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  “And you kids—you’ve been helping your mother?”

  Kate looked up at him, then a nod from her.

  “So, I decided you can stay.”

  “Thank you,” Christie said, not knowing what else to say.

  Not even sure she wanted to stay.

  “But before you agree, best I explain the rules here.”

  She looked at Helen. Had the woman kept something from her? How this place works, or was this going to be all new for her as well?

  “You give us your weapons.”

  Christie shook her head.

  No way in hell that was going to happen.

  “Now hang on. You get to keep one each, and ammo. For your own protection. So you and your daughter can—”

  “I can shoot,” Simon said.

  The Colonel stopped. He looked right at Simon, then up to Christie, as in—

  What do you think about this?

  And as if it needed repeating, Simon said it again:

  “I can shoot. I need a gun, too.”

  “Really?” The Colonel grinned at the man standing beside him.

  Was he going to embarrass Simon? Make fun of what the boy had just said?

  “He can. He gets a gun,” Christie said quickly.

  The Colonel arched his eyebrows.

  “Okay. But your responsibility. It’s kept safe and away. Understood?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then, here’s how we work here. Thirty-eight souls, everyone with their jobs to do. You folks make forty-two. There will be things for all of you to do, to keep this place running, keep it safe, everyone protected and fed. Agreed?”

  Again: “Yes.”

  “This isn’t like the outside. We don’t know how long we’ll have to stay here. Is this ‘home’ or is it just a temporary place while we wait for the government—”

  A shake of his head.

  At the apparent ludicrousness of the idea.

  “—the damn government to figure out what the hell is happening. How to stop it. Until then, this inn may be all we have.”

  He took a breath.

  “You understand that?”

  Christie looked at her kids. She wanted them to know that whatever they did, whatever they decided, they did together.

  “We do.”

  “One other thing. And this one you’re not going to like.”

  Now alert—Christie looked over to Helen. Her expression showed that what was coming was probably not going to be good.

  “You have to give us your car keys.”

  And at that moment, Christie’s heart sank.

  Because they might as well just walk out of this cloistered office.

  Giving up their keys?

  That—wasn’t going to happen.

  * * *

  The Colonel must have noticed the look in her eyes.

  “Now wait. We take the keys for security.”

  “I’ve been in a place … we were in a place where it was all about security. Until it wasn’t.”

  “Let me explain.”

  Christie took another deep breath as she let him go on.

  “We take the keys since we can’t have people deciding they’re leaving here anytime they want, leaving us all exposed, gates coming up and down, maybe cars getting hijacked by outsiders. We have young people here like your daughter there. We especially don’t want them to get the idea they can just go out.”

  It made sense.

  Still—to give up the only thing that gave them freedom?

  That didn’t.

  “When you decide to leave, when you plan on leaving, you get the keys back. You get half the gas you came with. All of that, no questions asked. Your decision. But it’s something discussed, planned … understand?”

  Should she say, “Yes, sir”?

  Simon was wrong. This wasn’t a castle.

  It was a military installation.

  She looked over to Helen for her next words.

  “I don’t know. Maybe this isn’t—”

  And Helen spoke up.

  “Where would you go, Christie?” Helen said. “And this is their place, their rules. They do make some sense.”

  “Some?” the Colonel added.

  “And what’s out there? If you leave?” Helen said.

  “And you are perfectly welcome to leave right now, guns, gas, and car keys intact,” the Colonel said. “Helen worked hard to convince me to give you a chance. You don’t want that chance? Fine. Then that’s your decision. Free country. Or used to be. Here—it still is.”

  She looked back to Kate. A decision was required.

  “I don’t know,” she said with Kate’s eyes on her.

  They still trust me to make decisions.

  My job.

  Back to the Colonel.

  “How about we try it?”

  “Sure. We’d be trying you out as well. If life here at Mountain Falls, our ‘Redoubt,’ isn’t for you, or you don’t fit in, then we part ways. Just like I said.”

  Christie tried to analyze the situation, to really think through the options, now with everyone’s eyes on her.

  Options?

  Did she even have any options?

  Get back on the road? And drive where?

  Find someplace and wait until normalcy returned?

  And when would that be?

  Never?

  And there was this:

  She was so tired. Exhausted. Emotionally shattered, and she hadn’t even begun to let all that had happened sink in.

  To walk with her kids, and talk to them. About what had happened. About their dad. To help them grieve.

  To help them get better.

  Options?

  As far as she could see, she had absolutely zero options.

  “Okay. I—we—agree to all the rules.”

  The next, hard to say. “And thanks, Colonel, for letting us join you.”

  “You can thank me after you’ve been here for a while. When you see if you can really live here, ’kay?”

  She nodded.

  “Whew—” Helen said with a clap of her hands. “Glad that’s settled. So now—”

  The Colonel gestured to the man with the gun.

  “Sam here can show you folks around a bit. Show you the place, where you can stay. Get your guns from you.”

