

### 365 DAYS ALONE

by

Nancy Isaak

Smashwords Edition

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

EXCEPTIONS: Brief portions of this text may be quoted for reviewing purposes.

COPYRIGHT INFORMATION: This book is copyrighted material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed, or publicly performed or used in any form without prior written permission by its author and copyright holder. Any unauthorized distribution, circulation, or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author's and copyright holder's rights, and those responsible may be liable accordingly.

DISCLAIMER: Further, this book is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters, and incidents are either a product of the author's imagination or are being used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2017 Nancy Isaak

Cover Design: N. Isaak

For my sister, Pat.

Remember when you hit me in the head with a hammer? I often wonder if you somehow jump-started my creativity that day.

We sure got on each other's nerves over the years, didn't we? But, guess what...you're still the first person I would want on my tribe at the end of the world.

Nobody is better in a crisis than you.

Plus, you swing a really mean hammer.

TABLES OF CONTENTS

NOVEMBER

DECEMBER

JANUARY

FEBRUARY

MARCH

APRIL

MAY

JUNE

JULY

AUGUST

SEPTEMBER

OCTOBER

About the Author

Preview Excerpt: 365 Days Hunted

Preview Excerpt: Anarchy

End Note

NOVEMBER

### HOW IT ALL BEGAN

It wasn't just the boys.

The adults and the really young kids were missing, too.

_Just...gone_.

Only us girls were left—ages 7-17.

A decade of girls—no one older, no one younger. Like some greater being had simply reached down and _disappeared_ everyone else in a single moment.

But why leave all the girls?

And what had they done with the boys?

And the adults... _and our parents?!_

We were all so confused... _I was confused_.

And we tried to hide it, but we were scared.

More than anything, we were all so very, very scared.

But, I guess I should start at the beginning.

So—here's what I put in my journal, starting on that very first day, the day after Halloween.

November 1st— _the day that would forever change all of our lives._

### JOURNAL ENTRY #1

Maybe by writing it down like this, it will help us to figure out what has happened.

Jay and I have agreed that someone needs to keep an account of what we woke up to this morning. Might as well be me, right? I mean, I am the one with the highest marks in Language Arts, so it kind of makes sense that I keep the record.

So, okay, here goes...

My name is Kaylee Anne Michelson. I am 16-years old and I live in Agoura Hills, California, which is this mostly suburban community in the Conejo Valley, just on the outskirts of Los Angeles. I go to Agoura High School, which is one street away from the townhouse complex where I live with my Mom.

_Lived_ _with my Mom._

She's gone now. I don't know where.

I just know that I woke up this morning and she wasn't there.

Neither was anyone else.

_All of them, all of our neighbors—the Margarita Lady in the single-level across from our townhouse who sits and drinks margaritas at a little table in her back yard; the Patriotic Woman down on the left who hands out American flags every 4th of July; the Israeli Couple two doors away who rudely insist on blocking our garbage can with their car. Even the new Korean Family from the far side of our cul-de-sac has disappeared_ (and they only just moved in two days ago!) _._

_All gone...missing..._ _disappeared_ _._

* * * *

We knocked on every one of the doors in our section of the townhouse complex—Jay and me.

She's my best friend—a year younger than me—but she's small, so she looks even younger. I call her Jay, but her real name is Jayalakshmi Sitipala, which means "Goddess of Victory" in Pakistan. That's where she was born.

Which makes me wonder...did everyone disappear in Pakistan, too?

Jay lives in 'Section L'—just like I do—exactly six townhouses away from me. She lives in a two-level with her mom and dad and her two younger brothers; they're owners.

My mom and I live in one of the center units. We're renters—two bedrooms, one and one-half baths. My mom has the bigger bedroom in the front that faces Chumash Park. I've got the smaller one in the back that looks out over everyone's carports.

_We used to live in Malibu, in one of those big houses right near the beach, but when my dad divorced my mom for his stupid Boob-Bimbo, we had to move to Agoura Hills_ (which is 20 minutes away by car—straight over the Santa Monica Mountains) _._

My mom makes out that it's okay and everything, but I know that it's been hard on her. She's one of those older moms in her fifties and now that she's been dumped and is on her own, she has to find a job and figure out a way to support us when her alimony ends in a few months.

_Well, she_ _had_ _to find a job—yesterday._

Today—my mom's gone and I don't even know where.

I just hope she's all right.

Even though we always seem to be angry at each other lately, I still hope that my mom hasn't been hurt—or that she's lost—or scared.

You see, my mom and I get into way too many fights these days and, in all honesty, I'm the one who is mostly responsible.

Lately, I just feel so...pissy.

Ms. Capadouca, my school counselor, says that I'm angry over the divorce and mad at my dad because he left us for the Boob-Bimbo. Ms. Capadouca also says that when I get into fights with my mom, it's because I'm taking my dad-anger out on the one person I can safely get mad at who will never leave me...my mom.

Only she did leave me.

So, I guess Ms. Capadouca was wrong.

### SURVIVING WITH THE GODDESS OF VICTORY

I'd always been jealous of Jay's name.

Can you imagine being named after the Goddess of Victory? It would be like being named Xena or Mulan or Ripley. How could you not be a warrior with a name like Jayalakshmi, Goddess of Victory?!

Now, 'Kaylee'—that's like being named Cindy or Marsha or Jan. No warrior woman there, that's for sure.

When I asked her, Mom told me that Kaylee meant 'purity'. I used to wonder how I was ever going to live up to that as an adult. Being pure, I mean. Well, when all the boys disappeared, needless to say my 'pure' name took on a whole new meaning.

Kaylee-the-Pure— _Forever Virgin_.

...yippee...

* * * *

You imagine a certain type of future for yourself when you're sixteen.

In my case, it was going to be high school, to an Ivy League university, to a trip around Europe with my BFF _(Jay, of course)_ , then back to my amazing career _(undecided at the time)_ , to marriage with a handsome and kind surfer/football star/entrepreneur _(and I totally was not undecided on who that would be)_ , to twin babies _(one girl, one boy, both blond)_ , to my multi-level home in the hills over Malibu.

But when there were no boys.

When there was no Ivy League.

When there wasn't even any high school— _which at one time would have seemed like a pretty great idea_ —well, there wasn't any future, was there?

Instead, there was just...

... _survival._

* * * *

If there was one good thing about waking up that first confusing morning, it was that I wasn't alone. It was the day after Halloween and my best friend—the Goddess of Victory—was sleeping over.

Jay and I were bunked out in my bedroom after a late night of too many bowls of _Ben & Jerry's Chunky Monkey_ ice cream, black licorice whips, and seven episodes of David Tennant as _"Doctor Who"_ on BBC America.

I was never a big sci-fi fan, but Jay was crazy-mad over anything space and science related— _"Doctor Who", "Star Trek", "Star Wars", "Battlestar Galactica"_. Which was kind of funny because, even though Jay was not allowed to watch television at her house, she had somehow not only seen every one of those shows— _multiple times_ —but could quote most of the dialogue, word-for-word.

Ironic, but it kind of made sense.

See, while I was still struggling to figure out what my major in college would ultimately be, let alone my career, Jay had already determined that she was going to be the first Pakistani/American astronaut/medical doctor to land on Mars.

Of course, that was going to be a little difficult with parents as controlling as Jay's. In their minds, Jay was becoming a lawyer—preferably corporate. Plus, they had already promised her in marriage to a second cousin when Jay was only 3-months old!

Needless to say—unlike many girls—the first Pakistani/American on Mars was not looking forward to her wedding nuptials. Then again, maybe that's why Jay wanted so desperately to go to Mars.

You couldn't escape an arranged marriage much farther than that, could you?

* * * *

I first met Jay when I was fourteen and she was thirteen.

It was over in Chumash Park, which is this large, wandering green space directly across from our townhouse complex. The park is actually quite large, with lots of trees, a baseball and soccer field, and a play area for the younger kids.

In the summers they have concerts there, and it was during one of these that the Goddess of Victory—well, she saved my life.

Yeah, I know...'hyperbole'...or 'exaggeration', as Mr. Matchling taught us in English class. So let's just say instead that, while Jay didn't literally save my life, she definitely saved me from certain and disgusting humiliation.

Here's what happened.

* * * *

Almost smack dab center of Chumash Park is this large, rocky hill.

During the summer concerts, younger kids like to crawl all over the enormous boulders at the bottom. Meanwhile, the older kids hide up near the top, drinking beer and smoking weed. They've discovered that, hidden among the giant rocks, they can still hear the music coming up from the bandstand, while remaining basically hidden from the adults on the grassy lawn below.

On this _particular_ day, there had been a Beatles-tribute band playing.

The singers were quite good and even looked the part—with crazy-mop hair wigs and Sergeant Pepper costumes. Maybe it was because of my mom _(big Beatles fan!)_ , but I'd always really liked their music—even if the Beatles were kind of ancient.

John, Paul, George, and Ringo had become part of some great Sunday suppers with my mom, the menus usually being vegan-roast, mashed potatoes, creamed corn—and belting out _"Let it Be"_ or _"Hey Jude"_ to my mom's scratchy old vinyl records.

" _Hey Jude"_...oh, the irony.

You'll find out why in a moment.

_(First, about those Sunday dinners and the vegan-roasts. Did I mention that I'm a vegetarian? So is Jay, although she's been one from birth. I only became one when I was twelve, after I saw this movie called_ "Fast Food Nation" _and learned about all the fecal matter that was allowed on meat. All I could say to hamburgers after watching that film was...ewww!)_

Now, back to the concert.

So, the faux-Beatles were playing, the crowd was singing along, the younger kids were climbing the rocks, the older kids were smoking weed—and I was running for my life from... _Jude-the-Rude!_

(Yes, I know...hyperbole.)

* * * *

Her real name was Judy Engel, but everybody called her _Jude-the-Rude_.

Like Jay and me, Jude was in the 10th Grade at Agoura High School. She was a year older than me, two years older than Jay, but—while Jay had been placed a year ahead—unfortunately, Jude had been placed a year back. I, of course, being of utterly normal brainpower was exactly in the grade where I was supposed to be.

_One forward, one back, one in the middle_ —all of us in the same grade where it was definitely destined not to end well.

* * * *

I guess there's a Jude in everyone's school.

That one girl who spends way too much time behind the weight room, smoking pot with the stoners and tripping the nerd-girls as they walk by—too innocently engrossed in conversations about _"The Big Bang Theory"_ , black vs. brown scrunchies, and the mathematical constant of pi to see the violent storm coming their way.

Me—the only pie I was ever interested in had blueberries in it, so you'd think that I wouldn't have even been on Jude-the-Rude's radar. Yet, somehow, I was—and she disliked me intensely.

The first thing Jude did was to nickname me _Barbie_ —and not in a good way.

_(True, I do have blond hair and green eyes and I am kind of soccer-girl-okay-looking. That said, I certainly don't have Barbie's body-parts_ (and absolutely didn't at the time) _and I could only wish that I owned Barbie's dream house and fashion smarts.)_

* * * *

Jude, unfortunately, was kind of... _butchy_.

She had blond, shoulder-length hair like me, but hers was always a little greasy. And where mine was that golden color, hers was a dirty, ash blond. Also, she had dark roots, so we were all pretty certain that Jude's hair color came out of a bottle.

The other thing about Jude.

She had some hygiene problems— _as in, she didn't bathe too often_.

Jay used to say that probably explained Jude's 'acne problem'. I thought it was all the candy Jude was always eating that explained the face-dots—and, for that matter, the roly-poly that was rising up around her belly like a muffin top.

I mean, seriously—that girl ate chocolate bars and potato chips for lunch! In the whole time that I had been in school with her, not once had I seen Jude pick up a vegetable or a piece of fruit.

And, no...potato chips did not count!

* * * *

It was hard to be friends with someone like Jude.

I honestly tried during my first year at Agoura High but, frankly, Jude was more than a little on the vicious side—bumping the pretty girls into the lockers, snarky laughs behind your back if you said something even remotely intelligent in class and, god forbid, if you made the same mortifying mistake of wearing white pants on the first day of your period like Misty Callahan.

In all truth...that was the day that I became secretly ecstatic that my nickname had ended up as _'Barbie'_ and not _'Bloody Ass'_ like poor Misty.

Still, there was something _sad_ about Jude.

Sometimes I would see her sitting by herself at lunchtime. The Foxes _(I'll get into_ _them_ _in a little bit)_ would be tossing bread sticks at her head. Jude would just sit there, slowly eating her chocolate bars, not looking up, even when a direct hit bounced off the side of her ear.

* * * *

Some kids said that Jude was _slow_. Others just plain old used the _retarded_ word when she lumbered by.

But I knew that Jude had ADHD, because I happened to have been in the nurse's office one day when Jude came in to get her Adderall-dose. So, I figured that _maybe_ the effects of ADHD were part of the reason that Jude always had so much difficulty in school.

That—or she was just a plain old bully.

* * * *

But, once again, back to that summer day—with faux-Beatles singing about _Eleanor_ sitting by the window, while I was running for my life from Jude-the-Rude.

I remember it started near the bandstand, when I was dancing with about thirty other people. Well, I guess you couldn't really call what I was doing dancing. Mostly, I was just jumping up and down to what I hoped was the beat and trying not to look too stupid while I was doing it.

The truth was, I didn't really even like dancing because I didn't think that I was any good at it. The only reason I was dancing _(hopping)_ in the first place that day was because of Jacob Riker—who actually was dancing in front of the bandstand.

(I'll write about Jacob later, but I will tell you now—think Edward Cullin and Sam Uley and a touch of the older Harry Potter combined and you will understand why I submitted myself to the embarrassment of hop-dancing just to be within ten feet of his god-ness.)

So, the hop-dancing Kaylee-the-Pure was trying desperately to catch the eye of the Jacob-god when she made the most unfortunate mistake of not watching where her big foot came down in one of her _hops_.

Sadly, it hit Jude right on—let's call it— _her twinkie_.

* * * *

I remember, at the time, wondering if Jude might have been attempting that weird breakdancing move called the _'worm'_. Whatever the reason, she was on the ground between Jacob and me, and my foot had just become way too intimate with her _twinkie_ , and the Foxes were laughing and pointing _(again, I'll get to them later)_.

Jacob _(always the gentleman)_ immediately reached down to help my pastry-victim up. Jude, of course, slapped his hand away and got up on her own, staring at me with hate-filled eyes and wearing her— _you better run because I'm about to beat the living poop out of you, biatch_ —look.

So what could I do?

I turned and ran.

And I mean, I ran _fast_ —away from the bandstand and the faux-Beatles and the dancing and the music and the amazingly handsome Jacob. I sprinted across the soccer field and around the baseball diamond. I scampered along the trail next to the tree-lined culvert and finally loped up the side of the hill—past the young kids playing on the boulders and heading toward the older kids smoking weed behind the rocks.

And...Jude-the-Rude was right behind me all the time, wearing a _Terminator-I'm-gonna-kill-you-grin!_

Luckily, I actually was a soccer player and pretty fast, so I managed to stay ahead of Jude, at least until I hit the rocks.

That was my undoing.

Dang dog.

I hit that still steaming pile of sh*t and down I went.

Even as I tried to scramble up, Jude-the-Rude was climbing on top of me—sitting on my chest, her legs easily pinning my arms against my sides.

"It was an accident!" I squeaked.

"If it was an accident," Jude growled, "you wouldn't of run."

"I'm sorry... _seriously_ ," I pleaded. "I'm really, really sorry!"

" _You really, really will be, Barbie."_ And she made that hoarking sound guys make when they're about to spit a big snot-loogie to the ground.

Only Jude-the-Rude was aiming at my mouth!

Quickly, I turned my head to the side, squeezing my lips tightly together, knowing that I was about to experience something incredibly disgusting.

Except that it didn't happen.

Because— _out of nowhere_ —this tiny brown girl literally ran at us, launching herself at Jude and pushing her off of me and to one side.

"Stop it!" the brown girl yelled at Jude. "You're being nasty!" Then, amazingly, the girl moved into position, just above my head, as if to protect me.

Jude, meanwhile, rose up from the ground slowly— _all wrath and snarly-face_. She had obviously swallowed her loogie when the girl had pushed her and now Jude was furious— _and looking slightly sickened_. Slowly, she turned to face the brown girl, who brought her skinny fists up into fighting position.

My guardian pit bull.

"You really don't want to get in the middle of this, Skipper," warned Jude, shaking her head.

(In case you don't know, Skipper is the name of Barbie's little sister. Get the connection?)

"My name's not Skipper," declared the girl, haughtily. "It's Jayalakshmi and spitting on someone like that isn't just nasty. It's administering a noxious substance and that's illegal."

"Big words for a little girl," Jude sneered, taking a step toward her.

"Yeah, well...they've got police in the park, for the concert," said the brown girl. "You can ask them what those big words mean, if you don't understand. Here comes two of their officers now."

And, sure enough, two of the Lost Hills Sheriffs _(our local police)_ were heading up from the bottom of the hill. No doubt their destination was the rocks at the top and the stoners hidden there but—lucky for me—their very _nearness_ was still enough to send Jude slinking away.

Meanwhile, the brown girl reached down a hand to help me up. She was a tiny thing, barely five feet if that, with skinny legs and arms like twigs. Yet, there was a strength to Jay, even then. Here was this young girl— _at the time I thought she was around ten_ —standing up to the meanest girl in high school, while my own response had been to simply run away.

She amazed me.

"Th-thank you," I stuttered.

"You and your mom moved into the Bartley townhouse," she said. "I live just down from you."

" _Wh-hat?_ Are you new here? I haven't seen you before."

"I'm in your Chemistry class," she giggled, bemused. "Five seats behind you."

"Oh," I said, embarrassed and more than a little humiliated. _"I don't...uh..."_

"It's okay," she said, still giggling. "Jacob Riker sits three behind you. I wouldn't notice me either."

Oh, great— _everyone apparently knew about my crush on the boy-god_ —further humiliation.

"I like Jacob, too," she said, becoming serious. "He's pretty smart— _for a boy_." Then she nodded to where Jude was pacing back and forth at the bottom of the hill, obviously waiting for the sheriffs to leave. "But I also hate bullies. We should probably go. Let's walk across Argos Street. We won't have to go past Jude that way."

"Thanks again," I told her, as we headed off. "But you took a big chance. I mean, that's Jude-the-Rude and you're on her radar now. She's _so_ going to be after you now."

* * * *

But—that wasn't quite true.

Because it wasn't just the Goddess of Victory who was on Jude-the-Rude's radar now.

It was both of us.

And so began two years of being tripped and pushed, of being ever so careful when we opened our lockers, never quite sure of what could have been poured through the air slots, of looking around corners before we ventured down hallways, of being always prepared, always expectant of the next hit or kick that was coming our way.

But though it was annoying and frustrating and—on occasion—more than a little painful, we survived together.

Best friends forever— _Jayalakshmi, the Goddess of Victory, and Kaylee-the-Pure._

### JOURNAL ENTRY #2

Sorry, I didn't get much writing done yesterday. And I guess that I still haven't told you exactly what happened. It's just that it was kind of hard, you know.

Writing about my mom.

Jay says that sometimes you just got to cry it out—then get back to work.

So—crying is over. Now, back to work.

Here are the facts, as we know them.

1. Everyone is gone.

(Jay and I can't find anyone anywhere. We walked all the way around our neighborhood. It took us an hour to make the circle and we didn't see a single person.)

2. We have no internet. No t.v. No electricity. No phones. Not even batteries work anymore.

(Everything's gone dead and we don't know why. Last night was very dark and very scary. I found us some candles and we lit them, but then we thought someone bad might find us by the light, so we blew them out and just sat in the dark instead. No one bad came, of course—because there is no one there.)

3. It's very, very quiet.

(Every once in a while Jay and I think we hear a car in the distance, moving along the 101 Freeway, but we don't know if that's just our wishful thinking. Other than those maybe-car noises...nothing.)

4. Actually, it's not really 'quiet'.

(It's strange how loud other noises are becoming—birds chirping and tweeting everywhere—sounds like that. We hear dogs barking, too. And the coyotes howled so much last night. I don't know if they caught something and were celebrating, or if they were singing their confused song just like us.)

5. It's been 24 hours...just me and Jay, and we're so very, very scared!

* * * *

Now, here's what happened yesterday morning, when we woke up to find that our whole world had changed.

It started out like any other sleepover morning—except that this was the day after Halloween.

Jay and I got up late, probably around ten, but we weren't really sure because the clocks and our phones weren't working. That was kind of weird, but we didn't really think anything of it—mostly because we both used the toilet and it worked just fine. So, if the toilet was working, we just figured Agoura Hills simply had a power outage.

(By the way, I don't quite understand why the toilets and taps are still working when there's no electricity, but Jay says that it has something to do with water pressure. She says that they'll probably work for a little while longer and then it will get disgusting.)

Of course, neither Jay nor I knew yet that the internet was gone. We just figured that, sometime during the night, the power went out and our phones lost their charges.

As simple as that.

We were, however—very wrong.

* * * *

And I have to tell you here that it feels really weird not to be able to check out our social feeds. I mean, it's certainly happened before. Sometimes the power goes out in Agoura Hills and you have to go all 'pioneer' for a few hours.

Except that this power outage hasn't been for a few hours.

And I think that the power might never come back on.

Which is really terrifying.

* * * *

Anyway, while Jay went down to the kitchen and got us 'un-toasted' Pop-Tarts and orange juice for breakfast, I went and knocked on my mom's bedroom door. There was no answer and—when I entered her room—I was surprised to find that she was already gone and hadn't left me a note.

Which wasn't like my mom.

See, she's kind of anal about always keeping in touch. Even when I'm over at Jay's just a few doors down, I still have to text her, so that she knows where I am and doesn't worry.

* * * *

I eventually found my mom's purse on the kitchen counter.

Her wallet was in one of the purse's pockets, along with her cellphone; her house keys were in a different pocket.

That confused me.

It just didn't make any sense. My mom would never leave the house without her keys—or her purse—or her phone.

_And my mother is an early riser, usually getting up around 7 a.m. So, that had to mean that sometime between 7 and 10 a.m._ (when Jay and I got up) _, my mom left her keys, her wallet, her purse, her phone—_ _and_ _her daughter—and simply walked out of the house._

* * * *

It's kind of embarrassing to admit that it took so long for Jay and I to figure out what had really happened. I guess you could say that our excuse was that we simply didn't take my mother's disappearance seriously.

Instead of getting worried like we really should have, being the self-absorbed teenagers we kind of are, we decided instead to walk down to the high school and catch the Beach Bus down to Zuma Beach in Malibu. The bus doesn't usually run this late in the year, but there's a big Maritime Festival going on all along the coast and the county scheduled a special Beach Bus just for the event.

Lucky for us.

At least, that's what we thought at the time.

Ultimately, Jay and I figured that Mom was probably out talking to one of the neighbors and had simply forgotten her promise to chauffeur us to Zuma. So, with our swimsuits in our bags and my watercolors and sketchbook tucked safely under my arm—I wrote out a note to my mom and stuck it on the fridge.

Then—Jay and I headed down to Agoura High to catch the Beach Bus to Zuma and, hopefully, an 'accidental' encounter with the boy-god I loved.

### JACOB RIKER, THE BOY I WAS DESTINED TO MARRY

I think I fell in love with Jacob the first time I saw him.

9th grade—the first day of school.

The bell had just rung and we were coming out of homeroom. I turned left, while everyone else turned right. One of the custodians had left a ladder in the hallway and, not thinking, I ducked to go under it.

" _You crazy?!"_

Shocked, I looked down to find a wonderfully masculine hand was _actually touching me!_ And that hand was attached to an amazingly, good-looking 'surfer-god'.

"It's bad luck to walk under a ladder, Katie," my rescuer grinned, showing off his extremely white and very straight teeth.

Now, I wish that I could tell you that I thanked my surfer-god for his superstitious gentlemanliness but— _in reality_ —the words that came out of my mouth were actually something more along the lines of...

" _...uh-bah-tank-to."_

And then the 'Adonis-who-was-Jacob' gave my arm a gentle squeeze before he turned and walked off.

I, of course— _was in teenage girl heaven_.

Jacob Riker had not just touched me, he had shown that he had cared.

That— _could it be possible_ —he might even like me?!

Now, it's also true that I was completely ignoring the fact that Jacob had just called me 'Katie' instead of Kaylee. No, as far as I was concerned, it was the first day of school and the boy of my dreams, while not exactly saying my name... _had come pretty darn close_.

Which meant that I was in love!

* * * *

A little about Jacob...

Brown hair, athletic build, eyes that icy blue that gave me a little shiver each time they aimed my way. He spent most of his free time either playing football for the Agoura High Chargers or surfing down at Zuma Beach.

How did I know this?

I am ashamed to say that—after that first meeting—I began to stalk him.

Not crazy-lady— _about to stick a knife in his back stalking_ —but showing up wherever he was, hoping that he would somehow take notice and actually talk to me. And it would have had to have been him talking to me, because there was no way on earth that I would ever have been brave enough to initiate a complete, actual conversation with the boy of my dreams.

No, I was way too immature. All I could do was love him from afar.

And, of course, casually pop up wherever he went.

Trying to appear cool and unaffected when the boy I so desperately cared for inevitably turned his attention away from me and toward some 'nasty-skank-surfer-chick'.

(And why did those girls always have to be so pretty—with sun-bleached hair that looked so good blowing in the wind, and tans like butterscotch that made the sand on their legs sparkle like little diamonds?)

So, you have to understand—it wasn't that I _didn't_ take my mom's disappearance seriously that first day. It was just that I _loved_ Jacob Riker and I was 16 and the Beach Bus was coming and I'd left a note so, really, who would have noticed that there was no one else left in the world?

That the world as we knew it had just ended?

We certainly didn't.

### JOURNAL ENTRY #3

Jay and I waited for the Beach Bus in front of Agoura High for over two hours before we finally got a clue.

_Perhaps if we hadn't been binging on leftover Halloween candy and gossiping about school_ (more fun without the education part) _and boys_ (Jacob) _and the Foxes_ (I'll get to them eventually) _, we would have been much quicker to notice that there was_ _no one around_ _._

In fact, it must have been the fourth time we walked down to the corner to peek up Argos Street to see if the bus was coming—that we finally saw 'it'.

" _Look over there...up near Thousand Oaks Boulevard," I said to Jay. "That car. It's stopped right in the middle of the road."_

" _Has it always been there? I didn't hear an accident, did you?" asked Jay._

" _I'm not sure. I don't think so."_

Confused and a little worried, we began to slowly walk toward the car.

" _Well, this is weird," said Jay._

" _What is?" I asked._

" _Is it just me or has there been no traffic since we came outside?"_

I turned in a circle, looking back down Driver Avenue, then up Argos Street, and finally across Chumash Park to Medea Valley Drive. Sure enough, I couldn't see any movement at all.

" _There aren't any cars anywhere—except the parked ones and that one in the middle of the road. Come to think of it, I don't see any people moving about anywhere either."_

" _Okay, this is getting, like "Walking Dead"-weird," said Jay, cocking her head like a bird, "because I'm not hearing any traffic from the 101 either."_

Where we live in Agoura Hills, our townhouse complex is close to the 101 Freeway. And because our particular townhouses are on a bit of a hill, the noise from the freeway traffic is a constant buzz and whirr.

The only times we don't hear the traffic is when...

" _Fire!!"_

True Southern California girls, our heads started whipping about, searching for the signs that we both knew way too well—the smoke, the snow-like ash drifting casually toward the ground, the acidity in the air making it difficult to breathe, the dark, billowing clouds as they slowly swallowed up the sky.

But yesterday morning—like today—the sky wasn't just clear. It was bright blue. In fact, it was more clear and more lovely than Jay and I have ever seen it in our smog-filled Los Angeles-suburb lives.

" _I don't think it's a fire," I finally concluded._

" _Then how come we don't hear any traffic?" asked Jay. "It doesn't make any sense otherwise."_

" _Well, when the terrorists attacked New York in 2001, my mom said that they closed down the airports and some of the roads. She said that it was really quiet then. Maybe there's been, like a terrorist attack somewhere. People could be in their homes, watching the news on t.v...maybe on CNN or Fox or something."_

" _Well, if they are," said Jay, "then that means that the power is probably back on. So, maybe we should go back and charge our phones up before we go down to Zuma. We can always catch a later bus if nothing has happened. Or your mom will be back and she can drive us."_

Before I had a chance to agree, Jay and I had reached the vehicle that was stopped in the middle of the road. Now, I'm not a car girl or anything, but I'm a vegetarian and recycle, so I was at least smart enough to recognize a Tesla electric car when I saw one.

" _Nice vehicle," I murmured. "I like the color. It's kind of pearly."_

" _Expensive car to leave in the middle of the road," said Jay, peering in the side window. A moment later, she drew back, surprised. "Kaylee, the keys are still in the ignition!"_

_Moving around the car, I pulled at the door handles. "All locked." I pointed to a small blue bag just to the right of the driver's seat, next to the parking brake. "And, look...there's a purse in there, which means the driver is probably a woman. Actually, that's not_ _just_ _a purse. That's a Louis Vuitton."_

Jay came around to peer through the driver's window. "And her phone is still in its charger on the dashboard."

I shrunk back, unnerved. "Look at her seatbelt," I whispered.

" _Oh my gosh," Jay gasped. "It's still buckled up!"_

And that was the moment—when we first became really scared.

Because where did the driver go...and how did she get out of the car without unbuckling her seatbelt?!

* * * *

Jay and I didn't just walk home.

_We_ _ran_ _home!_

Since my townhouse was closest, that was the first door we slammed through.

Now, I have one of those mothers who are really strict about taking your shoes off when you come into the house. Yesterday, however, Jay and I raced inside without even thinking about taking off our shoes. Then, we ran all through the townhouse, searching.

But my mom wasn't on the first level.

And she wasn't in her bedroom on the second, either.

In fact, everything was exactly like it was when we had left earlier that morning—empty rooms, purse on the kitchen counter, phone, wallet, and keys in the pockets.

_But—_ _no mom_ _._

* * * *

Jay and I stood for a long moment, staring at each other, not really knowing what to think or do.

Then, suddenly...Jay took off running.

She didn't even have to say where she was going. I knew exactly where she was heading—six doors down, to her own family's townhouse.

I didn't follow Jay immediately.

Instead, I searched through the townhouse once more, checking closets and bathrooms—just in case.

_It was useless, of course...there was_ _nobody_ _there._

* * * *

When I finally did leave the townhouse, I locked it up.

Part of me was just following habit, making sure that everything was secure like my mom had taught me. But there was another part—deep inside—that thought I was being stupid and ridiculous. That was the part of me that suspected that there simply wasn't any good reason to lock up our doors anymore.

* * * *

I took my time, walking the few doors down to Jay's townhouse.

The whole way I was trying to ignore the small knot of terror that was growing in my belly. Unfortunately, the lack of people in our cul-de-sac, the uneasy quiet from the 101 Freeway, and the open Sitipala back door made it very difficult to ignore that something was very seriously wrong in Agoura Hills—and that I probably had every right to be scared.

_And that was_ _before_ _I found Jay inside her townhouse's kitchen, staring down at a pile of dirty dishes in the kitchen sink._

" _Double-crap," I whispered, upon seeing all those plates and glasses._

Tears immediately began to slide down Jay's face; they drip-dropped onto the dishes. "My mother would never leave the house like this," Jay said, sadly. "Never...she would die first."

And it's true.

Jay's mom is even more anal than mine.

I don't eat at the Sitipala's a lot but—when I do—her mom grabs my plate even as the last fork of food is being lifted toward my mouth. And her mom doesn't even really eat with the rest of the family. She's always too busy running around, making sure everyone has everything they need.

Truth is—Jay's mom would be utterly humiliated if anyone saw a sink of dirty dishes in her house. Mrs. Sitipala's townhouse has always been a source of immense pride for her. She loves keeping it spotless; dishes are done within minutes of the last bite being eaten, rugs and floors are vacuumed and mopped every day, and dust doesn't even think of coming for a visit.

Which is how we both knew that Jay's mom was gone—the dirty dishes in the sink.

" _Did you check the rest of the rooms?" I asked._

Jay nodded. "There's no one anywhere."

" _Your brothers?"_

Jay has two younger brothers—Salim is five and Umar is two. They're cute kids, but Jay and I don't spend a lot of time around them—mostly because they're so much younger.

Also, they tend to be more than a little annoying.

For some reason, her brothers like to poke Jay and me. I mean, they actually take their fingers and poke us in our arms and legs. And, unfortunately, we can't complain to Jay's mom and dad because, in their culture, the boys pretty much can do whatever they want. They're treated like little princes while the females do all the work—very irritating.

" _I can't find them anywhere," whispered Jay, sounding completely baffled._

* * * *

Even though she had already searched the townhouse, I helped Jay go through it once again. We figured that, because her brothers were so small, they might have hidden somewhere if they were scared.

So, we looked into every drawer, every cupboard, behind every piece of furniture, and under every bed. We even went up into the secret place that I'm not supposed to know about—the attic room that Jay's dad built above their second level.

It's not very big—the 'secret room'—just a small storage area under the roof. But the Home Owner's Association doesn't know that it's there. Jay's dad built it over one summer two years ago, when the neighbors to the left were on vacation and the townhouse on the right was vacant and in the process of being sold.

Mr. Sitipala cut an entrance into the attic, putting in a small trap door in the ceiling of the closet in the master bedroom. The trap door pulls down and a ladder unfolds.

I climbed up there once with Jay, when her parents and brothers were at mosque one afternoon. Jay was home sick—though not as sick as her parents thought. She just didn't want to go to mosque that day. Plus, the secret room had just been completed and Jay wanted to show it to me.

Truthfully, it was kind of neat.

_I mean, it_ _was_ _a 'secret room'._

Right now, however, the little room is being used to store stuff—decorations, files, that sort of thing. The only reason it's still even 'secret' is that Jay's dad doesn't want to go in front of the Home Owner's Association to ask for forgiveness for building it without their permission.

Fact is, there are two other townhouses in our complex that have little attic rooms exactly like the Sitipala's. The big difference, however, is that those owners got permission to build from the Home Owner's Association.

Not like Jay's dad.

" _It would take too bloody long," he told Jay once, "and I think it is not any of their business in any case. We are not in Pakistan anymore. We are in America and I am in my home and these silly fascists, this Home Owners' Association, it does not have the legal right to tell me what I can and cannot do."_

Which, of course, they could...and did.

* * * *

Salim and Umar weren't in the secret room, of course.

They weren't anywhere.

_Jay's dad was also missing, but he works as an IT bigwig at this manufacturing company in the San Fernando Valley_ (the next Valley over from ours) _, and he had gone into work around 4:30 a.m. It was Jay's and my hope that he would eventually show up and explain what was going on._

But Jay's dad never did show up yesterday...or today.

Nobody has.

* * * *

Later, Jay and I walked out onto the cul-de-sac behind our townhouses. We just stood there on the driveway—turning and turning—but no matter where we looked, there simply wasn't anybody to be seen.

_But we did see_ _something_ _..._

_The new Korean Family_ _—their back door was open, their house keys were in the lock, and a bag of groceries was sitting on the sidewalk out front._

_The Patriotic Lady_ _—her car was parked two feet farther back than where it should have been and, when we went to check, the keys were in the ignition and her seatbelt was fastened._

_The Margarita Lady_ _—there was a half-empty glass on her little table and flies were buzzing around it, landing every now and again to sample whatever was left of the strawberry mixture inside._

_The Mean Israeli Couple_ _—well, their stupid car was once again blocking our garbage can, so there really was nothing unusual about that._

But still...

* * * *

" _What are we going to do?" whispered Jay, wiping up her tears._

Somehow she looked even smaller and younger than usual. Probably it was just because she was so scared...like me.

" _I don't know," I answered, truthfully. "Maybe we should go and knock on everyone's doors. See if we can find an adult."_

_Luckily that didn't take very long. Even though there were over 200 units in the whole of our complex, there were only about thirty in our section—L. So, knock, knock—from one townhouse to the next_ (even the Israeli's!) _, we knocked on everyone's door in our section._

No one answered, though.

And when we peeked in through the windows, what we saw confirmed to us that the occupants were 'gone', just like our own families—pillows on the floor in front of televisions; dishes with food in them on kitchen tables; laundry baskets in front of opened washers and dryers.

_Like everyone had instantaneously_ _disappeared_ _...lifted out of whatever they had been doing at the exact same moment and magically transported somewhere else._

Except us—Jay and me.

And that was probably the most terrifying thought of all—why everyone had suddenly disappeared, but we were still here.

Then—suddenly—Jay and I had another, even more terrifying thought.

What if it wasn't just us who were still here?

_What if there_ _were_ _others left behind?_

And what if those 'others' were actually very bad?

* * * *

_After some discussion_ (mostly to calm our fears) _, Jay and I decided to expand our search by walking around our neighborhood. We started at the top of the hill just across the street from my townhouse, looking down Argos Street toward the high school._

" _The Tesla is still there," I noted, pointing toward the empty car that remained angled across the middle of the road._

Jay took a deep breath and pointed in a different direction—up Conejo View Drive. "Then let's go the other way."

" _If we want to make a complete circuit of the neighborhood, we'll still have to pass the Tesla on the way back," I reminded her._

" _I know," Jay murmured, head lowering. "I guess maybe I'm hoping it will be gone by the time we get back."_

" _I don't know what would be scarier," I admitted. "If we come around and the Tesla is still there or if it's gone."_

* * * *

It took us a little over an hour to make a lopsided circle around our neighborhood.

As we passed Agoura High, I suggested to Jay that we go inside the grounds and check it out. Even on weekends and holidays, there's usually someone at the high school—from custodians to stoners to skateboarders scratching up the railings.

Jay would have none of it, though.

No way in 'heck' was she stepping onto that campus.

_With everything so weird, the huge buildings of Agoura High and their dark shadows were too menacing to her. As ridiculous as it sounds—Jay had zombies and vampires on her mind_ (science fiction lover—remember) _._

* * * *

There is a really lovely area of our neighborhood called Old Agoura—big, Western-style houses with horses and corrals and everything. At one of the bigger properties along Driver Avenue in Old Agoura, Jay and I came across two horses—a black and a chestnut—munching away on an enormous front lawn that led up to a sprawling ranch house. There were pumpkins on the ground, along the fence line, and all the way up the long driveway, and a menacing scarecrow loomed over a nearby mailbox.

I knew this house from when I was younger and would trick or treat here. The owner was a sweet gray-haired woman who always gave out full-size candy bars to the neighborhood kids each year.

" _Do you think she's in there?" I asked, as Jay and I leaned on the property's fence, watching the horses graze. "That lady who gives the good treats."_

" _I hope so," Jay said. "But I don't think so."_

" _Why not?"_

" _Look up the driveway. There's mail on the ground. She must have been taken just after she came down to the mail box."_

* * * *

Jay and I never did go up to the old lady's house, mostly because we were too afraid of what we might find. But we did spend a few minutes watching her horses and—eventually—the large black one came over and allowed me to scratch it behind the top of its ears.

And I'm probably a horrible person but—standing there yesterday, scratching that horse's head—I actually wondered if I'd have the nerve to come back and take it.

I mean, if there isn't anybody left, if nobody is actually living in the house—it would kind of make it okay, wouldn't it? I mean, morally, would it even be stealing if there is no one alive to object?

* * * *

But—yesterday, at least—we left the black horse in peace, munching on grass alongside its chestnut neighbor. There's a creek on the property, so Jay and I are pretty confident that the horses have enough access to water. Plus, the lawn is certainly big enough to feed them for a while.

(By the way, if 'this' continues, Jay and I will probably go back and take both of the horses. Right now—even though I feel kind of silly about it—we're still too 'good-girl' to get up the nerve to do it.)

* * * *

We continued walking along Driver Avenue, making our way through Old Agoura, until we finally turned right onto Colodny Drive. This area of our neighborhood unnerved us because, even though it was only one very long block, it was filled with apartment and townhouse complexes.

As we walked along its shadowed sidewalks, I couldn't help myself; I kept imagining that I was seeing nefarious shapes watching us from behind the many dark windows on either side of us.

But the reality was different; the windows remained empty.

_The residents had all_ _disappeared_ _._

* * * *

There were two cars stopped in the middle of Colodny Drive, though—one vehicle facing one way, the other in the opposite direction. Ironically, the two cars had stopped directly across from each other, their drivers' windows open—as though their occupants had been in the midst of a conversation when they both abruptly disappeared.

Jay and I took a short detour off the sidewalk to peer in through the passenger windows of both cars. As with the Tesla, the keys were in the ignitions and the seatbelts were still fastened.

* * * *

At the end of Colodny Drive was a cement ramp leading up to a chain-link covered pedestrian bridge that crossed over the 101 Freeway—one of the busiest freeways in the United States.

_Feeling a little scared_ (enclosed walkway—open only on either end—great place for an ambush!) _, Jay and I slowly moved up the ramp until we were on the level part of the bridge, looking down on the freeway below._

_No movement..._ _nothing_ _._

Just dozens and dozens and dozens of stopped vehicles—some facing toward us, some facing away.

All empty; seatbelts fastened.

" _Holy cow!" I cried out—apparently a little too suddenly for Jay's nerves._

She gave a little screech, her head whipping around, searching for danger. "What?!"

" _Take a look," I pointed. "On the right, facing away from us. See that car in the slow lane. Is that what I think it is? The one with all that electronic stuff on its roof."_

Jay leaned in closer to the chain-link fence, eyes squinting.

" _Well, what do you know," she said, quietly._

" _That's the Google car, isn't it? The one that goes around mapping everything for Google."_

She nodded. "I think so."

" _Wow," I marveled, "even the Google car. This is getting weirder and weirder. I mean, I wonder what's coming next."_

" _I swear to God," whispered Jay, looking around uneasily, "if zombies or vampires show up, I'm_ _so_ _going to poop my pants."_

" _Don't worry," I tried to assure her. "I'm pretty sure that there aren't any zombies or vampires in Agoura Hills."_

_Jay waved at the highway below. "A freeway of dead and empty cars. Like, this is right out of the movies, Kaylee. Everyone is just_ _gone_ _. We've got no power. Only thing left of the internet, as far as I can see, is a dead Google-car. So, if we've got all that, why can't we have zombies and vampires?"_

(She actually has a good point. Ever since, Jay and I have been talking about the possibility of there really being zombies or vampires and what we are going to do to protect ourselves if they do show up. Needless to say, it's only one of our many worries at the moment.)

* * * *

_After some discussion, Jay and I decided_ _not_ _to go down onto the 101 Freeway and check out the cars for survivors. We figured that_ _a)_ _it would be too difficult to get over the cement wall and climb the chain link fence on the other side and_ _b)_ _it would probably be really stupid to be caught between security fences and walls if something supernatural actually_ _did_ _come running toward us._

Instead, we headed up Canwood Street toward our local McDonald's restaurant, a place that was usually bustling with people and cars.

_But, even there—_ _nothing_ _—no movement, no sounds of civilization._

Just the chirping of birds, the whistle of the wind as it flowed through the parking lot, tumbling discarded burger wrappers in its wake. And, of course, there were cars—mysteriously empty of their drivers and passengers, parked here and there and every which way.

(FYI...Being that both Jay and I are vegetarians, we're not big fans of McDonald's. I mean, even their french fries aren't vegetarian and that's just plain wrong! However, yesterday, I have to admit—as we passed by McDonald's—I would have given anything to see a couple of SUV's making their way along the drive-through.)

* * * *

At the end of Canwood, we turned onto Kanan Road, which eventually led us past Agoura Hills' main shopping area—two almost-identical strip malls on the far side of the street. Ironically, the malls are side-by-side on Kanan Road, separated only by Thousand Oaks Boulevard running perpendicular through them.

The first strip mall has a CVS and a Vons; the second one has a Rite Aid and a Ralphs. There are other, smaller stores in both malls, including a Subway and a Baskin-Robbins, as well as, a number of banks.

My favorite store, needless to say, has always been the Baskin-Robbins!

By agreement, Jay and I decided to stay on the opposite side of the road when we passed by the malls.

One reason was because we'd be on the side that connects to our townhouses. If anything bad happened, we planned to scale the fence that bordered Kanan Road next to us, run through Chumash Park—which was on the other side of the fence—and be home in about five minutes flat.

But just like the whole walk that came before, we saw nobody alive over in the malls.

_Heck, we saw nobody_ _dead_ _._

Just a bunch of empty cars, some shopping carts full of rotting food and, down by one of the banks, an armored car with its back door open. There was a cart loaded with metal boxes in front of it, and Jay and I wondered if those boxes were full of money.

We didn't cross Kanan Road to find out.

* * * *

_At the corner of Kanan and Thousand Oaks Boulevard, we turned to the right. One block down, Thousand Oaks connected to Argos Street. That led us past Agoura High School..._ _and_ _the driverless Tesla._

Yes, it was still there—key in the ignition, seatbelt fastened, purse and phone exactly where we had seen them before.

Jay and I didn't even stop this time.

Instead, we just gave the car a sad look and continued on toward home—two blocks up Argos—passing by Agoura High on one side, Chumash Park on the other.

