I am a guest here. A guest does not have to fit in or look comfortable. The opposite, in fact. I allow myself to appear uncertain, not knowing where I should go or what I should do. I let my body reflect that, tensing my shoulders and breathing in a shallow way that is unfamiliar to me.
I use the opportunity to scan the room as if I’m looking for a place to sit.
But I don’t care where I sit. I’m looking for Moore.
I need to know his patterns. Where he eats, where he takes meetings, when he goes to the bathroom, anything and everything.
Because I need this to be done.
“Daniel!” Lee shouts.
He’s sitting at a side table with Miranda next to him. I raise my hand in greeting and move toward him.
“Good morning,” I say.
“Look who’s back!” Lee says.
Miranda nods to me briefly then returns her attention to a half-eaten bowl of oatmeal.
“Join us,” Lee says. “Grab some food. You know how it works here?”
“No. It’s my first meal with the group,” I say.
“It’s every man for himself,” he says. “Especially at breakfast.”
“Sounds rough,” I say.
“It’s only rough if they run out of bacon,” Lee says, and that earns him a laugh from the table.
I take an empty spot at the table across from him, look down the row of faces at kids who greet me.
“I’d introduce you to everyone,” Lee says, “but you’ve met, like, a hundred people in the last couple days. I’m sure you won’t remember anyone’s name.”
“I barely remember my own name at this point,” I say, and the group laughs.
“Anyway, you all know Daniel,” he announces to the table. “Or if you don’t, you’re going to get to know him. Because he’s staying with us for a while.”
That earns me appreciative nods.
I sit down, grab a plate, and dig into some eggs.
I say, “You’re in a good mood, this morning, Lee.”
“Yeah, well, I had an attitude adjustment,” he says. “I talked with my father last night.”
“What did he think of The Hunt?” I say.
“He was very pleased,” Lee says. I note heads perking up around the table. “He reviewed all the stats, and he said we did a good job.”
Some kids fist-bump each other around the table.
“You did great,” I say. “No thanks to me.”
“What do you mean?” a blond girl next to me asks.
I glance at Lee. He nods, like I can say whatever I want about it.
“I wasn’t exactly a supersoldier,” I tell the girl.
“It was your first Hunt,” Lee says generously.
“I guess,” I say. “I’m still playing catch-up with how you do things here. It’s a lot of information all at once.”
“We’re not so different from other places where people live together. Universities, boarding schools—”
“Oh yeah,” I say. “It’s just like Exeter. With guns.”
The kids at the table laugh.
“There’s a long history of alternative communities in the United States,” Lee says. “In a sense, even our forefathers were an alternative group. They weren’t living in the way that British society dictated, and they were resisting the laws that their British masters attempted to enforce.”
“Are you comparing our government to the colonial British?” I say.
“There are similarities,” Lee says. “A large and powerful governmental body that becomes cut off from the source of its power. It grows distant and ineffectual over time, more concerned with servicing the needs of the rich and powerful than the common man.”
“There are parallels, I agree. But there’s one big difference. It’s our government and our country. We can change it if we like. We’re not a colony.”
“You’ve heard of Too Big to Fail?” Lee says.
“Sure.”
“We’re too big to change.”
“I thought change was inevitable,” I say.
“You guys are boring me,” Miranda says.
Lee’s face tenses. “These are important issues, Miranda.”
His voice is suddenly loud enough to be heard across the room.
Miranda meets his stare. “Vitally important,” she says. “So much so that they shouldn’t be discussed casually over pancakes.”
Lee’s shoulders relax. “Agreed,” he says. “There’s a time and a place for everything.”
Suddenly a siren wails through the encampment.
The entire room stands in unison, people moving in a quick but orderly fashion to exits all around the room.
“What’s going on?”
“It’s a drill,” Miranda says.
“You don’t know if it’s a drill,” Lee says.
“It has to be a drill,” she says.
They look at each other, concerned.
“What does the sound mean?” I say.
“It’s a warning siren,” Miranda says, quickly coming around the table.
“A warning of what?”
“That we’re under attack,” Lee says.
“We have to hurry,” Miranda says, and she grabs me and pulls me out of the room as the siren blares again.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
PEOPLE ARE RUNNING THROUGH THE BUILDING.
I am herded through a side door where an assigned monitor stands with a clicker, making a head count of everyone entering. There is controlled chaos through the house as the siren continues to wail. Guns start appearing, rifles and nasty snub-nosed shotguns. People are strapping on holsters, moving to assigned positions around the house. I glance into rooms as we move down the hall, and I see at least two armed people by each window taking up shooting positions around the perimeter.
Sergeant Burch comes running toward Lee, thrusting a walkie-talkie into his hands.
“My father?” Lee says.
“Secured upstairs,” Sergeant Burch says.
“It’s just a drill, right?” Lee says.
“No such thing,” Sergeant Burch says. “It’s real until we hear differently.”
“But my father would tell you if it was a drill.”
“Not anymore, he wouldn’t,” Sergeant Burch says. “Not since—”
He glances at me. He chooses his next words very carefully.
“The troubles,” Sergeant Burch says.
Lee’s face goes dark.
“I have to take off,” he says to me. “Miranda, would you take care of him?”
“What do you want me to do with him?” she says.
“Stash him someplace safe, then take your position.”
His walkie crackles, and he moves off quickly.
“Why do I need to be stashed?” I say.
“Everyone has assigned positions,” Miranda says. “It’s not safe for you to be walking around on your own.”
“Can I come with you?”
“Not a good idea,” she says. “I’m going to put you in an interior room, and I’ll let Lee know where you are. It’s almost certainly a drill. But if anything happens, one of us will come to get you.”
She rushes me down the hall, knocks hard twice at a door, and when there’s no response, she opens it.
It’s a windowless utility closet. She motions me inside.
“I’m sorry it’s not nice,” she says. “It’s the best place for you right now.”
“I’ll be okay,” I say. “I can defend myself with a mop if I have to.”
“About this morning at breakfast—I was kind of ignoring you because I don’t want to be too obvious about us. It’s better if people don’t know.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
She steps into the closet with me, closing the door behind her. She kisses me hard on the lips.
“I was thinking about you all night,” she says.