  He cleared his throat.

  “You can leave the car keys right here.”

  Christie dug into her jeans and pulled out the key ring with the metal B.

  The initial for the Blairs.

  Not even my car, she thought.

  No.

  Our car had exploded hundreds of miles away from here, destroying my life.

  So maybe it was no big deal to pass these keys to the king of this castle.

  The Colonel’s right hand closed over the key ring.

  Sam, swinging his gun behind him, stepped forward, smiling.

  “Ready for the tour?”

  Christie took her kids’ hands. Helen stepped beside them.

  And Sam led the way out into the mammoth inn.

  26

  Under the Inn

  Sam led the four of them down the hallway, back down the stairs to the giant lobby.

  He stopped at the bottom, turned, and looked at the four of them.

  “Okay, there’s a lot to tell you, but I’m guessing you people are really beat.”

  “That’s putting it mildly,” Helen said.

  “So I’ll get you to your rooms ASAP, and you can just sleep for today.”

  Why, Christie thought? Does everything change tomorrow?

  She reminded herself that they were going to try staying here, if only for a while.

  “But a few quick things to show you before we do that. The front doors here are locked after dinner. No one goes out without permission.”

  “Who do we get permission from?” Kate said.

  She looked at her daughter. At fourteen, only maybe five … four years younger than the man giving them a lectur
e.

  But did any of that matter anymore?

  What did matter in this world?

  What values, what beliefs, what hopes, what dreams?

  “If the Colonel isn’t in his office, someone else will be. And that person is the person in charge. There’s always somebody there. To deal with things. During the day, you can go out—just tell the guards at the door where you’re going.”

  “Can we climb outside?” Simon said.

  Christie looked at her son.

  Already … he’s thinking of this as his new home.

  “As long as you stay within sight of the house and a guard can see you. All the roads and trails that lead up here are guarded. The cliff on the other side of the lake is off-limits. Stay within the grounds and you’re safe. Better than fences.”

  It worried Christie when she heard such confidence.

  That kind of confidence just didn’t make sense anymore.

  Nobody had the right to be confident of anything.

  “Now, down there—”

  Sam turned and walked away from the massive entryway and staircase. The giant lobby narrowed to a dark hallway.

  “This leads—” Sam said over his shoulder “—to the dining halls. We only use the smaller one. Plenty enough room for us. This inn could hold three big events at the same time. Weddings, whatever. Here you go.”

  He stopped and pushed open one of the double swinging doors.

  He held it open, but didn’t lead the way in.

  Christie saw people at long tables, some carrying stacks of plates, others setting up what looked like a warming station.

  “The food is simple. You serve yourself back there, carry your plates over to those other tables. Scrape, then put your plate in the plastic bins. You women will probably start out working here cleaning and in the kitchen.”

  He moved away and let the door shut behind him.

  “The Colonel will assign you jobs. Usually everyone does a few things. Maybe work in the school—”

  “There’s a school?” Simon said.

  “He sounds excited,” Helen said quietly to Christie.

  And he did, Christie knew, because a school meant other kids.

  “We have about ten kids, all ages … from I guess”—he looked at Kate—“your age, down to some real little ones. Few hours a day, they do schoolwork.”

  Sam grinned. “Keeps them out of our hair.”

  “What’s all the way down there?” Christie said.

  She pointed down what looked like an endless hallway.

  “Other ballrooms, dining rooms, then there are more offices, storage rooms. They’re all closed up. And at the end, a locked door closes this main building off from the other buildings. When it starts getting cold, we’ll just heat this main building, and even then only the first two floors.”

  He paused.

  “And up here … it’s going to get chilly.”

  He walked them back to the lobby, and they passed a large stairway that led down.

  “And down there?” Helen asked.

  “That leads to storerooms where we keep the food, the extra weapons, all locked up. And there’s also a giant underground garage, more like a cave. Carved right out of the rock. Your car will be brought down there later, and the gas. I’ll do that once you get your stuff.”

  He nodded.

  “Down there is also, er, off-limits.”

  He stood there for a second as if it was important for that to sink in.

  “So—let’s see what rooms we have for you.”

  He headed to the big staircase.

  * * *

  The bedroom smelled even more musty than the Colonel’s windowless office.

  Dark-brown curtains covered the windows, and as soon as Sam led them in, he went over to the windows and pushed open the drapes.

  Golden afternoon sunlight shot into the room, illuminating the floating dust in the room.

  “Guess—” he said, “—it’s been a while since anyone used this room. But it’s got two beds, queen for you, a twin for your daughter. But the boy—”

  He looked at Simon. Then he walked closer to him.

  “Got a question for you—”

  “Simon,” Christie said, as if revealing a secret being held back.

  “Yeah, so Simon—do you want to sleep on your own? Got a small room. Tiny. Big enough for you. Or I could put you with some other kids. Two older kids.”