* * * *

It hadn't been a difficult walk for Jay and me, but we were still exhausted when we finally reached our townhouse complex. The constant fear and uncertainty we were operating under was definitely taking a toll on us—emotionally and physically. So, we quickly double-checked to make sure that Jay's family hadn't returned, then we walked back to my townhouse and locked ourselves up in my bedroom.

_Because it was still daytime_ (we figured about 4 p.m.) _, there was enough light coming in the windows to see without lighting a candle. I laid on my bed, dozing in and out, while Jay pulled my desk chair over to the window and just sat there, keeping a fearful watch on the carport below._

### THERE IS ALWAYS TIME FOR HOMEWORK

That first night— _Jay and I were utterly terrified_.

As it was becoming dark, we left my bedroom and ran from room to room, peering out each of the windows, trying to see if there were lights in any of the surrounding townhouses _(there were none)_. Even the houses in the distance remained lightless, and my beloved Chumash Park across the street suddenly became full of menacing shadows.

Eventually, as the last rays of the sun _disappeared_ like all of the people—our townhouse became pitch black.

We could see nothing.

Luckily, because my mom was so OCD _(and because she had lived through the Northridge Earthquake, which was so bad that people didn't have power for days)_ , she had a big Emergency Kit prepared that she kept under the guest bathroom sink. I knew that it had candles and matches in it, so—leaving Jay trembling in my bedroom—I fumbled my way downstairs to fetch the kit.

When I returned upstairs, Jay was back in her chair at the window overlooking the dark carport. I lit a candle, placing it on the table beside her. As the light hit her face, I noticed that there were fat tears running down her cheeks.

" _You okay?"_ I asked, concerned.

She turned toward me and I was surprised to see that it wasn't fear or sadness on Jay's face. It was anger. "Nobody's alive except you and me, Kaylee, and I have a Social Sciences report due on Tuesday and I can't go online to research. So, no...I am not okay. I am not okay at all!"

"You're thinking about homework?" I asked, astonished. _"Now?!"_

" _It's thirty percent of the final marks!"_ she cried.

* * * *

Even without going online, Jay actually did wind up finishing her Social Sciences report. I think it was her way of being normal in a suddenly crazy world. Personally, I thought it was stupid for Jay to waste her time on homework that she would never have to turn in.

But when Jay was unsettled, when she was scared, doing something like homework— _ironically_ —calmed her.

_Me_...I went the Jude-the-Rude route when I was anxious.

I ate chocolate.

* * * *

In the end, we spent the evening at Jay's townhouse.

Even though we had started the night in my bedroom, it became too scary for us to remain there. Our nerves couldn't handle the dark and the emptiness... _the creaks and groans_.

Logically, Jay and I knew that the noises were probably just the result of the townhouse settling, but we still began to obsess over zombies and vampires. When the stress finally became too much for both of us, we raced through the carport to the Sitipala's—eventually hiding ourselves away in the tiny, secret room in the attic, there to await our uncertain future.

* * * *

Just to make us feel 'extra-safe'—Jay and I moved Mr. Sitipala's file boxes over the trap door to prevent anyone _(or anything!)_ from coming up from the bedroom below. There were little air vents on one wall, giving us a slotted view of the carport. I thought we should perhaps keep watch through the slots, but Jay became worried that someone bad _(or supernatural)_ would see our candlelight, so we wound up covering the air vents with Christmas wrapping paper and duct tape.

For the rest of the night, we slept—no more than thirty minutes at a time—jumping at every creak and groan.

Jay, of course, finished her Social Sciences essay in between her 'naps'.

Meanwhile, when I wasn't sleeping, I munched on potato chips and leftover Halloween chocolate that we'd brought over from my house while I re-read— _for the fourth time—"Twilight"_.

Ironically—a book about vampires and werewolves.

* * * *

Part of the way through the night, a pack of coyotes suddenly seemed to go crazy just outside of our townhouse. Because of where we live— _surrounded by wooded areas and State Parks_ —it wasn't unusual to hear a coyote yelping at night, especially after midnight.

This was different, though.

There had to have been at least a half dozen coyotes— _right outside, in the carport_ —yelping and howling and barking.

Jay wouldn't let me look through the air vents, however.

So, I never found out if all the noise was the pack celebrating the capture of some poor supper-animal, or because the coyotes were simply confused and scared like Jay and me.

* * * *

My mom always used to say that whatever the biggest problem was—the thing that we were worried about the most—that it was called the 'elephant in the room'.

When my mother spoke about her _elephant_ , she always seemed to be speaking about finances— _how to pay the mortgage; is there enough money for health insurance; is it really worth her time extreme-couponing or should she just get a second job?_

Truth was—my mom's real elephant was my dad.

And I know that I shouldn't have, but I kind of hated him for that.

* * * *

Back in the 90's, my mom used to be this television writer. She worked for NBC and was actually pretty successful. Then she met my dad and they fell in love and got married. Mom quit her job, mainly because dad was this high-powered Investment Analyst who didn't want his wife to work. He felt that, since he was making more than enough money for both of them, that it would be better for her to stay home and be a good mother and wife instead.

(Yeah, I know it sounds stupid and old-fashioned, but I guess it made sense to my mom at the time.)

After I was born, my dad moved us to Malibu. We lived in this almost-mansion on about five acres in an area called Point Dume _(where Julia Roberts and Barbra Streisand actually do have mansions)_.

It really was an amazing place to live—five acres of wooded property in one of the most expensive and exclusive communities in California. We were a block away from the Pacific Ocean and just my bedroom alone was bigger than the whole upper floor of my mom's and my townhouse in Agoura Hills.

Plus, I had a walk-in closet and my own bathroom with a Jacuzzi tub!

For a while, I was very happy there.

_I think we all were_.

* * * *

I'm not sure if my mom was surprised when my dad finally ditched her for the Boob-Bimbo, but I certainly was. Just the weekend before the 'break-up', our family had gone to Vail, Colorado for a skiing trip. And I know for a fact that my parents were doing _'it'_ on that vacation, because _(input horror emoji here)_ I could hear them through the walls.

Even so, it was a great vacation— _and a happy family_.

But then we came home.

And my dad went to work the following Monday, only to phone home at lunchtime to tell my mom that he had fallen in love with a 23-year old set of silicone boobs.

To me, that was a really crappy betrayal of my mom.

But...whatever, right?

Anyway—one week later—it was my mom who had to leave our Malibu home. Two days later, the Boob-Bimbo moved in.

Needless to say, I moved out two days after that.

As much as I loved living in Malibu _(and I really did!)_ , there was simply no way that I was going to sit around watching my 59-year old father, with his pot belly and the three hairs he brushed to one side, cozying up to the biggest pair of silicone jugs this side of Pamela Anderson.

Nasty, right?

But not the _worst_ thing.

The worst thing was also the saddest thing—the other elephant in my mom's room.

She never stopped loving my father.

And at night—when my mom thought that I was asleep— _she would cry._

I know this, because I would sneak out of my bed and hide at the top of the stairs, watching her down on the level below. She'd be curled up on the couch, a glass of red wine in one hand, a picture of my father in the other. And she'd be sobbing—big, sad tears that would run down her face and splatter on the photo of the man who'd ruined her marriage and her career and, as far as I was concerned...her life.

So, even though I loved my dad—I also hated him for what he did.

* * * *

That first night—hidden in the Sitipala's attic—Jay and I confronted our _'elephant in the room'_.

"Do you think we're in hell?" asked Jay.

She had finally taken a break from her Social Sciences homework, joining me for a _healthy_ supper of chocolate and potato chips.

I shook my head. "I don't think we can really call Agoura Hills hell. Except for the Foxes and Jude-the-Rude, it's actually a pretty nice place to live."

"Not funny," she muttered.

"Yeah, I guess not," I sighed. "Okay, well...my opinion...heaven, hell, purgatory...they're all kind of unknown places, right. I mean, who knows if they really even exist."

That didn't satisfy Jay. "Did you ever read those _"Left Behind"_ books?"

"The ones about the people who are left behind on earth after God takes the good people to heaven?"

"Those are the books," she nodded. "They were about the _Book of Revelation_ in the Bible...the 'End of Times'. Do you think maybe this could be that?"

" _What?!"_ I was incredulous. "You think that God—who I didn't think you even believed in last week—took everybody up to heaven and left just the two of us behind? In Agoura Hills, California...in a townhouse complex?!"

"It's possible," she said, quietly.

"And God," I continued, my voice rising in anger, "decided that even the guy who drives the Google car is far more deserving of heaven than us. Is that what you're saying?!"

" _Still possible."_

"No." I shook my head, defiantly. "No fracking way! I don't believe for one second that God would leave us behind, because we're not bad people."

"Then what do you think happened?"

"Well, that's the 'elephant in the room', isn't it?"

"Now, you sound like your mom."

Which—of course—brought tears to my eyes. And, when I started crying about my mom, then Jay started crying about hers. Then she began to think about her little brothers, which made her cry even harder.

And just when it should have been over, I made the mistake of thinking about my dad. I hated him for what he did to my mom—but I still cried for him... _a little_.

But not for the Boob-Bimbo.

* * * *

Five days later, Jay and I finally got up the nerve to leave the townhouse again.

### JOURNAL ENTRY #4

Jay and I have spent most of the last few days just sitting in the attic, looking out between the air vents, waiting and hoping that someone would come.

No one has, of course.

But, yesterday...

_When we woke up, it was to more 'silence from humanity'_ _but_ _—also—more 'noise from nature'. There's just so much movement outside, animal-wise. I guess now that humans have disappeared, it's safe for everything else to come out._

And those little guys are talkative!

With their hoots and their barks and their growls, it's like all these fascinating 'animal-conversations' going on all around us.

Just from looking through the air vents, we've seen coyotes, deer, raccoons, skunks, and lots and lots of rabbits. Also, there's this odd little bird that sits on the power pole right across the street and it won't stop singing. I mean, that dang bird just goes on and on for hours.

And the really odd thing about the little bird, is that its song keeps changing. It's not like it's singing the same thing over and over. No, this bird's like one of those Wagner-operas that goes on for hours.

_Before, I would have just opened up the white noise app on my phone and wonderful technology would have drowned out all its chatter. Now, no matter day or night, Jay and I are stuck with a 'tweet-tweet-chitter-oo-weeba-weeba-boohee-badda'. Sometimes, the bird's calls become so annoying that I think I want to—and this is a very un-vegetarian thought—_ _kill it-stuff it-eat it_ _!_

* * * *

_Yesterday, Jay and I decided that_ (and this should have been our first thought!) _it was finally time to try and contact the authorities. Since it wasn't like we could call 9-1-1 anymore, the next best thing was to head to the Sheriff's Station._

Surely, we thought—if there was anyone alive in Agoura Hills—that would be the place they would logically go.

_Ironically, our local cop-shop is situated in another city—Calabasas—in an area ironically-named 'Lost Hills'. In fact, our police_ (and I think I've already written about this) _are called the 'Lost Hills Sheriffs'._

Because of the distance to Calabasas, Jay and I decided that we should probably use bikes. At first, we thought that maybe we might try to drive one of the empty cars that still had keys in their ignitions but, then we realized—DOH!—their electrical systems are broken down just like everything else.

Which left biking...except that was a problem, too.

Neither Jay nor I actually owned a bike.

_Luckily, we knew from wandering through our neighborhood, that there was a patio at the far end of the complex, not just filled with unlocked bikes_ (three of them) _but a kayak and four Razor scooters, too._

It was a little unnerving for Jay and me, however—opening up the patio gate and taking two of the bikes. Even though we knew that there was no one around, it still felt like we were stealing. Both Jay and I kept expecting someone to burst out of the adjoining townhouses and start yelling at us.

But, of course, no one came and—within moments—Jay and I were biking down Driver Avenue, heading toward the Lost Hills Sheriff's Station.

* * * *

On the best of days, it would have been a 20-minute bike ride to Lost Hills. This time, it took us an hour.

Our first stop was along Driver because, of course, I just had to spend a few moments petting my future-horse and feeding him some carrots that I'd brought along for just that purpose.

" _Do you think they're getting enough to eat?" asked Jay, looking worried._

" _I hope so. It's a pretty big grassy area they've got there," I answered, scratching Beauty_ (yes, that is my new horse's name) _behind her ears_ (or his, I don't really know) _. "If you're worried about it, though, we could always stop on the way home and look for some hay or oats or something in that little barn over there."_

_I pointed to a large storage shed in the far left corner of the enormous front yard. It had a barn-like look to it and, in Old Agoura_ (like in Malibu) _—that usually meant it was where the riding equipment and feed was stored._

" _It probably would be a good idea. We should make sure they're well fed," murmured Jay. "It might be important to have horses later on. Like, what if we need them to travel someplace where the bikes can't take us? Also, we might have to carry something heavy. They'd be good for that, too."_

" _Or it might just be fun to have horses to ride," I suggested, smiling._

Jay grimaced at me. "Fun really isn't where our heads should be right now. It's probably the end of the world. So, like let's figure out exactly what we're dealing with first before we do fun stuff."

" _Zombie!" I suddenly yelled out._

With a screech, Jay spun around, her hands flying up, ready to defend herself.

I began to laugh. "Sorry," I snorted. "Guess teasing is considered fun stuff, now, right?"

" _Idiot!" Jay whacked me across the shoulder._

Beauty, startled by the movement, took a step back, turned, and trotted off to join her companion on the far side of the field.

* * * *

Five minutes later, we were cycling past Colodny Drive on the right—with all its apartments and townhouses and menacing windows. The two vehicles—one facing us and the other facing away—were still in the middle of the road.

But if there was anybody actually alive along Colodny—we saw no signs.

* * * *

When we reached the 101 Freeway, Jay and I stopped in the middle of the overpass, staring down at the sea of dead cars arranged in rows for as far as we could see in both directions. From where we stood, we could just barely make out the Google car north of us.

Once again, we had to wonder—why had the Google-driver been taken away, while Jay and I were left in an empty world to fend for ourselves?

" _It's weird, isn't it?" said Jay. "All those empty cars."_

" _I wonder if any of them can start."_

" _Probably not. I'll bet it was an EMP that took them all out," mused Jay._

" _What's an EMP?" I asked._

Jay smirked at me. "You really don't pay attention in Science class, do you?"

" _Why do you think I keep needing your notes?" I retorted. "Now, what's an EMP?"_

" _Electro-magnetic pulse. It's like this weapon that the government has that can be used to instantly destroy anything that uses electricity. All technology—poof—gone like that...although I never thought an EMP could knock out batteries. That's extra-weird."_

" _But the cars weren't destroyed. They look exactly the same."_

" _Well, an EMP doesn't really destroy the technological-thing about the car. It destroys its ability to use electricity...I think."_

" _Can they be fixed, then?" I asked._

" _I sure can't fix them," said Jay; she raised one eyebrow_ (Spock-like) _at me. "Can you?"_

" _I can't even fix the blinking 12 o'clock on the microwave when the power goes out," I admitted. "Mom does it for me."_

" _You're such a Luddite," teased Jay._

I stuck my tongue out at her. "Since I don't know what a Luddite is, I'm going to take that as a compliment."

Jay gave me the 'look' she saves for when I'm being especially dense.

" _All right, then," I sighed. "What is a Luddite?"_

" _It's someone who doesn't really want to take part in science or technological advancements. You know, like my dad doesn't really text. He just phones, instead. So he's kind of a Luddite."_

" _Remember when your dad wouldn't let you have a cell phone because he was worried that it would give you a brain tumor?"_

This brought a smile to Jay's face. "Mom said that, for the first few years they were married, my dad wouldn't even use the microwave. She said he had this little wand-thing that he kept waving at it, making sure that it wasn't going to send out death-rays everywhere."

" _A wand...like a Harry Potter-wand?" I asked._

Jay gave me the dense-look again. "That'd just be stupid! It was some tech-thing that registered whether the microwaves were escaping through the door."

" _So your dad—the IT specialist—is a Luddite? Now, that's ironic."_

" _It's a Pakistani-thing," Jay shrugged. "You know...educate your daughters so they're accepted into Ivy League universities, then marry them off to some sheep herder from back home. Believe one thing—do the other. Trust me, there's no logic to it."_

" _Does your dad text at work?" I asked._

" _Probably. I mean, I've seen him do it, so I know he knows how. He just doesn't do it with mom or me."_

" _Pakistani-thing?"_

" _Or maybe it's just a 'dad-control-thing'. Like if my dad is actually talking to us, then he knows that we're probably listening and we'll have to do what he says."_

" _So your dad really isn't a Luddite, then," I decided. "He's just a control freak."_

" _Probably," Jay admitted. Then—after a moment—she turned and asked me, "Are you worried about_ _your_ _dad?"_

" _A little" I shrugged. "But he's with the Boob-Bimbo now, you know. And ever since he met her, it's like he's stopped being my dad. He's more like an uncle now, really. He doesn't even come to see me or telephone me anymore."_

" _But what if he's alive? I mean, what if he's still there...down in Malibu?"_

" _He's not," I told her. "He and the Boob-Bimbo have been in Brussels for the last two weeks—some kind of financial conference. Or more likely a shopping trip for her. It seems like she always needs a new diamond this or that."_

" _Which means that the Malibu house is probably vacant," said Jay._

I turned to look at her and she wiggled her eyebrows at me.

" _Just saying," Jay grinned._

* * * *

Once we'd left the overpass, we turned left, biking down Agoura Road. Ahead of us was an unfinished housing development on the right, surrounded on three sides by a wooded area. A supply truck was stopped in front; it was in the middle of the road, across the right hand lane, where it had obviously been in the midst of turning into the development when the world decided to make a turn of its own.

As Jay and I rode close, we noticed a red traffic flag fluttering on the ground, a few yards from the front of the truck.

" _I guess the flag person went the same place the Google-guy did," I said._

" _And the driver," added Jay. "And the construction workers...and..." Suddenly, she slowed, pointing into the construction site._

" _What is it, Jay? What do you see?"_

" _Look over there. See it?"_

She was pointing at one of those small catering trucks that always seem to inhabit work sites. This one had its side flaps up and, even from the road, I could see the rows of sodas and chocolate bars on its shelves.

" _Kit Kats!" I moaned._

* * * *

_Although the catering truck was situated a little ways off from the actual housing development, it still had a number of cars and trailers around it, enough to make Jay and me nervous—just in case someone_ (or something) _was hiding behind one of the vehicles. So, we decided that it would probably be safer if just one of us biked in and checked out the situation first._

If everything was all clear, then the other would join her.

(Obviously, this was kind of stupid because, if something actually had happened, it wasn't like the other person could really have done anything about it. Still, Jay and I are new to this post-apocalyptic-thing, so you have to give us a break.)

We eventually wound up 'rock-paper-scissoring'. I 'papered' Jay's 'rock', so she had to bike into the development. Meanwhile, I waited with increasing nervousness by the side of the road.

* * * *

It seemed to take Jay forever to reach the catering truck.

She didn't go straight toward it. Instead, she did these little circle-moves, slowly biking closer and closer. I suppose she was circling, so that she could look into all the shadows and hidey-holes and make sure that nothing evil was lurking.

When she finally did stop, Jay nervously stood on one bike pedal and leaned onto the side of the catering truck, peeking through the back window. After a long moment, she turned toward me and called out. "It looks okay!"

Ignoring Jay's circle-route, I headed straight for the side of the truck and the row of Kit Kats I had seen from the street. Grabbing one of the chocolate bars, I ripped the wrapping off and took a big bite.

Jay, meanwhile, reached over and picked out an apple.

" _Seriously!" I scoffed. "Free candy bars and you're choosing an apple?!"_

" _Apples are perishables," Jay argued. "It just makes sense to eat the perishables first."_

" _Well, you be sensible. I'm still going to eat chocolate." And I reached for another candy bar. "You know, if we were really being sensible, we would have brought along some backpacks to carry stuff home with us. Next time we go on walkabout we've got to be smart about this sort of thing. You never know what we might find that we'll want to bring back."_

" _We should get some baskets for the bikes, then," suggested Jay. "That would make it even easier to scavenge."_

" _There's that bike store down on Thousand Oaks, on the Ralph's mall side. I'll bet they have bike baskets in there."_

" _And if we're going to be biking everywhere," mumbled Jay, between bites of apple, "then we'll have to carry things like spare tires and bicycle pumps."_

" _Makes sense," I agreed, nodding. "We should probably stock up on bottled water, too, whenever we can."_

" _There's going to be lots of things we're going to need," said Jay. "Like toilet paper and hair products and food...and did I mention toilet paper?"_

* * * *

_Something_ _was bothering me._

I held up a hand for silence and moved a few feet away from the catering truck, scanning the wooded area around us for clues.

" _What is it, Kaylee...what's wrong?"_

" _I don't know. It's just..."_

All of my Spidey-senses were tingling. I knew instinctively that something was off. When I finally realized what it was, the hair stood up on the back of my neck.

" _Do you hear it?" I whispered, urgently._

" _Hear what? I don't hear anything!" Jay looked terrified. The apple dropped out of her hand and rolled under a nearby car._

" _That's just it," I said. "I don't hear anything either. Even the birds have stopped chirping. Why aren't the birds chirping? I mean, seriously, since we woke up yesterday, when have the darn things ever stopped?"_

Shielding her eyes from the sun, Jay stared up into the trees, searching for birds. "What do you think it means?"

" _I don't know but—in the movies—don't the animals stop making noises when the predators show up?"_

" _Vampires!" Jay immediately screeched._

" _It's the daytime," I snorted._

" _Then, zombies! Whatever—we need to go, Kaylee!"_

" _Should we grab some snacks to take with us?" I asked._

" _Just go!" Jay urged, as she climbed back onto her bike. "Come on, Kaylee! We need to go now!"_

A moment later, she was heading toward Agoura Road, pedaling hard.

_Meanwhile, I made the foolish decision to chance the few seconds it would take to grab a few more Kit Kats. As I was shoving them into my pockets, I heard a_ _rustle_ _of movement alongside one of the construction trailers._

Quickly, I lifted my bike from the ground.

The rustling-noise grew louder.

_It was joined by a_ _second_ _rustling, this time coming from the other side of me._

I risked a look in that direction and glimpsed a dark, furry shape running out from the shadows. Terror-stricken, I leapt onto my bike and began pedaling so fast that gravel shot out from under my back tire.

Ahead of me, meanwhile, Jay was just bouncing over the curb, arcing out onto Agoura Road. My heart skipped a beat as I saw another dark shape, this one weaving in and out of the chaparral at the edge of the road, directly across from Jay.

" _Go faster, Jay!" I yelled. "There's something after you!"_

_She screeched loudly in distress, her legs pumping harder, racing down Agoura Road. I followed a few seconds later, my bike jumping over the curb and onto the street. As I did, my back tire hit another gravel patch and rocks flew. Some of them must have hit_ _whatever_ _was following me, because I heard a sharp yip!_

I didn't look back, however; I just pedaled even faster.

* * * *

There was a long stretch of Agoura Road ahead of us—about a half-mile long—bordered on each side by high bushes. As Jay and I were sprinting along, I worried about what might jump out at us from those bushes—what jaws and fangs would suddenly find their way around our ankles, pulling us to the ground, tearing our bodies apart piece-by-piece.

_But even though the dark shapes continued to pace us_ (we could see them darting through the foliage on either side) _, nothing attacked nor did anything ever move out onto the road to block us._

And about a terror-filled, half-mile later, the bushes and trees gradually fell away and so did the shapes shadowing us.

* * * *

A quarter of a mile from the Lost Hills Sheriff's Station, I finally caught up with Jay. She was close to tears as she huffed and puffed to pedal the last few yards up a hill.

" _Did you see what it was?" she asked me._

I turned my head to look back at the now-empty road behind us. "Just shapes."

" _Maybe it was coyotes," Jay suggested, hopefully._

" _If it was coyotes, then they're getting really brave. They usually don't come anywhere near people."_

" _Then what could it have been?" She was breathing hard, flop sweat trickling down the sides of her forehead. "Do you think it was something...supernatural?"_

" _I think it was dogs," I told her._ (Not that I knew. I mean, it really could have been vampires or zombies. I just told Jay that it was dogs to keep her calm.) _"Now that humans are gone, they're probably running in packs now."_

" _Oh, great," muttered Jay. "Just another thing to have to worry about. I can't believe that we got chased by dogs."_

" _On the upside," I joked, "at least it wasn't foxes."_

### MEET THE FOXES

Like every high school somehow had a Jude-the-Rude—so every high school also had their version of the _Foxes_. Only in other schools, they might have been called the _Heathers_ or the _Pink_ _Ladies_ or maybe even the _Plastics_. They were the darlings of the in-crowd, the cool girls, the beautiful and the rich—the girls every boy wanted to date and every other girl wanted to be like— _or to trip in the hallway_.

At Agoura High there were three Foxes who ruled at the top of the student-food chain— _Peyton Buckingham, Traynesha Davis, and Orla Whelan_ —all 17-years old and all in the 11th Grade.

Peyton Buckingham:

The richest of the Foxes, Peyton was also the nicest. That's not to say that she was 'nice' exactly; she was just less mean than the other two.

And if you want to know what Peyton looked like, think of a slightly prettier Tori Spelling in _"90210" (the original series, not the goofy one later on)_. Like Tori, Peyton had blond hair and blue eyes. She was also a little more curvy than the other two Foxes.

There was some talk at school that Peyton's bosom had been bought in Beverly Hills but, who really knew, right? I did know that her perky little nose had been purchased by daddy, however, because I had seen pictures from her elementary days and she was definitely sporting a 'schnoz' then, if you know what I mean.

Clinging to stereotype, Peyton was definitely not the smartest blond in school. It was an open secret that she cheated regularly on tests and that the other Foxes wrote most of her essays for her.

Maybe it was because her dad was a well-known t.v. director, or maybe it was because she just didn't have the brains for school, but Peyton's grand ambition was to have her own reality show and become a 'brand'. Like Kim and Paris _(and too many other dumb girls down here in California)_ , Peyton was planning on shooting a sex tape to launch her career. Either that, she would tell us, or she would simply rob rich peoples' homes like the _Bling Ring_ did _(whose nutty members actually went to a Continuation School that was connected to Agoura High! But I'll tell you about that later)_.

* * * *

I kind of liked Peyton when I first saw her in the hallways.

Even though she was 'sort-of-mean' and not that bright— _like with Jude_ —every once in a while, I thought I saw something that could possibly redeem her.

In Peyton's case, it was her relationship with her younger sister, Amelie.

* * * *

I wasn't exactly certain why Amelie _(who would have been 9-years old at the time)_ was at our high school that day. My heart went out to her when I saw her, though. She was crying, big sobs that shook her slight shoulders as she stumbled down the hallway toward her older sister.

Maybe it had something to do with their family _(a relative/pet died?)_. Whatever the reason, Peyton raced over to Amelie the moment she saw her, enveloping her younger sister in her arms, stroking her hair, and telling Amelie that it was going to be okay. That she— _Peyton_ —would make sure of it.

It was so genuine, a bigger sister taking care of her little sister—and I found it quite touching.

Of course, Peyton had to go and ruin all my good feelings the next week by telling anyone who would listen that she was going after Jacob Riker to co-star in her upcoming sex tape.

All I could think when I heard that was— _that's my future boyfriend, biatch!_

Traynesha Davis:

Originally from London, Traynesha _(or 'Tray' as she preferred)_ was an African-American _(African-British?)_ , with caramel skin and jet-black hair that she wore long and relaxed to her shoulders. Tray was exotically beautiful, with light, amber eyes and dark eyelashes that were way too long to be natural.

Unlike Peyton, Tray wasn't curvy. She was more athletically built, with legs that went on and on, and one of those J.Lo bubble-butts that all the guys used to stare at when it walked by. For a while, Jude-the-Rude took to calling it 'Daddy's-bodacious-posterior'.

It gave me the creeps when Jude said that. I could never tell if Jude meant simply that Tray's dad _(a plastic surgeon in Beverly Hills)_ had created Tray's butt for her— _or something more nefarious_.

What I did know, though, was that when Tray heard what Jude was saying, she went ballistic and attacked her in the hallway. The Assistant Principal actually had to pull the two of them apart, right as Tray was shoving Jude's head into a locker.

* * * *

That's the most important thing you need to know about Tray. While she was one of the most beautiful girls I had ever seen in my life, she was also—unfortunately—one of the meanest.

There was something practically predatory about her, in fact. Whatever Tray wanted, she went after with a vengeance. If it was a guy—she simply told him one day that he belonged to her _(and let's face it, with a face and body like Tray's, it wasn't like the guy was going to say no)_.

But if it was a girl who had crossed her—then Tray made her life a living hell.

Truthfully, I was _terrified_ of Tray.

Thankfully— _unlike with Jude_ —Tray had no idea I even existed.

At least, at that time.

* * * *

The other thing about Tray, was that she apparently liked pain—taking it and giving it. We all learned this from Brandon Keretsky, the 10th grade football player she dated on and off. Brandon was big, hunky, and almost as mean as Tray. He took great pride in telling anyone who would listen how Tray had introduced him to spanking during sex.

Honestly— _at the time_ —I had no idea if any of it was the truth; I mean, if Tray and Brandon were really having sex or if Tray liked being spanked.

What I did know, was that Tray certainly enjoyed hitting and kicking other people. Like Jude-the-Rude, Tray was always lashing out at the younger grades as they walked by.

Trust me—we all learned very quickly to make a wide berth around all the Foxes— _but Tray in particular_.

Orla Whelan:

Now, the smartest of the Foxes was definitely Orla.

She was one of those white-skinned, orange-haired, freckled, Scottish-ancestry types. In comparison with the other Foxes, she was quite poor—living in a townhouse with her divorced mom, just like me.

However—unlike me—Orla _somehow_ always managed to wear name-brand clothing, party at all the right Hollywood clubs _(even though she was underage!)_ , and drive a vintage, red Mustang convertible.

No one really knew where exactly Orla got the funds to support her opulent lifestyle. That said, we all suspected that she either had sticky fingers or that one or both of the other Foxes were paying her way.

* * * *

Even though no one would ever have called Orla beautiful, she was still pretty. And with her expensive clothes, make-up, and hairstyle, she always seemed to come across as a complete package—never a hair out of place, nails always done. Plus, Orla was slim, with a commanding presence, and she carried herself with impeccable posture.

(I—of the slightly-sloped shoulders—tried to copy her ramrod straight back one day and wound up aching all night long.)

* * * *

Ironically, although Tray was more beautiful and Peyton way richer, it was Orla who ultimately ruled the Foxes. She was the brains of the group, a political animal who had worked her way up to be Vice-President of the Student Council in her second-to-last year at Agoura High.

Because Orla had big political ambitions— _both inside and outside of school_.

I first became aware of Orla's 'power' during a campaign rally for student council, when she announced to the whole school that we should all vote for her because— _after graduation and university_ —she would be heading into Public Service.

Orla informed us that she needed this 'win' on her resume, because it was her intention to eventually become the Governor of California and— _after that_ —the President of the United States.

There was a certain honesty to Orla's proclamation—at least, that's what I thought at the time. And, like so many other dumbasses, I voted her into office.

* * * *

Without a doubt, Orla was a natural leader.

Of the school—and of the Foxes.

Beautiful Tray...rich Peyton...it was still Orla who held their leashes. In some ways they were her pets—like dogs who waited patiently at her side, hoping for a master's touch, a kind word of praise.

Or the command to kill.

* * * *

They were the 'Foxes'—three tyrannical 17-year old high school girls.

We admired them...we hated them.

And— _oh, so much_ —we looked forward to their eventual graduation.

### JOURNAL ENTRY #5

It's odd not being able to tell time to the smartphone-second anymore.

Jay and I talked about finding one of those old watches or clocks that have to be wound by hand to work. That way we'd have a better idea of what time it really was because, right now, we're simply guessing.

My mom actually has one of those old cuckoo clocks that has these weights and counterweights to make it work. Since it doesn't use electricity, I guess it's time to get it out of the back of the storage closet.

Then again, that's kind of funny when you think about it.

I mean, it's the end of the world—do we really need to know the exact time anymore?

* * * *

Because the sun was directly overhead, Jay and I figured it was around noon when we finally reached the Lost Hills Sheriff's Station—a large, squat complex set back from the road. To the right was an attached block of buildings, which my mom had once told me was the local jail. She said that was where the sheriffs held anyone that they had arrested, before they were either released or sent on to trial.

_Sometimes, on the way down to Malibu_ (the station was near Malibu Canyon, which is another route from the valley to the coastline) _, I would see men in orange jumpsuits sweeping the sidewalk or doing yard work outside of the station. My mom explained to me that these prisoners were 'trustees'—the guys the sheriffs thought were the least dangerous._

* * * *

When Jay and I stopped at the top of Agoura Road, just above the Sheriff's Station, and peered down at the buildings—our eyes searched through the shadows, looking for any movement...and for orange jumpsuited-men in particular.

_As always, there was_ _nobody_ _._

Even the small parking lot was empty, except for one lone police cruiser.

" _What do you think?" I asked Jay._

She shrugged. "It looks deserted." Then she pulled out her phone and started tapping at the screen.

" _What are you doing? I thought you said your phone was EMP'd...and that it doesn't have a charge."_

" _I know," Jay murmured, giving her phone a good shake anyway. "It's just, with all these antennas and communications equipment here...you never know, right?"_

She was referring to several large cellular towers at one corner of the Sheriff's complex. Beside the towers was a large, power generator—or, at least, what we assumed to be the power generator.

_It, of course, was_ _silent_ _._

* * * *

Jay sighed.

" _No luck?" I asked._

" _Of course not. It was a stupid idea that doesn't even make any sense scientifically." Jay tucked her phone back in her pocket. "Not like there'd be anyone to call, anyway."_

_Off in the distance, a coyote_ (or wild dog) _suddenly howled._

We both spun around, peering in the direction the cry had come from—searching for any sign of a furry shape bounding toward us. Meanwhile, the howl continued—long and plaintive, slowly bouncing throughout the hills.

" _You think it's telling all the other predators about us?" I asked, only half-joking._

" _Guess we should pick up some weapons while we're here." Jay said._

_I stared at her, shocked._ (Both Jay and I are not big fans of guns.)

_She stared right back, almost defiant. "This_ _does_ _make sense. Even if there's no one else but you and me left, we've still got wild dogs and coyotes out there."_

" _That's true," I acknowledged. "Plus, there's something else out there that we haven't thought about, yet."_

" _What's that?"_

" _This is mountain lion country."_

* * * *

I'd never actually been inside of the Lost Hills Sheriff's Station before.

I guess I had been expecting what I usually saw on television cop shows—a big room filled with computers and chairs, where wise-cracking detectives took statements from tattooed gang-members and short-skirted rent-a-wives.

Instead, there was only the tiniest of lobbies, lined with benches and bulletin boards. Opposite the front door was a counter, the backside accessible only by a locked gate to one side. Behind it, was a wall of tinted privacy-glass windows. We couldn't see through them on our side. Anyone standing on the other side, however, would have a full view of anyone who came through the front door.

Including us.

* * * *

Jay and I stood nervously just inside the building.

She was holding the front door open for easy escape, while I slowly took a first step toward the front desk—listening for any sound, looking for any sign of life.

_All was_ _quiet_ _._

In fact, the Sheriff's Station looked utterly deserted and normal, with everything in its place. The only exception was a lone clipboard lying on the floor, inches away from the counter. I walked over and picked it up.

" _What is it?" asked Jay, still too fearful to move away from the open door._

" _It looks like someone was reporting a crime when they disappeared."_

" _A murder?"_

I looked over at her, trying not to laugh. "Like, seriously, Jay! A murder in Agoura Hills?"

(Our city is a relatively crime-free neighborhood. I don't know the statistics but I read on Wikipedia that we're considered 'moderately affluent', so maybe that makes a difference.)

" _What was the crime, then?" she pressed. "Robbery?"_

" _Cherry bomb in a mail box down in Latigo Canyon."_

_Jay looked disappointed. "Probably Cherry who_ _did_ _do it," she sniffed, with more than a little disdain. "That'd be ironic."_

(Cherry is a girl who goes to the Continuation School I was talking about, the one on the same campus as Agoura High. It's an independent school for, let's just call them—'independent students'.)

" _She would be the type," I agreed. "Did you see that Cherry has her hair pink again?"_

" _It was yellow, for what, two months? Had to have been a record for her?"_

I put down the clipboard and walked over to look at what was pinned to the bulletin boards. Meanwhile, with one last reluctant look toward the bikes that we'd left on the sidewalk outside, Jay came into the building and closed the front door behind her.

" _It's so quiet in here," she whispered, as if afraid to make too much noise herself._

" _I know," I agreed. "It's spooky."_

" _Where do you think they keep the guns?"_

" _Probably in the rooms back there." I motioned in the direction of the tinted windows behind the front counter. "At least, we can start searching for them there."_

" _Anything important on the bulletin boards?" Jay asked._

I shook my head. "Nothing. No messages from anyone. Just posters about not taking drugs and using your seatbelt."

" _Guess no one's been here, then." She sighed, disappointed. "This is so messed up."_

" _Tell me about it."_

Still looking very nervous, Jay came and stood beside me. "Well, let's just get this over with, okay. I don't want to be here any longer than we have to."

Suddenly, it was my turn to procrastinate.

" _Those privacy windows are kind of creepy," I offered. "Like anyone could be back there and we wouldn't even know it."_

" _You think one of us should stay here?" asked Jay. "In case something goes wrong."_

" _Sure...you stay here and, if something happens, you can always use your phone to call the police for help."_

" _Nice," groaned Jay. "Very sarcastic. You know, if we're the only people around, it's probably not a good idea to get pissy with each other."_

" _Yeah, whatever...I'll go first, Goddess of Victory. You can stay here if you want."_

* * * *

Ironically, Jay made it over the counter before me. My BFF might be small, but she's really agile. All Jay did was put one hand on the counter, take a step back and then leap forward.

Just like that—and she was on the other side.

I tried to follow her example but, when I made my leap, all that happened was that my stomach hit the side of the counter and I bounced backward. Unfortunately—where Jay is all 'gymnast-like'—I'm all 'here's-a-wall-for-me-to-walk-into-like'.

Needless to say, I wound up pulling myself over the counter, with Jay tugging on my arms from the other side.

I'd have been humiliated if there had been anyone else left alive to notice. As it was, I just felt annoyed. And really stupid, especially when Jay noticed that the counter-gate hadn't even been locked in the first place.

* * * *

" _Oh-oh." Jay was standing at the door leading to the back offices, twisting its handle. "This one really_ _is_ _locked. What do you want to do?"_

" _Maybe we can force it open," I suggested._

Lowering my upper body, I rammed my shoulder into the door, just like I'd seen work so many times in the movies. It didn't budge. Next, I stood back and gave the door a good, solid kick.

No movement.

Jay and I stood side-by-side for a moment, staring at the door, as if trying to will it open.

" _This is stupid," I finally said. "Let's use our brains. It's a locked door. So, how do we get it open?"_

" _A key?" suggested Jay._

" _Well, duh."_

" _No, I'm serious. Think about it. If the door needs a key and, who knows how many people work the front desk, then maybe there's a key around here somewhere. Like, I mean, they'd have to have it close by, wouldn't they?"_

_We immediately began searching the shelves behind the counter. After finding an amazing amount of official forms_ (whoever said that we were going to have a paperless-society in the 21st Century was obviously a dumb bunny!) _, Jay finally found what we were looking for, under a log-in book._

" _You think it might be on this?" She held up something shiny—four silver keys on a handcuff-shaped key ring._

* * * *

_The hallway behind the door was surprisingly long and dark. Only a small amount of light filtered in, coming from the open doors of offices that extended down each side of the hallway. Unnerved by the gloom_ (and those open doors!) _, Jay and I found ourselves reaching out to grab each other's hands as we tiptoed forward—step-by-fearful-step._

" _Should we check all the offices?" whispered Jay. "Would they keep the weapons in there, do you think?"_

" _I think they're probably in some armory somewhere. But let's look in from the office doors—just in case there's something else we need inside," I suggested. "If we see something we want, then we'll go into the office. Otherwise, I just want to find the guns and get out."_

Jay giggled, quickly placing a hand over her mouth to smother the sound.

" _What?" I asked._

She giggled again. "Whoever thought we'd be saying that—'find the guns'?"

Now, it was my turn to giggle because—seriously—we were two 10th grade girls from Agoura High, breaking into the Lost Hills Sheriff's Station to steal their weapons.

So random!

* * * *

As we made our way along the hallway and our nerves eventually started to calm down, Jay and I discovered that the Sheriff's Station was actually quite interesting. While the offices were pretty generic—computers, printers, desks, and chairs—there were also a lot of other things to 'ooh and ahh' over, like trophies and flags and those cop-sticks that are used to hit the bad guys over the head.

In fact, Jay and I both took one as a weapon. We're calling them our 'cop-socks'—as in...'don't jump out at us or we'll use these cop-sticks to sock you'.

_And we did eventually find the real weapons_ (well, at least we could see them) _. They were all stored inside of a locked cage, its bars made of steel and seemingly impenetrable. Thinking that we might be lucky twice, Jay and I searched for a key to unlock the cage._

Unfortunately, we never found one.

* * * *

" _You know, this is stupid."_

We were standing at the cage of guns, just staring at them—like kids at a candy store window denied their sugar.

" _Why?" asked Jay, taking a whack at the armory cage with her cop-sock._

" _Because this is California."_

" _Yeah...so?"_

" _So, it's not quite Texas but—no matter how liberal this state is—it's well-armed. I'll bet we could find what we need just by going through the townhouses in our complex."_

" _That does kind of make sense," agreed Jay. "Which would work out well with what I want to do."_

" _What's that?"_

" _Well...like I know we can't save them all," Jay began, giving the bars one last whack, before she turned her full attention toward me. "But I'd really like to go through all the townhouses and let all the pets out. I mean, you always hear about cats and dogs being left in abandoned buildings and living for weeks. So, there's gotta' be some pets in the townhouses that are still alive and looking for a way out."_

I frowned. "I hadn't even thought about the pets."

" _At least, if they were free, they'd have a chance, right? But stuck in the townhouses, they're just going to eventually die of starvation or because they don't have enough water to drink."_

" _I'm okay with that," I nodded. "But we won't be able to take care of all the pets, you know. We'll just have to let them go. And the ones that we do let outside—a lot of them probably won't last long in the wild."_

" _I know," Jay said, sadly. "But I just want to do what I can. At least give them a fighting chance."_

" _Well, do you want to head back now? I don't know how many townhouses we can get to, but we might be able to finish one side of the complex before it gets dark."_

Jay didn't look happy. "I think we need to finish this first."

" _We tried. There's just no way we can get to the weapons without a key."_

" _Not that," she said, quietly. "It's just that...well, I think we need to look through the jail."_

" _Are you kidding?!" Going through the offices had been scary enough. I couldn't even imagine going back into the jail._

" _But what if there's someone alive back there?" Jay asked, in a tiny voice._

" _Exactly...like a murderer or a rapist!"_

" _But you said it yourself." Jay waved her arms around, looking exasperated. "This is Agoura Hills and there are no murderers here! So, if there's anybody back in those cells, it's probably just someone who got stupid and drank a few too many beers. Or it could even be some high school kid who drove too fast."_

" _And it could be a murderer!" I insisted. "No way in heck I'm going back there."_

" _But it could be Jacob Riker!"_

" _What...huh?" Now, she had my attention._

" _Jacob has a car. He drives. What if he was, like coming up Malibu Canyon after a party on Zuma Beach Saturday night? And what if he was driving too fast and he got stopped at a DUI checkpoint? And what if he had been drinking beer and the sheriffs smelled it on his breath?"_

" _You're being sneaky," I hissed._

" _Still—_ _what if_ _? Like we've got to check, Kaylee," Jay insisted. "You know we've got to check."_

" _And what then?" I asked. "Now we've got to check every house along the way home, too...just to make sure that no one's inside?"_

" _That's different," Jay grimaced. "If they're humans, in their own homes, they can get out themselves. But if they're here, behind bars—they're stuck. Which means if we walk away, we'd be letting them die. How would you feel about that, knowing you could have helped, but didn't?"_

" _But we don't even know if there's anybody back there in the jail," I said. "Like the cells are probably all empty."_

" _Then what's the harm in looking?" she sniffed._

I threw up my hands in frustration. "Because somebody might actually be in there! And if that somebody really is a murderer—how would you feel about that?"

Jay placed her hands on her hips, stubbornly facing me down. "And how would you feel if there's someone in those cells, and that someone is Jacob and we walk away and just let him die?"

Dammit!

Of course, I gave in.

* * * *

I was hoping that the jail would be difficult to find or—even better—locked up and inaccessible. However, not only were there labeled arrows along the wall, conveniently showing us the way, once we reached the jail...

... _the main doors were wide open!_

Perhaps—when 'whatever' had happened—the guards had been in the process of passing through the doors. When they had suddenly all disappeared, the doors were left open behind them.

Or, an even better idea—maybe the doors were open simply because there had been no reason to lock them.

As in—there had been no prisoners in the jail!

