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“Van!”

A young-looking Black man grabs everyone’s attention. He’s racing toward us, his camo pants, boots, and white T-shirt not matching the grin splitting his face.

Evander leaves his conversation, rushing to meet the other man. They throw their arms around each other in a tight hug that tugs at my chest. I can only see the younger man’s face, and tears stream down his cheeks.

From their matching dark skin, tall, athletic builds, and similar faces, it’s clear they’re brothers. So few people survived the virus that most of us don’t have blood family members anymore.

When Evander pulls back and looks at his brother, he squeezes one of his shoulders and claps him on the cheek, more warmth than force behind it. His brother beams back at him. It’s the first time I’ve seen Evander smile.

Hawaiian shirt guy approaches the rest of us.

“We’re going to interview all of you, and we’ll have food waiting in those rooms so you can eat first. I know it’s hard to give up your weapons, but you’re safe here.”

“I was told to ask for Smythe,” Marcus says.

“Smythe knows you’re here. I’m Bill, and I work for Smythe. I know you must all be exhausted, but we want to get these interviews out of the way first. You’ll be able to take showers and sleep after.”

He looks so jolly, like Santa’s younger brother taking a break on a tropical island before the busy season hits. But instead of hearing the things he’s saying, I’m paying attention to what he isn’t saying.

He was careful not to reveal Smythe’s gender. He hasn’t said where we are, or what they want from us.

Bill assigns a guard to each of us, telling mine to take me to one-thirteen, whatever that means. My heart pounds harder and faster as we walk toward a door, knowing I’m going to be split from my friends.

What if they know about me? I could be walking toward my own execution if they turn me over to the people who must assume I’m dead by now. That was my plan when I came to Blue Arrow Island—disappear forever.

I swallow hard, trying to keep calm as I’m led down a long, sterile hallway. The guard stops at a metal door, opening it and standing aside so I can enter.

The floor is made from large squares of gray tile; the walls white. The only furniture in the room is a rectangular wood table, two chairs on the far side and one chair on the side closest to me. There’s a large mirror on one wall.

“Come on in,” a woman says, getting up from one of the two far chairs and coming around to greet me. “I’m Narelle. Can I get you anything? Food? Water? Do you need to use the bathroom before we start?”

She has an Australian accent, her blond curls pulled into a knot on top of her head. She’s lean, muscle cording her deeply tanned arms.

“No, thanks,” I say.

She gestures at the only other person in the room, a man. He’s still sitting in the chair beside the one she vacated. “This is Neil. We know you must be tired from your journey, but it would really help us out if we could ask you a few questions.”

Neil, who is clearly the bad cop, gives me a slight nod, his gaze locked onto me. He’s average height, his head shaved. His pants are the same camo the other soldiers wear, and his T-shirt is plain gray.

“Name?” Neil asks me, clicking the end of the pen he has poised over a yellow legal pad.

“Amira Khalil.”

Narelle takes her seat on the other side of the table, smiling at me. “That’s a lovely name. Where are you originally from?”

I look from her to Neil, and then back to her again. I should be more comfortable. Olin saved Briar’s life more than once, and Evander saved Marcus’s. They’ve shown themselves to be allies. This place seems secure, and based on the goose bumps on my arms, I’m pretty sure it’s even air-conditioned. That means the ILF has vast resources.

The most dangerous people are the ones who make you let your guard down, though. I’ll pretend to be comfortable here, because that’s the game.

“I was born in Egypt. My mother was Egyptian and my father was American.”

“Age?” Neil asks.

“I’m twenty-seven.”

“Where did you grow up?”

If they expect my life story, this is going to take forever. “We went back and forth between Egypt and the US a lot.”