  Christie wondered if she should answer for Simon. Maybe they could get a cot. Maybe he could stay right here.

  She also guessed that he might not like the sound of the other kids, older kids.

  She didn’t have a clue how he’d answer.

  “I think…” he said slowly … “I’ll take the small room.” Then quickly: “Is it nearby?”

  “Sure is; two doors away.”

  “Okay.” Simon nodded, the deal sealed.

  Sam turned to Helen, these moments almost like checking into some kind of absurd hotel.

  “And you, ma’am—”

  “Ma’ am? Did you grow up on a farm, John Boy?”

  Sam looked confused.

  “Why, yes I did.”

  “A place where they still say ma’am. Amazing.”

  “There’s another room. But farther away. You can be on your own. Plenty of rooms in this old place—unless—”

  “No. That’ll be fine. As long as it has a bed. Which I think we could all use now.”

  “Right. I’ll get some of the guys to help bring up your stuff. You can settle in. Dinner at six.”

  A communal dinner, Christie thought. Just like Paterville.

  And again: is this right?

  “Thanks,” Christie said. “For the tour, the rooms.”

  Sam nodded, and he went away to empty the car that would then disappear in the basement labyrinth.

  * * *

  And then—

  They were alone.

  Christie, Kate, Simon.

  In the big room, the curtains still open, the sunlight now making the sheen of dust everywhere look more like a hoar frost.

  Helen had left, off to her room down the hall, with plans to see them at dinner.

  I should have thanked her, Christie thought.

  But maybe she should reserve those thanks until she saw how this all worked out.

  The kids sat on either side of her on the too-soft bed.

  She asked the question that she guessed they had been waiting for.

  “So guys—what do you think?”

  She looked at Kate, then to Simon.

  No one answered quickly.

  “It’s strange,” Kate said.

  “And big.”

  “That’s for sure,” Christie said.

  She had put the three guns that they were allowed, the boxes of ammo, in the bottom drawer of an old dresser with claw feet.

  Her two kids knew where they were.

  And where—with luck—they would stay.

  “I think,” Kate said, “it might be okay. Like Dad used to say—”

  A spear hit into each of them.

  A spear that Christie knew couldn’t be avoided, that only time would make it less swift, less horribly painful.

  “What’s that, Kate?”

  “One day at a time.”

  “Right. He liked that one. Good … for when things are bad. Or—” a look at Simon …

  Need to keep his spirits up.

  “Or when we just don’t know what’s ahead.”

  “Right,” Kate said.

  “So—I need to sleep. And you guys as well, hmm?”

  They both nodded, though she imagined Simon would have liked to explore.

  “Then we can start to see how much we like this old mountain inn as our new home.”

  “Home for now,” Simon added.

  “Yeah. Home for now.”

  And—for now—they all just lay back on the bed, on top of the heavy covers, the three easily fitting on the queen bed.

  And e
ven with the brilliant sun streaming through the windows, they immediately fell asleep.

  27

  September

  That dinner, the first night, set the pattern for all the dinners to come during their first weeks at the inn.

  Christie quickly saw that everyone sat in the same groups at their tables, night in and night out.

  And it became obvious that she, her kids, and Helen were relegated to a smaller table with a few other women, women who all shared one thing.

  They had no men.

  Something had happened to their men.

  Despite that isolation, sometimes Christie caught some of the men looking over at the table.

  Looking at Kate … sometimes her. She wasn’t sure. Either possibility made her skin crawl.

  Her thoughts:

  Just try.

  The other women at the table were quiet, dour—though Helen, as was her pattern, kept up a steady conversation.

  And that at least provided the first true picture of this place, the information on how it ran.

  The expectations.

  The rules.

  The way things really worked around here … as one night, one of the quiet women started talking, her sad, hollow eyes revealing a pain, a loss that Christie imagined easily matched her own.

  During one of those early dinners, the woman talked about the “night patrols.”

  She explained what they were, what the men did, and just how important they were to this place.

  * * *

  The hollow-eyed woman, Janna, first said the words.

  Between forkfuls of food, pasty stuff, marginally edible, Helen asked … “Night patrols? What are they?”

  “There’s a system here,” Janna said, almost furtively, as if she might be revealing a deep dark secret.

  “A few men go out and scout places where food might be hidden. Abandoned houses with locked storage fridges, or stores with overlooked warehouses, and now—when it gets near harvest time, what used to be harvest—to check fields where things might still be growing.”

  “Makes sense,” Helen said.

  But Christie thought … something strange about it.

  Kate looked bored with the conversation.

  “Why at night? Isn’t that more dangerous?”

  Again, more darted looks, more eyes scanning the room.

  “It’s the way the Colonel wants it. Says there’s less chance of being seen at night. Being found.”

  “Sounds dangerous to me,” Christie said.

  Helen arched her eyebrows, perhaps surprised that Christie would be so bold as to offer an opinion.