Page 69 of Chaos

Nerves have built up in my belly to an uncomfortable churn, and I force myself to stare at the pigeons. One of them ruffles its feathers, the sunshine turning feathers that are normally a mauvy gray to magenta and teal.

Colleen sets her notebook and clipboard down on the table right beside the shelf I stocked earlier with the bags of soil additives and fertilizer and those boxes of ant poison.

One of them says BEWARE: TASTES LIKE SUGAR.

A shaft of sunshine spills across Colleen’s face, casting her high cheekbones in sharp relief. “I wanted to apologize about Ruby’s funeral. We kept her in the freezer for two weeks—to wait for you to be there, but eventually … We just had to bury her. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” I look blurrily down at my sneakers on the stone floors beneath my feet. That’s the last thing I expected her to say, and now I can’t clear away the memory of Ruby’s face, those eyes staring vacantly up at the gray snowy sky. I wish I’d remember her from before, when she was laughing and talking about star signs and vanilla beans. Not dead-eyed … and now stashed in a freezer.

“It’s …” What am I supposed to say? My thumbnail somehow got into my mouth and I drop my hand back to my lap. “Okay? I should visit her. Is that why you came here?”

“No.” She looks away to hide how her eyes just got wet.

My throat tightens. What if she’s about to tell me she had Yorke arrested?

I squeeze my necklace and try to look like my old friend Jee—forever frenchly insouciant, but insouciant and the apocalypse don’t fit.

Colleen steeples her fingers. “I drove to Roanoke this morning to meet with the leader there.”

I nod so she knows I’m following.

“The Raiders and Ben’s people have joined them.”

I nod again.

“It brings their numbers to nearly five-hundred. They’re asking us to release Ben to their care.”

My whole body tightens, and my nod turns into a sharp shake. “No.”

“We can’t afford conflict with them right now. It would turn us into an island surrounded by enemies. Gray Caps south and east. Roanoke to the north. We’re working on bullets, but we need food. They offered us cattle in exchange. And when I pushed, they also agreed to give us seeds forgrains. We could plant the golf course with barley and wheat.” She knows how badly I’ve wanted that. The thought of fields of it spreading across the fairways, bought with Ben’s life, has my ears ringing. “It would solve so many problems, Frankie.”

Despite her headphones, Shasta’s brows rise behind the heart-shaped shades.

I get that feeling again, that the world is an endless sky, a bottomless waterfall, and I’m just stuck in its current, grown so wide it consumes me. Everyone else does things, they make moves, they kidnap, they kill, they make deals, they smash, they grope, they make choices, and I just ride along with it.

And I don’t like it.

The pigeons squawk irritably, flapping their wings, and chuffing while I grip my necklace so hard it pinches into my palms.

“I want him dead, too. It goes against my sense of justice and even self-preservation, but I have to look at the larger picture,” Colleen says.

“Until he comes back. You’re acting like we’re trading him to people who will keep him in a prison or under control. But they won’t. They’ll let him go.”

“They will. But what could he truly do? I spoke to a man named Duffy while you were gone. He’s a trader who’s been all over. People are already talking about Thornewood. We’re not a secret anymore. Charleston and DC are coming. It’s only a matter of time. We’re building walls. We’re gathering supplies. We have an army. Soon, we’ll have cattle to feed them. We just need time. That’s the one thing we don’t have. Trading Ben gets it for us.”

I cross my arms, sweat breaking out of my skin at the thought of Ben going free again, of Ben loose in the same world as my not-so-maybe Maybe. “Renata said we shouldn’t let him live.”

Colleen sighs. “Setting aside mistrust for her, without knowing her logic it’s hard to put weight on that. We’re working on gathering information to give us insight intowhat’s happening in other parts of the country …” She smiles sadly. “I need you with me on this, Frankie. I can’t have people seeking vigilante justice. Specifically, I can’t haveYorkedoing it. The army hates him. The ex-townees hate him. It’ll throw us into an internal war. I won’t allow it.”

My heart pounds at that, unsure if she’s deliberately referencing Scraggle dying. But it’s enough to suck the wind from my sails.

“When is this happening?” I manage to choke out.

She takes a long, slow breath, her eyes sad at my reaction. “As soon as the weather is good enough to arrange the transportation of the cows.”

A million questions rip through me. Is that in the spring? Or can they move them via truck? Where will we keep them?

But before I can ask, she rises. “I’ll see you, Frankie.”

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