* * * *

_Like any good horror film_ (Don't go into the cellar!) _, it was much darker and eerier in the jail than in the front offices._

" _Crap," I whispered._

Standing at the entry, we could barely see to the far end of the cell wing. There appeared to be one long hallway leading away from us, with closed doors—four on either side.

Well, they were almost all closed—except one—which, of course, was right at the very end, in the darkest part of the hallway.

_That doorway stood wide-open—_ _as if in invitation_ _._

_And, unfortunately, in this jail, the cells weren't open-barred, where you could see who_ (or what!) _was inside. No, this jail just had to be one of those with walled-in rooms and metal doors with tiny peek-a-boo slits at eye-level._

The only way that Jay and I would ultimately be able to know if someone was inside one of the cells would be to actually go up to the door and look inside!

" _Start at the front?" Jay asked, quietly. "Or start at the back and work ourselves forward?"_

" _Are you insane?!" I hissed. "If we start at the back, we could get cornered if someone comes out from one of those doors!"_

" _Then maybe we should just call out," she suggested. "If there's someone there, they'll let us know, right?"_

" _Even more insane!" I growled. "Are you forgetting that, if someone is in one of those cells, it's probably a criminal? So, why don't we not notify the bad guys that we're coming and just walk down the hallway, slowly and_ _very_ _quietly? We'll each take a side and look in all of the windows...see what's there."_

Jay nodded, speaking in a soft whisper. "Okay. Then you take the left side. I'll take the right. We'll move together."

But neither of us took a step.

_Instead, we just kept staring down at that one_ _open_ _door, mocking us from the dark shadows at the end of the hallway._

" _This is really stupid," I murmured. "Like really stupid."_

* * * *

We both raised our sticks, high over our heads, and walked slowly forward. Reaching the first set of doors, I rose up on my tippy-toes to peek through the window. On the other side of the hallway, Jay did the same thing at her door.

Through a small slit, I could just see an empty cot on one side of the room and a metal sink and toilet on the other. With the exception of a small barred window on the far wall, there was—fortunately—nothing else to see.

Relieved, I turned to Jay, who was still looking through her cell's tiny window. "Anything?" I whispered.

She shook her head. "You?"

I shook my head back and we started forward again—moving slowly toward the next two doors.

_As before—we found the cells completely_ _empty_ _._

* * * *

Jay and I hesitated before moving toward the third set of cells. I don't know if it was because it was getting later in the day, or if it was simply a cloud passing in front of the sun but—suddenly—the jail became all gloom and shadows.

My heart beating fast, I leaned over and peered through the window of the third cell door on my side. Not only was this cell empty, it had no cot. There were file boxes on the floor, however, so I had to assume that the little room was being used as extra storage space.

Slowly, so as not to startle Jay, I moved over to where she was looking through her own door. "Mine is empty," I whispered.

Not speaking, Jay pointed inside of her room, moving from the door, so that I could see for myself. Like the room on my side, this one had no cot. At the back, however—next to a filing cabinet—was a large gun safe. It was open—with two rows of semi-automatic rifles inside.

" _What do you think?" Jay whispered, excited._

I reached down to the door handle and turned the knob. It clicked but didn't open.

" _We'll have to look for the key."_

_But—before we could do anything—we heard_ _it_ _..._

... _the GROAN!_

* * * *

The noise was coming from the end of the hallway—the cell with the open door.

Jay actually squealed in terror.

_Spinning on her heels, she raced back to the front of the hallway. I, on the other hand, stayed where I was—_ _not_ _out of bravery, but because I was rooted in fear._

" _Come on, Kaylee!" Jay hissed from the end of the hallway._

GROAN!!...

There it was again.

_I was afraid to move, afraid to make any noise that would alert whoever_ (or whatever) _was in that open cell to my existence._

GROAN!!...

Now, you have to remember that I hadn't wanted to come back into the jail at all. It had totally been Jay's idea.

_But there we were, and somebody or something was either in terrible pain in that last cell_ _or_ _he was fake-moaning in order to lure us close enough, so he could capture us. In any case, probably the stupidest thing I could have done at that moment would be to—go anywhere near that open door!_

GROAN!!...

There's a problem with having a conscience, though, because—once it's activated—I don't really have a choice.

So, cop-sock held high, shivers running down my spine, I slowly tiptoed forward and peeked around that open door.

GROAN!!...

" _Son of a gun," I wondered out loud._

" _What is it?" squeaked Jay, still not leaving her spot at the far end of the hallway._

" _It's...it's..."_

" _What is it?!"_

GROAN!!...

Jay squealed again—anticipating, no doubt, a gnarled hand reaching out to pull me inside that cell.

" _It's nothing...come see." I turned and smiled at her._

Jay was having none of that. She didn't move. "If it's nothing, how come it's still groaning?"

" _Stop being a baby, Jay! Come here and take a look."_

Not quite believing, Jay slowly moved toward me nevertheless. She held her cop-sock in both hands, prepared to either do battle or take flight at any moment.

" _I'm serious, Jay. It's nothing."_

She finally reached my position. Holding the cop-sock above her head, Jay peered around the open door.

GROAN!!...

And jumped back quickly!

I burst into laughter.

" _Dang it!" Jay yelled._

_No prisoner...no supernatural being....just an_ _empty_ _cell._

" _It's the Santa Ana winds," I told her. "They must have started up while we've been inside. The groaning is just a branch moving back and forth outside that window."_

The reason didn't matter to Jay, however. She had had enough. "I want to go...I want to go now!" Jay turned and stalked off, back down the hallway.

" _Wait!" I called after her. "We need to find the keys for that cage with the guns."_

" _I'm not staying!"_

" _Jay, stop!" I cried, racing after her. "If this has proved anything, it's proved that we might need protection. I mean, what if it hadn't been just the wind? What if it had been something else?" She spun back toward me, and I was surprised to see tears in her eyes. "Ohmigod, Jay...what's wrong? Were you really that scared?"_

" _Yes!" Jay hissed, practically spitting out the word. "I was scared, okay...I was really, really scared!"_

" _I'm sorry...but...but it was just a branch."_

" _But it might not have been! Don't you get it? It could have been a bad guy!"_

" _I know that."_

" _Or it could have been a zombie," she continued. "Or it could have been a vampire. And you know what?"_

" _What?"_

" _It really_ _could_ _have been—any of those things. Because guess what? We don't know what happened here? We don't know why everyone left, or disappeared, or were taken away. And we certainly don't know why we got left behind." Jay was working herself up into a dark fury. "So, I'm sorry, Kaylee...but this is absolutely and completely one of the stupidest things ever!"_

" _But you were the one who wanted to go into the jail," I said, confused._

" _I don't mean the jail!" Jay yelled. "I mean—_ _this_ _!" She waved her arms all around. "I mean this...this..._ _hell_ _we're in. Like, it's stupid! And it's ridiculous! And it doesn't make any sense and I'm just so very, very_ _over_ _it!"_

And with that, Jay turned and stalked off.

For a moment, I considered staying behind and searching for the key to the locked cage by myself. But as much as I would have liked to have had the firepower—at that precise moment—there was no way on earth that I was going back into that darkened corridor alone.

_Forget logic—someone_ (or something) _might just jump out and get me!_

* * * *

I caught up with Jay in the lobby.

She had already leapt over the front counter with her usual agility and was heading straight for the front door. I, of course, had to scramble and slither just to make it to the top of the counter.

From there, it was—for me—a quick and awkward tumble to the floor.

" _Jay, stop!" I yelled. "At least take a look outside before you head out. Make sure there isn't anything waiting."_

That stopped her.

With one hand on the door handle, she turned back to me. "Come on then," she demanded. "Let's get out of here."

" _Wait...there's something else we should do before we go."_

" _I don't care about the guns anymore."_

" _I don't care either," I told her_ (a white lie—I really did want a gun, more than ever now) _. "But what about the bulletin boards?"_

" _What about them?" she snapped, impatient to get moving._

" _Well, we checked them when we came in here—to see if anybody else was alive and left a message."_

" _And nobody did, so we can leave."_

" _But...what if there_ _is_ _someone else alive out there? And what if they'll think about coming to the Sheriff's Station like we did? Maybe tomorrow, maybe the next day, maybe next week. Don't you think we should leave a note for them?"_

Jay thought about this for a moment, frowning. "What if they're a bad person and they find out where we live from the note? What then?"

" _So what do you want to do, then?" I asked. "Nothing?"_

Jay thought about that for a moment. Then she sighed—a big, drawn-out, this is going to be a massive waste of time—sigh.

" _We can leave a note," she finally said. "But we'll just be smart about it."_

* * * *

It took us a few minutes to figure out what exactly to write. This is what we eventually settled on:

To Whom It May Concern,

If you're still alive, know that you are not alone. There are two of us. Please write down your address, your name, and where you're staying and we will come and visit you. It may take a while before we come back, so please be patient.

Thank you

K & J :o)

* * * *

It felt weird—standing on the sidewalk in front of the Sheriff's Station.

The sun was inching toward the horizon, lengthening the shadows, while the Santa Ana winds whistled throughout the nearby buildings.

_Everything looked exactly the same as when we'd arrived. However, both Jay and I had the impression that something had_ _changed_ _._

" _I feel like we're being watched," whispered Jay, beginning to tremble._

" _I know," I whispered back. "I feel the same thing."_

She looked to her left, toward the hill we'd just biked up. "Let's not go the same way we came...in case those dog-coyote-things are still waiting."

" _We could head up to the 101," I suggested. "The onramp isn't that far away. Once we're on the freeway, it's a straight shot back to Agoura. We'll get home that much quicker."_

" _The freeway?" Jay's words were mumbled, distracted._

I turned to find her staring at the office building opposite us. It was large—two storeys—with an area for parking cars along the front.

" _There's no direct access around here to Agoura except the way we came or the 101," I told her. "Our only other alternative is to go down Malibu Canyon and then cut across on Mulholland Drive through the hills."_

" _That would take forever," she murmured._

" _And it'd be even more dangerous than using Agoura Road or the 101. If we take Mulholland, we'd be traveling through State Park territory and that's where the mountain lions_ _definitely_ _are."_

" _So then I guess we don't have much of a choice."_

Jay still hadn't moved, just kept staring at the building across the street. It was beginning to get on my nerves.

" _What is it?" I finally asked. "What do you see?"_

" _I'm not sure," Jay said. Then she lifted up a finger and pointed. "But that window there, two storeys up, third from the right. I keep thinking that I see movement inside of the building there."_

The hackles immediately sprung up on the back of my neck.

_And a moment later—I saw_ _it_ _!_

* * * *

Incredibly quick, the tiniest of movements—as if a single slat of a blind had been angled to one side, then back again.

" _Did you see it?!" Jay screeched. "Tell me that you saw it!_

I nodded.

She grabbed my hand, squeezing it tightly. "It's just the wind, right...I mean, it has to be the wind."

" _That's an office building. I don't think those windows even open."_

Jay began to shake. "Ohmigod, Kaylee...that means someone's in there...watching us! What if it's one of the criminals from the jail?!"

" _It could just be one of the office workers."_

She shook her head. "I don't think so. If they were just office workers, they'd come out and talk to us? I mean, it's not like we're exactly threatening people."

" _Should we go over there?" I asked._

Jay let go of my hand and took a step back, horrified by the suggestion. "I don't want to. If it was a good person they would already have come out."

" _Then do you want to just get on our bikes and go?"_

Not even answering, Jay simply leapt for her bike and—a moment later—she was pedaling fast up Agoura Road toward the 101 onramp.

Meanwhile, keeping my eyes on the window, I bent down to pick up my own bike...and saw the blind move again!

Oh crap...

But then I realized...

* * * *

I caught up to Jay just as she reached the top of the onramp.

" _It's okay," I yelled. "It wasn't anybody! I know what it was."_

Jay slowed down—but only a little. "What?"

" _It was the flag."_

" _What flag?"_

" _The American flag in front of the Sheriff's Station. It was waving in the wind. We were looking at its reflection."_

" _Are you sure?" she asked, hopefully. "Absolutely sure?"_

" _Absolutely...it just needed a big gust for its reflection to hit that particular window." I crossed my heart. "Swear."_

Jay was so relieved, she looked like she was about to cry again.

" _It's so weird," she sniffled. "First the groan in the cell, then the flag in the window. I don't know what's become scarier—that we won't find anybody alive_ _or_ _that we will."_

* * * *

I've been a California girl all of my life and have spent much of it on the many highways that intersect all over Los Angeles County. This was the first time, however, that I had been on a highway when I wasn't riding in a car.

It was so bizarre.

We biked around all these empty vehicles—their seatbelts still fastened, keys in the ignition. And even though Jay and I knew that there was nobody inside, we kept ducking down to peer into the cars—just in case.

_About halfway up the hill that would eventually lead us to Chesebro Road_ (our exit) _, there was a big rig on its side. Two smaller cars—smashed and broken—were jammed underneath. It was hard for Jay and me to know exactly what had happened, but we supposed that the driver of the rig had 'disappeared' just as the semi was heading up the hill. When the rig had rolled backward, it had done so right on top of the smaller cars._

_Reluctantly, Jay and I got off of our bikes to check the accident site out. We didn't really expect to find anyone in any of the vehicles. But if there_ _was_ _someone stuck alive underneath all that mess, we simply couldn't live with ourselves if we had just left them there to die._

Luckily, our search didn't take more than a few moments.

_Just_ _empty_ _cars—like always._

* * * *

Because it was so late in the afternoon, Jay and I decided that we would begin our search for pets on the left side of our complex first. Tomorrow, we would search the other side.

The first townhouse that we came to was a single-level on the corner. Jay and I stood at the front door, trying to decide how to enter.

" _I guess what we should probably do first is be polite," I suggested, heading up to the front door and knocking._

_Of course,_ _nobody_ _answered._

I put my ear to the door, listening.

" _Hear anything?" Jay asked. "Any barks....meows?"_

I shook my head.

With an exasperated sigh, Jay moved past me to peer in through a window. "There's definitely a dog living in there," she called over to me. "I don't see it, but there's a dog food dish on the floor in the kitchen."

" _Big dish or little dish?" I asked._

" _Does it matter?"_

" _Of course it matters. Little dish means little dog. Big dish means," I held up my cop-sock, "big dog."_

It was a little dish.

* * * *

We walked around the townhouse, carefully trying the doors and windows.

_All were_ _locked_ _._

In the end, Jay and I simply grabbed a couple of bricks from a nearby garden and started tossing them at a window until it broke. After that, we just stepped through the window and we were in the front foyer of a nicely, kept home.

" _Hello?" I called out loudly. "Sorry about breaking your window. I'm Kaylee Michelson from down in Section L. Is there anybody here...hello?"_

Beside me, Jay leaned over, whispering—her voice timid and scared. "Here, puppy, puppy."

The townhouse was decorated in what we in California call Craftsman-style—lots of simple wood slats on the furniture, not much decoration, that sort of thing. A small dog's bed sat to one side of the couch. The name 'Fildred' was embroidered on it in pink thread.

" _Fildred," I giggled. "Maybe she ran away from home with a name like that."_

" _At least it's not a gazillion syllables long, like some names," Jay muttered._

" _Jayalakshmi Sitipala," I teased, "shall we go find our Fildred?"_

_And—holding_ _very_ _tightly onto our cop-socks—the two of us took a step forward._

### WHERE DID ALL THE PUPPIES GO?

I kept count that day.

We searched through four sections of townhouses. In thirty-six of them, we found evidence of dogs; in forty-two units, there were signs of cats _(some people owned both, of course)_.

But it was in our seventy-eighth townhouse that Jay and I finally gave up the search for our non-human companions.

Because that's where we found the aquarium.

* * * *

The townhouse was a double-level, with what was probably an 'authorized' attic room. A family obviously lived there—mom and dad in the main bedroom, two young boys in the second bedroom.

It was in that second bedroom that Jay and I made our 'revelation'.

Like with most young boys, the bedroom was full of toy cars and Legos and a whole lot of stuffies trapped in one of those net-things they had strung up in a corner. The walls had been painted blue _(of course)_ and there were luminescent stars on the ceiling.

I searched through the main floor of the house, while Jay looked through the bedrooms upstairs. As with all the townhouses we had searched before this one, we found no little furry creatures in any of the cupboards or drawers. Neither was there any pet hiding behind the sofa or loveseat.

On the second floor, however, I found Jay in the boys' bedroom, standing quietly before a giant aquarium. It was built into the wall, at an equal distance between the two boys' beds. On one side of the aquarium's sandy floor was an amazing pirate ship, surrounded by long, waving sea grass. On the other side of the tank was a miniaturized version of an amusement park, complete with a tiny roller coaster.

"How cool is that?" I said, admiring the tiny track that circled the entire tank. "It looks like the roller coaster goes all the way around." Squatting down, I peered closer through the glass, searching the blue water for the aquarium's little inhabitants.

"Don't bother," said Jay. "I've been watching for five minutes now. There's nothing there."

"Well, maybe they've got those little eel-things. They live in the coral. Or those fish that hide in holes and only come out to feed."

" _Watch this."_

Jay picked up a small container of fish food from a nearby dresser. She shook it over the top of the water and little bits of food floated lazily down toward the aquarium's sandy bottom.

"I've tried this three times. Nothing comes out to feed. Not one thing."

"Maybe there wasn't anything in there to begin with."

"I don't think so. Big aquarium, very clean, lots of fish food nearby. Why would they waste their time?"

"So, what are you saying?" I asked.

Jay looked at me, her face sad and drawn. "I think that there were fish in here when _whatever_ happened. I just think that they disappeared with everyone else."

I sat down heavily on one of the young boys' beds. Something bulky pinched my bottom and I reached under the blankets and pulled out a _Star Wars_ TIE-fighter.

Meanwhile, Jay sat down on the other bed and faced me.

She sighed—a big sigh full of sadness. _"They took the pets, too."_

* * * *

" _So, they just left us?"_

"It doesn't make any sense," Jay said. "I mean, are we that evil that even the pets get to be taken before us?"

"Maybe it was just an accident," I suggested. "Maybe we were supposed to be taken, but there was some sort of mix-up."

"Oh, great," sighed Jay. "Metaphysical-bureaucracy."

We thought about that for a moment.

Could some greater-being simply have made a mistake and left us behind?

Or were we possibly being punished for something that we didn't even realize we had done?

Or maybe the reason we were still here was because we were in some sort of experiment— _two lab rats in an empty world?_

It was disheartening.

Then— _I remembered_.

"Wait, Jay...I'm pretty sure that I heard a dog bark at night. Haven't you heard dogs barking, too?"

Jay shrugged. "I thought I did, but maybe it was just coyotes. You know how they sometimes bark and it sounds just like dogs."

"So, you think that everyone's gone...and their dogs...and their cats?"

" _And their fish."_ Jay lowered her head, trying not to cry.

I sighed. "Should we even keep looking through the townhouses then?"

"It doesn't make much sense, does it?"

### JOURNAL ENTRY #6

Ohmigod!

We just got back from Ralphs and the most amazing thing has happened.

I want to just shout it out loud but—if this is supposed to be an accurate account of what has been happening to us—I guess I need to go in order.

But seriously...ohmigod!!

* * * *

So, after searching through all those townhouses for pets, Jay and I stayed in the attic room for another six days. We would probably have stayed longer, but our food ran out.

I know that we didn't have to go to the mall. We obviously could have found something to eat in the other townhouses but, frankly, we were both getting cabin-fever.

Even fear and terror need a break sometimes, apparently.

* * * *

When we rode our bikes down to Ralphs, we passed by the Tesla. It was still in the middle of the road, looking exactly as it had the first time we'd seen it.

(In some ways, that car has become Jay's and my way of knowing that everything is still normal—or as normal as things can be in this strange, new world) _._

At the corner of Thousand Oaks Boulevard and Kanan Road, Jay and I took a side trip, peering in through the windows of Baskin-Robbins.

It looked like the ice cream parlor hadn't been open when everyone disappeared. There were no chairs pulled out, no serving containers or sodas on the tables—just a darkened ice cream counter with colored puddles of liquid slowly oozing across the floor.

_And, of course, there were flies—lots and lots of flies buzzing around everywhere!_ (I guess this is now their favorite place, too.)

" _So sad," I said. "Guess there's no ice cream anymore."_

" _Not unless you live in the mountains," agreed Jay. "Then you could churn your own, I guess."_

" _If you knew how."_

" _It's kind of weird, isn't it?" said Jay. "You think you're pretty smart and that you know everything. Then something like this happens and you suddenly realize you don't really know how to do much of anything. I mean, when it comes right down to it, what you really know how to do—is how to Google for the instructions."_

" _Well, people managed just fine without Google before," I said. "Guess we'll just have to figure out how to do things by ourselves all over again."_

I placed my hand against the window, resting my head against the cool glass.

" _Good-bye, my old friend," I said, sadly._

* * * *

The bike store was just to the left and around the corner from Ralphs.

_I'd actually never been in the store_ (probably because I didn't have a bike) _, but I knew that it was really popular with riders because, every weekend, there would be dozens of them—sitting outside, working on their bikes, dressed in their tight, little riding outfits, drinking coffee and bike-networking._

Jay and I had been worried that we would have to break into the bike store. Luckily, the door was unlocked.

But—it was very dark inside.

_We peered in through the large display windows—trying to see down the shadowy aisles filled with bikes—worried that someone_ (or something) _might be waiting._

After a while, Jay spoke softly. "Looks pretty quiet."

" _Everything always looks quiet these days," I muttered._

Crossing our fingers for luck, Jay and I tried to ignore our nerves and headed into the store—straight down the middle aisle, always conscious of the dark shadows all around us.

* * * *

It was surprisingly easy to find the bike baskets. We just pulled them off of other bikes.

" _These are great," said Jay. "All you have to do is twist their handles and they detach from the bike. We'll even be able to carry the baskets with us when we shop."_

" _I feel like we should be leaving the store money or something," I said, feeling guilty and somehow criminal._

" _I know, right?" agreed Jay._

" _Oh well," I sighed. "Maybe we can just leave an IOU. Come on, we still need to get some spare tire-things and a couple of air pumps."_

" _And some patch kits and...oh yeah!" Jay held up a bright pink riding shirt. It had 'Hello Kitty' on one side and on the other it said 'Girlz rule'. "Like we definitely need some new clothes!"_

* * * *

_Once we had found everything else that we wanted_ (pink riding shirt for Jay, plus two cute little pink and green hats for both of us) _, Jay packed up our baskets. Meanwhile, I went over to the front register and began writing out a note._

" _Seriously?" Jay called over, mocking me. "You're really going to leave an IOU?"_

" _We took a lot of stuff. It's over two hundred dollars' worth."_

" _Yeah, well...we've still got our Ralphs shopping to do. You gonna' leave an IOU there, too?"_

" _Maybe."_

" _And when we come back next week, you gonna' leave an IOU, then? Or how about the time after that? And the one after that?"_

I ripped up the note. She was right—I was being stupid.

" _New laws for a new world," I sighed. "You think this makes us criminals?"_

Jay grinned at me. "I think this makes us survivors."

* * * *

While breaking in and stealing from the bike store turned out to be relatively easy, doing it in a big food store like Ralphs—well, that was a whole different thing.

Even Jay looked uncomfortable as we stood out front of the supermarket. The enormous store was so quiet and gloomy and—to be completely honest—intimidating.

" _Well," I finally began, "I guess the first thing we have to do is see if we can even open the doors."_

I pushed tentatively on the two giant glass doors that usually just swung apart when someone neared the sensors.

The doors didn't move.

Of course—that would have been too easy.

Using what little brute force we had, Jay and I eventually managed to jimmy the glass doors a few feet apart and stick a shopping cart between them. We entered, pushing our bikes ahead of us. Jay and I had decided earlier that we would bring them into the store. That way, we could load the food directly into the baskets. More importantly, though, we would have instant wheels if we needed to get out quickly.

Like if something was chasing us.

* * * *

The first thing I noticed about the store was the temperature.

One of the things I have always disliked about this particular Ralphs is how cold it can get. Even during the summer, my mom and I always carry a sweater when we shop. Otherwise, a few minutes inside and you're racing for the exit, covered in goose bumps.

Not today, though.

Today it was downright hot inside of that store.

And it also smelled bad! You could definitely tell that there was rotting food inside.

The other thing about the store was that—like the bike shop—there were way too many shadows. Sure, there was a little light at the front, coming in through the glass doors. Down at the back, however—it was DARK!

" _Let's get this over quick," I told Jay as we set the kick stands on our bikes. "Where do you want to go first?"_

" _I really, really need some good lotion." Jay scratched at her leg._

(A big problem with the world going topsy-turvy—it's hard to maintain your hygiene. Even though we still have water coming through the lines, Jay and I figure it's going to end soon enough. Because of that—to save water—we haven't been taking our daily showers. Instead, we've just been using a face cloth, a bar of soap, and a bowl of water to bathe. Don't get me wrong. We're basically clean—we're just not 21st Century-clean.)

" _Should we split up?" I asked. "One of us can get the lotion and the toilet paper and stuff. The other person can get the food."_

Jay looked at me, aghast. "Have you not watched horror films?!"

" _Okay, okay...we'll do this together. Where do you want to start?"_

" _Let's just begin on the right and head up and down the aisles until we find everything we want."_

" _All right...produce section first, it is!"_

* * * *

It was actually kind of neat, sampling all the fruit and vegetables. I mean, I am a teenage girl and I love my potato chips and chocolate bars but—after twelve days of basically living on canned food and snacks—I was seriously craving some good produce.

" _What's that?" I was looking at a tiny, red oval fruit, covered with something that looked like brown furry spikes. "It's seventy-five cents for just one and it's so small."_

" _It's a rambutan," said Jay, reading off its label. "Let's try them."_

She handed me one and I began to turn the spiky guy around in my fingers. "How do you eat it?"

Jay twisted hers apart easily, taking a tentative lick of the white flesh inside. Her face immediately lit up with a smile. "This is delicious!"

" _Well, I guess this is one thing amazing about being on our own. We can try anything we want now and no parents or budgets are here to stop us."_

" _I've never been shopping with unlimited credit before," beamed Jay._

Grabbing a plastic bag, I began filling it up with the spiky rambutans. "One, two, three, four," I counted, making my way up to ten of the little fruit. "That's seven dollars and fifty cents and we've only just started shopping. This is going to be so much fun!"

Jay nodded, wiping rambutan juice off of her chin. "I just wish it wasn't so dark and creepy at the back of the store. We definitely should have brought candles...and bigger baskets."

" _You know, we can always pick up some candles down in the home goods aisle."_

" _That's true," said Jay. "And in the seasonal section, I think they've got those old lanterns. You know, the ones that look like something Paul Revere would have carried. We should get some of those. That way we'll always have light."_

" _Glow sticks from the toy section?" I added._

" _What about those tiki torches from home and garden?"_

" _Good idea. We should probably pick up some of those fireplace logs, too. And matches—or lighters."_

" _We don't have fireplaces in our townhouses," Jay said. "Only the single levels have them."_

" _I know that. But we can still use them to start fires. Oh, and we should pick up some charcoal and lighter fluid for barbeques!"_

" _Do you have a barbeque at your townhouse?" asked Jay._

" _No," I said. "Do you guys?"_

" _No."_

" _So, we need to pick up a barbeque, too. Or maybe one of those hibachi-things. I mean, it's not like we can cook on the stove now."_

Jay frowned. "That's a lot of stuff for our bike baskets."

" _Maybe we should just grab a shopping cart. We can always push it back to the townhouse. It won't be that far. Plus we'll be able to carry so much more, then."_

" _I guess that makes sense," Jay nodded. "But we'll have to leave at least one of the bikes here, though. We can come back for it tomorrow."_

" _Okay...so, you go grab some more fruit and veggies and I'll go get the cart."_

_I turned to race off but, before I could take a single step, Jay quickly grabbed me by my arm. She squeezed it—hard. "Again," she said, pointedly—carefully emphasizing each word, "Do you_ _not_ _remember what happens to pretty young girls in horror films when they split up?"_

" _Nice!" I grinned, prying her fingers off my arm. "You're calling us_ _pretty_ _."_

" _We're probably the only ones alive," Jay sniffed. "That means we're the most beautiful girls in Agoura Hills—and the most ugly."_

* * * *

There was a shopping cart just inside the door—conveniently holding a lemon meringue pie, two bags of tortilla chips, a six-pack of diet cola, and a Marie Claire magazine.

" _Good start," I said, looking into the cart. "We'll have to pick up some salsa for those chips, though."_

" _Are you kidding?" said Jay. "With all that produce about to go bad, we need to make our own. It's not like you need electricity to make a simple salsa."_

* * * *

Watermelons, oranges, apples—they all went into our cart.

Cucumbers, carrots, potatoes, and onions soon followed.

Nuts and dried fruit were also a big item.

" _When we get back," Jay suggested, "we should create some kind of organization system for storing all this stuff."_

" _As opposed to just putting it in the cupboards?"_

Jay looked at me as if I was an idiot. "We need to eat the most-perishable first! And as far as the other stuff like canned and boxed food, they all have best by dates. We have to eat everything in a particular order or we'll wind up wasting a lot of food."

" _Well, you can be in charge of that," I said. "Because I am definitely not Martha Stewarting at the end of the world." I took hold of the cart and began to push it toward the back of the store. "Crap, this thing is already heavy...and it's only half full! It's really going to be a pain to push it all the way back to the townhouse. Maybe we should concentrate on getting just the stuff we need right now...or things like fruit and vegetables that will go bad."_

" _We still_ _really_ _need toilet paper...and lotion," insisted Jay._

I sighed. "And I suppose we should pick up some of those baby wipes for when the water stops coming through the pipes."

Jay nodded. "That's going to be so disgusting. Baby wipes are a good idea."

" _So—lotion, toilet paper, baby wipes...other than those, everything else we get should be either perishables or things to cook them with. Agreed?"_

" _Makes sense to me," Jay nodded. "Plus some chocolate."_

" _Well, that should have gone without saying," I grinned._

" _And maybe some more soda."_

" _And we can put some licorice in our pockets. If it's on our body, it doesn't really have to be counted."_

* * * *

I stopped the cart in the international section, in front of the Indian food.

" _Anything you want?" I asked Jay._

She looked down at her feet. "No...not really."

" _Are you sure?"_

" _Maybe next time. It's just..."_

" _It's just what?"_

When she looked up, I saw that Jay's eyes were moist. "It's just that it reminds me of my family and I don't want to think about them right now. It's easier that way, you know."

I did know. Even now—there's this pit of worry in my stomach.

What has happened to my mom? Is she okay?

Putting an arm around Jay's shoulder, I gave her a quick hug. "Our families are fine. Wherever they are...I'm sure of it."

" _I hope so." Jay wiped her eyes, then took a deep breath. "Okay, crying's over. Let's get back to work."_

* * * *

" _Is that money on the floor?"_

Leaving the cart at the end of the aisle, Jay and I moved toward the cash registers. Sure enough, there were bills scattered all over the floor—twenties, tens, fives, and ones—perhaps a thousand dollars' worth of money in total.

We tried to make sense of what we were seeing.

" _Remember that armored truck down at the bank," said Jay. "Maybe they were making deliveries and this was one of them."_

" _I don't think so. Look at that cash register near the self-serve machines."_

Jay turned and looked.

The cash register's money drawer was open, its slots empty. A few five-dollar bills littered the floor below.

" _That's where I think all this money came from," I said._

" _Well, then that makes sense. The register was probably open when the 'thing' happened and then, when we opened the door, the wind just blew out all the money."_

I walked a few steps over to the cash register in the next aisle. "Then how come this register is open, too? And look down the line. All the registers are open and their money's been taken."

" _But this doesn't make any sense." Jay looked confused. "Does it?"_

" _No." I shook my head, becoming increasingly unsettled. "Come on...let's finish what we started and get the heck out of here!"_

* * * *

Even after almost two weeks, the bread aisle still smelled SO GOOD!

(This is one of my worst vices. I am an absolute bread and pastries junkie. My mom is always trying to get me to cut back. She says that our family is known for large hips and thighs and that the last thing I should be doing is loading up on carbs and starches. I can't help it, though. It's all just so yummy!)

" _A lot of this bread has gone moldy," I said, placing two clean loaves in the cart. "They have some bread mixes down in the baking aisle. We should probably grab a couple of those and see if we can figure out how to make bread on the BBQ."_

" _My mom makes bread almost every day," Jay said. "And papadum...and naan."_

" _Do you make it with her?" I asked. "Can_ _you_ _make bread?"_

She shrugged. "I can try."

Just then, we reached the end of the row and turned the corner...

... _and_ _stopped_ _._

" _What the..." stammered Jay._

" _Careful," I whispered._

_On the floor before us, was a variety of condiment containers—ketchups, mustards, salsas, and mayonnaises. They were spread out in a large circle, surrounding a bag of half-eaten tortilla chips, six A &W Root Beer bottles_ (two empty and four full) _, an empty carton of Twinkies, and about a dozen crumpled candy bar wrappers. Off to one side, just outside of the circle, was a handful of magazines and newspapers—some open as if they were still being read._

" _We're not alone?!" Jay whispered._

" _I don't think so," I agreed. "I think someone else survived."_

" _Well, where are they?"_

" _Dunno'...there are a lot of stores around here. Maybe they're in one of them. Or maybe they went to their own home."_

" _Or maybe you're wrong," said Jay, looking scared. "Maybe they're still here and they're hiding somewhere, waiting to attack us when we go by."_

She had a point.

" _What do you want to do, then?" I asked._

" _We should go home...right now!"_

" _But what if they're like us? What if they're just a normal person who's scared and hiding, because they're afraid_ _we'll_ _hurt them?"_

" _Or what if they're big and mean and really angry and take it out on us?"_

Another good point.

" _What about this? We'll leave a note," I suggested, "just like we did at the Sheriff's Station."_

" _And then we'll leave?" Jay asked, hopefully._

" _We still have to finish getting our supplies." Jay looked stricken, so I quickly added, "But we'll move really fast. Just get the essentials. Tell you what, you just push the cart and keep a lookout. I'll run up and down the aisles and grab what we need."_

" _But you stay in the same aisle as me," she begged, fearfully. "You don't leave me behind!"_

" _Absolutely not."_

We took off at a furious pace, racing up and down the aisles, throwing what we needed into the cart. When we reached the office supplies section, I stopped to grab a pen and some paper.

" _Kaylee...just essentials!"_

" _I need to write to the other survivor." I waved the paper at her. "So, what do you want to say on the note?"_

" _I don't care," Jay said. "Just don't let them know where we live just in case they're bad."_

" _Well, how about if I just write the same thing we did at the Sheriff's Station?"_

Jay nodded. "That's fine...can we go now?!"

" _Should we leave the note back in the condiments aisle or on the front door?"_

" _Are you insane?!" Jay looked horrified. "There's no way that I'm going back into that aisle! Just tape the stupid thing on the front door!"_

* * * *

Outside the store—with Jay keeping watch—I finished writing the note and taped it onto one of the sliding glass doors.

" _Ohmigod!" Jay suddenly cried out._

I spun around, thinking that Jay had seen our mysterious condiments-survivor. But it wasn't a man or a woman that she had spotted.

It was a little calico cat—being chased through the parking lot by three large coyotes!

" _Oh, no!" Jay cried, horrified. "Come on, kitty. You can do it!"_

_The cat spun and weaved, over and under cars—the coyotes steadily gaining. Suddenly—_ _another_ _coyote appeared just off to its left. Immediately, the calico switched directions, sprinting under a row of shopping carts and coming around—straight toward us._

" _Oh crap!" I grabbed Jay by her elbow, intending to pull her inside the supermarket if the coyotes came too close._

But, once again, the cat changed directions.

Meanwhile, the coyotes separated, one moving up on either side, while the remaining two stayed right behind the little calico. They appeared to be herding the cat toward the far end of the strip mall.

" _Should we do something?" asked Jay, worried._

" _What can we do?"_

" _I don't know...but it just seems wrong to let that cat get killed without trying to help it."_

Moments later, the coyotes slowed—their prey cornered—caught where two walls right-angled, creating a solid, impenetrable intersection a good twenty feet high. But the little calico—instead of turning to face the predators closing in on it—ran straight at the intersecting walls.

In a feat that would have made any parkour-gymnast proud, the cat bounded from one wall to the other, somehow finding enough purchase to make it all the way to the top of the building and onto the roof.

The last Jay and I saw of that little cat was its tail held high in the air, the tip twitching in irritation, just before it disappeared behind an air conditioning unit. Meanwhile, the coyotes howled and grumbled at the base of the building for a few minutes, before they finally gave up and ran off, disappearing in the direction of the 101 Freeway.

* * * *

It took Jay and me about twenty minutes to push the shopping cart back up to the townhouses. Because of the heavy weight, both Jay and I had to push together, especially on the uphill part of the journey. Unfortunately, that also meant that we had to leave the two bikes behind in Ralphs.

The shopping cart we eventually left parked in front of the Israeli's unit. It was our thinking that—if our condiments-survivor had somehow followed us to the townhouse complex—they would hopefully think that we were living in that unit and not the Sitipala's.

* * * *

" _We were wrong about being the only survivors," Jay said, as we carried in the supplies. "Which means that we might be wrong about the pets, too. Maybe they weren't all taken. That calico is still here."_

" _But the pets in the townhouses are missing."_

" _We didn't go through_ _all_ _of the townhouses. So, maybe they just took some of the pets. Maybe there are still some inside the townhouses that we didn't check. I think we should go back and go through those ones tomorrow, just in case."_

I groaned. "We can do that, if you really want. But I don't think we're going to find any more pets. I think that cat we saw down at Ralphs—I think it was feral."

" _A wild cat?"_

" _Think about it. That calico was skinny and it moved so fast. I'll bet it was a feral and that's why it didn't disappear with the rest of the pets."_

" _So, you're saying that only the animals that were pets of people got taken?"_

" _I think it might even be more than that. Remember the horses down on Driver? They were pets and they weren't taken. What if it had to be a pet that actually lived in a house with you?"_

" _Then that means that there_ _are_ _probably still dogs out there...at least, living outside."_

" _And cats," I agreed. "But they'll also probably be going wild pretty soon."_

" _And if there are wild dogs," said Jay, looking worried, "then we really do have to find some weapons."_

" _Which means it probably is a good idea to go through the rest of the townhouses, if only to see if we can find some guns."_

Jay frowned. "I hate the idea of guns, even though I know you're right. And I suppose we should also look for other stuff that we can use. I'd rather take our supplies out of the townhouses now than have to go back to Ralphs again."

" _You know, we'll have to go back to the store sooner or later—at least to check if anyone has seen our message...and the Sheriff's Station."_

_Jay shivered. "I vote for_ _later_ _."_

* * * *

So, now you know the amazing thing.

_We're not alone! There's someone else_ _alive_ _beside us._

It's very scary—but it's also very exciting!

### FLUSH AWAY YOUR CARES AND WOES

Three nights later, the water stopped.

Just after midnight, we heard some gurgling in the pipes—like when there's too much air in the system. That was followed by some brown gunk coming through the faucets.

About ten minutes after that— _the water stopped completely_.

Needless to say, Jay and I were extremely happy that we had been smart enough to have picked up the baby wipes at Ralphs.

* * * *

It's odd—the things you need to think about when the world changes so dramatically.

At first, you think that you've acquired complete freedom. No adults telling you what to do, no school, no police—no authority figures at all.

You can go where you want, when you want, take what you want, do what you want. There's no one to stop you, no one to tilt their head down and give you that disapproving look that all adults (especially mothers) seem to be capable of, no one to disappoint when you just can't seem to meet their expectations.

Ironically—at the end of the world—it is your own expectations that become disappointed, because the freedom you suddenly think you have, turns out not to be freedom at all. Instead, your level of responsibility rises—along with the amount of work that you now have to put in, just to accomplish what were once the simplest of things.

The perfect example for Jay and me was...going to the bathroom.

* * * *

"Do you remember Ms. Capadouca _(our guidance counselor)_ talking about that camping trip she and her husband went on in Canada?" Jay asked. "It was on some ice field up near the Arctic. They couldn't dig in the ground because it was frozen, so they had to bring along this special camping porta-potty. Maybe we should find one of those to use as our toilet."

"Where would we find one?"

Jay shrugged. "A few days ago, I would have just looked it up online. I guess we have to check in a phone book now. Maybe look for a camping store."

"Do you have a phone book?" I asked, curiously.

"No, I don't think so," frowned Jay. "I've never seen one in the house. Do you guys have one at your house?"

I shook my head. "We're going to have to find a phone booth, I think. They'll probably have a phone book in there."

Jay thought about that for a moment. "You know...I don't think I've seen a phone booth anywhere around here. Everyone just uses their own phones now."

"I'll bet they'll have one at school. I mean, a phone book—not a phone booth. The office will probably have one we can use."

The thought of walking through the dark hallways of our high school did not make Jay happy. "Why don't we just check the townhouses around here? Someone is bound to have a phone book. We might even find some camping equipment while we're at it. Maybe even a porta-potty if we're really, really lucky."

That gave me what I thought was a brilliant idea.

"What if we simply go and check out someone's house who we already know camps a lot? Maybe they might have exactly what we need already."

Jay considered that. "I don't know where Ms. C lives...do you?"

"I didn't mean Ms. Capadouca. I was thinking about someone else who does a lot of camping."

It took Jay only a moment to figure it out.

She waggled a finger at me, grinning. "You were just waiting for a reason to go and see if Jacob Riker is still alive!"

"Well, he's always talking about going camping with his family. It just makes sense that we check his place out."

"And you know that because you're always eavesdropping on him when he talks to his friends!"

"That doesn't change the fact that his family might have what we need."

Jay thought about it for a moment. Then she grinned again. "Wouldn't it be ironic if it was Jacob who's been hanging out at Ralphs?"

" _I hadn't thought of that,"_ I said, trying to look innocent.

### JOURNAL ENTRY #7

It's been a while since I last wrote in this journal, and a lot has happened since the night the water stopped running.

_First—Jay and I never did manage to find one of those camping porta-potties. Instead, we used the Israelis' townhouse for two days._ (Yes, I know it was childish, especially since they're not even here anymore—but I'm still ticked about how mean the Israelis were to my mom) _. After two days, however...well, that was about as much as the bathrooms could take...or our noses._

I mean, that stink got nasty!

After the Israelis', Jay and I talked about going from one townhouse to another, using their bathrooms until they were full, but that just seemed wasteful and a little ridiculous. Instead, what we eventually settled on was designating one area of the culvert to the right of our complex for our 'business'.

Of course, Jay and I don't have a problem using the culvert in the daytime. There is no way, however, that we are going anywhere near it at night. Instead, as disgusting as it sounds, we're using buckets at night and dumping them into the culvert in the morning.

It isn't pretty—but it works.

As my mom likes to say—at least, it's a plan.

* * * *

By the way, the 'culvert' is like a small cement creek—at the bottom of a low ravine—that runs along one side of our townhouse complex. When it rains, it becomes active, the water rushing through it. But this is Southern California and there simply isn't a lot of rain. So, mostly it's just a dry, cement throughway that the coyotes and other wild animals use to travel quickly from one side of the complex to the other.

One of the neat things about the culvert is that there are trees obscuring it on all sides. Unless you actually lived near it, you wouldn't even know that it was there. Because of that, Jay and I have decided that it will be one of our escape routes—if we ever need it.

In one direction, the culvert will take us quickly to the end of our complex. In the other direction, it will actually go along the far side of Chumash Park and on to Kanan Road and Thousand Oaks Boulevard.

* * * *

So—we did actually make it to Jacob Riker's house a few days ago.

Needless to say, I was really excited about our little 'outing'. Even though I knew it was stupid and unrealistic, I freely admit to having had this desperate hope that my future husband would—somehow—still be there.

* * * *

Because both our bikes were still at Ralphs and neither Jay nor I had the nerve to go back into the store to collect them, we decided to walk to Jacob's house instead. It wasn't like it was far away—about a half hour from our townhouses—and, besides, the trip would give us a chance to see what had happened to a different part of our neighborhood.

_As we passed by Ralphs, Jay shaded her eyes from the bright sun, and stared across Kanan at the big store. "I think I can see the note that you left on the door. I guess that means_ _whoever_ _was in the condiments aisle hasn't returned, yet."_

" _Look over there," I pointed. "On the roof of the Starbucks, at the far side of the mall."_

Jay turned her head to the right and immediately began to clap, delighted. "It's the little calico!"

Indeed, the tiny black, orange, and white cat was sitting on the roof of Starbucks, contentedly cleaning herself and looking like she didn't have a care in the world.

" _Definitely feral," I muttered. "Tough little cat."_

" _I wonder what happened to the coyotes," said Jay, looking around, with more than a little worry._

" _There's so many rabbits around here now," I noted. "I'm sure they just went off and found an easier supper."_

" _Do you think they're dangerous?"_

" _Bunnies?" I shook my head. "Not so much."_

Jay punched me in the arm. "Very funny. You know I meant the coyotes."

" _How should I know?" I shrugged. "The world is different now. I mean, before, they were just these little wild dogs that raced away from you in the dark. Now—who knows."_

* * * *

As always, unattended vehicles littered both sides of Kanan Road. At one point we even passed a yellow school bus, its front end resting on the trunk of a small Camaro.

