there had never been a trace of doubt in Sara’s mind. It was more than the child’s physical resemblance that told her so; the knowledge had come from someplace deeper. Sara had looked at Kate and instantly understood that of all the children in the world, this one was hers.
“Call it a mother’s instincts. It was like… like knowing myself.” She shrugged. “I can’t explain it any better than that.”
“Still, we were lucky.”
Sara had never told him about the foil packet; nor would she ever. “I’m not sure if you can even call something like this luck,” she said. “All I know is we’re here.”
It was after midnight by the time she was finishing her rounds. Yawning into her fist, her mind already halfway home, Sara stepped into the last examining room, where a young woman was sitting on the table.
“Jenny?”
“Hi, Dani.”
Sara had to laugh—not only at the name, which seemed like something from a distant dream, but the girl’s presence itself. It wasn’t until she’d seen her that Sara had realized that she’d assumed Jenny was dead.
“What happened to you?”
She shrugged sheepishly. “I’m sorry I left. After what happened in the feedlot, I just panicked. One of the kitchen workers hid me in a flour barrel and got me out on one of the delivery trucks.”
Sara smiled to reassure her. “Well, I’m glad to see you. What seems to be the trouble?”
The girl hesitated. “I think I may be pregnant.”
Sara examined her. If she was, it was too early to tell. But being pregnant got you a spot in the first evacuation. She filled out the form and handed it to her.
“Take this to the census office and tell them I sent you.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
The girl stared at the slip of paper in her hand. “Kerrville. I can’t believe it. I barely remember it.”
Sara had been filling out a duplicate evacuation order on her clipboard. Her pen paused in midair. “What did you say?”
“That I can’t believe it?”
“No, the other thing. About remembering.”
The girl shrugged. “I was born there. At least I think I was. I was pretty small when they took me.”
“Jenny, why didn’t you tell anyone?”
“I did. I told the census taker.”
Flyers, how had they missed this?
“Well, I’m glad you told
“I’m not really sure,” Jenny said, “but I think that it was Apgar.”
68
The day of departure arrived with a hard, bright dawn. The advance team gathered at the stadium: thirty men and women, six trucks, and two refuelers. Eustace and Nina had come to see them off, as well as Lore and Greer.
A small crowd had gathered, family and friends of those who would be departing. Sara and the others had already said goodbye to Michael the night before, at the hospital. Go on, he said, his face red, get out of here. How is a guy supposed to get his rest? But the card Kate had made for him proved his undoing.
The last supplies were loaded into the trucks; everybody climbed aboard. Peter would ride in the lead pickup, with Hollis; Kate and Sara were riding in one of the large transports at the rear. As Peter fired the ignition, Greer stepped to his window. In Peter’s absence, the major had agreed to serve in his stead as Eustace’s second-in- command and was now in charge of the evacuation.
“I don’t know where she is, Peter. I’m sorry.”
Had he been so obvious? Once again, Lish had left him standing at the altar. “I’m just worried about her. Something’s not right.”
“She went through a lot in that cell. I don’t think she’s told us even half of it. She’ll bounce back—she always does.”
There was nothing more to say on the subject. Nor on the other, which in the days since the uprising had hung over them with its unspoken weight of grief. The logical explanation was that Amy had been killed in the explosion, vaporized with the other virals, and yet part of him could not accept this. She felt like a ghost limb, an invisible part of him.
The two men shook hands. “Be careful okay?” Greer said. “You too, Hollis. It’s a different world out there, but you never know.”
Peter nodded. “All eyes, Major.”
Greer allowed himself a rare smile. “I confess I like the sound of that. Who knows? Maybe they’ll take me back, after all.”
The moment of parting was at hand. Peter ground the truck into gear; with a throb of heavy engines, the line of vehicles drew clear of the gate. In the rearview mirror, Peter watched as the buildings of the Homeland receded from view, fading into the winter whiteness.
“I’m sure she’s somewhere, Peter,” Hollis said.
Peter wondered whom he meant.
From her hiding place in the culvert, Alicia watched the convoy drive away. For many days she had lived this moment in advance, attempting to prepare herself. How would it feel? Even now she couldn’t say. Final, that was
