Only then does he step closer. He doesn’t say anything. He’s peering at my face.
“I need to hear about your trip,” I manage to say. There’s something shaky inside me that’s about to fall apart. It will take only the slightest push, and I’ll collapse.
“Later.”
I start to argue but simply don’t have the energy.
“Let’s go back to the command station,” Ben says. “We can talk there.”
That seems like a reasonable option, and I’ll be happy to have fewer people see me right now. Ben takes my arm, which is unusual, but I don’t pull away. It actually helps to have his support since my knees don’t feel entirely stable.
When we go inside, someone comes over to ask a question, but Ben waves him away. I don’t know why, but I don’t care that much.
Ryan is at the desk in the command station, scanning for live radio broadcasts and jotting down notes on what he hears, something he often does when he doesn’t have another duty.
“Can we have the room?” Ben asks him.
I blink in surprise, but Ryan gets up immediately. “Sure thing. Just let me know if there’s anything you needme to do.” He shifts his eyes to me. “Thank you, ma’am. That was the right thing to do.”
I manage to nod in response, but I don’t trust myself to speak.
Ryan leaves the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
“Why don’t you sit down?” Ben says.
I see no reason not to do it, so I lower myself to the sofa. Ben sits down beside me, much closer than he normally sits.
“What are you doing?” I ask, just a little wobbly.
“Come here to me.” He lifts an arm and makes a summoning gesture with his hand. “You did so good. But it’s only me here now. You don’t have to hold on anymore.”
And that does it.
The emotion breaks into helpless shakes and shudders, and I make a choked sound as Ben pulls me against him, tightening both his arms around me.
9
Shortly after the Fall,after the asteroid strike threw every world population into upheaval and altered the climate with devastating impact, a military leader named Patterson took charge and made himself president.
He consolidated power in the Capitol, which back then was just another mid-sized city, providing protection and rebuilding infrastructure with more success than anywhere else on the continent. Every town in the region quickly submitted to his authority, and within several years all the nearby cities did as well.
Patterson governed like a military commander. Any hint of a challenge was dealt with immediate ferocity. He instituted a practice of indentured servitude for everyone who had no useful skills, and entire villages who didn’t fall in line were rounded up to be “imprisoned”—which meant they were never seen or heard again.
I was in my teens when Vincent ousted Patterson as president, so I well remember the universal rejoicing at the new, better world that was supposed to come from the change in leadership.
Some things did change. Indentured servitude was done away with. There were no more open atrocities by the government. No more villages wiped out. The new technology introduced at the time made travel and the running of households easier, since the solar batteries provided power instead of dwindling fossil fuels.
But the heart of the government never changed. It merely put on a nicer face. Anyone who questioned the government was still silenced with speed and ruthlessness, but it was done in secret. And every decision made—no matter how heartless—was given some sort of political cover.
That’s the world we’re still living in now. No better than the cruel leadership of Patterson but wearing the mask of justice and mercy.
For a few months after Ben and I returned to the Central Cities from the wilderness six years ago, we traveled—keeping to the small byways and avoiding the larger cities. We found an abandoned motor that Ben was easily able to repair. So after spending some time visiting Teresa and her family, we went from village to village, pretending to be traders, getting a sense of the peoples and culture in various regions, and keeping an eye out for rebel activity.
There was a lot of grumbling discontent but almost nodirect action. After decades of being beaten into submission, most people were afraid to speak out.
And who can blame them?
My father was killed because he tried to speak out, and he’s not the only one.