" _You just know that bus driver was going too fast," said Jay._

" _They always go too fast," I added. "It's why my mom never let me take the bus to middle school. We'd be driving along Agoura Road and these school buses would come barreling up behind us."_

" _Remember when Peyton Buckingham's mother tried to sue the school district for not putting seat belts in all the buses?"_

" _That was so random," I nodded. "I mean, has Peyton ever been on a school bus in her life? Have any of the Foxes? Peyton even drives her Porsche on all the field trips."_

" _Peyton's had that Porsche since before she turned sixteen."_

" _And before she got her license, remember that middle-aged muscle-guy who used to drive her every day to school in her dad's Maserati?"_

" _I think that was her bodyguard."_

" _You mean, that was_ _supposed_ _to be her bodyguard," I sniffed. "Like anyone would try and bother Peyton. She just wanted to appear important, so that she could try and get her stupid reality t.v. show."_

" _You're still mad about that Jacob-thing," Jay teased. "About how Peyton wanted him for her sex tape."_

" _Well, duh!"_

* * * *

We eventually turned off Kanan Road and headed down Pisces Street. From previous stalking-trips, Jay and I knew that Jacob's house was just a few blocks down, directly across from Sumac Park.

_As in our neighborhood, the houses were all silent—some with their front doors wide open_ (very freaky) _. Many of the lawns still had Halloween decorations, which meant that we were forced to pass by witches, oversized plastic rats, skeletal hands sticking out of gardens, and a variety of other monsters and bloody beasts._

" _You do realize that Peyton was probably just joking about making a sex tape with Jacob?" said Jay, kicking a stray candy wrapper off of the sidewalk._

" _Well, if she was making a joke," I said, even now still feeling a little angry, "it wasn't very funny. There are enough guys in her own grade to go after. Peyton needs to leave ours alone!"_

" _She just said that because of his eyes." This time Jay booted a large, plastic tarantula from the edge of the sidewalk out into the street. "I heard Peyton tell the other Foxes that the light blue of Jacob's eyes would pop on television—like Zac Efron's."_

" _He does have beautiful eyes," I admitted. "Jacob, I mean—not Zac Efron. Although Zac Efron does have beautiful eyes—just not as amazing as Jacob's."_

" _I don't think you have anything to worry about," said Jay. "Jacob's one of the nice guys. I mean, I don't think he'd date someone like Peyton. He'd never date any of the Foxes."_

" _I think Jacob likes those surfer-girl types," I sighed._

" _Well, you could always take up surfing," Jay suggested._

I sighed even harder. "Yeah, right. Except I'm absolutely terrified of swimming in the ocean."

" _Too bad, because you've definitely got the surfer-girl look going for you...blond hair, green eyes." Now, it was Jay's turn to sigh. She ran a hand through her pitch-black hair. "Me, I look like a "Slumdog Millionaire"-refugee."_

" _I think you're really pretty," I told her, truthfully. "You've got beautiful milk chocolate skin and you don't even have to put eyeliner on because your eyes have these natural dark lines around them. I've always been jealous of that."_

" _But everybody knows that you're American," she stressed. "With me, they don't know if I'm Mexican or from the Middle East or Indian. Remember the time that guy thought I was from Fiji?!"_

" _But think about it," I said. "If I lived in Pakistan, people there would be asking me if I was from Canada or the States or Denmark or Poland. It's just the way it is."_

" _You mean—it's just the way it_ _was_ _."_

* * * *

Sumac Park is smaller than our Chumash Park—little more than a couple of blocks of green space with a playground. Still, because of the quiet, suburban area that surrounds it, the park always appears to be nicely tended, with a running trail and bathroom facilities.

" _Look over there." Jay pointed to the end loop of the running trail, where a baby carriage sat on the grass—the bigger kind, where the baby sleeps flat on their back. "You don't think there could possibly be a baby in there, do you?"_

The thought was horrifying to me.

" _No." I quickly shook my head, hoping I was right. "A baby couldn't have been left behind. It couldn't...that would just be_ _so_ _wrong."_

We knew we had to look, though.

* * * *

The top of the baby carriage had been pulled down far enough that, as we got closer, we could see a small, lumpy shape under a pink, embroidered blanket.

" _Looks like a girl," Jay whispered, almost as if she was afraid to wake the 'maybe-baby'._

SCREE!!

Startled, we both jumped back at the loud, high-pitched noise. It seemed to be coming from the baby carriage.

" _Ohmigod, no!" I cried, racing forward._

SCREE!!

Reaching the baby carriage, I quickly yanked back the blanket.

_Except...there was_ _no_ _baby._

SCREE!!

* * * *

" _Up there," said Jay, pointing. "It's a raven."_

Indeed, when I looked up, there was an enormous black bird right over our heads—tucked up among the branches of a large eucalyptus tree.

Cluck-cluck-cluck...

It made this throaty clacking noise, as if admonishing us for Jay's and my stupidity in believing that a baby would actually have been left behind. Another raven flew down beside the first, adding its 'tsk-tsks' to the first one's admonishments.

" _Come on, let's get out of here." I started back across the grass. "Stupid birds!"_

* * * *

It was weird, standing in front of Jacob Riker's door.

_Jay and I had actually been by his house more than a few times_ (yes, I know California has stalking laws!) _, but never had we breached his actual doorstep. I'd even spent a few hours in Sumac Park last month—supposedly doing watercolor painting—in reality, keeping watch for my 'beloved'._

_One good thing about all my Jacob-stalking? I knew where the spare house key was hidden._ (Thank you, Jacob's younger brother, Rhys, who never remembers his keys!) _Leaning down, I pulled back a piece of baseboard, exposing one of those little hide-a-key boxes._

" _Jacob doesn't stand a chance around you," said Jay, admiringly._

" _I just like to keep track of him, that's all." I placed the key in the lock, prepared to turn it, then stopped—suddenly terrified. "What if someone is in there?"_

Immediately, Jay reached out and knocked on the door. "Hey, Jacob," she called out. "Loverboy!"

_I pushed at her, angrily. "Shhh!!...I thought_ _you_ _were the one who was afraid that someone bad would find us! Talk about giving away our position."_

Jay just snickered.

* * * *

The Riker house was one of those older single-storey homes you see all around Southern California. This one had four bedrooms—two on one side of a large living area, two on the other side. The kitchen and laundry area were just off the entryway, toward the right. On the left was a door, which we assumed led to the garage. At the back of the living area, meanwhile, was a set of glass doors that led to a backyard pool, surrounded by Washingtonian palm trees.

" _This isn't bad." Jay said, as she moved through the living room, looking at the art on the walls. There was actually a nice assortment of original oils_ (mostly landscapes) _and—from the signatures—we could see that Jacob's mother was the artist. "She does good work. I like this one of Zuma Beach."_

" _Maybe that's why he goes there so much," I suggested. "Maybe it's like a family place where they all go."_

" _Be serious," Jay scoffed. "Jacob goes there for the waves and the babes."_

I sighed. "Yeah, probably."

" _Don't worry," Jay said. "All boys mature eventually."_

" _Have you met my father?" I grimaced._

* * * *

There was one of those huge family portrait photos hanging over the fireplace. I went over and studied it. All five of the Riker family members had been photographed at the beach, wearing blue jeans and those white cable-knit sweaters that seem to always be popular around wintertime.

I could see where Jacob got his ice-blue eyes. His mother was obviously of Scandinavian stock, because she had long, white-blond hair and the most beautiful light-blue eyes under dark black eyelashes.

His dad was no slouch either. Like Jacob, he had brown hair and blue eyes—but regular blue eyes, not the icy-kind of the mother and son. There were also two younger brothers, Kieran and Rhys. Unlike Jacob, these siblings had the eyes of their father and the blond hair of their mother.

" _I hope they're okay," I said, wistfully, studying the photo. "They look like such a nice family."_

" _Very white bread," Jay nodded._

" _They look like they actually love each other, don't they?"_

" _Jacob always says nice things about his parents," Jay admitted. "He even seems to like his younger brothers. Maybe they really_ _are_ _a nice, normal family."_

" _Does that actually happen in California?"_

That made us both smile.

(The truth is that both Jay and I are immensely jealous of families like the Rikers. It's something that we both desperately want and know that we'll never get. Unfortunately, I have a father who gave up his pride, his family, and most of his fortune to buy a couple of boob-bags for his younger mistress. Meanwhile, Jay's family has promised her in marriage to a second cousin after she graduates from college.)

* * * *

The first thing I noticed about Jacob's bedroom was the 'scent'.

I'm not talking about that nasty 'locker-room-sweaty-armpit-stink' that so many guys our age emit, but what I can only refer to as a 'Jacob-smell'—a little musky, part sun and sand, part suntan lotion and Ivory soap.

His bedroom was actually quite large and surprisingly neat for a guy. The bed was set against the far wall, right underneath a large window that faced Sumac Park. Overhead was a surfboard, hanging from hooks. There was a bulletin board underneath the surfboard and, pinned to it, an assortment of photos and surfing ribbons.

Sitting down on Jacob's bed, I reached out to touch one of his ribbons—a blue and white rosette.

" _I didn't know that he surfs competitively," I said to Jay, who was standing in the doorway. "He never brags about it like most guys would."_

" _Guess you aren't as good a stalker as you think you are." Jay moved into the room and began pulling open drawers. "No camping equipment in here," she said, facetiously. "You think maybe we're searching in the wrong area? You think maybe we should try the garage?"_

" _Very funny, Jay."_

With an amused snort, she came and sat down beside me on Jacob's bed. "You want to know what's really funny, Kaylee?"

" _What?"_

" _Well, you're so 'Jacob-high' being in his bedroom right now, that you don't even see what's right in front of your face, do you?"_

" _What are you talking about?"_

Jay motioned toward the bulletin board above our heads. "See it?"

I looked closer, trying to figure out what had caught her attention.

My eyes started at the bottom of the bulletin board—two rows of surfing ribbons. Moving up the left side—photos of family skiing, boating, and just basically clowning around. Up across the top—a row of "Star Wars" playing cards. Down along the right side—photos from football games, more clowning around, this time with pals in the school hallways—and one long-distant shot of a blond girl painting in the park.

Huh?!!...

My stomach did a sudden loop-de-loop—that wonderful nervous-excited feeling you get—full of anticipation and hope.

Jay giggled. "Guess you really do suck at stalking, if you didn't even realize that your husband-to-be was stalking you back."

" _That's me!" I said, astonished. "Jacob Riker has a picture of_ _me_ _on his bulletin board!"_

" _Yes, he does."_

" _Why does he have a picture of me on his bulletin board?"_

She looked at me like I was an idiot. "Why do you have a picture of him on yours?"

" _Ohmigod!" I cried. "Do you think Jacob actually likes me?!"_

" _I think that's pretty obvious, don't you?"_

" _But he's never said anything to me. I mean, he doesn't even say hi to me in the hallways or anything."_

" _Which is kind of strange when you think of it," said Jay, "because he says hi even to me. That's who he is. Jacob says hi to everybody."_

My emotions were doing flip-flops.

I fell back on his bed—all dreamy. "Look," I pointed. "He can see my picture when he lies here. It's like the last thing he sees when he goes to sleep."

Jay immediately rose from the bed. "Okay, now you're just icking me out. I'm going to the garage to see what they have camping-wise."

" _If you don't mind, I'm going to stay here a little bit longer."_

" _I figured as much," Jay said, shaking her head in amusement._

* * * *

When I heard her steps disappear down the hallway, I sat up and took a closer look at the photographs Jacob had on his bulletin board.

_Sure enough, mine was the only one of a girl (who_ _wasn't_ _his mother)._

From the angle, it looked like the photo had been shot from his bedroom window with a telephoto lens. I wondered if this meant that he knew I had been in the park because of him.

_Did he take that picture because he liked me? Or did he take that picture because he was just taking_ _a_ _picture?_

But, no, it couldn't have been that, I decided. Because, why would he have the picture on his bulletin board? It wasn't that exceptional a photo—just a girl painting in the park. No, Jacob would have placed the picture on his bulletin board for a very specific reason.

And right then, I could come up with only one logical answer.

Jacob Riker actually liked me!

* * * *

I think I spent a good half-hour in Jacob's bedroom that day—lying on his bed, dreaming of alternate futures, or looking through his photo albums—pictures of family, friends, surfing, and football.

_And no matter how hard I looked_ (and I looked hard!) _, I found only one photo of a girl who didn't seem like a relative—_ _mine_ _._

To say that I was desperately, hopelessly, head-over-heels in love with Jacob Riker at that moment was an understatement. For that half-hour, in that bedroom, I became completely immersed in 'that-which-was-Jacob'.

I went through his things...everything connected to him. You could say that I was being nosy and, no doubt, I was.

But it was more than that for me—because I loved this boy.

_And these things,_ _his_ _things—they were all I had left of him, all I would probably ever have of him._

* * * *

When I finally left Jacob's room, I was at odds—feeling both sad and elated at the same time. I was elated to know that the boy I loved actually cared about me. But I was also incredibly sad that we would never be able to express those feelings to each other.

_Jacob Riker_ (and the future I had hoped we would share) _—ultimately—would exist only in my dreams._

* * * *

I found Jay sitting on a couch in the living room, reading a book on hiking in the Santa Monica Mountains. She held it up to show me. "I'm going to take this back with us. It's got a map of all the trails around here and you never know when we might need something like that."

I held up my own booty, grinning.

" _What is that?" she asked._

" _A couple of shirts and a photo of Jacob."_

" _Necessities," she teased. "Did you also leave him a note? Just in case."_

" _Maybe...yes."_

" _Did you tell him where we are?"_

" _Maybe." I pointed to the box at Jay's feet. "What's in there?"_

" _I went through the garage. They've got a lot of stuff for camping, just like we thought. I didn't find anything that we could use for a toilet, though. But they had some great freeze-dried food—granola, veggie chili, and even some of that astronaut ice cream. Not exactly Baskin-Robbins, but it is ice cream, right?"_

" _Any ice cream is good ice cream."_

" _My thoughts exactly." Jay rose from the couch and picked up her box of camping supplies. "Also, they've got a lot of bikes in the garage. I think we should grab a couple for the ride home."_

* * * *

Besides bicycles, the Rikers had air pumps and tire replacements and all sorts of other things that are apparently necessary for riding. We spent some time packing it all into a couple of backpacks that we found in the garage.

Then we started for home, ultimately passing by the Ralphs strip mall once again. The calico cat was gone from the Starbucks' roof, but the note we had left was still fluttering on the front door of the supermarket.

It made me nervous to see it.

As much as I wanted to know the identity of our condiments-survivor—one emotional event was all I could deal with that day.

Stupid me—I should have knocked on wood.

* * * *

On the way home, Jay decided that she wanted to ride down Driver Avenue and come up the back way through our townhouse complex. Even though we were pretty sure that there were no pets left inside the townhouses, Jay still wanted to make one last trip through the units we missed—just in case.

I was okay with that. Although, I didn't think we'd find any pets, I did think it would give us a chance to look for weapons. Now that we were pretty sure that there were other people still alive—well, at least one—it just made sense to arm ourselves with something a little more deadly than our cop-socks.

* * * *

_As we rode past Agoura High School, I must admit that I felt a flicker of anxiety. There is something about seeing your high school—dark and abandoned—that makes you feel_ (well, makes me feel) _'unsettled'._

I had always looked forward to my high school years—with thoughts of boyfriends, and school clubs, and cheerleading.

_Of course, the only club I ever joined was the school yearbook_ (guess we're not having one this year) _, I never made cheerleading_ (I'd like to say it was fixed but, the truth is, I'm clumsy and can't hold a beat) _, and the only boy I ever wanted to date disappeared from the world._

Needless to say, I'm not having the best sophomore year right now.

* * * *

There's a circular drop-off area just in front of the high school's main office. I stopped my bike there, looking toward the office's front door.

" _What is it?" asked Jay, stopping beside me._

" _I don't know. Guess I was kind of hoping that someone might have left a note like we did at Ralphs."_

" _You're thinking there might be someone else alive from our school? That they put a note on the main office door?"_

" _That's what we would've done, right?"_

Jay shrugged. "Maybe. But maybe they would have put it up near the entrance to the football field. Or maybe over by their locker. I mean, honestly...with the size of our high school, there's a gazillion places where they might have left a note."

" _Yeah, I guess."_

" _There's really only one way to make sure, you know. We'd have to go through the whole school."_

While I knew that Jay was right, I just didn't feel like going through my high school at that moment—too many memories and unfulfilled futures. Mostly, I just wanted to go home, lie down, and have a good think about the boy I loved.

_I was about to say as much when I heard a faint_ _barking_ _._

It wasn't coming from the high school, but from directly across the street and up a slight slope—where part of our townhouse complex could be seen through the trees, lining the top of the nearby hill.

" _Do you hear that?" I asked. "Coming from the townhouses? And it doesn't sound like a coyote. It sounds like a dog—a small dog."_

" _I knew it!" cried Jay. "I knew we should have checked all the townhouses. Come on!" And she took off, pedaling hard._

I waited a moment before following her—turning my head this way and that—trying to focus in on the barking. It appeared to be coming from a two-level unit in a straight line directly across from me and up the hill.

* * * *

I caught up with Jay just as she turned onto Conejo View Drive.

" _Remember what they said in health class?" Jay yelled at me, as she pumped steadily up the small hill that curved into our townhouse complex. "You can survive in three's—three minutes without oxygen...three days without water...three weeks without food. Which means that, as long as a dog has water, it can still be alive."_

" _It's obviously still alive or we wouldn't be hearing it barking," I yelled back._

" _Yeah, but if there is one animal alive, then there might be others. We're definitely going to have to go through all the townhouses we missed!"_

Oh joy...

_See, that's the problem with having a conscience_ (like I mentioned before) _._

It just doesn't leave you alone.

While someone more selfish and self-absorbed would just think—poor dog—and leave it at that, people like Jay and me are compelled to try and rescue every stray we come across.

Frankly...it's tiring.

* * * *

By the time we reached the top of the hill, both Jay and I were covered in sweat and breathing heavily. We biked slower now, threading our way along a path that snaked around the back of the townhouses. Through the bushes there, we could just see down the hill and across Driver Avenue to the front door of the high school.

" _It looks like we're in the right place," Jay said, looking down. "That was where we were standing when you heard the barking."_

" _I think it came from over there." I pointed to the two-level I had seen from across the street._

The townhouse, of course, looked like all the others around it.

By Home Owners Association rules, alterations to the exterior of the buildings are forbidden. That said—as with all us owners and renters—there are little things that we all do to express our individualism.

_In the case of this particular townhouse, the occupants had installed flower boxes over the patio walls; coral-colored geraniums bloomed within, their blossoms cascading over the edges. On the patio, meanwhile, two large hooks held children's bicycles. And in the far corner, was a green, bouncy-ball_ (one of those big ones with handles—you sit on it and bounce up and down—love them!) _._

" _They have children," said Jay, quietly._

" _At least two," I agreed._

Suddenly, there was movement at one of the windows—a slight darkening through the slats of the blinds—as if something very small had passed by inside.

If anything, Jay became even more excited. "That has to be it...that has to be the dog!"

" _It looks like it's just a little thing," I said._

Laying her bike and backpack down on the path, Jay ran to the front door of the townhouse and jiggled the door handle.

" _It's locked," she groaned._

" _Check the usual spots," I suggested. "See if there's a hidden key anywhere."_

We both started looking—under the doormat and inside the window boxes. Finding nothing, I pulled on the patio doors and Jay tried pushing open windows.

" _Ohmigod!" Jay suddenly screeched._

I raced over quickly, to find Jay with her forehead scrunched up against a window. She was peering inside of the townhouse, into the kitchen.

" _What are you seeing?" I asked._

Jay turned to me, grinning.

" _It's a pug!"_

### SOMETHING ABOUT CHERRY

Jay had fallen in love with pugs from the first moment Cherry Winslette had walked onto the Agoura High campus with one of the little dogs tucked inside her voluminous faux-leather fringed purse. When stopped and questioned by— _of all people_ —Traynesha Davis _(of the Foxes)_ , Cherry had freely admitted that she had stolen the little dog. She said that she was going to sell it for $200.00, so that she could buy some meth.

Needless to say, even Tray _(who was definitely not the most ethical person)_ was horrified. Teachers, the Lost Hills Sheriffs, and— _finally_ —Cherry's parents were called in to deal with the situation.

And while Cherry was facing down a bunch of very angry adults in the Principal's office, it had been Jay _(as an Administrative volunteer)_ who had happily sat outside—cuddling the little mush-faced mutt, who simply couldn't stop giving my friend sloppy pug-kisses.

From that moment on, Jay was in love with pugs.

(Unfortunately, for her, Mr. Sitipala was not!)

* * * *

To understand Cherry Winslette, you first need to understand the relationship between Agoura High and the 'Continuation School'. While many communities had more than one high school, few shared the same campus and, often, the same classrooms.

That was the situation between Agoura High and the Continuation School.

While Agoura served the mostly affluent teens of the local area, the Continuation School brought in a variety of troubled and learning-challenged kids from the surrounding communities. These kids weren't your usual batch of stoners and emos, however. Often the teens came from some of the most well-off and influential families in Southern California.

The most famous _(or infamous)_ of these were the 'Bling Ring'—a group of kids who were subsequently immortalized in the Sophia Coppola movie _(also called "The Bling Ring")_. They got their kicks by breaking into famous people's homes and stealing their clothes and shoes and stuff. Later, the gang would either wear their newly-stolen brand-name duds to school or simply sell them.

While Cherry Winslette wasn't old enough to be a member of the Bling Ring, she was definitely troubled, mouthy and— _frankly_ —kind of weird. She was in the 11th Grade and it was rumored that she had an IQ that scraped the top of the 160's. Her marks didn't reflect her supposed smarts, however. She was usually barely making a C, rarely a B—and that was only when she actually deigned to turn up for school.

* * * *

Most kids said that they didn't like Cherry because she was so different and annoyingly counter-culture. Personally, I think that the truth was far different.

I think that the popular boys were annoyed with Cherry because she didn't give them the attention they thought they deserved. And the popular girls—well, for people like the Foxes—being enrolled in the Continuation School, Cherry was slightly to one side of the Foxes' territory.

The other thing, Cherry— _simply put_ —was impossible to control... _period_.

* * * *

I actually thought that Cherry was quite pretty—although it was sometimes difficult to tell under all the make-up she wore. She always looked pale _(make-up, not natural)_ , and she had thin, plucked eyebrows and large, Angelina Jolie-lips that she painted an almost opaque white.

In her nose, Cherry wore a tiny gold hoop—not the kind that looped through one nostril. No, that would have been too conservative for Cherry. Instead, she wore her loop right through her columella _(which is that tiny piece of skin at the bottom between the nostrils—and, yes, I found that out by Googling it)_.

Brandon Kerestky, the big dumb football jock _(the one who was dating Traynesha)_ , used to call the hoop 'Cherry's bull-sh*t ring'. He meant that her hoop reminded him of the nose rings that ranchers used to control bulls.

I expect that Brandon thought he was being especially witty by actually making a pun. Jay and I _(and most everyone else with half a brain in our school)_ thought he was just being his usual douche-baggy self—making mean-spirited jokes at another person's expense.

But what could you expect from someone dating a Fox?

* * * *

The other thing that seemed to bother people about Cherry was her hair. It just couldn't stay one color. One month it would be white-blond, the next a peacock blue, the next pitch-black.

Jay told me once that some of the Agoura High teachers were upset about Cherry's hair, because they thought it was distracting to the other students. However, nothing could be done about it because, let's face it— _Cherry might have walked the Agoura High campus_ —but she didn't go there.

Cherry Winslette went to the Continuation School and— _at that school_ —your hair could be blue, green, or purple or a combination of all three. It simply didn't matter as long as you did your work and managed to pass your grades. And even though she wasn't getting the marks her high IQ deserved, Cherry still managed to _just_ squeak by on all her courses.

The final thing you need to know about Cherry Winslette was that she might have been weird and somewhat solitary, but she still had two very good friends. And together—if ever there was a group of girls that were the _anti-Foxes_ —these Continuation girls were it.

They were:

Wandy Marken:

The sad thing about Wandy was that, even though she had gone to the Continuation School _(and been on the Agoura High campus)_ for almost three years, most students probably didn't even know that she existed.

Like all schools had a Jude-the-Rude, catty girls like the Foxes, and even all-American soccer girls like me, they also all seemed to have quiet, unassuming girls like Wandy—drab and washed-out, condemned to be, not so much 'unpopular' but, even worse...'non-existent'...by high school standards.

It wasn't that Wandy was ugly or boring. It was just that she was so incredibly quiet that no one really took much notice of her. Wandy was that girl who kept to the side of the walkways—skulking toward class, head down, arms full of books. Her shoulder-length dirty-blond hair would inevitably be hanging down in front of her face and—while she wasn't exactly fat—she was still carrying a sizeable roll around her middle.

Now, perhaps— _in the rest of the United States_ —being a chubby teenage girl didn't mean all that much. But when you were going to school right next to Hollywood, where some of your classmates were the children of producers and directors and, in some cases, movies stars—then as horrible as it was to say— _chubby girls simply didn't exist_. They were there, if anything, to be ignored and to make you feel better about your own shortcomings.

Except for Cherry.

Her friendship with Wandy was _absolute_ and she never ignored her.

Perhaps Cherry saw something in the quiet girl that the rest of us didn't. When plodding Wandy would make her way across campus, Cherry's nose-ringed face would burst into a magnificent smile and she would rush over, pulling Wandy in for a bone-crushing hug.

Truthfully, I didn't understand their friendship— _the shy girl and the wild child_.

Nobody I knew did.

But what we did know, was that Wandy was under Cherry's _protection_. Anyone from Agoura High went after Wandy, they were—in effect—going after Cherry.

And not even the Foxes were willing to go there.

So Wandy was left alone.

Sophia Rojas:

With black hair and dark, brown eyes, Sophia Rojas was an extremely pretty and friendly girl. She was unique among the Continuation School girls, because she could easily have fit in with the Agoura High students. I knew of any number of guys who had crushes on her.

Sophia was just one of those girls who was always so full of life. When she walked by you, your eyes automatically followed her, taking in her happiness and positive energy.

It was an open secret in our school that both Sophia and her mother were illegal immigrants. They came from one of the southern states of Mexico, so English was her second language.

One time, Jay and I overheard Sophia talking to Cherry and Wandy about how her mother and she had snuck across the Texas border when she was 14-years old. They had hired coyotes to take them all the way into El Paso. But the men were rough and dishonest and had abandoned them _(and fifteen other men, women, and children)_ just across the border.

Sophia said that their group had walked for two days through the desert, the older members of the group carrying the smaller kids. At one place they had come across plastic jugs of water that had been left out by missionaries.

It had been that simple kindness that had ultimately saved their group. Without that water, all of them— _Sophia included_ —would probably have perished in those hot and desolate hills.

* * * *

I think that one of the reasons Cherry and Sophia were such good friends was that they had each other's backs— _academically_. Both Jay and I had seen Cherry and Sophia on numerous occasions, sitting under the trees in Chumash Park, working together on each other's homework.

While Sophia would do Cherry's math, Cherry would be writing Sophia's essays. Even though it was essentially cheating— _in a way_ —Jay and I always admired their loyalty to each other.

* * * *

No matter what anyone else thought, both Jay and I totally enjoyed having Cherry and her friends on campus— _if only because it drove the Foxes crazy_.

There were times when Orla, Peyton, and Tray would be eating lunch out in the football stands. They'd be watching Brandon and his buddies doing what big, doofus jocks do at football practice. At the same time, the Foxes would be making nasty comments about the younger grades as they walked by.

But then Cherry and her anti-Foxes would show up.

And— _just because she could_ —Cherry would station her little gang a couple of rows behind the Foxes. It never failed to completely irritate Orla—especially the time that Cherry sat down with a head of newly-dyed red hair that, _amazingly_ , exactly matched Orla's hair color.

I'm not really certain why Cherry had it in for the Foxes.

Whatever the reason, however, it was a source of continued amusement for Jay and me.

### JOURNAL ENTRY #8

It took us three good whacks of Jay's cop-sock before we finally cracked open the small window in the center of the townhouse's door. Immediately, the sound of a yipping pug erupted from the back of the unit.

Using my own cop-sock to wipe away the remaining glass, I reached through the hole and unlocked the door.

" _Be careful," Jay said. "Don't let the dog get out until we've got a leash on it."_

" _It's a pug," I said. "They're not the quickest dogs. I'm pretty sure we could catch it."_

Jay frowned. "No pug-shaming, please. I find that offensive."

* * * *

Considering that there had been young children in the townhouse—it was extremely neat and tidy. The living area consisted of a tiny couch, a reclining chair, and a coffee table with a 'Kittens Playing Poker' puzzle that was only six pieces away from being completed.

" _Oh, how sweet," I said, picking up a framed photo from a side table. "Look at the little kids. I think they're twins."_

_The picture_ (like at the Riker's) _was a professional family photo of a redheaded mom of about thirty and two little strawberry-blond children—a boy and a girl around seven or eight years of age. The family had been posed on a staircase, mom sitting on one stair, boy and girl sitting on the stairs below._

In the little girl's arms was a pug dog who was wearing, ironically, what appeared to be a Superpup cape.

" _Only a mom in the photo," Jay said, looking over my shoulder. "Probably another single-parent family. Have you ever noticed how many single-moms there are in our complex?"_

" _When we lived with my dad, I remember him saying once that, when a husband and wife divorce in Southern California, it's the man who stays in the mansion at the beach and the woman who goes and lives in the townhouse in the Valley."_

" _That's sad."_

" _That's what happened to my mom," I shrugged. "I'll bet that's what happened to a lot of the single-moms in this complex."_

I put the photo back down. "Shall we go find our new dog?"

" _Ohmigod! I'm finally getting a pug!" Jay was practically vibrating with excitement._

_All her life, my best friend has wanted an animal. Unfortunately, in her culture_ (and her family) _, it's considered unclean to have a dog living inside a house._

Mrs. Sitipala actually has no objections to having a pet. The family, however, is led by the father.

_His word is law—and Mr. Sitipala_ _does_ _have objections._

* * * *

We had thought that the pug would be in the kitchen area. When we turned the corner, however, the room was empty.

" _It must have run upstairs when we came in," said Jay. "Poor thing's probably scared after all this time alone."_

The kitchen was basically a small counter that looked out over the living room area. Two stools were on the far side, both pulled out. On the counter in front of the stools were two Mickey Mouse plastic bowls. One was empty—the other was half-full of soggy cereal and curdled milk.

" _I guess they were having breakfast when it happened," said Jay._

" _There's the leash." I reached out and grabbed a blue lead from a hook beside the fridge, handing it over to Jay. "You should do the honors."_

" _Do you think it might be dangerous?" asked Jay, starting to look a little nervous._

" _It's a pug," I said. "It's got a mouth the size of your thumbnail. What's it going to do—nibble you to death?"_

We started up the carpeted staircase to the second floor.

All along the wall, there were photographs—primarily of the two kids—from birth through toddler-hood through kindergarten to 1st grade. They looked so happy in the photos, so loved; it was obvious their mother doted on them.

* * * *

The upper floor of the townhouse—like all the two-levels in our complex—consisted of a large bedroom that faced the front and a smaller bedroom that faced the back.

_At the top of the staircase, meanwhile, was the bathroom. The door was open and we could see inside—_ _empty_ _._

" _He's got to be in one of the bedrooms," I said. "You want to make a guess as to which one?"_

" _Let's try the big one first," suggested Jay. "But close the back bedroom door, just in case he slips by us and heads downstairs."_

* * * *

Definitely a single-mom.

_The walls of her bedroom were covered with the school-art of her two children—splashes of wild watercolors, chalk drawings of stick figure families_ (always two kids and a mom) _, tiny ink handprints, and childish poems of love and devotion. The bed was a Bombay Company four-poster, with a gauzy canopy suspended from a hook in the ceiling; its duvet was all pink and coral, reminiscent of the geraniums in the window boxes outside._

At the side of the bed was a small night table. It held a single photo in a silver frame.

" _Twins. No doubt." I picked up the photo and showed it to Jay. "This must have been taken just after she had given birth."_

It was a hospital photo—the redheaded woman, covered in sweat, her hair plastered to her forehead. But her face was one of joy and utter elation, her smile positively radiant, because—in each of her arms—she held one tiny, perfect baby.

" _I wonder if the dad took the photo," said Jay._

_Before I could answer, we heard a noise from the other bedroom. It wasn't much, just a swish of fabric and the tick-tick of toenails, as if someone_ (or something) _had just squirmed under a bed._

" _Guess we know where the pug is," I grinned._

* * * *

" _We should open the door slowly," Jay whispered. "Let's not scare him."_

" _If he's hiding under the bed, it's a good bet he's probably already scared." I put my hand on the smaller bedroom's doorknob. "Ready?"_

Jay nodded.

" _Here we are, puppy!" I opened the door slowly and Jay and I entered._

* * * *

It was obviously the children's room—two single beds, one on each side.

The left bed had a "Little Mermaid" duvet cover and the right had "Star Wars". On the floor and along the walls were countless toys, books, and stuffed animals. There were 'name-paintings' above each bed—with little dolphins squirming their torpedo bodies into alphabet-shapes.

The girl's painting read 'Lily'—the boy's was 'Ethan'.

While the rest of the house had been spotless, this room was not just messy—it was downright filthy. There were empty food containers everywhere—potato chip bags, cookie crumbs, Halloween candy wrappings from dozens of different mini-chocolate bars.

In one corner, a plastic bowl held a small amount of dried dog food. Another bowl nearby was half-full of dirty water.

" _Okay," I said, surprised. "This is not exactly what I expected."_

" _Well, at least we know how the pug survived," Jay said. "It's been living on all this junk food."_

" _But this doesn't make any sense."_

" _What doesn't?"_

" _All this mess and junk food and everything. You saw the pictures, the way the rest of the house is. I just can't believe that the mom we saw in those photos would let her kids live like this."_

" _You never know what goes on behind closed doors," said Jay. "You know that."_

" _But it's just...wrong."_

_A_ _snuffle_ _came from under the girl's bed._

Jay immediately dropped to her hands and knees, lifted up the "Little Mermaid" flounce, and looked under the bed. "There you are, baby," she cooed.

The dog came out easily—toddling straight into Jay's outstretched arms. Like most pugs, it was a squishy thing—all round, wrinkled body with short, stumpy legs and a dark, mushed-up face.

It immediately started licking Jay's chin.

" _He's so sweet," she giggled. "Poor baby, it must have been so scary for him here all alone."_

" _I guess you were right about looking through all the townhouses. We probably_ _should_ _check the rest to make sure no pets are left inside."_

" _Let's take him home first," Jay suggested. "Get him some real food and fresh water. We can come back later and finish looking through the townhouses we missed."_

Then—just as we turned to leave—I made the mistake of making a really dumb joke. "Well, if we ever run out of food," I chuckled, "I guess we can always eat the dog."

The look Jay gave me was poisonous.

_I opened my mouth to burst into laughter but—_ _suddenly_ _—pain shot through the back of my head._

My knees collapsed under me.

I felt myself falling to the ground and everything...

... _went BLACK!!_

* * * *

When I finally woke up—we were still in the kids' bedroom.

My head was pounding and stars circled at the edge of my vision.

I was lying on the little boy's bed and Jay was holding a wet cloth to my forehead. It was getting dark outside and there was a lit candle on a nearby desk, so I must have been there for a while.

" _What happened?" I asked, confused. "It feels like something hit the back of my head."_

" _Something did," said Jay. She motioned toward the bed on the other side of the room. "Meet Lily and Pugly."_

I turned my head to see the strawberry-blond girl from the photos. She was sitting on the "Little Mermaid" bed, the pudgy little pug held protectively in her arms.

_Lily_ _looked absolutely traumatized—her eyes wide, her face dirty, her hair matted and sticking up all over the place._

" _Ohmigod!" I whispered, astonished._

Beside me, Jay was positively beaming. "I know, right!"

### LILY OF THE VALLEY

It took a long time to get the full story out of our new 'little sister'.

That sweet child did not speak a word to us for days. I wasn't kidding when I had written that the girl looked traumatized.

* * * *

Lily Whitmore had lived with her 7-year old twin brother, Ethan, and her mother, Sally, in their two-storey townhouse since the day she was born. For a while, her father—who was a long-haul truck driver—had lived with them. He left, however, when the kids were 2-years old _(to subsequently marry a young waitress he had met at a truck stop)_. Lily and Ethan had seen him only a handful of times since.

To make ends meet, Lily's mother worked as a hairdresser in Sherman Oaks during the day. At night, when the children were in bed, she did medical transcription.

Both children were in 2nd Grade at Sumac Elementary _(Jacob's alma mater!)_. They were good students, who loved going to school.

On the weekends, the kids and their mom spent a lot of their spare time at the townhouse complex's pool or hiking in the local mountains. Overall, it appeared to be a good, simple life for the single mother and her children.

* * * *

As with so many twins— _Lily and Ethan were exceedingly close_.

Ethan was the more outgoing of the two; Lily a bit shy. They had a secret language that they used with each other—something they had spoken from the moment they began to talk.

If they were separated, even for a moment, the other became anxious, despondent. And again—like other twins—they seemed to sense each other's emotions and feelings. Being together made them feel whole.

As the saying from that old film went— _they completed each other_.

* * * *

On the day of the _event_ , Lily and Ethan had woken up early and settled down in front of the television for a marathon session of _"Star Wars: Clone Wars"_ cartoons. Apparently, they were into their third half-hour, when their mother finally came downstairs and forced them onto the kitchen stools to eat some cereal.

According to Lily— _with Pugly asleep in her lap_ —she was eating a bowl of 'Lucky Charms'. Ethan was seated beside her, crunching away at his own bowl of cereal. Their mother, meanwhile, was moving around in the kitchen, brewing a cup of coffee.

Like any other morning—Lily lifted her cereal bowl to her lips to slurp back the last drops of milk. As she lowered her bowl, however, Lily said it felt like something was suddenly _ripped_ _away_ from her.

And before that cereal bowl touched the counter, Lily knew instinctively that her brother was _gone_.

A moment later, she realized that her mother had been _taken_ , too.

* * * *

At first, Lily had the half-hearted hope that her mother and brother were playing a trick on her. So, she searched through the townhouse, going through all the regular hidey-holes, calling again and again for them to come out. When no one appeared and Lily gradually realized that she was truly alone, she went upstairs to her bedroom and laid down on her bed with Pugly.

There, she began to cry.

* * * *

It wasn't until late in the afternoon that Lily finally ventured outside of the townhouse. Afraid to also lose the only friend she had, Lily carried Pugly in her arms as she walked the paths around her home, calling out for 'help'.

No one, of course, answered.

Lily, finally understanding that she was indeed alone, returned home—tired and scared.

Not really knowing what else to do, the little girl hid out in her bedroom with Pugly. She went downstairs for food and water. Other than that, she mostly stayed hidden in her room. Only at night— _when it was dark_ —would she creep down the stairs with Pugly, so that they could go out onto the patio to do their 'business'.

* * * *

By the time we showed up, Lily had become so traumatized that—instead of letting us know she was there—the little girl had hidden in her closet. When Jay and I finally entered her bedroom and found Pugly— _in Lily's fractured mind_ —we were the monsters of her nightmares come true. And when I made my stupid joke, it had simply confirmed to her that we were about to steal her dog and eat him for dinner.

In heroic form, the little girl had picked up the first thing she could use to protect Pugly— _a Roomba_. She sprang out of the closet, leapt up onto her bed—and clocked me on the back of my head with the little vacuum.

### JOURNAL ENTRY #9

We are not alone!

There's a little girl with us now.

Her name is Lily—and Jay and I think she's about seven.

And she has a dog named 'Pugly'.

Pugly the pug!

* * * *

We were a little worried that Lily wouldn't come with us back to the townhouse but—as soon as I made the suggestion—she rose silently off of her bed. She didn't say a single word—just carried Pugly downstairs.

Jay and I exchanged a glance.

" _You think she's going to be okay?" I asked._

" _I don't know," whispered Jay. "She hasn't said anything. I keep asking her questions, but she doesn't speak. She just stares at me with those big, blue eyes."_

" _She's frightened."_

" _Well, that makes two of us," said Jay._

" _Count me in as well," I added. "Three—scared out of my wits."_

" _You know what really frightens me, though?" said Jay._

" _What?"_

" _I don't think Lily has left her townhouse since this thing happened."_

" _So?"_

" _So, then who_ _was_ _that in the condiments aisle at Ralphs?"_

* * * *

By the time we reached the bottom of the stairs, Lily was already standing at the front door. She was looking straight ahead—waiting—still holding Pugly in her arms.

(In case you're wondering, the reason we know the dog's name is because it's embroidered on his collar.)

I went up to the young girl and knelt down, bringing myself eye-to-eye with her. Lily didn't look at me, though—she looked through me. "Is there anything you want to take with you, Lily?"

There was no response.

Jay came up beside us. "I got her this." She was holding a photo in her hand—Lily, Ethan, and their mother. "We can always come back tomorrow when it's light. Get anything else she might want."

" _That's a great idea," I said. "Look, Lily...Jay is bringing a picture of your family."_

Still, no response.

" _Okay, then." I peered through the broken window of the front door._

It was dark outside.

The moon was full, however, which meant that we could at least see as far as the path out front and the trees opposite.

(I used to like the night. Now, it's become a world of menacing shadows and unnatural shapes...very scary.)

I turned back to Jay. "You sure you don't want to just stay here? We can go home in the morning when it's daytime."

_Jay shook her head. "I'll feel safer in the_ _room_ _. Won't you?"_

" _Yeah, probably," I agreed. "It's just getting there that I'm not feeling too safe about."_

* * * *

_If we had moved fast—or taken the bikes_ (which we left back at Lily's) _—we probably could have made it back to the Sitipalas' in about five minutes. As it was, it took us almost a half hour._

Remember how I mentioned that Jay and I have this incredibly inconvenient 'conscience-thing' going on between us? Well, this time our consciences wouldn't allow us to leave another 'possible' traumatized child behind for even one more night. So, every single townhouse we had missed in our previous visits had to be searched.

We didn't go inside, though. That was too much for even our consciences to accomplish in the dark. Instead, we took our cop-socks and banged loudly on the doors and windows.

Then we listened—for a bark, a meow, a 'please help'.

_It wasn't much, but it was enough that Jay and I_ (and our consciences) _would be able to sleep later that night._

When it was daytime, we planned to go back and actually enter all the townhouses—just to make sure they were really empty.

As it was, we got no responses that night.

* * * *

When we finally reached the Sitipala townhouse, Jay and I stood just outside the front door, looking at the neighborhood that surrounded us. Lily, meanwhile, was beside us, cradling her sleeping dog in her arms.

" _There are_ _soo_ _many homes around here!" Jay sighed. "Now I feel like we have to search through all of them."_

To the right of the townhouse—on the opposite side of the culvert—we could just barely see another large, gated townhouse community, hidden between the trees. Across the street from us were more townhouses; these ones were actually part of our own neighborhood. Meanwhile, on the other side of Chumash Park, was a whole section of single-family homes. And over on the hills by Kanan Road—dozens and dozens and dozens of houses.

I shook my head. "We'll do what we can here in our own complex. But that's all we can reasonably do. We simply can't search every house we come across. We just can't."

Suddenly, I noticed that Lily's head was turned upwards. I followed her gaze, looking up into the sky.

" _Wow!" I gasped._

Jay looked up, also, her mouth dropping open in wonder. "Can you believe the amount of stars we can see now? It's like so amazing!"

Above us, the sky was literally blanketed with blinking fairy lights. As far as we could see, stars shone and pulsed and twinkled.

" _See, Lily," Jay pointed. "Those stars there—that's Orion. You're supposed to think of a hunter when you look at them. And those three stars in the middle, that's supposed to be his belt."_

Lily said nothing—but she did seem to be listening. Her eyes followed Jay's finger as my friend pointed out the different constellations.

" _And all the way over here...this is Cassiopeia. She's easy to find because she kind of looks like a big 'W' in the sky. And look over there, Lily. You see that one really bright star there—the one that's not blinking?"_

Jay looked down at Lily. The young girl looked back—ever quiet.

" _Well," Jay continued, "the reason it's not blinking is that it's_ _not_ _a star. It's a planet—Venus. In fact, that's how you can tell it's a planet. It doesn't blink. If it blinks, that's because it's far away from Earth and it's creating its own light source. If it doesn't blink, that's because it's closer to Earth and it's reflecting light—and that's what planets do."_

" _Jay," I grinned, impressed, "sometimes the things you know..."_

"... _are the same things you'd know, if you actually listened in class." She shook her finger at me. "Seriously, how many times have we had this conversation?"_

I opened my mouth to say something snide but...

BARK! Yip, yip, yip, yip...

We immediately froze.

The sounds had come from directly across the street—from the rock hill that was part of Chumash Park. It was too dark to see into the shadows, but both Jay and I knew what those feral barks meant.

There were coyotes in the rocks!

Apparently, Pugly knew it, too, because he woke right up and started squirming and whining in Lily's arms.

" _Don't let him go!" I warned the younger girl. "Jay, get your front door open!"_

Jay immediately pulled out her key and inserted it in the lock.

Yip, yip, yip...

The barks were definitely getting closer. Dark shadows in the rocks across the street began to take shape—four-legged creatures on the move.

" _Hurry, Jay!"_

" _Dang it!"_

(Why is it that—when you're in a hurry—you always turn the key in the wrong direction?)

" _Jay, you've got to move quicker!"_

" _Give me a sec," Jay said. "Oh, dang it again!"_

I sensed movement to my right. Turning, I saw a dark shape separate itself from the others and lope across the road toward us.

" _They're coming, Jay! They want the dog...hurry!"_

Beside me, Lily began to cry—breathy sobs of terror. I pushed her behind me—so that she was beside Jay—and turned back to face the advancing coyotes. Raising up my cop-sock, I turned it horizontal to the ground, like I'd seen police officers do on television when they were being confronted by violent dogs.

I wish I could lie to you and say that I wasn't scared.

The truth was that I was terrified.

_Even though coyotes aren't supposed to be dangerous to humans—let's face it—it's the end of the world and the rules have changed. Also, part of me—and I'm embarrassed to admit this—wondered if the advancing shadows might actually turn out to be_ _werewolves_ _._

Grrrr....rrrr...

Now there was movement to the left—a dark shadow that sprinted forward, threading itself between the trees that edged along the culvert on our right.

" _They're trying to surround us!" I whispered, urgently. "You've got to move, Jay!"_

Grrrr....rrrr...

This time, the growling came from directly in front of me. Three shadows were emerging from the dark—slinking out between the rocks, padding across the street towards us.

" _Jay...seriously, we need you to hurry!!"_

The lock finally clicked and Jay flung the door open. Immediately, I turned and pushed Jay and Lily inside. I followed, slamming and locking the door behind me.

_Arroooouuu_ _!_

There was a flurry of paws outside, slapping the ground—turning this way and that. Then, just as quickly, the steps bounded off, disappearing into the night.

" _I think they're gone," I whispered._

" _Do you really think they were after Pugly?" asked Jay._

Lily had stopped crying now. She was peering at me through moist eyes, very interested in my answer.

" _Makes sense, right," I shrugged._

What I wasn't going to say in front of the little girl, however, was what I really thought; since Jay and I were too big to take down, those wild dogs could have been going after Pugly.

But they also could have been going after Lily.

* * * *

It might have been safe in the attic room that night—but it was also cramped!

_From being all alone in the world—suddenly—Jay and I were now responsible for a 7-year old girl_ _and_ _a Pugly._

_Just those two more bodies in that tiny room brought the temperature up to 'sweaty'. Also_ (and no disrespect to pugs and their owners) _, those little dogs can fart!_

Still—sweat, heat, and butt-perfume aside—Jay and I were ecstatic about both of our new family members!

We brought up some more pillows from Jay's bedroom for Lily. The little girl was sleeping on them—scrunched into a fetal position, jammed up against the back wall. Pugly, meanwhile, was smooshed up, under Lily's chin.

" _She needs a bath," said Jay, wrinkling her nose. "They both need a bath."_

" _She looks like that little girl in that movie, "Aliens"," I said, quietly, trying not to disturb Lily. "The one who was living on her own after the monsters killed everyone on her planet."_

" _Newt," Jay nodded. "I loved that character. She was tough."_

" _I think Lily's pretty tough herself."_

" _She must have been so scared," Jay whispered._

" _That was smart of her, though," I said. "Keeping hidden until she knew it was safe. Coming down only at night to go to the bathroom."_

" _You know," said Jay, "as scared as we've been through it all, at least we're teenagers. Plus, we had each other. Can you imagine what it must have been like—being just a little kid eating breakfast—and then suddenly your whole family has disappeared?"_

" _Except for Pugly."_

" _I've been thinking about that."_

" _Thinking about what?"_

" _Well—except for the horses, Pugly's the only real pet that we've come across."_

" _That's true," I agreed. "Even when we were knocking on doors and windows tonight, we didn't hear a single one."_

" _Well, what I was thinking—what if Pugly is here because Lily is here? What if the only inside pets that survived the event are the ones who lived with the people who survived—like Lily?"_

" _So if we had pets—then they would be alive, too."_

Jay shrugged. "It's only a theory."

" _It's a good theory, though. And it's not like we've got any others."_

" _And if I'm right—then that will make going through the townhouses tomorrow a whole lot easier. I don't know about you, but I was getting real worried about how we would feed a bunch of cats and dogs."_

" _Not to mention fishes or bunnies."_

_Lily moved slightly in her sleep, her thumb out, searching for her mouth. A disturbed Pugly, of course, merely_ _farted_ _._

" _Sheesh!" Jay held her nose with one hand, waving the air with the other._

" _Let's just hope that it's all the junk food he's probably been eating and not the way he usually smells," I said. "And I know you don't want to, but we should probably go to Ralphs. Pick up some stuff. We'll need dog food, bowls...puppy treats."_

Jay's shoulders slumped. She did not look happy. "Couldn't we just look for what we need in the townhouses?"

" _We could do that...but I still think we need to go to the store," I said. "Lily's a little girl. She needs milk, vitamins, stuff like that."_

" _The milk in Ralphs will have gone bad by now," Jay whined._

" _Agreed," I said. "But we can get some of that soy or almond milk. That's in those cartons that don't have to be refrigerated. They can probably be kept for years."_

If anything, Jay's shoulders slunk even lower. "Maybe we can find some in one of the townhouses around here," she suggested.

" _Maybe...but we still should go back to Ralphs and check if anyone has seen our note. Now that we know for sure that other people have survived, you know we have to do it. In fact, we're going to have to go back and check at the Sheriff's Station, too."_

Jay sighed. "I just was kind of hoping for a little break, you know—where I wouldn't have to be so scared all the time."

" _I know...but we can't stay in this room forever. Especially now that we have a little girl to look after."_

That made Jay smile. She turned to me, giggling. "Does this mean we're parents?"

I started to giggle, too. "Mom says that I'd make the worst parent ever because I'm so disorganized and forgetful. She says that I'd probably take the kid to the mall and then forget it in Pottery Barn."

" _The only thing my dad thinks I'm good for_ _is_ _being a parent," said Jay. "Well, rather that's what he thinks all girls are only good for...oh, and for cooking dinner and cleaning up after him and my brothers, of course."_

" _What does your mom think?"_

Jay went quiet, as a sadness came over her. "You know my mom was a pediatrician back in Pakistan before she met my dad. Every girl in her family was educated. I still don't understand why she gave everything up for my father."

" _I think you're looking at it all wrong," I said, gently. "I think your mom didn't give her career up for your father. She gave her career up for you and your brothers. Because that's what moms do."_

Jay nodded. "That's what moms do."

We both looked down at our thumb-sucking Lily.

Jay was the first one to speak. "I'm glad we're not parents."

" _Me, too," I said. "Let's just be big sisters instead."_

" _Agreed."_

* * * *

Later on that night, I woke up to find Jay back at the air vents, peering down at the carport below.

" _What are you looking at?" I whispered, trying not to wake Lily._

" _Nothing, really," she whispered back._

" _Did you see something?"_

" _No."_

I could tell that she wasn't giving me the whole truth. Rising from my pillows, I crawled the short distance between us and sat down. "What is it?"

Jay turned to me. She had tears in her eyes. "You, me, Lily," she said, quietly.

" _And Pugly," I added. That brought a little smile to her face. "And, of course, the 'somebody' from the condiments aisle."_

Her smile disappeared.

" _What is it?" I asked again. "What's got you so upset?"_

Jay pointed to Lily, fast asleep, her arms around the little pug. "She's maybe 7-years old, so how can this be purgatory or hell? I mean, who would put a little girl like that in such a horrible place?"

I sighed. "We're not in hell, Jay. Heck—no pun intended—but who would put us in hell? We're great girls."

" _Then is this all like...a big science experiment?"_

" _I don't know."_

" _Is it the 'End of Times'? Seriously, Kaylee...what is it? Why are we still here and everyone else is gone? It just doesn't make any sense."_

" _Sometimes things just don't make sense," I shrugged. "Sometimes you just have to accept that this is what you've got now and you just have to deal with it."_

Jay snorted. "You sound like Ms. Capadouca."

" _She's a good guidance counselor. I like Ms. C...I wonder if she survived."_

" _I wonder if she's with all the other adults in some other alternate world," said Jay. "I wonder if they're all hanging out at some alternate-Starbucks, talking about how someone messed up real bad and left a few of us behind."_

" _In a way, I kind of hope that's the case," I admitted. "I like the idea that my mom is alive somewhere. Certainly better than the alternative."_

" _Yeah...me, too," nodded Jay. "But I'd also feel bad for my mom, because that would mean that she's doing all the housework by herself now. Not like my dad or my lazy brothers would help out." She leaned forward and peered out of the air vents again. "There's a lot of shooting stars out tonight. I think it might be the Leonids meteor shower. I'd check on my phone but..." Jay gave me a grin. "...net's down."_

I laughed and pushed her aside. "Let me have a look."

Jay had removed a couple of the vent slats to enlarge the viewing area. When I looked up at the sky, I could see 'fireflies' shooting across the heavens; streaks of light arcing from one side to the other.

" _Pick one of them," said Jay. "Make a wish...I did."_

A meteor shot straight overhead, brighter than all the rest. I closed my eyes and thought about my mother. 'Please let her be safe,' I wished. A moment later, I turned back to Jay and asked, "What did you wish for?"

" _Certainly not Jacob Riker," she sniffed._

" _I didn't wish for Jacob Riker!"_

" _Probably not...you probably wished for exactly the same thing I did. That our families are alive somewhere."_

" _Whatever...I'm still not telling you what I wished for. Then I won't get my wish."_

_Jay snickered. "Ohmigod, you_ _so_ _did wish for Jacob Riker!"_

* * * *

The next morning, Jay and I brought out our new hibachi and made sauteed vegetables and toast with jam for breakfast. I'd never made toast without a toaster before—definitely not as easy as you would think.

I kept losing the pieces of bread, dropping them onto the coals. Finally, I got smart and put the bread between two metal, open-slotted spatulas. By constantly turning the spatulas, the bread eventually toasted to a nice, golden brown.

(Jay and I have agreed that we're going to eventually make a trip to a camping store for some real survival-cooking equipment. That will make everything so much easier...we think.)

* * * *

We didn't have any food for Pugly.

(How stupid of us not to bring at least one tin of dog food from Lily's townhouse!)

_Lucky for us—and which confirmed the pug's pungent aroma—Pugly ate absolutely_ _anything_ _that we put in front of him._

* * * *

Although we didn't have running water anymore, Jay had been smart enough to fill up the tubs in both of our townhouses while the water was still available. We had been using it to wash ourselves, one kettleful at a time.

That morning, however, it seemed more important to let Lily have a regular kid's bath. So we filled up a few pots with water, warming them up over the hibachi. Then we poured them back into the bathtub and sat Lily in there.

We wanted to give her a chance to get clean and play in the water—just like a normal 7-year old...in a normal world.

At first, Lily just sat there.

Both Jay and I wanted to give the younger girl her privacy. But because we didn't know her, we were too nervous to leave her alone entirely. Instead, we stood on the landing, peeking into the room every now and again to see if she'd started cleaning herself.

After about five minutes of Lily not moving, I finally gave up and walked into the bathroom. Kneeling on the floor beside the tub, I reached over and picked up a facecloth.

" _Sorry, kiddo," I told her, "but you're kind of a piggy-poo right now."_

I put some soap onto the facecloth and started rubbing Lily's back, then moved on to her arms and legs. "There you go. You're going to feel so much better once you're clean."

Lily said nothing—but she also didn't try to stop me.

Her face was a challenge—covered with dirt and dried food. I was worried about hurting or scaring her but—when I scrubbed hard—Lily just put up with it, still not saying a word.

When the cleaning was finally completed, Jay entered the room with a handful of toys. "Here, Lily," she said, dumping everything into the bathtub.

I didn't think that Lily would even touch the toys, but she surprised me by picking up a little rainbow-colored horse and walking it slowly through the water. Jay and I watched for a moment—entranced—then slowly backed out of the room to give the young girl her playtime.

We sat on the nearby stairs, however—close enough to monitor Lily, but far enough away to give her privacy. At one point, Pugly ran by us, trying to corner a moth.

" _You're next, stinky butt," I told the snorting beast._

* * * *

" _You know, Lily could be a mute."_

Jay's mouth dropped open. "I hadn't even thought about that."

I nudged her, grinning. "Just kidding. She talks."

" _How do you know?"_

" _One of her school certificates was on the wall in her mom's bedroom. It was for choir."_

" _I didn't even notice it," Jay admitted._

" _Guess you should have paid more attention," I smirked._

" _Shaddup."_

Behind us, we could hear the sounds of splashing. Lily's pony was apparently galloping through the bathtub-sea.

It made both Jay and me smile.

Funny how taking care of another human being can completely change your attitude—and so quickly. Before, Jay and I had been searching desperately for someone to take care of us.

Overnight, the tables had been turned.

Suddenly, here we were—the caretakers—the ones who had to be mature, be the adults.

Very weird.

* * * *

It was actually four days later before we finally ventured out to finish exploring the rest of our townhouse complex. The day was typical Southern California—the sun was shining brightly, birds were chirping, and the steady buzz of cicadas was coming from the bushes.

We'd lost track of the calendar, but we figured it was a Thursday...maybe.

Jay and I carried our cop-socks, while Lily walked between us with Pugly on his leash. Because Lily had come to us with only what she was wearing, Jay had given the little girl some of her own clothes to wear.

(It's kind of funny how close Jay and Lily are to the same size. By the way, Jay absolutely does not find this as funny as I do.)

I thought Lily looked quite beautiful in Jay's green and pink, polka-dotted dress. Her strawberry blond hair fell down her back, just brushing the top of her waist. She was wearing black Mary Janes and, over her shoulder, she carried a tiny pink purse that I had given her from my own collection.

_It was really just a pocket-purse with a shoulder strap—barely big enough to carry a phone and a lipstick—but Lily seemed delighted to have it. She placed the picture of her mother and brother inside of it, as well as, a butter knife_ (I was assuming for protection) _and a tissue._

Jay and I were a little nervous about such a small girl carrying a knife but—let's face it—this is a whole new world.

She just might need it.

* * * *

We worked out a system.

Either Jay or I would break into the townhouse, while the other one kept watch. When the front door was opened, all three of us would enter and stay together.

Luckily, Lily didn't stray. She walked right beside us, tugging on Pugly's leash whenever he lagged too far behind.

After two hours of searching, we found...

... _no pets anywhere...or kids._

* * * *

In one single-storey, we did come across an enormous terrarium, though. There was a large heat lamp above it—not working, of course; a pile of lettuce and carrots was rotting in one of the corners.

" _Ewww," said Jay, giving a fake-shiver. "I'll bet they had something disgusting in there like lizards or tarantulas."_

" _That's a huge terrarium. They could easily have had one of those big snakes in there—like a python or something like that," I suggested._

Behind us, Lily immediately picked up Pugly and cradled him in her arms. Jay, meanwhile, looked around the room, fearful. "You don't think it'd still be here?"

I shook my head. "Probably not, but let's move on, okay?"

And we got out of that townhouse really quick!

* * * *

The rest of the searches went without any problems or surprises—just more empty homes, with missing people and pets.

There was one odd moment, however—at the far end of the complex.

Bark, bark, bark...

It was Pugly, yapping away at something he saw through the trees. I knelt down to his level, looking through the foliage, but all I could see was the side of the hill leading down to Driver Avenue—and Agoura High School across the street.

Jay knelt down beside me, pushing aside a branch, so that she could see, too. "Anything?" she asked.

" _There's a rabbit over on the school grass. Could he be barking at that?"_

I looked down at Pugly. Whatever had made him bark was obviously gone, because the little dog had turned in the opposite direction. He was now nosing around a slow-moving snail making its way across the sidewalk.

" _You think maybe he saw someone...down at the high school?"_

" _Maybe. But whatever Pugly was barking at, I say it's high time that we find some better weapons than our cop-socks."_

* * * *

While we never did find any pets in the rest of the townhouses, what surprised Jay and me, was that neither did we find any guns. Perhaps we didn't look hard enough or perhaps we simply lived in a safe neighborhood. Whatever the reason—when the three of us finally returned to the Sitipala's—we were tired, hungry, and—except for our cop-socks—basically weaponless.

" _Okay," Jay grouched. "Don't even bother saying it. We didn't find any soy milk in the townhouses, so I already know we have to go shopping."_

" _We've still got enough to eat from our first trip if you want to wait until tomorrow," I suggested. "And I've got some junk food left at my place that certainly won't have gone bad."_

" _We both know that Pugly needs dog food and Lily should certainly have something better than junk. So, let's just get this over with so we can get back before nightfall."_

" _Works for me. Besides, there's something else I need to get, too. I'm not exactly certain, because I obviously can't access my calendar app, but my gut is really cramping. I think I'm going to need some feminine supplies and there aren't any left at my house."_

Jay grimaced. "Ohmigod, I hadn't even thought of that. This is so unfair!" She kicked at an acorn, sending it skittering across the path in front of us. "It's the end of the world and we're still going to get our periods, aren't we?!"

" _Looks like," I grinned._

" _You think that's funny?!" Jay looked disgusted._

I didn't answer because, what I really found funny—was her reaction.

The truth was, even though Jay was fifteen, she hadn't had her first period. Maybe it was because she was so small, or maybe there was something just unique about her body, but Jay had definitely lucked out when it came to her female parts.

Of course, Jay didn't figure it that way. It humiliated her to be the only one in our grade who hadn't had her 'friend' come to visit, yet.

Me—I would have been ecstatic to be in her position. My period had showed up just after I had turned eleven, and it had been poking me in the gut ever since. Between the bloating, the chin acne, and the 'keel-over-and-fall-to-your-knees-pain', I just didn't get why Jay was so looking forward to the misery.

* * * *

Rather than return to Ralphs, Jay and I decided to do our 'shopping' on the Vons side of Kanan Road instead. And it only made sense to walk to the mall, since we'd be pushing back carts. The problem with walking, however, was that the quickest route going there would take us right through Chumash Park. With the dark coming in about two hours, that meant that we would have to move quickly—unless we wanted to be caught out after sunset.

* * * *

_Chumash Park was starting to look_ _wild_ _._

The grass was already at ankle-height and there were rabbits everywhere. As we walked past the rock hill, I even noticed a large tarantula sunning itself on a ledge.

" _I never knew we had tarantulas in Agoura Hills," I marveled._

" _We don't see them much," Jay responded, "but they're here. It's just that they're pretty shy creatures. I guess we'll be seeing more of them now."_

" _Oh-oh."_

Two coyotes were crossing the softball field in front of us. Jay and I immediately stopped, hoping to remain invisible. Meanwhile, Lily knelt down beside us, fiddling with her Mary Janes.

" _They sure are getting brave now, wandering around in the daylight," I whispered._

" _At least, we're downwind," Jay whispered back. "Hopefully, they won't be able to smell us."_

" _It's not you and me that I'm worried about them smelling."_

I nodded toward Lily who had yet to notice the two wild dogs. Pugly, of course, was completely oblivious to the danger, being occupied with sitting on his butt and licking his—well, let's not get into that, shall we.

Luckily, the coyotes moved on quickly, trotting behind the batting area and on toward the sidewalk. Once there, they crossed into the street and headed into a nearby residential neighborhood.

* * * *

Jay, Lily, and I crossed the baseball field to the fence line. Just to the right of the baseball stands, was a small bridge that had only recently been built. It crossed over a widening in a culvert, where water collected into a small pond.

(This is part of the water culvert that I've been writing about—the one that goes all the way from Chumash Park to the end of our townhouse complex.)

" _Egrets are out," I commented._

" _Have you noticed," said Jay, "how much the wildlife population around here has increased in just these few weeks?"_

" _That's just natural, isn't it?"_

" _But like with the egrets...there was only one mating pair before. Now, there are at least three pairs of birds hunting in those waters."_

" _You're right," I agreed. "There was only one pair before. How bizarre. Most of the pets are taken away, yet the number of the wild animals has increased. Wonder what that's supposed to mean?"_

" _Or maybe it's something else," suggested Jay. "Maybe the other two pairs simply came from somewhere else now that the people are gone. Maybe it's simply safer in the park for them now."_

" _Have you noticed how we're talking like there's some big someone or someones who have done this to the world?" I added. "I guess we've thrown away the hell and purgatory theory, huh?"_

" _I do like the 'being part of a big science experiment' theory much better," Jay said._

We stopped on the bridge for a moment to watch an egret fly majestically over our heads. Its wings fluttered and flowed on the air currents, its long legs stretched out behind.

" _You know," I mused, "my mom told me about this television series a long time ago. She said that at the end of one of the seasons, the star woke up and everything that went on in the year before was just part of her dream."_

" _You think maybe we're dreaming?" Jay asked, grinning._

" _Well, it would have to be just one of us, wouldn't it?" I grinned right back at her._

" _Then it would have to be you," said Jay, "because you have more imagination than me."_

" _Know what would really be funny?"_

" _What's that?"_

" _What if it's Lily who's dreaming?"_

I didn't think that the little girl had been listening to us but—when I said that—she looked up at me, grinned, and gave me a thumbs up.

* * * *

As we left the park and came out onto Kanan Road, Lily stopped short. I looked down to see that her eyes had gone wide and I realized that this was the first time that she'd seen all the cars dead and stopped in the middle of the road.

" _They don't work anymore," I told her. "It's like someone just turned off all the electricity in them."_

Lily still didn't move. She looked scared.

" _It's okay," I said. "There isn't anyone inside the cars. The people are all gone. I promise."_

" _We just don't know where," added Jay._

I held out my hand to Lily. "Come on, kiddo. Let me show you."

Slowly, Lily reached out and took my hand. I pulled her gently over to the nearest vehicle, a red Prius. "Look inside, Lily. See, there's nobody there."

Lily inched over, peering through the passenger's window. Inside, as with all the other vehicles we'd checked, the key was in the ignition and the seatbelts were buckled. In fact, in this particular car, both front and back seatbelts were still done up.

A family had been taken.

It was obvious that it had been young kids in the back, because there was a Bratz doll on one seat and a package of fruit roll-ups on the other.

I saw Lily staring intently at the Bratz doll.

" _Do you want me to get that for you?" I asked her._

Lily immediately pulled back, horrified.

" _It's okay," I said, quickly. "Sorry, Lily. If you want a toy, we'll get you one in the stores. We don't have to take any from the cars if it bothers you."_

Lily relaxed a little, but she didn't let go of my hand. It gave me a warm feeling as we threaded our way through the cars across Kanan Road.

I wasn't really certain what being 'maternal' was like, but I had a sense that this might be it. Holding my little strawberry-blond girl by the hand made me feel immensely protective.

Without a doubt—Lily was my responsibility now.

* * * *

" _There's definitely been someone here," said Jay—trying desperately to keep the fear out of her voice, if only for Lily's sake._

We were standing just outside of Vons, looking at the shopping cart that was propping open the doors.

" _That may not be true," I said. "Maybe the event happened just as someone was pushing that cart through the door."_

" _You think?" asked Jay, hopefully._

" _It makes sense. And lucky for us, because now we don't have to find a way to open the door."_

But we didn't go inside just yet; instead, we just stood there, staring inside.

" _It stinks a little," said Jay, her nose wrinkling in disgust. "You can smell the rotting meat."_

" _I've been thinking that maybe we should grab all the fruit and vegetables that aren't rotten...as much as we can push in the cart," I suggested. "When I was little I remember going to my grandma's up in Canada. She used to can everything. I helped her out a few times and it really wasn't that hard. I know in the baking aisle, they have all that canning stuff. It'd be kind of a pain doing it over a hibachi, but I really think we should try."_

Jay didn't look convinced. "Between Vons on this side of the street and Ralphs on the other, I'm pretty sure we're set for canned fruit and vegetables for a long time to come."

" _It just seems wasteful to let them all rot," I said. "And we don't know how long we're going to have to live like this—if not for the rest of our lives. The canned stuff is going to run out sooner or later, so why not learn how to do things like that now? While we still have alternatives."_

" _It's just that it's going to be a lot of trouble and take so much time."_

I shrugged. "It's not like we have anything else to do."

* * * *

The rotting-meat smell was even stronger in Vons than in Ralphs.

There were other unpleasant odors, but they were more difficult to discern—although I was fairly certain that I was picking up sour milk and rotting bananas. Apparently, so could the flies, because they were buzzing past us—heading directly toward the produce.

" _Vons has some great vegetarian meals in the frozen section," sighed Jay. "But I guess they'll be thawed out and useless now."_

We were standing just inside of the open door, trying to figure out our next step.

" _Except for the buzzing of the flies, have you noticed how quiet it is in here? I kind of like that they don't have any of that elevator music playing."_

" _It is really quiet," said Jay. "Also, you don't hear the hum of all the refrigeration units anymore."_

Lily was looking at a small sign on the side of the front door. I bent down to see what had caught her attention. It was a 'No Dogs Allowed' sign.

" _Not a problem, Lily," I laughed. "I'm pretty sure that rule doesn't apply at the end of the world. Pugly can come in with us."_

" _That's right," nodded Jay. "Where we go, Pugly goes."_

* * * *

" _What say we all grab a cart and start shopping?" I suggested. "Lily, there's one of those little kid ones over there."_

I helped Lily with her tiny cart, placing Pugly in the basket where he wouldn't wander off. Meanwhile, Jay went over to the florist section, where there were two abandoned carts and brought both back—one for each of us.

For a long moment, we waited—holding onto the handles of our shopping carts—grinning. I guess when it came right down to it, we were really just girls about to go shopping with unlimited credit.

What could possibly go wrong?

* * * *

My cart was filled up quickly; between feminine products, canning equipment, and fruit and vegetables, I was pretty much done in five minutes.

Jay, meanwhile, was charged with getting the soy milk and dog food, so her aisles were still a ways off. We were taking our time—staying together—heading up one aisle and down another, just looking at things, making mental notes of what to come back for on our next trip.

Lily had a few things in her little kid's cart—primarily chocolate bars and, oddly enough, a can of sweet potatoes. If I had to guess, I would have said that the sweet potatoes were probably something that her mother cooked for Lily and her brother.

I made a mental note to include them in one of our meals.

* * * *

In the middle of the store, I suddenly noticed one of those bubble-topped barbeques on the top of one of the shelves.

" _Look!" I said to Jay, pointing at it. "That doesn't look that heavy. I'll bet we can get it down. Don't you think it would be a whole lot easier cooking on that than the hibachi?"_

" _It's pretty high up. I guess that they'll probably have ladders in the back of the store," said Jay. "But I don't want to go back in the dark to get them. Do you?"_

Not a chance.

" _You know what we could do," I suggested, "is move some of this canned food to one side. If we clear a space on each shelf, I can use it to climb up. Then I can hand the barbeque down to you."_

It turned out to be surprisingly easy. Using the shelves as a ladder, I climbed to the top in seconds. I stood up on shaky legs, looking over the aisles.

The perspective was so weird.

When you shop, you were always down at floor level. But standing at the top of the shelves—I could see all the way from one side of the store to the other.

" _What is it?" asked Jay. "What are you looking at?"_

" _It's just interesting, that's all...seeing the way that everything is laid out. You know, it's kind of odd, but the store looks smaller from up here. More like a maze, with all these rows put into one room. I guess we don't notice that when we're at ground level."_

" _Um, Kaylee?" said Jay, looking uneasy. "Any chance we could get moving before it gets too dark to walk home? Like I really don't want to have to spend the night in Vons."_

That got me going. I quickly reached for the barbeque but—when I grabbed it—it didn't move. Bending down to look closer, I realized that it was bolted to the shelf.

" _It's got screws holding it down," I told Jay. "I guess they did that so it wouldn't fall on any of the shoppers' heads."_

" _Then let's get going!" urged Jay. "We can always find a barbeque on one of the neighbors' patios anyways."_

" _I know," I agreed. "It's just that I liked the idea of having one that didn't have meat juice all over it."_ (It's a vegetarian thing.)

" _Then let's look for one over in CVS or Rite-Aid," Jay suggested. "They've always got those things in their seasonal aisles."_

" _What the?!" I nearly lost my balance as I suddenly noticed_ _movement_ _two aisles over. "Oh crap!"_

" _What is it?!" Jay squeaked—suddenly scared._

My eyes couldn't believe what they were seeing—a tiny orange flag that was making its way slowly down the aisle two rows away from us.

I knew that flag—because it was attached to the top of Lily's shopping cart!

* * * *

" _Where's Lily?" I cried, jumping down off of the shelf._

Jay spun around, looking. "She must be in the next aisle."

" _You were supposed to be watching her!"_

" _I_ _was_ _!"_

" _Well, not good enough!"_

" _Hey, you were the one with the total-room-view!" Jay said, angrily. "Looks like you didn't do such a good job either!"_

I started running down the aisle. "Let's just find her...come on!"

Leaving our shopping carts right where they were, Jay and I ran to the front of the aisle, turning right. In the next aisle over, there were a few displays in the center that obscured our view. I let Jay run down to check behind them, while I moved on to the next aisle. It was clear of displays, so I could easily see that Lily wasn't there either.

At the mouth of the third aisle, I skidded to a stop—not really believing what I was seeing.

Jay came up behind me. "What is it?"

Then she, too, went quiet.

Before us, in the middle of the aisle, knelt Lily. Her tiny shopping cart was a few feet away—Pugly sitting in it calmly, looking like a little fat king. All around the two of them, on the floor, were open packages of junk food—Slim Jims, Twinkies, potato chips, bakery cakes.

_Like in Ralphs, the food had been arranged in a circle. The difference here was that there was a second, separate circle inside of the first one that consisted of various containers of alcohol. But it was_ _what_ _was in the middle of those two circles that had Jay's and my mouth hanging open in astonishment._

Lying there—surrounded by junk food and booze—was a snoring teenage girl!

Lily was kneeling beside her, holding the girl's hand and patting it gently.

" _She needs help," our little mute told us._

* * * *

It seemed that the snoring girl was passed out, but Jay and I were too unnerved to be completely certain.

We started forward—but slowly.

Jay reached into the shelf next to her and pulled out the heaviest thing she could find—a can of silver polish. I looked on my own side for an equal weapon, but all I saw were boxes of laundry soap. I supposed that I could always drop twenty-five pounds of Tide on the girl's head if she became a problem, but that didn't seem too realistic.

" _I think she's sick," said Lily, in a worried voice. "I tried to wake her, but she's not getting up."_

In another time and place it would have been amazing to hear Lily finally talking. However, coming down that aisle toward the strange, sleeping girl, our nerves taut and tingling, all I could think of was how—if anything happens—I was going to grab Lily and start running.

" _Why don't you come over here?" I urged quietly, motioning Lily toward me. "Let Jay and me take care of her."_

Lily didn't move.

Instead, she reached over and brushed some stray hair away from the snoring teenager's face.

" _She smells stinky," said Lily, frowning._

A few feet ahead of me—Jay suddenly froze. "Ohmigod, no!" she gasped.

" _What is it?"_

_I moved closer, so that I could see what was lying there; or rather—_ _who_ _was lying there._

" _Crap," I whispered—when I finally recognized_ _her_ _._

* * * *

Beside Lily, the teenage girl snorted, then began to stir.

She coughed once, twice—then lifted her head and looked around. Catching sight of me, she smiled and, when she spoke, it was with muffled and drunk words.

" _Wudda look adat?" mumbled the girl. "Ish Barbie an Skipper."_

_And_ _JUDE-THE-RUDE_ _then turned her head toward Lily and said, "Wudda know—ish Sailor Moon."_

Then—with another cough—Jude's eyes rolled up in her head and she passed out once more.

Jay turned toward me, absolutely horrified.

" _Double-crap!" she moaned._

### JUDY, JUDY, JUDY

As we were to find out later— _on the evening before the_ _event_ —Jude had been working at her part-time job, bagging groceries at Vons—when Brandon Keretsky entered with a couple of his football team buddies _(Frank Gornman and Denny Passelmore)_. They had been at the Foxes' yearly combination birthday/Halloween party earlier in the evening and were still dressed in their costumes— _football jerseys, of course. (Jacob, thankfully, while on the football team—had_ _not_ _attended the party.)_

Also working at Vons that night was Porter McIntyre, a 15-year old semi-genius from Jude's Chemistry class. _(Jay and I had always liked Porter—but in a non-romantic kind of way.)_

The relationship between Porter and Jude _(which neither Jay nor I knew anything about at the time)_ was an interesting one.

Even though Jude was a complete screw-up in school, at her part-time job, she was apparently quite capable and committed. Perhaps it was because she truly enjoyed her work or, perhaps, it was simply because she loved working alongside Porter.

Like Jude, Porter was also an extremely hard and diligent worker. He was also one of the smartest kids Jude had ever met; it was that and his kindness that had initially attracted her to him.

Also— _and more importantly_ —Porter had been the first person who had seen past the anger and the bullying to the true character that _could_ be Jude.

_He actually_ _liked_ _her._

Porter and Jude shared an interest in Blues and Old Jazz music and often could be seen on their breaks—sitting on the loading docks behind Vons—listening to old Billie Holiday numbers on their phones.

And—although I had never seen them together at school—Jay insisted that she had once seen them in the Chemistry lab during lunch. Apparently, Porter had been trying to tutor an uncomprehending Jude in the difference between 'intensive' and 'extensive' properties.

Somehow, the age difference between them didn't seem to matter— _Porter was fifteen and Jude had turned seventeen on that very Halloween_.

For Porter—Jude was simply one of his many friends.

For Jude—Porter was her only one.

* * * *

While Jude was overweight and struggling with acne and her bad temper, Porter was a skinny six inches shorter, with a crooked nose way too big for his face. He definitely wasn't a 'physically-cute' boy, but he had such an incredible sweetness about him that it just didn't matter.

Everyone liked Porter.

Well—almost everyone.

That evening—when Brandon, Frank, and Denny walked into Vons—Porter had just finished pushing a line of shopping carts into their corral outside of the store. As bad luck would have it, he parked the last cart right as Brandon and his crew were passing by. Unknowingly, he then fell in step right behind them, as they all walked into the store. Not paying attention—when the bigger boys stopped at a display—Porter continued walking, ramming right into Brandon and pushing him into a tower of cereal boxes.

Now in a movie, those cereal boxes would have come tumbling down and Brandon would have wound up on his butt with a humiliated expression on his face. But the truth here was that the cereal boxes stayed upright, Brandon barely moved (being well over 6 feet and more than 200 pounds), and Porter was the one who got hurt when his largish nose got mashed up against Brandon's mutant-sized back.

Still, Brandon turned on Porter with fists up and vengeance in his eyes.

The younger boy immediately backed up, uttered an apology, and tried to walk away. Frank and Denny, however, had a different idea; they grabbed Porter by his collar and pushed him back toward their angry friend.

"I'm sorry," Porter quickly apologized. "It was an accident... _I swear!"_

"Yeah, well—I'll accident you, dick-wad," snarled Brandon, in what no doubt was the ramping up of a steroid-induced rage. With one hand snagging Porter's orange reflective work-vest, Brandon pulled his other back, making a fist and preparing to strike.

But, while Brandon might have been acting on steroids _(or, more likely, just plain meanness)_ , Jude was acting on love and friendship. And at that moment, those were her drugs and they were way more _righteous_ than Brandon's.

Jude shot forward from where she had been standing— _bagging behind a nearby cashier's stand_ —and launched herself straight at Brandon. With a carefully placed fist, she clocked him behind one ear. The other she used to reach around his head and pull him to the ground.

Moments later, Porter, Frank, Denny, the Vons employees, the customers, and most importantly— _the manager_ —were standing there in a circle, watching in horror as this young teenage girl literally beat the crap out of one of their local high school football heroes.

And as often goes with athletes—it's _never_ their fault when bad things happen. Even though there were witnesses to Brandon pulling a fist on Porter, it was Jude who lost big that night. It didn't matter that she was protecting her friend, said the Manager. What mattered was that she had used violence against a customer.

Jude was fired.

* * * *

Running out of Vons—humiliated and ashamed—Jude eventually found sanctuary behind the baseball stands in Chumash Park. There, she drank some beer that she had stolen from her parents' alcohol cabinet and smoked a little weed, gifted from a stoner walking by _(who was dressed in a lobster suit, by the way)_.

It was Jude's intention to get messed up just enough so that she could return home, fall asleep, and forget everything that had just happened. What Jude hadn't expected was that she would do exactly that—only not in her own bed, but right there behind the baseball stands.

When she woke up the next morning _(ironically, it would probably have been right about the time Jay and I were investigating the Tesla on the other side of the park)_ , Jude found herself aching all over. Her clothes were wet and stinking—courtesy of the park sprinklers—and she was nursing a nasty hangover.

Jude's first thought was that her parents were going to be furious with her for not coming home the night before. Her second thought was that Porter probably hated her now for being such a dumbass—which meant that she was about to lose her one, true friend. _(And, of course, Jude's phone wasn't working, so she couldn't confirm either one.)_

Hurt and ashamed—with her hair tangled and her clothes soaking wet—Jude slowly walked toward her home, a few blocks away from Chumash Park. If there were cars abandoned in the middle of the streets, Jude says that she didn't notice. Instead—head down and aching badly—she stumbled toward her home, hoping to get there before she met anyone she knew.

It was the day after Jude's seventeenth birthday and she was feeling like her whole world had just ended.

_She had_ _no_ _idea._

* * * *

When Jude finally reached her home, it was—of course— _empty_.

There were breakfast dishes on the table, which confused Jude for a moment; half-eaten bacon and eggs were drying out on the plates and the coffee in the cups was cold. Deciding that her parents had simply stepped out for a moment, Jude swallowed down a couple of aspirins and went into her room where she passed out on her bed.

Jude figured that her parents would wake her up when they returned home. She knew that she was in for a good _yell-down_ , so she figured that she might as well get as much sleep in while she could. As it was, Jude slept right around the clock— _not waking up until the very next day_.

Of course, she didn't realize it at the time.

It was only when Jude stumbled drowsily into her parents' bedroom the next morning that she began to sense the truth.

Beside the empty bed—on the night table—her mother kept one of those old wind-up clocks that also displayed the date as well as the time.

According to the clock—it was the 2nd of November.

Over a day had passed and still... _no parents_.

* * * *

When Jude picked up her phone to call her mom and dad that morning, it was her first realization that the electricity was out. Even though she had been hungover the day before, Jude had instinctively placed her phone in its charger just before she had collapsed onto her bed.

The next morning, when she tried to call her parents, Jude discovered that, not only had her phone not charged— _it was completely dead_.

A short while later, she also realized that there was no electricity anywhere in the house.

Nothing worked.

* * * *

Because she stank from sleeping in the park, Jude decided to have a quick shower. Like Jay's and my townhouse, Jude's house still had running water; it wasn't exactly hot, though—more tepid and cooling fast. Then she threw on some clothes and went in search of her parents. Since both of their cars were still in the driveway, Jude first tried knocking on the neighbors' doors; both sides were friends of the family.

Nobody, of course, answered.

Becoming suspicious that something was terribly wrong, Jude went up one side of her block and down the other—knocking on every door.

And still—no one answered.

Confused and a little scared, Jude walked to the end of the road, where it connected to Argos Street— _and found the Tesla_.

Like Jay and me, she circled it warily, trying to comprehend what she was seeing. When she finally realized what the buckled seatbelts and key in the ignition meant, something inside of her broke a little.

And she began to run.

* * * *

Jude instinctively knew that she needed to find someone— _anyone_ who could tell her what was going on.

She got as far as Kanan Road—and all the cars just sitting there.

Seeing them, Jude wondered if—while she had been passed out behind the baseball stands—there had been an evacuation because of a terrorist attack or a fire or who-knows-what.

If, because nobody could find her— _Jude had been_ _left behind_.

* * * *

Knowing that she probably shouldn't— _and feeling embarrassed and very stupid that she still was_ —Jude walked up Kanan Road to where she knew Porter lived. She stood outside his door, knocking politely, then a little more urgently—then, finally, pounding frantically.

But no one answered.

* * * *

Finally, defeated, Jude headed back toward the shopping malls.

She had initially intended to go into Vons and drink herself into oblivion. However, Ralphs came up first _(and also she was still a little gun-shy about returning to Vons after what had happened)_.

Inside Ralphs—Jude's 'comfort-store'—she grabbed some junk food and a bottle of vodka. Then she sat down in the condiments aisle to eat and drink her way through her terror and sorrow.

So, while the first few nights after the _event_ might have been dark and scary for Jay and me, Jude wound up 'drunk-sleeping' through most of it.

* * * *

When Jude finally woke up again— _dazed and hungover_ —she walked the half-mile down to the 101 Freeway. Even though there was no traffic noise, Jude kept hoping that she'd find the world somehow still alive along those busy lanes. But when she arrived at the overpass and looked down at all those dead cars stretching for miles, Jude gave up once again.

It was confirmed— _the world had ended_.

And she had been left behind.

Might as well just go back to Ralphs and eat and drink, she decided. After all, what else could she do in this dead world? It wasn't like she could even play her beloved Blues music anymore. As far as Jude-the-Rude was concerned, the only thing left for her now—was food and booze.

Of course, Jude never made it as far as Ralphs.

Instead, she hiked up her big girl panties and went back to the scene of her 'Brandon-humiliation'. In the back of her mind, she even had a ridiculous hope that— _somehow_ —Porter might be camped out in Vons, as confused and scared as she was.

But when she finally jammed the shopping cart between the doors and entered the store, it was obvious to Jude. For whatever the reason—she was truly alone.

Jude had been abandoned.

### JOURNAL ENTRY #10

" _Guess it would be wrong to just leave Jude here."_

Lily looked at Jay, horrified.

" _I'm just kidding," Jay insisted. "If we left Jude here, she could get sick and choke to death on her own vomit." She frowned at me—obviously unhappy. "Of course, we have to take Jude with us."_

We were both on our knees beside Jude. The older girl was curled up on her side, snoring slightly. Meanwhile, Lily was seated by her head, patting at what I could see was very greasy, unwashed hair.

Frankly, it kind of icked me out.

_But I guess you had to give Jude a pass, hygienically_ (end of the world, thought she was abandoned—pretty good excuses, I would say) _._

Jude was wearing a khaki pair of board shorts, with pockets that were bulging with candy bars and Slim Jims. Her top was a simple green t-shirt, but it was as filthy as her hair—covered in food stains and what looked to be remnants of vomit.

" _Eww!" said Jay. "I don't think she's had a bath in days. Lily is right. She smells."_

" _It's scary," said Lily, in a tiny voice. "Having a bath."_

We both looked at her, confused.

" _When you take a bath," she explained, "it's scary now, because you're alone and there's no light in the bathroom. I bet she was too scared to take a bath. In case the bad guys come."_

I know it was stupid, but that brought tears to my eyes. All I could think of was this little girl—all by herself in a dark townhouse with only a tiny dog for company—trying to figure out ways to feed and keep herself clean.

It made me feel ashamed somehow—that I should have been more brave, less fearful; that as far as Jude was concerned, I needed to be more understanding. Because even though she was Jude-the-Rude, the fearsome bully of Agoura High, right now, she was just another teenage girl who had been left behind in this strange, scary world.

A girl who needed our help.

" _We can clean her up later, Lily," I said. "Let's see if we can wake her up first."_

Lily reached out and pushed gently on Jude's shoulder. "Wake up, please," she said, in her squeaky, little girl voice. "Time to wake up."

If anything, Jude's snores got even stronger.

_Swallowing my revulsion at her stench_ (sorry, Jude) _, I reached out with both hands and grasped her shoulders, giving her a really good shake. "Come on, Jude," I spoke loudly. "Wake up!"_

Her snores stopped, but she didn't wake up.

I looked over at Jay, who was staring down at Jude with obvious distaste. "Any ideas?"

Jay pushed at Jude's shoulder. "Wake up, Jude! It's time to get up for school! Come on, you're going to be late!"

No response.

Jay looked over at me and shrugged. "Your turn."

" _There was a wagon in the display at the end of that last aisle," I said. "We can load her into that and pull her home with us." I stood up. "I'll get the cart. Lily, you stay with Jude. Jay, you're going to have to load whatever supplies will fit into one cart. I think that's all we'll probably be able to take with us, so just get the necessities."_

" _I can push my cart," said Lily. "We can use that, too."_

" _You're right," I said, smiling down at the little girl so eager to help. "We can put some of the lighter stuff in there—like the toilet paper. You're certainly strong enough to push that. And Pugly can ride in there, too. He'd probably like that, don't you think?"_

I was rewarded with a shining smile from Lily.

It warmed my heart to see her finally responding to us. I knew that Jay and I could never replace her mom and brother, but it was still important to me that she knew she was part of our new family.

Because whatever happened now...we were all in this together.

* * * *

The wagon was actually quite large, both in length and width. It was one of those gardening wagons, with the high, slatted sides and thick wheels. When I lived in Malibu, my dad's gardener used one just like it, so I knew that it would easily hold and move Jude's weight.

I stuck a couple of rolls of paper towels at one end to cradle Jude's head, then opened the small gate in the side to help make it easier to maneuver the girl into it. Jay was back by that time and she grabbed onto Jude's legs, while I reached under her arms from behind.

" _One, two, three..."_

We both lifted, hoisting Jude up and onto the wagon. It tilted a little and we had to quickly push and jiggle, until her weight was distributed evenly and the wagon fell back onto the ground.

Because Jude was a tall girl, her legs didn't quite fit. I tried folding them at the knees and tucking them into the corners but—even passed out—Jude resisted and kept throwing them over the side.

" _She should be okay like that," I finally decided. "As long as her legs don't hit the ground, we'll still be able to pull her."_

" _And we can take her straight down the middle of the street," added Jay. "That will make it easier."_

* * * *

" _My mom says that guns are bad."_

Jay and I turned and looked down at Lily. She was standing beside her small shopping cart, fiddling with its orange flag.

" _They're very dangerous," I agreed. "You have to be very careful when you touch them. You have to know what you're doing or you could hurt yourself or somebody else."_

" _Do you think Jude knows what she's doing with her gun?" asked Lily._

" _Jude has a gun?!"_

" _It's under the wagon," said Lily, pointing. "It dropped out of her pocket when you put her into it."_

Jay and I both bent down to look. Sure enough, there was a handgun on the floor.

" _Holy cow!" I whispered._

" _Jude really does have a gun!" Jay looked amazed. "I wonder if it's loaded."_

She reached out a hand to check, but I quickly smacked it back. "What do you think you're doing?!"

" _Getting the gun." She looked at me as if I was an idiot._

" _What if it goes off?"_

" _My Auntie took me shooting last summer in Pakistan. I know how to be careful."_

" _Just don't aim it our way!"_

" _I'm not stupid!" Jay reached down and pulled out the gun, careful not to point it toward Lily or me. "That's weird," she murmured, turning it over in her hands. "It doesn't have a safety."_

" _So it can just, like go off at any time?" I asked._

" _Pretty much. We'll have to be really careful with it."_

" _Is it loaded?"_

Jay pulled out the gun's magazine and looked inside. "Yup...totally loaded."

" _I wonder where she got it."_

" _We can ask her when she wakes up," said Jay. Then she grinned. "I don't know about you but I'm feeling a whole heck of a lot safer now." She placed the gun on the top shelf of her shopping cart. "We've got a real weapon now."_

* * * *

Jay was right; having a gun did make us feel safer.

Even with the sun setting as we walked home—Jay and Lily pushing their carts, me pulling Jude in the wagon—we weren't really scared. Don't get me wrong—we were still nervous and wary.

But we had a gun!

When two coyotes passed down Thousand Oaks Boulevard—directly opposite from where we were traveling in the middle of the road—Jay did nothing more than place her hand on the butt of the gun. For the first time since 'whatever' had happened—we actually felt like we were in a position where we could protect ourselves.

* * * *

As we walked, Jude's legs kept slipping down the sides of the wagon, dragging along the ground. It was frustrating, because I kept having to stop to lift up her legs and redistribute her weight.

" _Boy, she's got a lot of candy bars in her pockets," I said, at one point. "Think that's making her weigh more?"_

" _Even at school, she eats a lot of junk," Jay noted. "I don't think I've ever seen Jude eat a salad or a piece of fruit."_

" _I wonder if that's why her skin is so bad. My mom says that junk food causes a lot of skin problems."_

(Jude always seems to have blackheads around her nose and forehead, and her cheeks are dotted with pimples.)

" _My dad says that too much sex gives you acne," Jay added, grinning._

I burst out laughing. "I'm pretty sure that Jude-the-Rude doesn't have pimples because she's having too much sex."

" _Wow!" said Jay, pretending to be offended. "That's really harsh...very judgmental."_

" _Waddahell!"_

I looked behind to see Jude, struggling to sit up in the wagon. She looked pale and was gulping air.

" _Oh-oh," frowned Jay. "I think she's going to puke!"_

And, sure enough, Jude leaned over the edge of the wagon and vomited all over the road. It was nasty and—because I'm a sympathetic-vomiter—I began gulping air, too.

Jay—of course—merely laughed, pulling Lily back out of spew-range.

* * * *

For almost a minute, Jude leaned over the side of the wagon, gulping and spitting. And, frankly, it took about that long for me to get a hold of my own urge to vomit.

When I was finally in control, I bent down and touched Jude on the shoulder. "You okay?" I asked.

Jude didn't just startle—she freaked out!

_Screeching like a banshee, Jude scrambled out of the wagon_ (barely missing the puke!) _and took off running._

" _Oh-oh," Jay said again. "Better get moving, Kaylee...you're the runner."_

" _Thanks a lot."_

Jay just grinned.

_Luckily, Jude wasn't moving very fast. The older girl was still a little drunk and having difficulty keeping her balance. Her run was more of a few quick steps—stumble to the ground—push herself up—few more steps—stumble back down again. Still, Jude_ _was_ _heading into Chumash Park, it was getting dark—and the gun was back in Jay's shopping cart._

" _Jude!" I yelled, as I ran toward her. "Come on, Jude...it's okay! It's just me."_

_But Jude just kept on stumble-running—moving farther into the park, in among the trees. It looked like she was heading toward the bathrooms, a place I_ _really_ _didn't want to be anywhere near when it got dark._

Cursing her, I put on a burst of speed and easily caught up.

" _It's me, Jude," I said, jogging beside her. "Look at me...it's Kaylee."_

Jude didn't respond, just kept stumbling along, panting. Gently, I reached out and touched her shoulder, causing Jude to squeal, almost as if she had been burned. I withdrew my hand quickly, but kept jogging beside her.

" _Please, Jude," I begged. "Please stop running. We have to get home because it's getting dark now. Please stop. I don't want to leave you here...I don't want to leave you alone!"_

For the first time, Jude turned and looked at me.

Really looked at me.

And slowed down.

" _See, it's just me," I said, holding my arms wide to show that I wasn't a threat. "It's Kaylee—from school."_

Jude finally stopped.

She stood there, leaning slightly to the left, as if she was struggling to stay upright. "Barbie?"

" _Yeah," I smiled. "It's me...it's Barbie."_

" _Skipper?"_

I pointed behind us, to where Jay and Lily waited in the street with the carts. Jude took a long time looking at them. When she finally turned back to me, her eyes were filled with tears. "Not alone?"

" _Not anymore, Jude," I said. "You've got us now."_

The tears began to flow down Jude's face, then. She reached out and poked me in the shoulder—as if checking to see if I was real.

" _Ouch!" I said. "A little gentler, please."_

" _But...I hate you," Jude grumbled. "Hate both of you."_

" _Yeah," I shrugged. "Kind of ironic, huh?"_

She turned to look back at Jay and Lily once more. "Sailor Moon?"

" _That's Lily. She's lost everyone, too."_

Jude returned her gaze to me. There were tears falling freely down her cheeks.

" _Why?"_

It was just one heartbreaking word—but I knew what Jude was asking.

" _I don't know why," I said, honestly. "Jay doesn't either. It just happened. We woke up and we were alone. Then we found each other."_

" _You found me."_

" _We found you."_

" _Didn't leave me."_

" _Of course not."_

" _I think..."_

" _You think what?" I asked._

" _Think...the others did." Jude looked me straight in the eye. "The other girls...they left me."_

The other girls...

A deep chill ran down my spine.

* * * *

When we finally got back to the Sitipala townhouse, Jude had sobered up enough to tell us about the 'other girls'. Because of the alcohol-addled state she had been in, Jude wasn't completely certain if she was actually remembering or dreaming what had happened.

_But somewhere in her hazy, boozy memory, Jude has a visual of_ _three girls_ _coming upon her in Ralphs._

She said that they had laughed when they saw her and that one of them had kicked her foot. When she had moved and groaned, they had jumped back. Jude didn't know if she then passed out again or if the girls had simply disappeared for a while. But it was sometime later before she realized that they were back again—standing over her, food baskets on their arms.

Jude said that one of them had asked the others if they should help her. But another one of the girls had said that they should just leave Jude right there where she belonged—lying with the trash.

Then they had walked away.

Laughing.

That was all that Jude had been able to remember—except for one more important detail; one of the girls had been wearing a yellow and blue sweater—the colors of Agoura High.

* * * *

If it wasn't a dream and truly was part of Jude's memory, then that means two very important things:

One—there are other girls alive.

Two—they left Jude to die.

* * * *

My mom always says that—inside the gentle and the kind—there is a righteous anger waiting to emerge when they least expect it.

What she means is that most good people don't want to get mad, they don't want to get angry, and they don't want drama and confrontation in their lives. But sometimes—through no fault of their own—these good people are faced with a situation where they can either walk away and continue living their quiet, gentle lives—or they can rise up and rebel with righteous anger.

_Without a doubt—Jude is a massive bully at school. She's mean and pissy and has scared the crap out of Jay and me on numerous occasions. But that_ _someone_ _would just leave her—lying drunk on the floor—and walk away laughing; to know that Jude might die, possibly choking on her own vomit..._

Well, that fills me with a righteous anger.

_If I had any misgivings of adding Jude-the-Rude to our little family before, hearing her horrible story of the_ _others_ _chased them all away._

Without a doubt, Jude has a home with us.

She is now our sister.

... _after her bath._

### JOURNAL ENTRY #11

It's been seven days since Jude joined us.

She's still kind of pissy and, every once in a while, the bully comes out. I have to say, though—she's really been trying to be nicer.

Of course, Jay and I are still 'Skipper' and 'Barbie' to her. That said, Jude has slipped on occasion and actually referred to me as Kaylee. When she catches herself doing it, however, Jude scowls and stalks off.

It's pretty funny.

Lily, in particular, has taken a real liking to Jude. She follows the bigger girl around like a puppy, tugging the true puppy—Pugly—behind her. It's kind of ironic—with Jude being so huge and lumbering and Lily so tiny and fragile. Still, the two have definitely bonded; Jude is extremely gentle with the girl and her dog.

_At nights, when we're sitting around—just talking—Lily and Pugly always seem to find a spot on Jude's lap._ (And I'll admit that I'm a teensy bit jealous that I've lost 'my little girl' even before I had a chance to be a faux-mother. But I can deal—I'll get over it.)

_One of the nice things about having Jude around is that we don't feel so scared anymore. I don't know if it's because she has a gun_ (yes, we gave it back to her) _, or because of her violent history—but what I do know is that Jay and I feel that we have someone prepared to fight for us._

And if it came right down to it—Jude knows that we would fight for her.

* * * *

We're sleeping in two different rooms now.

Frankly, it had been cramped with just Jay and me in the Sitipala's secret room; add in Lily and Pugly and Jude and it became ridiculous. We were bumping into and crushing each other every time we turned over.

So Jude, Lily, and Pugly are now sleeping in Jay's old room. Meanwhile, Jay and I are sleeping in her parents' room. Which is kind of weird in itself, because the Sitipala-elders have two separate beds. I don't know if it's a Pakistani-thing or a marriage-thing. The only other time I've seen married people sleep in separate beds are on those old black and white television shows.

Meanwhile, we're using my old townhouse for storage. Jay spends a lot of time over there, organizing the food and making sure we're eating the perishables first. It's kind of OCD, but I get it—Jay's just being responsible.

We've also made three more trips to Ralphs and Vons over the last week.

_Jay's in charge of those expeditions—she makes the list of what we need and Jude and I go and get it. Sometimes Lily comes with us; sometimes she stays with Jay—who definitely does_ _not_ _want to come back to the stores._

I think that Jay is taking a little 'time off' from the end of the world.

* * * *

Now that we know to look for them, we are definitely seeing signs of other people surviving the event. A few times, Jude and I thought we saw someone in the distance. However—when we went to investigate—we found no one.

_They'd either already left_ _or_ _it was our imagination._

Also, the sign that Jay and I had put up at Ralphs has been taken down and ripped into little pieces. There was a certain viciousness to that; it definitely unsettled Jay and me. In fact, that's probably one of the reasons that Jay doesn't want to go shopping with us anymore.

_Ironically, Jude never saw our little sign. If she had, she would have known that she wasn't alone. Jude said that she probably wouldn't have gotten drunk, either._ (Notice that Jude used the word 'probably' and not 'definitely'.)

_The two bikes that Jay and I had ridden to Ralphs that first time are also gone now._ (I can't say stolen since they didn't really belong to us in the first place.) _And when we went back to the bike store to get some for Jude and Lily_ (Jay and I still had our bikes from Jacob's garage) _, the front window had been shattered and there were bike parts scattered on the sidewalk out front. It kind of offended me that someone would do that because—duh!—the front door was unlocked._

All they had to do was pull on the handle—so dumb!

* * * *

Speaking of bikes, Lily is surprisingly adept at riding one. While the rest of us struggle to make it up any hill, our little girl rides circles around us all, whizzing this way and that.

_Because Lily is such a speed-demon, Jude has taken to carrying Pugly in her bike basket. On our trips through the neighborhood, I regularly turn around to find the older girl carrying on a quiet conversation with the little dog._ (Don't ask me what they talk about. Every time Jude sees me watching, she shuts up and gives me a nasty scowl.)

* * * *

We've managed to explore most of the surrounding neighborhoods on our bikes.

_A few days ago, we even went back to the Lost Hills Sheriff's Station to see if anyone had responded to our note._ (It was still there, but no one had written on it.)

Lately, we've been talking about making the trek down to Malibu—to where my dad lives on Point Dume with the Boob-Bimbo. We've been thinking that it might even be a good place to live.

_As much as we all love Agoura Hills—when summer comes and the weather gets hotter—we figure that a lot of the water will disappear here in the Conejo Valley_ (no more irrigation—this is Southern California after all—it's a desert, folks) _._

My dad's house actually has a small creek running through the property. Living there, we'd have a ready source of water, for when the bottled water runs out. Also, Jay thinks that it might be more comfortable for us if we were living down on the coast. It's always a good ten degrees cooler there and—let's face it—you've got the ocean and the beach.

On a more selfish side—I kind of like the idea of being able to go 'shopping' in some of those Malibu stores. One of the upsides of being left behind is that there won't be any snotty salespeople wondering whether us 'Valley-kids' can actually afford the super-inflated prices.

We can take whatever the heck we want now!

* * * *

Until we decide where we want to live, we've set up our hibachi out on the townhouse patio, alongside a barbeque that Jude carried over from a neighbor's. Jay is becoming quite good at cooking Indian food over the fire. Her mom would be so proud to see her daughter flapping naan dough back and forth between her hands.

Meanwhile, I'm the stew and chili girl. Give me a couple of cans of beans and apparently I can make you a chili that you'd swear has meat in it.

Jude hasn't figured out what she can cook, yet. She's always willing to help, however—stirring a pot, cutting up onions, that sort of thing.

And it's amazing the amount of candy that girl keeps showing up with. I don't know if she's 'sweets-hunting' through the townhouses, or if she just keeps going back to Ralphs and Vons when we're not looking. Whatever Jude's doing, there is always an assortment of M&Ms and Kit Kats to snack upon.

* * * *

And we've got lights set up all through the townhouse now!

_They're really just an assortment of candles inside some glass lanterns we found at CVS. Still, it's nice to be able to see where you're walking in the middle of the night._ (I still can't get over how dark it is when there's no electricity.)

Having lights in the townhouse also lets us have board games after supper. I, of course, slay everybody in Monopoly. Jay has got the upper-hand in Pictionary and Trivial Pursuit. Lily always beats us at Candy Land.

Jude simply loses—at everything.

She told us that it was because she just wasn't that smart. Before the 'thing' happened, I would have believed her.

These days, I'm not so sure.

_Jude doesn't know that I've seen her, but I've watched her puzzling over Jay's Rubik's Cube. She's been taking it slow, but Jude is definitely figuring it out; she's already completed the top two levels and only has the bottom one left to finish._ (I—on the other hand—have never made it past the first level.)

* * * *

_Because Jay thinks that we're in the midst of the Leonid's Meteor Shower, we've decided to carry our hibachi down into Chumash Park, so we girls can have supper there and watch the light show in the sky. This is kind of a big deal because—before Jude_ (and her gun) _came into our life—there was absolutely no way that we would have spent time outside in the dark like that._

Now, however, all of us are looking forward to the night out.

We have plans to make some Jiffy Pop popcorn, lie on our backs, and watch the meteor show. I guess for four girls at the end of the world—this is as close as we can get to going to a movie.

Should be lots of fun.

DECEMBER

### AND THEN THERE WAS LIGHT

It was a lot of fun— _until Lily saw the light_.

The night had started out innocently enough. We grabbed some blankets and pillows and walked down to Chumash Park, setting ourselves up in the middle of the field that they used for football and lacrosse games. Jay had chosen that spot because it was far enough away from the trees that she figured we would have a good view of the sky.

Earlier, Jude had carried down the hibachi and set the coals to heating up. We were going to be having bean and salsa burritos; popcorn and candy bars would follow for dessert.

* * * *

Even though we weren't scared of coyotes anymore because we had the gun _(Jude wore it in a fanny pack whenever we went outside)_ , we still decided to leave Pugly back at the townhouse. Having lived in the Conejo Valley long enough, we all knew that coyotes were _sneaky, sneaky, sneaky_ and—before any of us would have been able to stop them—they could easily have darted in from the shadows and grabbed the little pug.

Lily, of course, wasn't happy about leaving her dog behind. Still, she dealt with it like a big girl.

* * * *

" _Oooo...it's so beautiful,"_ sighed Jay.

Up above us, an explosion of meteors arced to the west, one after another. They were so bright that their light actually reflected off the dewy grass around us. Having just finished dinner, the four of us were lying on our backs, watching the magical spectacle unfold so very high above us.

"Do you know what it makes me think of?" I asked.

"What?"

" _Tinkerbell_. It makes me think of her flying across the sky, shooting sparks out of her little wand."

Tucked in between Jude and me, Lily suddenly perked up. "Can we go to Disneyland?"

" _Wow,"_ I said. "That never occurred to me. Disneyland, Knott's Berry Farm, Universal Studios—we've got all the major theme parks around here...and the movie studios!"

"What are you thinking?" asked Jay. "Do you really want to go visit them?"

" _Yes, yes...I do!"_ squeaked Lily.

I thought about it for a moment. "I don't think we could make it to Disneyland in a day on our bikes. But we could definitely make it to Universal Studios." I grinned at Jay. "How weird would that be—sneaking into Universal Studios and wandering all around?"

"I think it's a stupid idea," growled Jude.

"Why?" asked Lily. "I love going to Universal Studios?"

" _Because it'd be dangerous."_

"But you've got a gun," insisted the little girl.

"I thought we were supposed to be watching the stars," said Jude, irritated. "If this is going to get stupid, then I'm just going to pack up and go home."

"If you go home," I said, "we'll all have to go home. You've got the gun."

"Then stop talking about stupid Disneyland and Universal Studios. It's annoying!"

We were all a little confused by Jude's somewhat over-the-top response. Jay's jaw was set, so I knew that she was feeling the same tension that I was. Lily, meanwhile, looked like she was close to tears.

Jude, however, just seemed angry.

_Suddenly_ —a thought came into my head. "Jude," I asked, "have you never been to Disneyland or Universal Studios?"

" _Shaddup!"_ was all I got back from her.

I thought about what I knew of Jude. Most of it was the typical high school rumor mill-stuff—but now I began to wonder.

How much of it could actually be true?

According to the gossip, Jude had been a _ward-of-the-State_ for years, before she was finally adopted by an older couple, a husband and wife in their sixties.

Brandon Keretsky loved to tell everybody who would listen that Jude-the-Rude originally came from 'meth-heads'. I had always thought that Brandon was just being his usual dick-self. Now I wondered if maybe there had been some truth to that.

Maybe Jude had been one of those kids who had lived on the edge of society. If her bio-parents had truly been in the drug business, then that could have been how she wound up in the foster care system.

In which case, it could certainly have made sense that Jude had never visited the theme parks.

_(You have to understand—this was Southern California. We kids had all been brought up with Mickey Mouse and Goofy basically living in our backyards. Going to Disneyland and Universal Studios was just something that we all did two or three times a year._ _Not_ _going to the theme parks—now that would have been strange to us.)_

Taking a deep breath, I decided to take a chance.

" _I'm sorry, Jude,"_ I said, carefully. "I'm sorry that you never got to go to Disneyland or Universal Studios. And I'm especially sorry that now you'll never get to experience what it was like."

She turned and looked at me—not angry, just looking.

" _Shaddup,"_ she said, after a moment. But this time it wasn't a growl like before. This 'shaddup' was quiet and—perhaps— _a little sad_.

"I'm sorry, too, Jude," squeaked Lily. "Everybody loves Disneyland." The little girl reached out and took one of Jude's big hands in her tiny one. "If you want, I've got a Minnie Mouse doll you can have."

Jude squeezed Lily's hand lightly. "It's okay, Sailor Moon. You keep your stupid mouse doll."

But she was smiling when she said it; Lily smiled right back.

And, yes...I admit it— _I was still jealous_.

* * * *

As the night wore on, the coyotes in the park began to _bark_ and _yelp_ , although none of them came anywhere near us. Meanwhile, high overhead, an owl silently glided back and forth, no doubt hunting one of the many rabbits that were now flourishing throughout Chumash Park.

Beside me—I eventually heard the quiet snoring of one little girl.

"Lily's asleep," I whispered to the others.

"We should probably get her back home," said Jay. "Lily's a growing girl, needs her sleep."

"I'll carry her," offered Jude.

She picked Lily up and cradled her against her shoulder, then waited patiently while Jay and I began to gather up the blankets and pillows.

"The hibachi's out," I noticed. "So there's no chance of it starting a fire. We can always come back and get it and the rest of our gear in the morning."

Moments later, the three of us _(with Lily still in Jude's arms)_ started toward home.

We were directly across from Agoura High School, when we came out of the park. As we turned right at the sidewalk and began walking up the hill that would eventually lead us home, Lily lifted her head momentarily from Jude's shoulder and, with a big yawn, said...

"... _what's that light?"_

* * * *

" _What do you think?"_ I asked, gnawing on my fingernails nervously.

Jay and I were standing in front of the Agoura High School Performance Center, a large building—recently built—with high ceilings, and bizarre angles. I remember my mom had said that it reminded her of the Disney Music Hall down in Los Angeles. That made sense because there was something similarly caricature about its architecture—like it possibly belonged in 'Toon Town'.

Lily had completely woken up by now, and was standing beside Jude—twenty feet behind us—back at the sidewalk. Jay and I, meanwhile, were trying to come to a decision on whether or not we should enter the Performance Center.

"There's definitely someone in there," Jay whispered.

A soft glow emanated from the doors leading into the main theater. Shadows seemed to flicker and move across the light.

"I think I hear somebody talking," I said, quietly.

"I think I hear somebody _laughing_ ," Jay gasped. A moment later, she turned and gave me an astonished look. "I think there's more than one person laughing inside!"

Jude and Lily walked up beside us.

" _Wassup?"_ asked Jude—as if this was a normal, everyday occurrence.

" _What's up_ is that you're supposed to be over on the sidewalk, keeping Lily safe," I hissed at her, irritated.

Jude just shrugged, not moving back. "I've got the gun."

She did have a point.

Jay tugged at my sleeve. "What do you think, Kaylee? Go inside or not?

Definitely, absolutely...NOT!

But instead, I said, "Yeah, I guess we probably should."

Jude took a step toward the Performance Center. I quickly reached out and pulled her back. _"Seriously, Jude?!"_

"Well, what do you want to do then, Barbie?" Jude huffed. "You want us to just sit on our butts out here, or are we gonna' go find out who's inside?"

* * * *

After thirty days of thinking that we were all alone in the world— _it was surreal_. And it was loud; everyone was chattering and gabbing at the same time.

There had to have been at least forty or fifty girls seated inside that theater!

Some of the girls I knew from school.

Others I had seen around, but didn't know personally. They were all aged between seven and seventeen, although there were very few of the younger girls; most of the girls seemed to be in their mid to late teens.

And there were other girls—older, tougher-looking 11th and 12th graders—who stalked up and down the aisles, as if patrolling for trouble.

Almost all of the seated girls I recognized as coming from Agoura High. Over in one corner, however, were two Continuation School girls— _Cherry Winslette and Wandy Marken_. They were seated next to a pretty, overweight African-American girl of about twelve or thirteen.

While the majority of the Agoura High girls were talking excitedly in their seats, the ones from the Continuation School remained curiously silent, just waiting.

"Holy cow," I murmured.

"Now this is interesting," said Jude, grinning.

"Very interesting," agreed Jay.

The theater—lit by tiki torches in sand-packed barrels placed strategically along the wall—sloped downward to the stage in front of us. There was a small line of girls—about five or six—in front of a desk placed against a wall to our left.

Sitting at that desk was Sophia Rojas, the third of Cherry's 'anti-Foxes gang'. She motioned us forward with a smile.

"Over here, girls," Sophia called out. "You need to sign up here."

As we slowly headed over, I took the time to scan the crowd once more. "Have you noticed? There's no boys," I whispered to Jay. "Just girls."

"Too weird," she whispered back.

When we reached the desk, Sophia handed us a clipboard with some papers attached. "We all have to fill this out," she told us. "It'll make things easier for the _organizing_."

I flipped through the pages; they were sign-up sheets, handwritten in black ink. The usual data was required— _Name, Address, Age, Pets, Special Skills_. Ironically—for the first time in my life—there were no boxes for a phone number, e-mail address, or website.

Using the attached pen, I tapped on the clipboard, bringing Jay's and Jude's attention to the fill-in box at the very end of the page... _Weapons Owned_.

"Guess we don't have to fill out this box," I said, looking directly at Jude, "since we obviously don't have any weapons."

Jude stared at me. I stared back. She stared at me some more. Finally, her eyebrows rose and she gave a little nod.

Jay, meanwhile, looked back and forth between us—trying to figure out what the heck had just happened. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," said Jude. Then she turned to Lily. "And we don't have any pets either, do we, Sailor Moon?"

The little girl stared up at her, completely confused.

"No pets," I quickly added. "No weapons, Lily... _no pets."_

Lily smiled, perhaps thinking this was all a game. "Nope...we got nothing."

If anything Jay looked more confused than Lily. She leaned toward Jude and me and spoke very softly. _"Seriously...what's up?"_

It was Jude who answered, so quietly that we had to strain to hear her words. _"If we tell them, they'll take the gun and eat the dog."_

* * * *

I think it was at that moment that I finally realized that Jude was smart... _really smart_. Instinctively, I had known that revealing the gun was probably a bad idea. But it was Jude who immediately understood why pets had been included on the sign-up sheet.

Jay, however, was not convinced. _"That's just stupid."_

I pulled her close to whisper in her ear. "I don't care if you think it's stupid. You don't mention Pugly or the gun... _understand?"_

Jay pulled back, looking a little hurt. "You don't have to get all _bossy-pants!"_

Meanwhile, Jude grabbed the sign-up sheet and began writing.

I looked over her shoulder, to see what she was putting down. "What's that address?"

"My house," she answered. "It's where we all live, right?

" _Right,"_ I said, slowly. Then I looked down at Lily. "You know where we live, kiddo?"

"I don't know my address," she whispered, looking a little embarrassed.

With a grin, Jude reached out and ruffled her hair. "You live at my place, stoopy-doop. So, say it, Sailor Moon...say where you live."

"I live at your place."

"That's my little super hero."

One of the older, tough-looking girls was passing by. She stopped, giving us the once-over. I hadn't noticed it before, but now I realized that she was wearing one of those little holsters that went under your arm.

The butt of a gun stuck out of it.

I immediately looked around at the other older girls who were patrolling around the theater. They were all wearing holsters; two of them even had what looked like whips attached to the webbed belts they were wearing.

"What's in the fanny pack?" The older girl reached out her hand, about to touch the bag around Jude's waist.

"Snot rags and Tampax," answered Jude, not even looking up from the clipboard where she was writing. "You bleeding or blowing boogers, I've got you covered."

The girl quickly snatched her hand back. "You're such a pig, Rude!" she grunted. Then she turned and stalked off.

Meanwhile, Jude finished filling out the form and handed it to me. "Just copy what I put down," she said, quietly.

"Maybe we should just leave," I suggested.

"They know now that we didn't get _taken_ ," Jude said. "So, who's to say they won't come looking for us?"

"This is so stupid! I am not writing down Jude's address!" Jay pulled the clipboard from me and started filling it out. "It's just high school girls, not terrorists. _What is wrong with you two?!_ We should be happy that there are other kids alive, not acting like a bunch of paranoid dumbasses!"

Suddenly, a murmur rose up from the seated girls.

Up front, on the stage, a podium was being pushed into the center, two chairs being placed on either side.

" _Here we go,"_ muttered Jude under her breath.

"Idiots," said Jay, turning back to finish her paperwork.

The murmur rose in volume as three girls came onto the stage. There was applause from the older girls—the 11th and 12th graders who were patrolling—and soon, the seated ones were also applauding.

Up on the stage, meanwhile, the three girls separated— _one to either chair, the last to the podium._

Jay looked up from the clipboard, just as the applause was dying down.

" _Oh crap!"_ she groaned, her mouth dropping open in shock as she recognized the three girls onstage. Then Jay's hand began to move, quickly erasing the townhouse address she had written on the sign-in sheet—substituting Jude's address instead.

Up on the stage, meanwhile, the Foxes began their 'reign of terror'.

### JOURNAL ENTRY #12

I guess I should start this out by saying that there are other girls alive.

A lot of them.

Girls our age, mostly from Agoura Hills—although we're finding others are coming into our neighborhood as well. The Foxes don't like that. In fact, they've started armed patrols to keep them out.

I hate having to say this but—it's getting scary again.

Here's what Orla said that night—when we first found all the girls in the theater. This is her speech, not word-for-word, but as close as I can remember it.

ORLA'S SPEECH

" _Ladies, welcome._

Thank you all for coming. I can see that our little flyers did their job."

(When we got home, we discovered that there were hand-written flyers tucked into the handle of the front doors of the townhouses in our neighborhood. We had been coming and going through the back entrance, so we had simply missed them.)

" _I would like to thank Sophia Rojas and her Continuation School sisters for hand-writing each and every one of our flyers. Let's give them a little love, shall we, Ladies."_

(Applause. Sophia stood up and bowed. Cherry and the others remained in their seats, however, just watching.)

" _So, I guess the first thing that I should say is—like all of you—we have no idea what happened. What we do know is this:_

_First_ _—it's been thirty days since our loved ones disappeared._

_Second_ _—from what we've been able to figure out, it was everyone over seventeen or under seven. Again, we don't know why._

_Third_ _—we have yet to find any boys of any age who survived_ (massive boos at this) _. We are, of course, still looking_ (a few cheers and giggles) _._

_Fourth_ _—as you all know, we've lost electricity and running water. The brilliant Traynesha Davis_ (beside Orla, Tray nodded her head in faux-modesty) _has tested batteries from a number of different sources and none of them will produce power either. Thus, there is no telephone, no television, no internet. Sadly, we cannot Google, Pin, Tweet, Snap, or Wiki any more. And for those of you suffering Facebook withdrawal—we share your pain_ (more giggles at this) _._

_Fifth_ _—as to who is responsible. If this is an attack by someone foreign, domestic, or non-terrestrial—we have no evidence. If this is a plague, there are no bodies. For those of you who believe that this is the 'End of Times'—well, we have no idea why we would be left behind."_

("Because we're all sinners!" a girl called out from one of the rows near the front. I noticed that it was a blond girl—Reena—a 10th grader from my Chemistry class. Almost immediately, one of the patrolling 12th graders came over and said something in Reena's ear. She didn't say another word after that, just looked down at the floor.)

" _Now, as you all read on the flyer, if we're going to survive this—'thing'—then we have to come together and organize. Again, our lovely Sophia has been an amazing help with the gathering of names and addresses. Getting an accurate account of those who survived and where they live is extremely important right now, so that we can assign tasks suitable to each person's abilities."_

(Beside me, Jay hissed under her breath—"Who died and made her God?!")

" _Another reason is that we have discovered that other girls have survived in other neighborhoods. Our patrols have already come across looting in our malls from groups outside of our district. So we need to organize to protect ourselves._

_It is also vitally important to protect what we have. As you can see_ (she motioned toward the patrolling-girls), _the 11th and 12th graders have created a 'Protection Detail'. It will be in charge of the defense and protection of our community and Traynesha Davis will be in charge. Thank you to those of you who have already offered up weapons to arm them. Anyone else who has a firearm, bow and arrow, hunting knife—anything that can help defend us—I urge you to please turn it into the Detail as soon as possible."_

(I looked over at Jude; she was motionless and expressionless. Jay, on the other hand, was shifting from foot to foot, her mouth open, looking stupefied.)

" _As far as the food supply goes—we'll be organizing teams to empty out Ralphs and Vons. We won't be able to defend both places, so it just makes sense to bring all the food here to the school where we can control it. By putting all the food in one place and creating a fair distribution system—we'll all be able to survive._

We will also have other teams going through the houses in our neighborhood. They will be assigned to bring back any foodstuff, weapons, or anything else that might be of use to us. These things will also be stored in the school, where they can be better protected by our Detail.

When the search teams go through the neighborhood, we will be using a classification system, much like they use during the hurricanes on the East Coast. We will mark every house that we've been to, so that other teams don't repeat the search.

For those of you who aren't interested in joining the search teams, there will be other teams, such as cleaning and cooking. Trust me—there will be a job for everyone's talents and capabilities.

Now, as far as meals go, to conserve our supplies, we will be eating in the cafeteria together—three meals a day, breakfast at 8 a.m., lunch at noon, and supper at 6 p.m. If you don't get there on time, you will be out of luck, so please plan accordingly. If you want to eat at your own home, you will be required to bring your own dishes—for obvious reasons—to pick up your food.

Please understand that things will probably be a little difficult and confusing at first until we find our routine, until we get everything inventoried and sorted out. Therefore, it will help us out greatly if you all follow your instructions exactly as given, so you can each contribute to our 'new society'.

That said, if you do not want to be part of what we are building here—we understand that is your right. However, you will not be allowed access to our food stores. Only those who contribute will be fed. You will not be protected. You will not be allowed entrance to the school for any reason.

Also—we need a government.

As your highest-elected Student Council member, I am happy to undertake the position of interim-President, until our situation improves and a true election can be held. Both Traynesha Davis and Peyton Buckingham—also Student Council elected members—will assist me.

_Of course, the Protection Detail will fall directly under our Council's jurisdiction. To maintain a chain-of-command, they will answer to the three of us_ _only_ _. And for the good of all, any infraction—minor or otherwise—will be dealt with immediately and severely by the Detail._

I am sure, however, that you will all do your very best to follow their instructions. It will, of course, be in the best interest of everyone.

_Please know that the Protection Detail will be patrolling from Chesebro Road up to Kanan Road and from the 101 Freeway over to Calabria Drive. These will be our community's new boundaries and—inside this area—the Protection Detail will be the_ _law_ _._

If you are planning on traveling outside of this area, know that you will be on your own. Also—and I am sorry if this sounds harsh—if you leave this area without prior authorization, understand that you might not be allowed back in.

In closing, thank you very much for showing up for this first meeting. This is a scary, confusing time for all of us, but I know that—if we all work together—we can both survive and prosper.

Thank you."

While there was applause for Orla's speech, it certainly wasn't thunderous. As I looked around the room, I could see that—in direct contrast to the excited laughter from before—many of the girls were now looking worried and scared about what they had just heard.

Beside me, however, Jude was clapping loudly, a big smile on her face. I was confused for a moment by her reaction, until I realized how brilliant it was.

_She was_ _pretending_ _to be one of them._

I immediately began clapping just as loud as Jude.

* * * *

As Orla left the stage and disappeared behind the curtain, Peyton Buckingham rose from her seat and pranced over to the dais. She smoothed down the pleated skirt she was wearing and tugged her school sweater into place.

" _Hi, everyone!" she waved, cheerfully._

_The applause for her was polite and died down_ _very_ _quickly._

" _Okay, bitches. Well, I just wanted to say that the sign-up sheets for the different work teams are over there." She pointed to a row of papers taped to a wall nearby. "Like your President said, breakfast is at 8 a.m. tomorrow and then work detail starts at 9. Thank you."_

And she turned and flounced off the stage.

Tray followed—having said not a single word.

A group of four Protection Detail girls immediately surrounded them, following like a security team.

" _Did you notice what she was wearing?" Jude asked me. "The Peyton bitch?"_

" _School sweater," I answered_

Jude nodded. "Yellow and blue."

My eyebrows went up, surprised. "You think it was the Foxes who left you behind in the supermarket?"

She just shrugged. "Maybe...whatever. Let's sign up on the teams going through the townhouses." Jude walked off, with Lily trailing behind her like a little duckling.

Jay, meanwhile, pulled me aside. "Are we really going to sign up for work detail?"

I nodded. "Until we see how things go, it's probably the smartest thing to do, don't you think? Especially since they're going to be taking all the food from the stores."

" _No, I don't think!" said Jay, angrily. "This is stupid, Kaylee! The Foxes are like trying to build their own empire or something. They're ordering us around like we're their serfs!"_

" _Keep your voice down!" I hissed at her. "Look around you. See how many older girls there are—the ones with guns?"_

" _We're not supposed to even have guns in Agoura Hills!" Jay complained. "This is the suburbs! Somebody needs to stop them. This is just plain wrong."_

" _Why? Because we don't like the Foxes?" I snapped—a little harsher than I really intended. "Well, this is what leaders do, Jay...they lead! Whether we like it or not, someone had to take charge and the Foxes did it first. Now they're building something here and we either have to join it or leave. That's the choice we have."_

Jay's eyes filled with tears. "I hate this. This is so unfair! All my life I've had someone telling me what I had to do—wash this, mop that, clean up after your stupid brothers because it's a girl's responsibility. Marry your second cousin even though you've never met him and my Auntie says his breath stinks of garlic and curry. Kaylee, I know this sounds terrible but, for the first time in my life, I was actually feeling free—like a normal, American girl. Now the Foxes are going to take that all away again and I hate it!"

I put an arm around Jay's shoulder. "I know...and I totally agree with you. But, right now, we simply have to follow the rules."

_Returning from the sign-up sheets, Jude heard this last bit. She grinned at Jay and tapped her on the head. "Let's just say that we'll follow_ _some_ _of them, right, Skipper?"_

* * * *

After work detail sign-up—with the exception of the Foxes, who were nowhere to be seen—all the girls met in one of the rehearsal halls for tea and cookies. As in the main theater, the lighting was provided by tiki torches stuck in pails of sand. Someone had also strung fairy lights all around the room, which was kind of ironic since there was no electricity to actually run them.

_The cookies were store-bought_ (or taken) _and the tea was as tepid as the conversation. Even though girls were hugging and crying, happy to see friends and classmates still alive, there was an undercurrent of_ _fear_ _in the room._

Worried looks and frowns were everywhere.

The one exception seemed to be Sophia. She flitted happily among the various groups, making sure everyone had their tea, bringing cookies around on a tray.

" _What's with Sophia?" Jay asked, as she munched on a ginger snap. "I thought she was a Continuation girl. Is she with the Foxes now?"_

" _I don't think it's like that with Sophia," I answered. "She's always been friendly with everybody. I think that's just her personality."_

Jude nudged me with her elbow, motioning to Cherry and the two girls with her. "Hey, Barbie," she asked, "who's the colored kid?"

" _Ohmigod, Jude," exclaimed Jay. "Racist much!"_

" _I think that's Cherry's sister," I answered. "They're both adopted."_

" _Hmm," said Jude. "I'm adopted."_

" _You should go over and talk to them. Maybe make friends."_

" _Maybe." But Jude didn't make a move; she just stood there, staring._

* * * *

A little while later, Jay nodded toward a very pretty blond girl, who was standing near the door. She was 10-years old—with long, straight hair that was pulled back into two braids. The girl was wearing designer jeans and a violet silk blouse that came almost to her knees. On her feet were pink Converse High Tops that had been bedazzled with sparkly gems.

" _Amelie survived!" I gasped, trying not to stare._

* * * *

_Everyone_ _knew Amelie in Agoura Hills._

It wasn't just that she was rich or that she was Peyton Buckingham's younger sister; it was that Amelie was an actress who had just finished starring in a recent blockbuster movie. The rumor was that she had received well over a million dollars for her role as a fairy princess-gone-bad, and that her next movie was going to make her even more money—double that amount.

In her own way, Amelie was Agoura Hills' royalty.

She was so busy working these days, usually on location, that we didn't see her that often. But when we did, everyone always stopped to stare—or talk behind their hands—giggling and blushing at the young starlet.

* * * *

Today—even though the world and the rules had changed—the girls in the reception room were still acting as though Amelie was a star. No one went near her; instead they just tittered away in their little groups—checking Amelie's clothes out, looking her up and down, wondering out loud what made her so much better than them.

I felt bad for the younger girl—even as Jay and I were too shy to approach her.

The same, of course, couldn't be said for Jude.

" _Hey, movie queen!" barked Jude, motioning her over. "Come on. I've got someone I want you to meet."_

For a moment, Amelie just stood there, staring at Jude.

I was immediately concerned because, let's face it—Amelie was the sister of one of the Foxes. But—looking just as shy as Jay and I were feeling—Amelie actually came over and stood before our small group.

" _Hello," she squeaked, in a tiny voice, staring shyly down at her pink sneakers._

" _You're that actor-girl," said Jude._

" _Sometimes."_

" _My mom saw your film. She said you were good."_

" _Thanks."_

" _This is Lily," said Jude. "She's my little cousin and could use a friend."_

Cousin?

" _I go to Sumac Elementary," piped Lily, enthusiastically._

" _That used to be my elementary school," said Amelie, her face lighting up with a beautiful smile._

" _They got ginger snaps over there. You want to go and get some with me?"_

The smile on Amelie's face actually got bigger. "Sure!"

As the two girls walked away, I turned to Jude. "You are seriously, too devious for words," I told her. "Making friends with a baby-Fox. Why do people keep saying you're dumb?"

Jude shrugged. "I am dumb...book-dumb."

I shook my head. "Nah, I don't think so. I think that maybe there's something else going on there in that big head of yours."

With a snort, Jude reached out and gave the top of my head a smack. "Don't be a tool, Barbie."

And she walked off to join Lily and Amelie at the cookie table.

* * * *

A few moments later, Sophia Rojas came around once more with her tray of cookies. "Did you get enough to eat?" she asked, happily.

Jay reached out for another cookie. "I thought you lived in Thousand Oaks."

" _Yes, I do," said Sophia, her smile disappearing. "But Mommy, she was gone and I got scared, so I came over here on my bike. I thought Cherry or Wandy—maybe they would be at the school. No one was here, though. I was just sitting in the parking lot, not knowing what to do...then Tray and Orla found me."_

" _But Cherry and Wandy are here now," said Jay._

" _They came, maybe five days later...with Shawnee."_

" _Is Shawnee Cherry's sister?" I asked._

" _The black girl," Sophia nodded. "Yeah, she is a real sweetheart. You are going to love her. Everyone does."_

" _You're working for the Foxes now?" asked Jay._

_Sophia frowned. "I am working for the_ _community_ _—for all of us." She was quiet for a moment, looking uncomfortable. "The Foxes—they took good care of me when I was all alone. They are not really so bad—not like everyone thinks."_

Jay was having none of that. "Don't you think it's weird that the Foxes took control so quickly? You're okay with that?"

If anything, Sophia's frown got even deeper. "They are just trying to get us organized. To help us all survive."

I reached behind Jay, poking a finger in her back and turning it. Hopefully she would get the message and shut up.

But Jay, of course—was Jay.

" _Well, what have they actually done so far?" asked Jay. "Looks to me like the only thing they've really done is make rules and give orders. Looks to me like you and that Protection Detail are the ones who are doing all the work."_

Sophia shrugged. "There must always be a queen bee. I am okay, being a worker bee." She reached down and massaged her right hand. "All this writing, it is a big pain, though. I cannot believe how much it hurts— to actually use a pen again."

Before Jay could open her mouth, I quickly jumped in. "I know what you mean, Sophia. It's like so easy when you just can type stuff on the keyboard. Pens and handwriting are so old-school."

" _Totally," she nodded. "Well, okay, girls—I must go now. I have people to see, cookies to deliver."_

She moved on to the next group of girls.

I spun on Jay, irritated. "Way to keep a low profile."

Jay looked at her feet, unhappy. "This is stupid."

" _Without a doubt," I agreed. "But what's stupider is letting them know that we think it's stupid. Come on, Jay. You're supposed to be the smart one in our group."_

" _I thought Jude was the smart one now," Jay groused._

" _Ooo," I poked her in the arm. "You're jealous of Jude-the-Rude."_

" _Shaddup!"_

" _You shaddup."_

But by that time, we were smiling at each other again. Because, no matter what, Jay and I were sisters.

Like my mom always says—you fight, you irritate, then you forgive.

_That's just another definition of_ _family_ _._

* * * *

" _Hey, look." Jay brought my attention over to where Jude was now sitting with the Continuation School girls. She and Cherry had their heads close together and seemed to be having a very serious conversation. "Wonder what that's about...Jude and Cherry?"_

" _Maybe they're becoming friends," I suggested._

" _Jude doesn't make friends."_

" _We're_ _her friends...now."_

" _I thought she just put up with us. Or is it that we put up with her?"_

Even though it was a little mean-spirited, Jay and I had a good giggle over that.

* * * *

_One moment, the doorway was empty—the next,_ _she_ _was there._

Peyton Buckingham stood in silence, her eyes moving slowly over us girls, taking in our clothes, our shoes—judging, finding us wanting. Almost to a girl, we stopped talking—becoming uncomfortable at such obvious inspection.

Brow furrowed, Peyton's attention shifted as she caught sight of her sister at the cookie table with Lily.

" _Amelie!"_

In quick, angry steps, Peyton crossed the room, grabbing her younger sister by the arm. "You don't ever disappear like that again! I need to know where you are at all times!" She began to pull Amelie back toward the door.

" _But I just wanted to get some cookies," cried her sister._

" _You want cookies," Peyton snapped, "you ask for them. We've got people to get them now. We don't do it ourselves." She had kept her voice low when she said this, so I don't think Peyton realized that Jay and I could hear her words._

We had, however—although it was doubtful that anyone else did.

With a final tug, Peyton pulled Amelie out of the room. As they disappeared down the hallway, I could hear the younger girl still trying to explain herself. "But I made a new friend, Peyton! And she's really nice...and I wasn't getting into any trouble..."

As Amelie's voice faded out, I turned to look at the other girls in the room. They had all returned to their conversations. The only ones who still seemed interested in the Buckingham 'sister-drama' were the Continuation girls—Cherry, her younger sister, Shawnee, and Wandy. They were all looking toward the empty door, frowns on their faces.

Meanwhile, Jude had risen and was walking over to a crestfallen Lily.

" _Come on, Sailor Moon," she said, grabbing the little girl by the hand. "Let's go home."_

### PINK IS THE NEW BLACK

We wound up staying at Jude's house that night, even though Lily was upset at leaving Pugly in the townhouse by himself. But we all agreed, however, that it was probably the smartest thing— _to go to Jude's_ —just in case someone was watching.

Besides, we had fed, watered, and walked Pugly just before we had left earlier that night. As long as no one broke in while we were gone, we figured that he'd be just fine until the morning.

That was one of the nice things about that little dog—he was a deep sleeper. Put him on a pillow after 8 p.m., and Pugly tended to snore and fart his way until the sun rose.

* * * *

_It was fascinating to be in Jude's bedroom_ —the _lair_ of the girl who had caused Jay and me so much trouble these last few years. Because of that, I think I was expecting some dark room filled with satanic posters and _"Lord of the Rings"_ swords tucked in the corners.

What I wasn't expecting was so much... _pink!_

I think my mouth must have dropped open when we first walked into Jude's room because she immediately turned on me and barked, _"Shaddup!"_

"I didn't say anything," I insisted.

"You didn't have to, Barbie. Your face says it all."

Jay walked forward, plopping down on Jude's bed. It was a large queen, with a white filigreed headboard and a bright pink duvet accented in red, green, and yellow circles that appeared almost neon in the weak light from our candles.

" _Pretty!"_ smirked Jay, rubbing her hand over the duvet. "Speaking of Barbie, didn't I see this in her Dream House?"

Jude glowered at her. "You seriously want to piss me off, Skipper?"

Jay grinned up at the older girl. "Might be worth it."

A tired Lily, meanwhile, was checking out the photographs neatly arranged in series of four—all across the light-pink walls. I stood beside her, admiring the photos.

_Here_ —the photographs were of beach scenes—high waves, surfers, yellow and gold sunsets.

_There_ —the photographs showed flowers, close up and glistening with early morning dew—roses, marigolds, and daffodils.

In all there had to be about twenty framed photographs in the room. It all made sense once I noticed the Canon 5D camera on a desk in the corner.

"Did you take these pictures, Jude?" I asked, astonished. "They're beautiful!"

Jude looked down at the floor, embarrassed.

"Seriously," I continued. "You're really good."

"Doesn't matter," she mumbled.

"Of course, it does," I insisted.

"No, it doesn't." She shook her head. "Stupid hobby. Not like I can do it anymore anyway."

There was another picture on a nearby nightstand. I picked it up, astounded by how professional it looked.

" _This is an amazing shot, Jude!"_

* * * *

Just above Agoura High, beyond the football field, a large letter _'A'_ has been placed on the hillside. Some people say that the giant letter is built out of wood, others say that it is ceramic, while still others insist that it is made out of metal. What all do agree on, however, is that—whatever the _'A'_ is made of—the letter is big enough to be visible from the 101 Freeway.

Throughout the school year, the color of the giant _'A'_ changes; one day it will be blue, the next week yellow, the next week red—depending on which school group decides to paint it.

Jude had photographed the _'A'_ when it was yellow.

She had spent ten hours at the bottom of the hill one long, dark night, manually opening and closing the Canon's shutter every few minutes. The result was an astonishingly beautiful time-lapse photograph of a buttercup _'A'_ , set against the black sky. Silky strands of white and gold—stars shifting across the heavens—created what looked to be a halo above the apex of the _'A'_.

"Did you show this to anybody at school?" Jay asked her, impressed.

Jude shrugged. "Why would I? They'd just make fun of it. People make fun of everything I do."

"But it's really good," said Jay. "Like yearbook-good."

"She's right, Jude," I agreed. "I'm on the Yearbook Committee and this would of definitely gone into the book."

"Okay, stop it, you two." Jude was becoming irritated. "I don't want to hear it anymore... _just stop!_ There's no yearbook now, so it just doesn't matter, okay!"

Reluctantly, I put the photograph back down on the nightstand. Almost immediately, Lily walked over and picked it back up again.

"If you don't want it, can I have it, Jude?" she asked. "I think it's pretty."

The smile Jude gave the little girl was sweet and genuine. "What's mine is yours, Sailor Moon. You know that."

Taking the photograph with her, Lily went over to the bed and laid down. She placed the picture on the pillow beside her, so that she could look at it as she fell asleep.

With a big yawn, she murmured to us, "I think I'm gonna' rest just a little."

* * * *

Quietly, Jay, Jude, and I moved out of the bedroom and into the rest of the house. We each carried a lit candle. Even so, because of the dark drapes that covered all the windows, it was difficult to see past the shadows. Jude had to physically guide us to a table in a corner of the dining room.

"Did you see them at the top of the bleachers?" asked Jude, as we sat down.

"See who?" I asked.

"I saw _them_ ," said Jay. "They were also at the corners of the football field as we passed. And I think they were holding clipboards. I'm pretty sure I saw them writing down something."

"I saw that, too," Jude agreed.

"Saw who?" I asked again, becoming frustrated.

" _11th and 12th graders,"_ answered Jay, making it sound ominous.

"You mean the ones from the Protection Detail?" Jay and Jude both nodded their heads. "What were they doing?"

"Weren't you listening?" asked Jay, a little exasperated. "They were writing stuff down on clipboards. I could see it, because they were holding these little candles up for light."

"I think they were watching all of us," added Jude. "The ones who came to the meeting...to see where everybody went."

"Why?" I asked.

"That's the question, isn't it?" said Jude, frowning.

We all thought about this for a moment—until Jude got bored. "Well, I'm thirsty. My parents have beer if you want it. I'm going for some bottled water, though. We've got some of that fruity powder to put in your water if you like—makes it taste like Kool-Aid."

"Fruity water," I said.

"Me, too," nodded Jay.

Jude disappeared into a far room. From where we were sitting, all Jay and I could see was the weak glow of her candle as she moved around, getting our drinks.

"We're in trouble, aren't we?" asked Jay, speaking softly.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because if they're watching people, then that means that the Foxes are planning something."

"This was their first meeting. I think it's kind of a little early to think that the Foxes are up to something nefarious, don't you?"

Jude reappeared with a tray of drinks. She sat down, placing a glass of red liquid in front of each of us. "Skipper's right... _we're in trouble."_

"How so?" I asked her.

"The Foxes definitely have a plan," she said, between gulps of her fruity water. "And they're becoming organized. They've got security with guns now and no adults around to stop them."

"So, what do you think their plan is?" I asked. "I mean, their— _total plan_. What do you think they want to ultimately have happen?"

"I can answer that," said Jay. "Do you remember in Ms. Francis' Social Science class last year, when she talked about totalitarian societies?"

"Like the Nazis... _sure_."

"Well, they all start out the same, right. The totalitarians separate people into groups. They create divisions—make some people better than others."

Jude nodded, frowning. _"All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal,"_ she murmured.

"Hey!" I said, grinning. "That's from George Orwell's _"Animal Farm"!_ I thought you said you were book dumb?"

" _Shaddup!"_ Jude glowered at me. "I just read it on a Snapple lid."

"Liar!"

Jay ignored us both, continuing with her thought. "Then the totalitarians start recording 'people-data'—like their ethnic background, their addresses, their friends. Then the _'final solution'_ begins. If you're not part of the group in power, you get rounded up and sent away or you get killed."

I think I must have giggled a little, because Jay frowned at me. "It happens," she said, very serious. "Nazis rounded up Jews. The Hutus rounded up the Tutsis. The Serbs rounded up Bosnians."

"Well, yeah," I said, trying not to smile, "but we're talking about teenage girls in Agoura Hills— _not Nazis."_

"The Foxes and those 11th and 12th graders on the Protection Detail are up to something," Jay insisted. "And I know you guys think so, too—otherwise, you would of told them where we lived. Plus, you didn't tell them about Pugly...and Jude told Amelie that Lily was her cousin."

I turned to Jude. "Why did you say that, by the way—that Lily was your cousin? I meant to ask you before, but I forgot."

Jude shrugged, as if it should have been obvious. "Because they can't take Lily away from us if they think she's part of my family."

"You really think they would do that?" I asked, uncertain. "I mean, what possible reason would the Foxes have to take Lily?"

_Another shrug from Jude_. "People with guns don't need to give reasons."

"Maybe we really should start thinking about heading down to Malibu." Jay chewed at a fingernail, nervously. "What do you think, Kaylee?"

"Well...it's probably smart to have a back-up plan, just in case. Jude, what are your thoughts?"

Jude stretched, hands above her head—almost as if she was bored. "Fine by me. I've got nothing to keep me here."

"But do you think Lily will want to go?" I looked toward the bedroom, where a faint light flickered in the shadows—Lily's candle sitting on the night table beside her.

"She'll go," said Jude.

"How can you be so sure?" I asked.

Jude sniffed in annoyance. "Because we're damn well Lily's family now. She goes where her family goes."

"Then we'll have to start making preparations," I said. "So, if we do decide to go, we'll be ready."

"What kind of preparations?" asked Jay.

"Well...we might not be able to make it over the mountains in a day, which means that we'll have to have enough food and water ready for the trip. And—just in case we have to leave quickly—we should have most of our stuff already in our backpacks."

"Why don't we just put everything in the baskets on our bikes?" asked Jay.

"I think we should do both," I said, "in case we lose our bikes. The Foxes' Protection Detail already want everybody's weapons. Who's to say that the next thing they'll want won't be everyone's bikes. At least, if we have things in a backpack, we'll be able to move easily and quickly."

"Should we plan on a specific day to leave by?" asked Jay.

"Why don't we give this 'community-thing' the Foxes are trying to do a few days?" I suggested. "If it doesn't work out or we're unhappy, then we'll leave."

"Are we staying here or at the townhouse?" asked Jay.

"We stay here," said Jude, immediately. At Jay's and my questioning looks, she added, "The Foxes know we're staying here now, so this will be where they'll look for us. We can use the townhouse as our safe house. Something happens we don't like, we all know to meet up there—in the secret room."

"Then we definitely need to be the ones going through the townhouses tomorrow," I said, "because we don't want the Foxes or any of the Protection Detail to find out about what's in the Sitipala attic."

"That's why I signed us up for search duty," said Jude. "We get there early enough, hopefully, we can choose where we search."

Jay tapped a finger on the table. "There's something else we need to think of—if the Foxes are truly planning something bad. I mean, that's what we're all thinking, right?"

"We're wary," I said. "But trying to remain optimistic."

"You two can be optimistic," growled Jude. _"I'm suspicious as hell."_

Jay nodded. "Okay, then...if we're, _uh_...'covering our butts', we need to get into the school's main office and take our files, so that nobody will have the address to our townhouses or Kaylee's dad's house down in Malibu. Obviously, we don't have to worry about the computer files anymore, but the hard copies will have our home addresses."

"The Foxes don't know where you live?" asked Jude.

Both Jay and I shook our heads. "We're below their radar," joked Jay. "Not cool enough. They probably don't even know that we're alive."

"So, how are we going to get our records?" I asked.

"We can just break into the school," suggested Jude. "But we need to do it now before the Foxes get even more organized and take over the front office—if they haven't already."

Reaching into her pocket, Jay pulled out her house keys and pointed to a large silver key. "We don't have to break in," she grinned. "I still have my key from when I worked in the office as an aide. We can use that."

I pointed an accusing finger at her. "You were supposed to turn that in!"

"Well, I did turn in the key they gave me," Jay said, haughtily.

Jude laughed. "Someone made a copy... _bad Skipper."_

"Why did you make a copy?" I asked, curious. "That's not like you."

"I don't know," said Jay, looking embarrassed. "I just wanted it... _just in case_. Now, aren't you glad I did?"

Jude nodded. "Good _bad-Skipper_."

I don't know if it was the absurdity of the situation, but I started to laugh. Pretty soon, we were all laughing.

Then—to my horror and shame— _my eyes filled with tears and my laughter turned to sobs_.

" _Sheesh!"_ groaned Jude. She immediately stood up and pointed a finger at Jay. "You can deal with her."

Then she turned and walked away.

Jay, meanwhile, pulled her chair around the table until she was sitting beside me. "You okay?" she asked, gently.

I nodded, still blubbering. "It's weird, huh. Like I can't stop crying and I don't know why."

Reaching out, Jay took my hand and gave it a squeeze. "Could it be that it's the end of the world, Facebook is down so you can't update your status, and three crazy, evil girls are probably about to take over Agoura Hills for their own demented empire?"

Smiling through my tears, I nodded vigorously. _"Yeah, that's probably it."_

### JOURNAL ENTRY #13

We broke into the high school today.

Or maybe we didn't.

Can you really call it 'breaking in' when there is no more school and we actually had a key? In any case—while everyone was eating their breakfast in the cafeteria—Jay and I snuck into the main office and stole all our files.

And Jude's, of course.

Actually, we stole quite a few files—twenty-two in all—every file of every girl whose name we knew who had survived.

With the exception of the Foxes—those we left in place.

* * * *

Because we didn't really know what to do with the files—and because Jay and I didn't want to chance being caught with them—we decided to hide everything in the school, rather than try and get them past the Protection Detail.

Jay did most of the dirty work.

She bravely teetered back and forth on a chair we precariously balanced upon a desk, tucking the files up inside the ceiling of the yearbook room. I was the one who stood at the door—peeking out into the hallway—waiting for someone to come and ask us what the heck we were doing.

Our little misadventure went quite quickly, though.

_Well...it_ _would_ _have gone quickly._

Except that I had to go and gawk at some pictures of Jacob Riker that had been pinned to a bulletin board. They were in among some photos of the football team that the Committee had been considering for one of the yearbook pages.

I, of course, only had eyes for my future-husband.

" _He's so hot," I murmured to myself._

In the photo I was looking at, Jacob had his hands in the air, about to catch a football. Even wearing a helmet, his ice-blue eyes were visible—and mesmerizing.

" _Who's hot?"_

* * * *

_I immediately froze—because it_ _wasn't_ _Jay who had just spoken. In fact, when I turned toward Jay, she looked terrified._

" _I said...who's hot?" the voice asked again._

Slowly, I turned in the opposite direction.

Crap...

Tray and two 12th graders from the Protection Detail were standing at the open doorway. One of the older girls actually had her gun out—although she was holding it down by her side.

" _Jacob...Jacob Riker," I managed to squeak out in a tiny voice._

Leaving the two 12th graders at the door, Tray entered and walked over to look at Jacob's photo on the bulletin board.

(I always feel weird around Tray. She's about three inches taller than me and about ten pounds lighter—an absolute stunner with her dark hair and amber eyes. It's like I know she's beautiful, but I hate myself for knowing it. I can't really say that Tray actually makes me feel insecure. What I can say is that Tray makes me feel—less.)

" _Definitely hot," nodded Tray, running a finger over Jacob's picture. Then she turned her head slowly in my direction and her amber eyes bore into mine. "What are you doing here, Kaylee Michelson?"_

Part of me started stuttering, searching for an excuse; the other part of me was decidedly more juvenile, delighted to have just learned that—Tray Davis actually knew who I was!

" _I'm...uh...I'm on the Yearbook Committee."_

Tray grinned. "Well, sweetie, I guess you missed the part about there not being a yearbook this year. End of the world and all that."

" _I know. I just..."_

" _You just what?"_

Words failed me; I became tongue-tied trying to think of something to say that wouldn't get me in trouble. Jay—thankfully—came to my rescue.

" _She wanted a picture of Jacob."_

Tray snorted, amused. "You really think you're in Jacob Riker's league, Kaylee?"

I shook my head no.

Of course, I wasn't in Jacob's league.

With a quick movement, Tray's hand shot forward. For a moment, I had the irrational thought that she was going to hit me. Instead, Tray reached past my head and pulled Jacob's photo off of the bulletin board, laying it gently on the palm of my hand.

" _Go ahead, Kaylee...dream on. Looks like it's all any of us can do anymore. Now, bugger off, the two of you. This area's out-of-bounds from now on."_

Holding the photo close to my heart, I quickly scuttled toward the door. The two 12th graders from the Protection Detail moved slightly aside, just enough to let me pass. Jay caught up with me just outside the door and we immediately started sprinting down the hallway.

Behind us, meanwhile, the yearbook room filled up with cruel laughter.

* * * *

Breakfast in the cafeteria that morning was oatmeal and that Jewish bread called matzo. I have to be honest—it was all terrible.

Personally, I would rather have been eating at our townhouse, firing up the hibachi and warming up one of my stews.

Still, as my mom always says—if you don't like the food, just consider it as fuel and eat it anyway.

* * * *

By the time Jay and I sat down beside Jude and Lily, they were already halfway through their oatmeal. Two bowls were set out opposite theirs—one each for Jay and me—two tiny squares of matzo on a napkin to the side.

" _Any good?" asked Jay, picking up her spoon._

" _Sucks butt," Jude answered._

Jay took a taste. "Why, yes, it does."

I picked up my own spoon and dug in, taking a big bite. "Wow," I said, trying not to gag at the taste. "Like yuck-wow!"

Jude leaned in close, speaking softly. "How'd it go?"

I lowered my own voice to match. "We hid the files, but we almost got caught."

" _What happened?"_

" _Tray and her goons showed up."_

" _Were they suspicious?"_

Jay leaned across the table to join our conversation. "I said that Kaylee was there to steal a photo of Jacob Riker," she whispered. "They bought it."

" _Well, of course they did," Jude responded, matter-of-fact._

My hackles immediately rose up. "What do you mean by that?"

She snorted. "Dude, it's not like it's a big secret. Everybody knows that you love the boy."

" _No, they don't," I said—a little offended._

Jude turned to Lily. "Sailor Moon, who does Barbie got a crush on?"

Lily was busy sniffing at a spoonful of oatmeal. She didn't even look up when she answered, "Jacob Riker with the blue eyes."

Jay burst into amused laughter, which ended abruptly as Jude turned in her direction, grinning wickedly. Immediately suspicious, Jay turned to Lily. "Did Jude say that I had a crush on anyone?"

The little girl looked up at Jay with her huge, innocent eyes and just smiled.

Jay turned back to Jude. "What did you say to Lily?!"

Jude, of course, just ignored her. Instead, she leaned in close and lowered her voice once again. "Have you noticed how much happier everyone seems to be than last night?" She motioned to the girls eating breakfast all around us.

" _Guess they don't feel like they're all alone anymore," I said, quietly._

" _They're not alone." Jude was whispering now, barely moving her lips. "Look outside the cafeteria...through the windows, right at the edges of the room."_

Trying to appear casual, Jay and I both turned and looked. There were 11th and 12th graders outside—at each corner of the building—peering in through the cafeteria windows.

" _Seriously," Jay murmured, "like this is getting so bizarre!"_

" _Check out where they're looking," Jude told us._

Jay and I turned around again and carefully looked from one window to the next. It took only a moment for us to figure out what Jude was getting at; the Protection Detail was watching three girls in particular, all seated at the same table.

" _Cherry, Wandy...and Cherry's little sister," I murmured. "They're watching the Continuation girls. I wonder what's up with that."_

" _Could be just school rivalry," Jay suggested. "The Continuation kids have always been kind of separate from us."_

" _The Foxes and the Detail don't seem to have any problem with Sophia, though," I said, "and she goes to the Continuation School."_

In fact, Sophia Rojas was presently moving back and forth between tables—talking to girls, giving hugs, making sure everyone had enough to eat.

" _Hmm," mused Jay. "Do you know what Sophia makes me think of when she acts like that?"_

" _What's that?"_

" _Those French people, back in World War II, the ones who used to help the Germans."_

Jude snorted, amused. "Collaborators."

" _That's it," nodded Jay. "Sophia's a_ _collaborator_ _."_

" _Stop it," I said. "She's just being Sophia. She's always nice to everybody."_

" _Well, Cherry doesn't look too amused, does she?"_

Indeed, Cherry did have a sour look on her face.

(Of course, the girl generally looks that way. I always wonder if Cherry is disappointed, depressed, or just plain old cranky. It's unfortunate, too—because under all that make-up and pink hair—Cherry Winslette is really a very pretty girl. Not Tray-beautiful—but definitely above my own soccer girl-looks.)

" _Anyone notice that the Foxes aren't here?" asked Jude. "I guess they're eating their oatmeal somewhere else."_

" _If they're eating oatmeal at all," groused Jay. "They're probably having waffles and bacon and orange juice."_

" _Shhh..." I elbowed Jay to be quiet._

Four of the Protection Detail—all 12th graders—had just entered the room.

They fanned out—one to each corner—standing with their backs to the wall, watching us. I noticed that each one was wearing a gun, and one girl even had a large knife tucked into her waist belt.

Were they armed for our protection?

_Or_ _against_ _us?_

* * * *

" _It's so weird. We should be really happy," I said, quietly. "Yesterday morning, it was just us. Now look at how many people are here. There's got to be over sixty girls. And most of these girls are from our own school—a lot of them are our friends."_

" _Weren't my friends," snorted Jude_

" _I just don't understand," I continued. "Why are we being so paranoid and suspicious? Why is that?"_

Jude looked at me like I was an idiot. "Dude...it's the end of the world—and the mean girls are still in control."

* * * *

" _Darn it...seriously?"_

I turned to see what had just irritated Jay.

It was two 12th graders—riding up on horses—just outside the cafeteria. When the older girls dismounted, I got a good look at the horses they had been riding.

Suddenly, I was just as irritated as Jay. "They've got Beauty and the brown horse. That's not fair!"

" _Are those your horses?" asked Jude._

" _No...but well..."_

" _We had kind of called dibs," Jay admitted._

Jude burst out into laughter; Lily just looked confused.

_Meanwhile, the two 12th graders entered the cafeteria. They walked to the front of the room, then turned to face us. One of the girls—Alice—was a tall redhead with a manly jaw and no bosom._ (I didn't recognize the other girl.)

Behind Alice's back, I knew that some of the kids at Agoura High called her 'Brady Bob'. It was kind of a stupid reference to her looking somewhat like a cross between a man and the maid, 'Alice', on "The Brady Bunch"—an old television show from when my mom was little.

Like Tray, Alice had a reputation for being mean-spirited and violent.

I once saw her smack a guy in the hallway just because he had made some crack about the dress she was wearing. The kid wound up in the nurse's office with a bloody nose; Alice wound up with two day's suspension and bragging rights.

* * * *

Alice waited until all conversation in the cafeteria had stopped before she began to speak. "You all know your work teams. If you don't, check the sign-up sheets taped to that wall over there. You work until noon, then come here for lunch, which will go until 1 p.m. Work will then resume again until 5 p.m. You will return here for supper at 6. After that, your time is your own."

Beside me, Jay snorted. I elbowed her in the ribs to keep quiet.

" _For those of you going through the neighborhood," Alice continued, "you'll separate into teams—one team for each block. Right now, you'll just be making lists of what's available in all the houses. You are searching primarily for food, weapons, candles, and tools—those sorts of things. President Orla will review your lists this evening and then other work teams will be sent out tomorrow morning to collect whatever you have discovered."_

" _President Orla?!" Jay snorted again—looking like she had just sucked on a lemon._

" _Seriously, Jay!" I hissed in her ear. "Stop it...you're going to get into trouble!"_

Up front, Alice held up a piece of paper with some marks on it. "Sophia Rojas has hand-drawn a sample of how you are to mark the doors of the houses you enter. Please mark all doors of the same house with the same mark, so that you do not waste the follow-up team's time by having them enter houses that contain nothing of value to us. If there is anything to be collected inside, you will mark all doors with a checkmark and the appropriate symbols for whatever supplies you find. If there is nothing of value inside, you will mark all doors with an 'X'. If there are any animals inside, they should be fed and watered immediately and the Protection Detail notified for transfer back to the school."

" _Yup," nodded Jude, speaking quietly. "They're gonna' eat the animals."_

" _We don't expect you to find any dead bodies in the houses but, if you do come across any, you will mark all doors with a double 'XX'. A separate team later will properly dispose of the corpses."_

I pushed the last of my oatmeal away from me. "Okay...I am officially disgusted."

" _Finally," said Alice, "there will be members of the Protection Detail roaming throughout the boundaries of our neighborhood. If you have any problems or questions, please do not hesitate to ask them for further instructions or for clarification. The Protection Detail is there for your assistance. Please make use of them. They will also be on the lookout for looters, so anyone taking anything from any house without prior permission will be considered as a 'hostile' to our community. As such, they will be punished accordingly."_

" _Punished!" squeaked Jay. She turned to me, worried._

Jude, meanwhile, simply leaned back, crossed her arms, and looked bored.

A slight murmur began to spread throughout the seated girls.

Alice stopped for a moment, taking in the whole room. It was as if she was waiting for someone to object. Even the 12th graders in the corners seemed to straighten a bit, their hands hovering a fraction closer to their gun holsters as their heads swiveled back and forth, as if searching the crowd for possible dissenters.

Finally—when no one spoke up and the murmurs had died off—Alice continued. "Thank you all for your hard work in advance. If I don't see you on my rounds, I'll see you at lunchtime. Have a good day."

There was silence when Alice walked out of the cafeteria. Everyone just sat there, looking toward the empty door. Meanwhile, the four members of the Protection Detail remained standing in their corners.

But they said nothing.

_They just stood there—_ _watching_ _._

Eventually, conversation started up again.

Although there continued to be some worried looks here or there, it seemed that most of the girls were actually excited to be doing something—to be a part of this new community.

It made me wonder once more.

Were we just being paranoid? Overly-sensitive?

Was it actually possible that the Foxes really were just trying to bring us all together?

* * * *

It was a combination of luck and Jude that got us the work detail we wanted. When Section L of the townhouse complex was called out, Jude merely stuck up her hand and said, "We'll search through that one."

Her response was so quick that no one else really had a chance.

* * * *

Two 11thgraders—twin sisters who I knew slightly from soccer—were standing outside the cafeteria with our work supplies. It wasn't much—just a crowbar, two clipboards with lined paper, some pens, and a can of black spray paint.

While Jude waited with Lily to one side, Jay and I got in line for supplies.

All around us were other work teams coming together—some to go to Ralphs and Vons to begin bringing back all the food, others for organizing the school into various storage and habitation areas.

Moving throughout the teams were the 11th and 12th graders of the Protection Detail. They were always in sets of two, with guns and knives at their waist belts, their faces looking grim and serious.

At one point, Jay leaned in close to whisper in my ear. "You notice that it's only the 9th and 10th graders on the work details?"

" _That's Sue and Rachel handing out the supplies," I said, motioning to the twins in front of us. "They're 11th graders."_

" _Exactly...Looks like all the real_ _hard_ _work is going to be done by the younger grades."_

" _You think the Foxes set it up that way on purpose?"_

" _Well, they had their Protection Detail going before anyone showed up for the first meeting last night in the theater, didn't they? Think about it. That means that they must have already had at least one meeting before yesterday."_

" _Then that would mean that the Foxes went looking for the 12th and 11thgraders before anyone else."_

" _That's what I think," nodded Jay. "And I would guess that it was because they didn't want any of the younger grades to be on the Protection Detail."_

I lowered my voice to the merest of whispers. "So, you think that the Foxes planned it from the start—that only the 11th and 12th graders would be the ones with the weapons?"

Jay nodded, whispering back. "We're smaller, younger and—because they're taking all the weapons—completely unarmed. Even before this, at school, the Foxes and her click have always ordered the younger grades around. The big difference was that they didn't have any weapons then. And there was always an adult around to stop them when they got really mean. Now they can do what they want—because we don't have anybody older to protect us."

I thought about this for a moment.

" _Yes, we do," I finally said. "We've definitely got someone on our side."_

" _Who?" Jay asked._

" _We've got Jude."_

Jay and I both turned and looked over to where our former enemy was standing a few feet away with Lily. Our eyes met with the older girl's and she frowned.

_Then she gave us the_ _finger_ _._

" _Our protector—Jude-the-Rude—beyond weird," giggled Jay._

" _I know, huh."_

* * * *

_We spent a suitable amount of time in both the Sitipala's and my townhouse—pretending to search—just in case one of the Protection Detail teams happened by. Then we marked all doors with a giant 'X', signifying that there was nothing of value inside. Jude_ (again, surprising me with her deviousness) _grabbed a couple of 'For Sale' signs from a lawn in Section G and planted them in front of our townhouses._

" _If the work details think your houses are for sale," she explained, "there's a better chance that they'll think they're empty and not worth looking in."_

" _That's genius," said Jay._

" _Whatever," was Jude's response._

* * * *

When we first entered Jay's townhouse, Lily immediately ran up to the secret room. She had been worried about Pugly who—amusedly—was still sleeping on his little pillow. Lily woke him up with kisses and he gave a few, huffy barks. Then he started snuffling his way downstairs to his water and food bowls. Our little sister followed happily after, bounding down the attic stairs with reckless abandon.

Jude, Jay, and I remained behind to talk.

" _What are we going to do about the dog?" asked Jay. "There's enough of a garden out on the patio, so he can do his 'business' out there, but somebody will have to be here to let him in and out."_

" _We're absolutely certain that we're going to keep Pugly a secret?" I asked. "I mean, do we seriously believe that the Foxes will take him away and eat him?"_

Jay shrugged. "Things are weird. Why take the chance?"

I turned to Jude for her opinion. She just stared at me like I should already know.

" _Okay, then," I sighed. "But I think it makes more sense to take him to Jude's house. We just have to do it without the Protection Detail finding out."_

" _I'll bet they'll be using the horses for patrolling at night," said Jude. "That could be good for us. We could bring him over then."_

" _How could that be good?" I asked, confused. "They'll be able to move around faster on the horses."_

" _Yeah...but we'll hear them coming easier."_

" _Pugly's pretty small," said Jay. "Maybe one of us could simply tuck him up inside of our coat. Walk him over right under their noses at lunchtime."_

I shook my head. "Too dangerous in the daylight. If we get stopped by the Detail and he moves inside the jacket, it'll be too obvious."

" _Then I'll do it tonight," said Jude. "After it gets dark."_

" _What if they catch you?" I asked, worried. "They're already talking about punishments."_

" _They won't catch me. I'll use the culvert that goes around Chumash Park."_

" _That might work," agreed Jay. "It goes right by the townhouses on our side. And when you leave the culvert at Chumash, it will only be about a block away from your house."_

" _I'll go with you," I told Jude._

" _No." The older girl shook her head. "It's better if I do it alone. I can move quicker if I don't have to worry about anybody else."_

" _But I'm fast," I insisted. "Probably faster than you."_

" _Yeah, but I'm meaner," said Jude. "They try and take the dog, are you willing to fight? Are you willing to hurt someone if you have to?"_

Of course, I wasn't.

_I sighed. "This is all_ _so_ _dramatic. I'm just having a hard time believing that they'd eat Pugly."_

Jude shrugged. "I would."

Jay and I both stared at her, aghast.

" _Don't get your panties in a twist, you two," she smirked. "I said I would, not that I'm gonna'. Face it, I'm not veggie-heads like you two morons. Any Spam we come across is going straight into my belly. That said, I'm moderately okay eating canned beans—for the moment." She shrugged again. "It's kind of worth it."_

" _Ooo, you're getting sentimental," joked Jay. "Because you got friends now."_

Jude immediately reached out and cuffed Jay across the side of the head. "Don't be such a dumbass, Skipper! You're not my friends and I'll leave you all the second something better comes along. Just suits me to work with you guys right now, that's all."

Jay and I both knew she was lying—even if it was only to herself.

Jude was definitely with us now. She was our friend—part of our strange, new family.

Now—if she would only stop whacking us!

" _Veggie-feelings aside," Jude continued, "you guys gotta' realize that everyone else is going to want to eat meat. When the canned stuff runs out, the Foxes and the rest of them are going to be looking for something fresh—if they aren't eating it already on the down-low. That means hunting and fishing and, most likely, eating what will be right in front of them."_

" _The pets!" Jay groaned._

" _Like I said—I would."_

" _Do you think we could stop them?" asked Jay. "Maybe show them how to be vegetarians?"_

_Jude snorted, cuffing Jay on the top of the head again. "Skipper, you_ _so_ _make me laugh sometimes."_

* * * *

"Do you think Jude's right?" Jay asked me, when we were alone.

I shrugged. "Probably."

"There's nothing we can do about it, is there?" she sighed, unhappy. "If the Foxes decide to eat the pets, I mean."

"Probably not," I agreed.

"Then we should just go to Malibu now, don't you think? To your dad's house?"

I thought about that for a moment. "It makes sense. My dad's place is big enough for all of us, and it's got that wall that goes around it. It'll probably be safe."

"Safer than here, maybe." Jay frowned.

"And if it turns out that we're just being paranoid about the Foxes, we can always come back later on. But it's still going to be a long hike to Malibu. By bike or by foot, especially with a kid and a little dog. We need to get our supplies first."

"Agreed," said Jay, reluctantly.

### WHAT WE FOUND

(Our mistake was that we didn't leave for Malibu that very day. If we had, things would probably have gone differently.

But—Jay and I had made a plan.

_What we hadn't counted on was—_ _so had the Foxes_ _.)_

* * * *

Going through the townhouses— _looking for supplies_ —was actually quite interesting. Jay and I, of course, had already been through much of our complex when we were looking for pets _(and not to eat, thank you very much!)_. But we hadn't spent much time actually looking through people's belongings.

Now, we took our time—going through cupboards, opening drawers, searching for anything that could be of use. And—although Jay and I hated to admit it—the Foxes were right about searching through the houses; it just made sense to catalogue what was available in the neighborhood.

* * * *

" _Hello!"_ Jay stepped back from the drawer she had just opened.

"What is it?" I asked, curious. "What did you find?"

" _Gun...I found a gun!"_ Jay looked delighted; she was grinning.

Pushing me aside in her eagerness, Jude quickly ran over and looked inside the drawer that Jay was indicating.

"It's a revolver," Jude told us, pulling a tiny gun from the drawer. It had a pearl handle—like something a lady would carry in a Western movie. Holding the gun up to her eye level, Jude spun the cylinder. _"And it's loaded."_

"Should we catalogue it?" asked Jay.

"Don't be a dumbass, Skipper."

"But we're specifically supposed to look for weapons."

Unzipping her fanny pack, Jude tucked the revolver inside. "Grab any extra bullets if you can find them. Barbie, check that drawer over there."

When I didn't move, Jude sighed, crossing her arms in irritation. "Let me guess, Barbie. You want me to give the gun to the Protection Detail, too?"

"Actually," I said quietly, "I was hoping that maybe you'd give it to me."

### JOURNAL ENTRY #14

I've got a gun!

Well, actually, I've got a revolver.

I never knew that there was a difference before, but Jude has explained it to me. The 'gun' uses a magazine that holds the bullets. The 'revolver' uses a spinning cylinder.

Now we're looking for a gun (or a revolver) for Jay.

_I was surprised that Jay would even want a gun. But then I think that she was surprised that_ _I_ _wanted one._

The truth is that neither of us likes guns. That hasn't changed.

_What_ _has_ _changed—are the circumstances._

Sometimes you just want to feel safe—and guns make you feel safe.

How sad is that?

* * * *

Right now, Jay, Lily, and I are at Jude's, waiting for her to return with Pugly. She left the house about an hour ago and still isn't back—and she should have been home by now.

For the last little while we've been hearing horses clip-clopping up and down the nearby streets. We don't know if it's the Protection Detail just patrolling—or if they're actually looking for someone.

But it worries us.

Even though Jude said not to—if she's not back in the next half hour, I'm going to go out and look for her.

Until then—I'll write a little bit more to occupy my nervous mind. So, here's what happened this afternoon.

* * * *

_On our way back to the school after our first work detail—we discovered the_ _signs_ _. They were all hand-drawn on cardboard and had been tacked up to power poles and along fences._

The signs read:

Welcome to Agoura Hills. This is a CLOSED COMMUNITY.

Due to limited resources, we are admitting no more residents.

Armed security patrols have been authorized to use deadly force.

Please move along.

Thank you for understanding. Have a nice day.

" _Wow," said Jay. "What a way to say 'No Trespassing'. Do you think they're serious about using deadly force?"_

" _If there really are looters," I said, "at least the Foxes are giving them a warning."_

" _Do you remember the mess at the bike store?" asked Jay. "Someone broke all the windows there."_

" _You're thinking that it might have been looters?" asked Jude._

Jay shrugged. "Maybe."

" _It wasn't looters," admitted Jude. She looked down at the ground, shuffling a foot in the dirt._

" _No!" I gasped._

" _I was—angry," Jude murmured, not looking up. "If I'd known there were still people around to get all pissy about it, I probably wouldn't have done it."_

" _But why did you break the glass?" I asked. "The door wasn't even locked."_

She looked up at me, a little abashed. "It wasn't about the door."

" _Then what was it about?"_

It was Lily who answered for Jude. "Breaking things make you feel better. When I got angry at Ethan for hiding my DS, I broke his Lego helicopter."

Jude looked down at the little girl. "It's not good to break things just to feel better."

" _I know," said Lily. "But I still did it."_

" _Me, too," Jude grinned._

Jay tapped the cardboard poster. "Jude, you do realize that you might be part of the reason these things have gone up?"

" _Nah," said Jude. "Bitches like the Foxes don't need reasons to do the things they do. They just need excuses." Then she looked down at Lily and shook her finger at the younger girl. "You don't call them 'bitches'...bad word."_

Lily nodded. "You say a lot of bad words, Jude."

" _Yeah," Jude said. "Sorry about that, kid."_

* * * *

On our way over to the cafeteria for supper, we saw four teams of girls—each team pushing a full shopping cart filled with food cartons. They were heading toward the bigger high school gym, where all the food and supplies will be stored now.

Two 11th graders on horseback were riding alongside the teams. They had guns in holsters at their waists and one girl was even holding a rifle in her arms.

We tried going over to help push the carts, but the 11th graders warned us back. They said that only 'specified teams' could touch the food from now on. We said that we were only trying to help. They said that it didn't matter.

_It was all...'_ _Don't touch the food_ _!'_

* * * *

The twins, Sue and Rachel, were back outside the cafeteria when we finally showed up. They took the supply lists that we had created and then handed us each a piece of paper with a 'diamond' stamped on it. We then had to take the diamond-paper into the cafeteria and exchange it for our supper.

These diamond-papers are our 'food vouchers'.

And apparently, from now on, if you want to eat—you need to earn a food voucher.

* * * *

Supper was actually pretty tasty—we had spaghetti and some sort of three-bean salad. For dessert, we had our choice of apples or oranges.

I noticed that there were a few extra girls at one of the tables. They were older girls, who I knew went to Oak Park High. That's a school a little farther along Kanan—the next community up the road from Agoura Hills.

" _I thought Orla didn't want anyone new joining us," I said. "The signs said that we were closed now."_

" _Look at who they're eating with," said Jude, quietly._

" _It's the Protection Detail!" Jay groaned._

" _Those Oak Park girls are 12th graders," Jude explained. "They hang with Orla and Peyton. I've seen them over at Jinky's Cafe together."_

" _So, that means that this is a closed community—_ _except_ _for the friends of the Foxes," said Jay. "That's_ _so_ _not fair."_

* * * *

Everyone seemed to sit up a little straighter when Orla came into the eating area. Some even clapped—which completely irritated Jay.

There were four 12th graders from the Protection Detail, apparently now assigned to be Orla's 'personal guards'—two in front of her and two in back. Tray, Peyton, and Amelie trailed a few feet behind the guards.

_We were all kind of astonished at how good the Foxes looked, considering that we had no electricity or running water. Orla was wearing a forest-green Tahari jacket and skirt that set off her red hair. Peyton was—of course—wearing a bright pink Lululemon tracksuit. Beside her, Amelie was decked out in a smaller version of the same tracksuit—which made_ _her_ _look adorable!_

But it was Tray, in a simple pair of skinny jeans and a long, eggshell-blue top with petal sleeves, who really stole the show. No matter what that girl put on, I swear she always looked like a supermodel.

And then there were the rest of us—scraggy clothes, dirty faces, messy hair and not an eyelash curled as far as I could see. It figured—the world had ended and it still was going to be about how we looked.

* * * *

Like a good politician, Orla moved through the cafeteria, talking quietly for a few minutes with each of the girls. When she reached our table, she placed a hand on Lily's shoulder and smiled sweetly down at her.

" _Hey, you," she said. "My name is Orla. What's yours?"_

" _Lily."_

" _What a beautiful name." Orla kneeled down beside Lily. "Do you have enough to eat?"_

Lily nodded. She seemed a little in awe of Orla, which made me worried that she might say the wrong thing.

" _Have you met our Amelie?" Orla asked, motioning to the younger girl standing beside Peyton. Amelie looked nervous—she was wearing a small pearl bracelet on one wrist that she was twisting back and forth._

" _I like her," Lily said. She and Amelie exchanged shy smiles._

" _Everyone likes Amelie. You should come and spend some time with her," suggested Orla. "We live up in a big house on the hill next to the school. You girls could play together."_

" _I think that's an excellent idea," said Tray, coming forward._

A chill went through me at the thought. Beside me, I could feel Jude tense, her back straightening.

" _Another excellent idea," Jude countered, "would be if Amelie came to our house to play with Lily."_

Orla stood up slowly, the smile on her face twitching slightly at the corners. "Jude...I didn't see you there."

" _I'm easily missed," said Jude. She leaned back in her chair, grinning. "Heck, you could probably even walk right past me in a supermarket and not know I was lying on the ground, I'm so invisible."_

Beside Orla, Tray's eyes narrowed.

I quickly glanced over at Peyton to find that a piece of lint on her hoodie had suddenly captured her attention.

" _No girl's invisible, Jude," Orla told her. "We're all important now. More so than ever."_

It was at that moment that Sophia—smiling brightly—rushed over. "Orla," she gushed. "We've set up a table for you right over there. We're cooking up something special for you right now."

" _I'll eat what everyone else is eating," Orla corrected her. "So will my Detail."_

Sophia's smile immediately disappeared. "Oh...of course. We'll get you some spaghetti, then."

" _I love spaghetti." Orla reached out a hand, smoothing down Lily's hair. "Don't you, Lily?"_

" _Yum," said Lily, winding up a forkful of noodles, as if in response._

" _Well, I'll let you get back to your meal, then." She was about to leave, but turned back, as if she had just remembered something. "It's good to see you here, Jude. I'm serious about that. We all have to work together now...if we want to survive."_

_And that's when..._ _Amelie dropped her bracelet_ _._

* * * *

It landed just under the table, right next to my foot. Both Amelie and I bent down at the same time to pick it up. She reached it first, however, scrabbling under the table to get at it. As she turned to scoot back out, she looked up.

And her eyes went wide.

My head—halfway under the table—suddenly realized what she had seen.

_The_ _revolver_ _._

Earlier, I had placed the weapon in a small purse, which was now sitting on my lap—partially obscured by a napkin. Even so, I sensed that the flap had come open and—from underneath the table—Amelie had a direct line of sight to the revolver inside.

We stared at each other from under the table—both frozen.

" _Amelie, get out from under there!" barked Peyton. "You're going to get your clothes dirty."_

And then that young girl did the most amazing thing; Amelie smiled at me—and gave me a thumbs up.

Orla was wrong.

_Everyone didn't like Amelie—some of us_ _loved_ _her._

### THEY'RE COMING!

Jude finally returned to the house just before midnight. _(We knew the time because of her mother's wind-up clock.)_ Pugly, meanwhile, was sleeping quietly, tucked inside of her jacket.

"Man, this dog farts a lot," complained Jude. She plunked herself down on a couch and placed the dog on a pillow beside her. There was a small candle on a nearby coffee table. Even so, we could just barely see each other's faces. _"Lily asleep?"_

"She passed out a few hours ago," I told her. "What took you so long?"

"Was it the patrols?" asked Jay, sitting down opposite her. "We could hear them moving around outside."

"They're certainly patrolling," admitted Jude. "But I had no problem getting past them. I just took a side trip, that's all."

"Where'd you go?" I asked.

"Wanted to see where the Foxes were living."

"Why?"

"Just curious."

"They said they lived in one of the houses on the hill across from the school," said Jay.

"They do," Jude nodded. "Big one, opposite the football field. The one with that glassed-in terrace. Looks like all the Foxes are living in it together."

Beside her, Pugly farted.

" _Sheesh!"_ Jude groaned. She picked up the little guy and walked off into the dark. A moment later, she returned—without the dog. "I put him in with Lily," she told us. "She's at least used to the stink."

"Could you see inside the Foxes' house?" asked Jay.

"I looked through some of the windows. It's just a house. But get this...the girls from the Protection Detail are living in the houses all around them."

"That would make sense," I said. "You put security around the leaders."

"And looks like that _"Brady Bunch"_ -bitch, Alice, is rooming with Sophia."

" _Sophia Rojas?"_ Now that was surprising.

"Cherry won't like that," Jay warned.

"Guess little Miss Sophia likes to be where the power is," grinned Jude.

"I wonder where the other Continuation girls are living," I mused.

"On Driver Avenue," answered Jude. "Cherry told me they picked out that house that looks like a big wooden cabin. The one up on the hill."

"Oh, I love that one," said Jay. "They have the most beautiful Christmas tree each year. You can see it from the road."

"Cherry said they chose that house because they can see the 101 Freeway from the other side."

"Why is that important to them?" I asked.

"Probably the same reason the culvert is to us," Jude shrugged. "It's an escape route."

"Just in case," I murmured.

Jude nodded. _"Just in case."_

* * * *

We had breakfast with the Continuation girls the next morning.

Although she wouldn't admit it, I wondered if Jude had prearranged it with Cherry, because the pink-haired girl certainly didn't seem surprised when we sat down at her table. Instead, Cherry just lifted her bowl of oatmeal and moved to one side to make room for us.

" _That's Wandy,"_ Cherry said, motioning to the quiet girl at the far end. "She doesn't talk much. Likes to save her breath for saying things that really matter."

Wandy looked up and smiled sweetly at Cherry. There seemed to be affection in her gaze. It made me wonder if, perhaps, they were a couple, because it was no big secret that Cherry was gay. She had always been very open about it.

Personally, I thought that was another reason why the Foxes hated Cherry so much. _(Not the 'being gay' part—the 'being courageous and not caring what other people thought' part.)_

"You've got an earring in your nose." Lily pointed to Cherry's columella-jewelry. "Does it hurt?"

"It hurt going in."

"I don't think I'd get one, then," said Lily.

"Probably a good idea," Cherry told her. "I just did it to annoy people anyway."

"Why?" asked Lily.

Cherry shrugged. "Who knows...my mom says I was just born contrary."

Lily looked over at the chubby black girl on the opposite side of Cherry. "I'm Lily," she said.

The other girl smiled, producing massive dimples, one in each cheek. "I'm Shawnee."

"I have a brother. His name is Ethan. He's seven like me—but he disappeared."

The smile left Shawnee's face. Cherry immediately reached out and took her sister's hand. She gave it a quick squeeze, then turned to Lily. "Shawnee and I have an 8-year old brother."

Lily's face dropped. "Did he disappear, too?"

Cherry nodded sadly. "He disappeared, too."

For a moment, nobody said anything. Then Lilly got out of her seat and walked over to Shawnee and gave the girl a big hug.

"It's okay, Shawnee," said Lily. "Maybe our brothers are together. Then they could take care of each other wherever they are. That would be good, wouldn't it?"

"That would be very good," whispered Shawnee—her eyes moist with tears.

* * * *

"I thought most of you Continuation kids lived out of the area," I said.

"Wandy lives on the hill across Kanan," said Cherry. "Sophia's in Thousand Oaks and Shawnee and I live in Calabasas. That's probably why we're the only ones here. All the rest live over the hill in the San Fernando Valley."

"Kaylee and I went to Calabasas—after _it_ happened," said Jay. "To check out the Sheriff's Station."

"Was that you who put up the note?" asked Cherry.

" _You saw it?"_

Cherry nodded. "On our way here. We wrote where we were going. You didn't see it?"

"We must have just missed each other," I said. "Did you see anybody else when you walked over here?"

"No." Cherry shook her head. "For a while there it was just Shawnee and me. We thought we had been _left behind_ —like in the bible."

Jay nudged me. "See, it wasn't just me who thought that."

I ignored her. "But why come here?" I asked Cherry. "It's a long way to walk from where you live."

"Everyone was gone in Calabasas." Cherry shrugged. "We looked and waited and looked and waited and no one came. Finally, Shawnee and I decided to come this way and see if Wandy and Sophia were left behind, too."

"We stopped at the police station," said Shawnee, softly. "We knew we weren't alone then—not anymore."

"Because of the note you wrote," said Cherry.

Shawnee smiled and her dimples came out again. "I liked your note," she said, shyly. "It made me not so afraid anymore."

Jay and I exchanged a look.

It felt good to have finally done something right.

* * * *

"What do you think of the Foxes' plan for the community?" I asked.

Cherry had pushed away her oatmeal and was leaning back in her chair, with her arms crossed. "I think hard times require hard choices."

"So you're okay with her giving us all orders?" asked Jay.

"Somebody has to lead."

"That's exactly what Sophia told us," I said.

A darkness passed over Cherry's face. She looked over to a far table, where Sophia was hovering behind Orla, shaking brown sugar into her bowl of oatmeal.

"Is Sophia living with you guys over on Driver?" asked Jay— _knowing darn well that Sophia wasn't!_

Shawnee shook her head. "Sophia's helping the President now. She lives with Orla and the rest of the Foxes."

"She's not the President, Shawnee" said Cherry, obviously irritated. "I told you that before."

"But Sophia said that Orla was the Vice-President of the Student Council," Shawnee insisted. "And now she's the President."

"There is no Student Council anymore!" Cherry snapped. "School's out for good, now!"

The younger girl looked crestfallen. "But I liked school," she said, sadly.

Suddenly—there was a CRASH!

We all looked around to see a pretty African-American girl stumbling into the cafeteria. There was blood on her face and her clothes were ripped and dirty. She was wearing sandals, but one of them was broken and had been duct-taped back together.

The girl looked around at us—her eyes wide and terrified.

Then slowly—she began to tumble toward the ground. As she did, she cried out two words.

" _They're coming!!"_

* * * *

We didn't recognize Yaz when she first showed up.

The dirt and the messy hair falling around her face only added to our confusion.

It was only after Orla had bent down and helped her to a nearby table, that we finally realized that the scared and roughed-up girl was Yazmeen Collins—an Agoura High transfer student from South L.A.

* * * *

Everyone looked scared and worried.

Even the 11th and 12th graders standing at the open door were chewing on their nails and talking together in hushed voices. We were all waiting for the Foxes to finish questioning Yazmeen in another room.

At our table, meanwhile, Shawnee was quietly braiding Lily's hair. Wandy sat beside them, saying nothing. Her eyes, however, roamed the room constantly. It looked like Cherry was right—Wandy was one of those smart girls who took in everything but kept her opinions to herself.

At one point, Alice raced in, scanning the room, looking for something. We all stopped what we were doing, hoping for some explanation as to what had happened to Yazmeen. But Alice ignored us all; instead, she walked quickly over to a table near the far wall, grabbed a bottle of water, then raced back out again.

* * * *

Cherry, Jude, Jay, and I instinctively moved in closer, so that we could talk quietly together. Wandy stayed where she was, keeping the two younger girls occupied and out of hearing of our discussion.

"How well do you know Yaz?" asked Cherry, her voice low.

"Not much," I answered. "She mostly hangs with the seniors."

"Is she part of the Foxes?"

"Kind of, but not really," said Jay. "More like on the fringes."

"Why do you ask?" I said.

"Did you see what happened when she came in?" Cherry asked.

"Yeah, sure. She stumbled and then fell down, like she was passing out."

"And who came to help her?"

Jay looked at Cherry, confused. "Orla...we all saw that."

It was Jude who finally got it. "Now, _that_ is interesting."

"What?" I asked, a little annoyed at being left out.

"The Protection Detail," Jude said.

"What about them?"

" _Exactly."_

Now I was really irritated; across the table, meanwhile, Jay just looked confused.

"Think about it," said Cherry. She started tapping out spots on the tabletop. "We had Protection girls here, here, and here. Meanwhile, Orla was standing way over here. Yaz comes in the room all upset, cut up...what did the Protection Detail do?"

Jay and I finally understood.

The Protection Detail—they did nothing.

_Why_ _did_ _they just stand there?_

* * * *

Yazmeen didn't return to the cafeteria.

Orla did, however—and so did the rest of the Foxes—with worried looks on all of their faces. Amelie was with them, holding tightly onto Peyton's hand. She appeared small and scared, and there were tear-tracks on the young girl's cheeks.

_This time the Protection Detail did do something_ —they took their guns out of their holsters and held them by their sides. Spacing themselves out and— _this time_ —turning their backs to us, they focused their attention on the 'darkening' school grounds that could barely be seen through the windows.

Orla, meanwhile, made her way up to the front of the room and held up her hand for silence. Then she began to speak.

### JOURNAL ENTRY #15

I'll be honest—after listening to Orla, I still don't know what to think. What I can say is that I'm really glad now that I've got the revolver.

_Really glad_ _._

At the moment, I've got twelve bullets for my gun.

_Even though it can carry four in the cylinder, I've only put in three. It's my thinking—probably ridiculous, I know—that I should leave the top slot of the cylinder empty. That way, if my gun accidentally fires, the pin will hit the empty slot. Hopefully, that will keep me from shooting an innocent bystander or—more likely—_ _myself_ _._

The rest of my bullets, I'm carrying in my purse.

And Jay's really determined to get her own gun now.

We're scheduled to work our way up through another section of the townhouses tomorrow. With a little luck, maybe we'll be able to find a weapon for her by suppertime.

Also—although I know it's a terrible, terrible thing to contemplate—we're going to look for a suitable weapon for Lily. We know that she's way too young for a gun, but we were thinking of seeing if we could find some of that pepper spray for her.

* * * *

Now before you get to thinking that we've all become crazy, gun-toting survivalists, I suppose I should explain to you what Orla said that has us all so spooked. But, first, let me explain a little about Yazmeen Collins.

* * * *

Yazmeen Collins:

Yazmeen is smart.

_She's so smart, in fact, that's it's expected that she's going to be graduating this year with top honors_ (was going to be graduating) _and getting a full ride scholarship. Because she's so good in school, she was transferred into Agoura High from South L.A. because_ _a)_ _her mom worked nearby as a maid and_ _b)_ _Yaz has a better chance to excel at Agoura High than at her old school in South L.A._

Yaz and I aren't really friends, but we've talked a little bit on occasion. I do know that she lives with her mom and three brothers in a one-bedroom apartment. And Yaz told me that her father is a white bank manager in Valencia, but that she's also never met him.

I actually like Yaz a lot. She's always been very nice to Jay and me.

_That said, she does spend a_ _lot_ _of time with the Foxes._

If you've ever seen that old movie, "Clueless"...well, that's kind of the relationship that Yaz has with the Foxes—she's the 'clueless' character that the Foxes keep trying to dress up and turn 'cool'.

In fact, Jay and I often joke that Yaz is the Foxes' DIY project.

* * * *

But back to Orla.

This is what she said—again, it's not word-for-word—but I'm doing my best.

ORLA:

" _For those of you who don't know who that girl is—it's Yazmeen Collins. She's in 12th Grade and is a friend to many of us seniors and a lot of you younger grades. Yaz is a transfer student from South L.A. and first came to Agoura High around the beginning of January of this year."_

(At this point, one of the girls—I'm not sure who—asked if Yaz had walked all the way from South L.A. to get here. Orla nodded and then continued.)

" _She didn't just walk. She actually started on a bike—but that was stolen from her somewhere around Wilshire and the 405 Freeway."_

(There were gasps at this.)

" _Understand that Yaz has been working her way north from her home since approximately ten days after the 'event' happened. Along the way, she has had to deal with some pretty horrible stuff. She has seen things no one should ever have to witness and has had to defend herself in a number of very difficult situations._

_Before I continue, I am going to ask all of you to please respect Yaz's right to privacy. I will tell you now exactly what I think you_ _need_ _to know. Other than that information, anything else that Yaz has gone through is hers to reveal._

_So please do_ _not_ _ask her questions. If she wants to talk to you about her—trials—then let her do so in her own time."_

(There were murmurs of understanding from all around. A few girls actually had tears in their eyes. Most, however, simply looked scared or horrified.)

" _What you do need to know, however, is that the Los Angeles area is closing down. There are gangs there who are now in control of major portions of the city and as far up as the San Fernando Valley."_

(Another girl called out, asking if the gangs were guys. Orla shook her head.)

" _According to Yaz, all the gangs are made up of girls. She hasn't seen a single male anywhere."_

(Much groaning at this)

" _She also says that the girls appear to be in the same age range as here in Agoura Hills. So, if there are guys or adults still alive out there—sadly, Yaz hasn't seen them._

For about a week, Yaz was living with a group of girls who controlled an area around Beverly Glen and Sunset Boulevard. This was a peaceful group of girls—just like us—and they allowed anyone passing through their territory to join their community. Six days after Yaz joined, however, this group was overrun by a Hispanic gang of girls that came up Sunset. They had guns and knives and attacked without any provocation. Everyone except Yaz was killed, and she considers it pure luck that she managed to escape.

Since that day, Yaz has been making her way across the San Fernando Valley toward us. She didn't expect to find anyone here, but she was hopeful. It was her thought that—if there was no one in Agoura—then she would try and make it up into Santa Barbara where one of her Aunts lives."

(A girl put her hand up, to ask about the situation in the San Fernando Valley—which is relatively close to us.)

" _Yaz says that the girls in the Valley are dividing it into territories. Canoga Park controls everything from that city to the end of West Hills—just before the 101 heads down into our area. Yaz did meet up with some individual girls who are still trying to hold the area around Woodland Hills. They told her that the Canoga Park girls have become very violent. They have taken over Topanga Mall and are presently using that as their headquarters_ (many gasps—one of our favorite shopping malls had just become lost to us!).

There are also people shooting at anyone who travels along the 101 Freeway. Yaz witnessed a number of bodies of girls, especially around the Shoup and Fallbrook exits. She, herself, was shot at three times—twice on the 101 and once when she tried to go down Las Virgenes to get some food at the Albertsons market there."

(Even more gasps at this. Las Virgenes is near the Lost Hills Sheriff's Station, and eventually turns into Malibu Canyon Road. If someone was shooting at people there, then that means that we've also lost Malibu Canyon, which is an alternate route to the coastline for us.)

" _Yaz has also told us that it appears that the Canoga Park girls and the Hispanic girls from Beverly Glen may be making their way across the San Fernando Valley in our direction. On the 101, Yaz has seen members of both of their groups riding down the freeway—on bikes and on horses. She doesn't know where they were heading exactly, only that they turned off the freeway near Hidden Hills."_

(This worried some of the girls, because it implied that the two gangs might be coming together to create one, bigger gang.)

" _And now I have to speak to you about what might be the most disturbing part of Yaz's story."_

(It took Orla a moment to start speaking again. She appeared to be considering her words very carefully.)

" _It feels so weird saying this—like I'm on an episode of "The Walking Dead" or something."_

(One of the younger girls, obviously not a fan of the t.v. show, screeched something about zombies. Orla quickly held up her hands to silence the excited _rumbling_ that followed.)

" _There are no zombies. At least, Yaz hasn't seen any. But...there is_ _something_ _out there...and Yaz doesn't think it's human—or at least, it isn't anything that she's ever seen before."_

(Total shock was on everyone's face. At the end of our table, both Shawnee and Lily were looking very scared. Reaching out, Wandy put an arm around both, drawing them close to her.)

" _You need to know that Yaz was attacked at the side of the 101 Freeway—just around the White Oak exit—in that wooded fenced-off area in front of the building with the big columns. It was at night—very dark—and she isn't quite certain of what she saw. Only that whatever it was, it tried to run her down. She said that it growled like a dog and had fur. But its eyes also glowed red and it walked on two feet. Also, Yaz said that there were more than one of these 'animal-things'—and that they appeared to be hunting in a pack."_

(From off in a corner of the room, one of the younger girls asked exactly what we all were probably thinking—"Was it a werewolf?")

" _Yaz doesn't know what it was. But one of the Woodland Hills girls told her that they were calling the beasts 'werewolves'. The girls said that the creatures had come down from the Bell Canyon area just after everyone disappeared."_

(Another girl spoke up, excited. "My dad says that Bell Canyon is where Boeing does all those secret experiments. They probably made them!" There was much chatter from the girls around her. Orla let it go on for a moment, then put her hands up for silence.)

" _The last thing you need to know about the—'beasts'—that are hunting along the 101 Freeway. And this is the most important thing of all—Yaz thinks that they're heading our way."_

(Squeals of terror.)

" _So, if there is one thing that Yaz's story has confirmed to this community, it's that the outside world has changed drastically—that it's dangerous now and, perhaps, even...deadly. There are armed and violent girls headed our way and, quite possibly, unknown beasts, both of whom mean us great harm."_

("They're hell hounds!" It was Reena who yelled this. "It is the time of the Tribulations and they're coming for us. We must all accept Christ into our hearts if we hope to survive." Beside me, Jay—a Muslim—shook her head in irritation. Orla let Reena continue on about the End of Times for a few moments, then she began speaking again.)

" _If we have learned anything today, it is that we need to stay united. More than ever, each of us needs to follow the 'plan'. We need to organize—and we need to find ways to protect and defend that which is ours._

Trouble is surely coming to Agoura Hills. We need to be prepared!"

(Orla stopped talking as Tray came up behind her and whispered something in her ear. She was holding out a paper that Orla took, lifting a small candle up so the contents could be read. After a few moments, Orla nodded in satisfaction. Then she turned back to us, holding up the paper, so we could all see it.)

" _In light of what we have just learned from Yaz, the Council and I have come up with some new rules to help us protect and defend our community. They are as follows:_

_First_ _—in order to adequately defend our borders, we will need to reduce our size. Starting tomorrow, our new area will be from Colodny Drive to Kanan Road and Driver Avenue to Thousand Oaks Boulevard. Anyone who is living outside of this area will be required to move inside the border limits. There are more than enough houses available here. If you don't want to live in a house, we will be setting up emergency cots in one of the gyms. That, of course, is our preferred choice. The more girls we have here at the school, the easier it will be to defend both our people and our supplies from any invaders._

_Second_ _—until we know for certain what these 'beasts' actually are, a curfew will be in effect—from sunset to sunrise. Know that we will have armed patrols moving at all times inside of our borders. Anyone caught outside after curfew will run not only the chance of coming into contact with the beasts, but also of being accidentally shot by one of the Protection Detail._

_Third_ _—we will be sending out Detail members on horseback to alert the four other groups of girls on this side of the Valley that we know of, to let them know of the gangs and the beasts that might be heading our way. These groups are Oak Park, Thousand Oaks, Westlake Village, and Moorpark. It is our intention, also, to introduce a 'visa system' with our neighbors. To protect all of our communities, all residents who wish to travel will now have to apply for a visa to legally cross into or through our own or neighboring communities._

Finally, I just want to say—on a personal note—that I am utterly devastated by what we have learned tonight. I am also confident, however, that we girls will be able to protect our community. But to do this, we all have to stand together.

This is Agoura Hills and this is our home.

We are all sisters.

And we sisters will protect what is ours!"

Many of the girls around us actually erupted into cheers when Orla finished her speech.

Even Jay and I clapped loudly.

No matter our personal feelings about the Foxes, Orla was right. Agoura Hills was our home, and we girls would protect it from the evil that was coming.

_We were finally—_ _united_ _._

### WE ARE AGOURA

Sometime after midnight, Jay found me sitting in Jude's backyard, alternately looking at the twinkling constellations over my head or watching Pugly root around in the bushes at my feet.

" _Thirsty?"_ Jay sat down in a lawn chair, passing me one of the two sodas she was holding.

"Thanks," I said, taking a swig from mine. "I'm going to miss soda when it finally runs out."

"Maybe we'll have figured out how to make it by then."

" _If the werewolves don't get us first."_

It was Jude who had spoken, coming out to join us. She sat down on the other side of Jay and took a swig from her own soda bottle.

"How's Lily?" I asked.

"Tossing in her sleep. Stupid Reena and her 'hounds from hell'. She's such a Chicken Little. No wonder Reena got _left behind_."

We clinked our bottles together in silent agreement.

* * * *

It was nice in Jude's backyard.

The fence was just high enough that we didn't have to worry about someone looking over the slats and seeing us. And although we could hear the Protection Detail clip-clopping along the road out front, they never seemed to stop and actually check inside of the houses.

We figured that—as long as we kept the lights low and didn't cause any fuss— _we would go unnoticed._

* * * *

I sighed— _a little too loud_.

"What is it?" Jay asked.

" _New borders."_ I sighed again.

"Oh...sorry about that."

"Am I missing something?" asked Jude.

Jay pointed off into the dark. "Jacob Riker's house is across from Sumac Park, outside of the new borders."

"I see," Jude nodded. "No more stalking, huh?"

"I wasn't stalking," I snapped, only slightly offended. "I was— _appreciating_."

"Well, at least you've got a couple of his t-shirts," noted Jay. "You can remember him that way."

"Is that what you're wearing?" Jude asked. "I was wondering about that t-shirt. Didn't seem your style?"

This time I was offended. "I didn't know I had a style."

Using her knuckles, she knocked on my head. "Hello, Barbie...anyone home?"

Jay giggled as I swatted Jude's hand away. _"Seriously, Jude!"_

"You're a fricking soccer-girl," Jude chuckled. "Like could your clothes be any more white bread?"

I was about to respond with something mean-spirited about her 'lack' of style when suddenly...

ARRROUUUUU!!!

With a squeal, Pugly immediately raced out from underneath a bush and high-tailed it back inside the house. He disappeared into Lily's room, no doubt to hide under the covers, where he could fart in complete safety.

ARRROUUUUU!!

"Is that a coyote?" Jay asked, nervously. "It seems kind of loud for a coyote."

"You think it might be one of the werewolves?" Jude stood up, standing on her chair in order to look over the fence.

"Do you see anything?" Jay was hovering directly below her.

"I think it was just a coyote." Jude got down off of her chair.

"How can you be so certain?" asked Jay. "It could be one of the beasts."

"We don't even know if there really are any beasts," I said.

Jay turned to me, confused. "But Yaz says that she was attacked by a pack of them. She said they hunted her."

"She was running in the night, through the woods—scared and alone. It could have been coyotes or dogs or even a mountain lion that attacked Yaz. But werewolves, Jay...that's kind of a stretch, don't you think?"

"But Yaz said that the Woodland Hills girls said that the beasts came out of Bell Canyon, maybe even from the Boeing laboratories. Maybe they really are like some failed experiment."

I wasn't so certain.

"Jay, you're the 'science girl'. Like where's the logic in any of that? First, how would the Woodland Hills girls know where these 'beasts' came from? I mean, did they just happen to be at Bell Canyon and see werewolves come out of it? And then did they just happen to meet up with Yazmeen right after she'd been chased by beasts—because I've been thinking about it, and it all seems awfully coincidental to me."

Jay's eyes went wide. _"You think Yaz is lying?"_

"Barbie's making a lot of sense for once," added Jude. "It does sound like Yaz is lying. Or else the Woodland Hills girls were lying to her."

"And even if Yazmeen really was chased," I continued. "Like, seriously— _werewolves?"_

Now it was Jay's turn to sigh. "You're right," she agreed, although somewhat reluctantly. "It really doesn't make much sense. There probably aren't any hounds from hell.

ARRROUUUUU!!!

For a moment, we just stared at each other.

Then—as if by unspoken agreement—we grabbed our sodas and went back into the house. Passing through the French doors, we shut them tightly—bolting them against beasts that, surely... _couldn't exist._

* * * *

During the next few days, a surprising number of girls actually did move into the high school. The rest took up residence in houses within the new borders as set out by Orla and her Council.

In some ways the _school-girls_ became their own community. They hung out together, eating at the same tables every day. At night, they would play board games or exercise out on the football field, protected by armed 11th and 12th graders.

* * * *

Jay, Jude, Lily, and I tended to keep to ourselves, however.

We would show up each day for our meals—sometimes eating at the same table as the Continuation girls. Then we'd head off on our search detail. _(We were still working our way through cataloguing the supplies in all the townhouses.)_ At night, we would sit out in the backyard, with Jay usually entertaining us with trivia about the star constellations.

Pugly, of course, continued to be our big 'secret'.

Other girls, however, did bring their pets to the school.

There was a boarding area set up on the far side of Agoura High, with separate running yards and cages for dogs and cats _(and two rabbits)_. The pets were all fed at the same time and any girl was allowed to visit with her animals, but only after her work detail was finished.

Meanwhile, Orla continued to insist that keeping the pets at the school was simply the easiest way to manage the distribution of their pet food. And— _after Yaz's horrifying story_ —to protect them from the beasts.

Jude— _of course_ —insisted that collecting all the pets in one place was because Orla and the Foxes were eventually going to eat them. She said that what the Foxes really wanted was to keep their food source close.

Jay and I, in all honesty— _were conflicted_.

Whatever we might think about the Foxes on a personal level—on a community level, they were definitely succeeding. They had us girls organized and working together; we were surviving—and we were being protected...as were our pets.

So maybe Jude was just being overly paranoid... _maybe_.

* * * *

Because we hadn't enrolled Pugly in Orla's 'school-care program', feeding him became increasingly difficult. We didn't have access to the pet food from Ralphs and Vons anymore, since it had all been transported to the school's storage areas, which were now well-guarded. Instead, we had to secretly scavenge whatever pet food we could find as we searched through the townhouses.

Needless to say, this continued variation in Pugly's diet did nothing to suspend his gaseous outpourings... _fart, fart, fart!_

Also—we were still uncertain about the future; how were we going to feed the little pug once we ran out of townhouses to search?

* * * *

_Meanwhile,_ _girls_ _began to pass through our territory._

They usually came in twos or threes, often wearing backpacks—walking or biking along the 101 Freeway. Whenever they were spotted, an alarm would sound _(a trumpet blown by one of the girls who had been in the school band)_.

Wherever we were—when we heard the alarm—we would be required to race back to the school and take up our 'defensive positions'. These had been assigned by Tray and Alice—with each girl being given a particular job to do in the case of an attack.

Even Lily had a 'battle assignment'. In her case, she would go with the other younger girls to where the pets were being kept. They would help carry _(or herd)_ the animals into one of the nearby buildings. Four armed 11th graders of the Protection Detail would be there, who would then stand guard over all of them until the 'stand-down alarm' was sounded and it was safe to go out again.

Probably because she was bigger than most girls—and so tough—Jude was put in the front lines, standing guard with many of the 11th and 12th graders from the Detail. It frustrated Jude, because she wasn't given a gun like the older girls _(of course, they didn't know about the gun in her fanny pack)_. Instead, she was given a knife and a spear _(film props scavenged from a nearby movie director's house)._

Jay and I, meanwhile, were assigned to additional 'supply protection'.

Along with the regular guard detail, we were stationed in the main gym—behind locked and chained doors. Our job was to not only keep the enemy from breaking in and stealing our supplies—but also from any of our girls who decided to get sticky fingers while we happened to be on lockdown.

* * * *

Alarms came and went.

Nobody ever did attack our school.

The girls with the backpacks continued to move along the 101. If they asked to join our community, we never knew; they were always gone by the time lockdown ended and we were released from our defensive positions.

Often Orla would speak to us after one of these incidents—giving us news of what was happening to the south and east of us. The 'passing girls' apparently brought tales of gang violence, brutality between neighboring communities, and packs of feral beasts that now seemed to be growing in size as they ranged ever closer.

It made us realize how lucky we were to live in Agoura Hills.

Where we would be protected.

_At least—that's what Orla kept telling us_.

### JOURNAL ENTRY #16

We had Christmas today!

Because it was a special day, Orla and the Council let everybody have a day off of work. Nobody had to worry about getting their food vouchers for once. We simply showed up and everybody got fed.

For breakfast, we had our usual oatmeal—but this time, we had raisins and nuts in it. Lunch was a vegetable shepherd's pie, which was really very tasty. Supper was bean tacos, with homemade french fries and a three-tier chocolate cake.

(We took our chocolate cake back to Jude's house. Then Jay opened the astronaut ice cream that we took from Jacob's house and we added it to our cake. Needless to say, it was the best dessert ever!)

* * * *

Sophia and Reena held a special lunchtime mass at the theater for the religious girls. They called it "Keeping Christ in Christmas".

We were all invited to attend.

I'm not certain how many girls actually showed up because, truthfully—we didn't go.

As far as our little family is concerned—it's the end of the world, we didn't have to go to work today, and it's Christmas!

Time for a little fun, instead.

* * * *

But last night—

Just after Lily finally fell asleep, Jay, Jude, and I went into the attic and pulled out all of Jude's Christmas decorations. She even had a fake Christmas tree, which we decorated and placed in a corner of the living room.

_Unfortunately, the only Christmas stocking available had Jude's name on it, but we just turned it around and wrote 'Lily' on the other side with a big black Sharpie. Then we filled the stocking with tiny little toys and candies that we had found_ (appropriated) _in the townhouses that we've been searching through._

_It was funny, too, because—even though we were all determined to make this a good Christmas for Lily—we had all also been_ _secretly_ _planning presents for each other. Throughout the night, as we were decorating the rest of the house, presents with each of our names on them kept showing up under the tree._

* * * *

_I am obviously still not an adult—but having Lily has, in some ways, made me the next best thing. For the first time, I'm experiencing Christmas—_ _not_ _as a child—but as a 'responsible older-person'._

For once, Christmas isn't about me anymore.

It's like I've moved on and—this year—it belongs to Lily. And watching Lily open her presents has made me both happy and sad.

Because it makes me think of my mother.

This must have been what it was like for her—when she watched me open my presents and I would burst into laughter and screeches of joy.

_In some ways it makes me feel ashamed. I now realize that, through all the Christmases I have spent in 'wonderment' over my own presents, how rarely I have concerned myself with how my own mother was receiving_ _hers_ _._

It's humbling.

* * * *

Dear Mom,

Wherever you are—I'm sorry I was such a self-absorbed daughter.

I love you and I miss you.

To know that you are safe and happy would be the best Christmas present ever.

Love, Kaylee.

* * * *

_For her main Christmas gifts—Lily received some Judy Blume books from Jay, a make-up set from me, and some pepper spray from Jude. The three of us also gave her a combined gift—although, of course, it came from_ _Santa_ _—something that we've been working on secretly over the last two weeks._

It's a hidden pathway that Jay, Jude, and I have carved into the hedges behind the house. Running along and then through the back of the fence, the pathway comes out just in front of a small shed in Jude's neighbor's backyard.

_Inside the shed, we've put a beanbag chair, a miniature table and chairs, and a whole lot of toys_ ('appropriated' from the surrounding houses) _. There's even a small doggie pillow for Pugly._

But the best thing about Lily's 'secret fort'—the entrance to the pathway is hidden. You have to go behind the hedges to actually find it.

We did that on purpose.

Because, even though we wanted the fort to be a fun-thing for Lily, it was also our intention that it could be used as a hiding place—for Lily and Pugly...or for any of us.

* * * *

Lily, meanwhile, had drawn pictures for all of us.

_For Jay, it was a drawing of one of her favorite star constellations. For me, it was a drawing of Jacob_ (slightly embarrassing, but it was the thought that counted) _. For Jude, Lily had drawn a picture of herself and Pugly sitting on Jude's knees. It was kind of hilarious, because Lily had drawn tiny squiggly lines coming up from Pugly's butt—as if he had just farted._

Jay, meanwhile, gave books. Since she didn't have access to Amazon—her selection, of course, was limited to whatever she could find in other people's libraries.

For Jude, that meant a copy of "It's Perfectly Normal"—a kid's book on sex education. I received "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance".

(Jude and I aren't really sure what Jay is trying to say with her book selections. We think maybe it's some sort of surreal statement on the absurdity of our life condition. That, or Jay just thought it would be really funny.)

* * * *

I gave Jay a little star-finder. It's a plastic disc that you turn to find the locations of all the different constellations depending on what time of the year it is.

For Jude, I was lucky to find one of those small multi-use knives. This one even came with tiny scissors, a toothpick, and a whole bunch of other blades whose function I couldn't even begin to guess.

* * * *

When it was Jude's turn to hand us her gifts—honestly—she became kind of shy. We're all so used to Jude being tough and kind of mean. Yet, there she was—shyly handing us the presents she'd chosen for us, nervous that we wouldn't like them.

_Truth is—Jay and I were both worried that there might be something disgusting under all that wrapping. After all, it_ _was_ _Jude. We were thinking that maybe she'd given us a stink bomb or hot pepper toffee...something like that._

Instead—what I got, was a framed photo.

_Jude had obviously taken it in Chumash Park—at the faux-Beatles concert—the one where she'd tried to beat the crap out of me. The angle was down low_ (so that was why she had been on the ground!) _and showed kids hopping and spinning—their hair backlit from the sun, their faces filled with happiness._

Including Jacob Riker...and me.

I was in mid-hop. Jacob, meanwhile, had his back to me, yet his head was turned slightly in my direction. Perhaps he was looking at me...perhaps not.

(I have decided that he was!)

When I looked up at Jude, she was standing there, nervously chewing on a fingernail. "Just a stupid photo," she mumbled.

" _No, it's not," I corrected her. "It's a great photo! And it's going above my bed—right next to my lovely new drawing from Lily."_

Beside me, meanwhile, Jay was carefully opening her own gift.

" _It's not fragile, Skipper," growled Jude. "I just got you some curry."_

Jay looked up at Jude, frowning. "Do you have any idea how racist that is?"

Jude shrugged. "Not like anyone cares anymore."

With a snort of disgust, Jay ripped off the last of her present's wrapping. "Ohmigod," she cried out, when she saw what was inside. "Ohmigod!"

There were tears in Jay's eyes when she finally turned to show me what Jude had given her. I guess I didn't get it, because all I saw was a bunch of Legos put together to form a kind of 'space-gun-type-thing'.

" _What is it?" I asked._

Jay ignored me, turning toward Jude instead. "Did you make this?"

" _Every girl needs her own sonic screwdriver," said Jude, quietly._

And then I got it...this was fangirl-stuff.

(Apparently, Jude is into the "Doctor Who" television show, too. If you don't know, the 'sonic screwdriver' is what the 'Doctor' carries—an amazing tool that can open up almost everything.)

" _I love it," cried Jay, rising from her seat. "I absolutely love it!" She took two steps toward Jude to give her a hug._

" _Don't even!" warned Jude. Then she turned and walked off into the kitchen._

Jay looked over to me, grinning. "Why did we ever hate Jude?"

" _Because she was mean, pushed us around, and spit in our lockers," was my answer._

### WHEN EVIL TRIES TO KISS YOU

There became a _normalcy_ to our life; wake up—breakfast at the high school—search through the townhouses—lunch at the high school—back to searching—supper at the high school—free until bedtime.

Then it started all over again the next day.

Frankly—it became stifling.

And boring.

Perhaps it was one of the problems of being an 'internet-generation kid' but—without our electronics—we just couldn't figure out how to entertain ourselves. Board games and puzzles became played out; books were read over and over again.

And, unfortunately, even though we lived next to some of the most beautiful wilderness areas in the state— _because of the threat of the 'beasts'_ —we couldn't even go hiking.

In some ways, it was even worse than being in school.

_Same old_ —every day.

Day in...day out.

Because of the boredom, Orla and the Council decided to put on a New Year's Eve party; or maybe the Foxes just wanted to have some fun themselves.

Whatever the reason— _I'm sure they came to regret it_.

* * * *

Yaz and Peyton were in charge of putting together the New Year's celebration. It was being held in the smaller gym and—along with a few of the younger girls—they had spent a good couple of days working on the decorations and the music.

Yes, there was to be music!

It certainly wasn't going to be the Staples Center concerts that we were all used to—but, at least, it was music. Some of the band girls would be playing their instruments, while the few choir members we had would sing. There was even some talk of a rap freestyle battle later on in the evening.

(It didn't happen—for what will become obvious reasons.)

* * * *

Sophia Rojas, meanwhile, was to be responsible for the refreshments.

Instead of our normal dinner, Sophia was planning a buffet-style meal. Tables would be set up all along one side of the gym, covered in a variety of plates and dishes.

(Now you have to remember that Sophia was cooking without the benefit of dairy products or electricity. Anything that she made, she did it over an open flame. We were all constantly amazed with what she managed to come up with—Sophia was a true 'master chef'.)

* * * *

Because there would be no adults around—and because rules were a little _twisted_ in this strange new world—we were going to be allowed alcohol!

Some of the more religious girls like Reena were, of course, offended that alcohol would be served, and had decided to boycott the event.

It would be kind of me to say that they had been missed— _but I'd have been lying_.

* * * *

It was exciting getting ready for the party. For a while, things seemed almost normal... _almost_.

Like with Christmas, Orla and the Council had given us New Year's Eve off. Jay, Lily, and I used the free time to go _total girl_.

We spent hours getting ready.

(Of course, when you have to warm up your bathwater, pot-by-pot, over a backyard fire, you kind of need hours. Not to mention how long it takes to dry your hair!)

After our baths, the three of us went back to Jay's and my townhouse and raided the closets for pretty outfits. Even though there weren't going to be any boys at the party, all three of us were still determined to look good!

* * * *

Lily was fun to dress—kind of like Jay and me having our very own little, living doll. We eventually settled on a pink silk sari from Jay's closet, with gold thread braided throughout. On her feet, Lily wore tiny gold slippers and on her arms— _over fifty gold bracelets!_

Our little _doll_ looked absolutely adorable.

And the pink really made her blue eyes pop!

Which, of course, reminded me of another pair of blue eyes... _sigh_.

* * * *

Jay decided to completely embrace her inner-fangirl for the party.

She wore jeans, a long-sleeve button-down shirt, and suspenders. In her dad's closet, she found a red bowtie, which she added to her costume. Then she tied her long hair back in a braid and tucked it inside her shirt, so it looked like she had short hair.

Over all of this, Jay wore a long dark jacket that reached almost to the ground. The final detail went into the jacket's inside pocket— _Jude's homemade sonic screwdriver_.

Throughout the evening, girls would ask Jay who she was supposed to be; Jay's response would always be the same. _"Exactly!"_

(If you didn't get it—Jay was dressed as "Doctor Who". If you did get it—you're probably grinning. )

* * * *

I decided to wear a dress from my mom's closet. It was one that I had always admired and that my mom had refused to let me anywhere near, because it was so expensive—a green silk _Valentino_ that my father had brought back from Paris for my mother's 50th birthday.

The dress hung down from an empire waist, scalloping down to mid-calf. It had a high neckline and long sleeves. Its back, however, scooped down to just this side of _naughty_.

Since I was already in my mother's closet, I also took her slinkiest _'f-me'_ pumps and a pair of gold fist-sized hoop earrings. A _Claddagh_ ring from my own jewelry box completed my 'ensemble'.

* * * *

Jude wore a clean pair of jeans and a black t-shirt.

* * * *

When we arrived at the gym for the party, Amelie and Shawnee immediately rushed up to gush over Lily's sari. Moments later, the three of them hurried over to where the rest of the younger girls were giggling and chattering away in a corner.

At a table nearby, I noticed Peyton sitting by herself, drinking a bottle of beer. She seemed to be watching Amelie closely, the expression on her face solemn, almost angry.

I immediately looked around for the other Foxes but—except for Yaz who was repairing a ripped streamer at the far end of the gym—Orla and Tray were thankfully nowhere to be seen.

* * * *

_Speaking of Yaz_ —although she took part in most activities, she rarely spoke to anyone outside of the Foxes' circle. None of us knew _exactly_ where she lived—except that it was in one of the houses that was rapidly becoming known as the _'Foxes Compound'_ , or simply—the _'Compound'_.

She seemed to have recovered from her ordeal quite capably. There was always a smile on Yaz's face and she was quick to laugh. But as far as we knew, Yaz had still not spoken to anyone outside of the Foxes about exactly what had happened to her as she made her way to Agoura Hills.

And since— _as per Orla's orders_ —we were all respecting her privacy, no one I knew had asked her about it. We were all waiting for Yaz to talk to us.

Which would never happen.

* * * *

About two hours into the party, Orla, Tray, and their Protection Detail entered the gym. Some of the band girls were playing guitars and drums up at the front of the room, but they stopped the moment they saw the door open.

Immediately, Sophia ran forward, clapping as she went. This was taken up by some of the other girls and soon there was an avalanche of applause.

Orla stood at the doorway for a moment, just taking in the adulation. Then, with a smile and a wave, she motioned for everyone to stop. When the room had quieted, she moved forward.

"This is absolutely beautiful," Orla said, looking at the blue and green streamers and tin foil stars plastered all over the walls. _"You've all done an extraordinary job!"_

Sophia leaned over to whisper into Orla's ear. Nodding, Orla glided over to the table of younger girls.

" _Amelie,"_ she said, smiling widely. "You were in charge of the decorations?"

The younger girl nodded, blushing.

"Good job, Amelie...really good job."

"We all did it together," explained Amelie, motioning to the girls seated around her.

Orla immediately made her way around the younger girls' table, shaking each girl's hand. _"I'm so proud of all of you."_

And the little faces just beamed.

Meanwhile, I looked over at Peyton, expecting her to be smiling at the praise her younger sister was receiving. But she was just sitting there, staring sullenly at Orla.

Then—in an ironic salute—Peyton lifted her beer up toward her fellow Fox, before emptying her bottle in one long gulp.

* * * *

One of the biggest problems with not having running water, was the complication of organizing a 'bathroom'. With so many people attending the New Year's party, the Council assigned a small group of girls to dig a series of holes to be used as a 'foul area'.

Each hole had two bricks on either side that held up a toilet seat scavenged from the local hardware store on the other side of the 101 Freeway. Around each hole, the work party had also placed a small privacy screen and—attached to the screen by string and a chip-clip—a roll of toilet paper.

It wasn't pretty—but it was workable.

* * * *

Halfway into the evening, on my way back from the foul area, I ran into Traynesha Davis— _literally_.

" _Oh, sorry!"_ I squeaked, trying to move around her. "Excuse me."

Before I had taken a step, however, Tray reached out and grabbed my arm. She pulled me in close, peering down at me.

"I've been searching for you, Kaylee," she said, softly.

" _Wh—why?"_

"It's New Year's Eve...have you ever been kissed on New Year's Eve?" she asked, still holding onto my arm.

" _Um...pardon?"_ I was both confused and a little scared.

Tray didn't move a muscle—just continued to gaze at me with those amazing amber eyes of hers.

* * * *

My head spun around—searching—looking for help.

The walkway was deserted.

Tray and I were in an area dark with shadows. Although I could hear the muted sounds of music coming from inside the gym, the actual door was on the other side of the building we were standing behind. I strongly doubted that anyone would hear us— _or me, if I needed to call for help._

Meanwhile, Tray tightened her grip, her nails biting into my arm. With her other hand, she reached out and touched my hair.

"I've always been partial to blonds," she murmured.

Then she leaned in and sniffed at my hair. It creeped me out, especially when she didn't pull back— _just stayed in close, speaking softly next to my ear._

"No boys anymore," she whispered. "No Jacob."

"I-I have to get back to the party," I stuttered. "Jay will worry."

"Is she your girlfriend, Kaylee?"

"She's my friend."

Tray pulled back slightly—just enough so that her face was mere inches away from mine. She took a finger and drew it down the side of my face. "You look so pretty in that dress you're wearing. What do you think of my little party dress?"

What did I think?

Tray was wearing a cherry-red micro-mini that was so tight, her breasts were practically squirming to get out. Every time she moved, they bounced like jelly.

I won't lie; I was trying desperately not to look at them.

What did I think? Was she kidding?

Tray looked like a frigging supermodel!

"Do you like what you see, Kaylee Michelson?" she asked me.

"You look—very pretty," I squeaked, trying to pull back my hand.

If anything, she hung on even tighter. _"Then kiss me, Kaylee."_

" _What?!"_

"It's New Year's Eve," she shrugged—as if it should have been obvious. "If you want to go back to the party— _kiss me."_

* * * *

I didn't know what to do.

Frankly, Tray scared me.

At that moment, all I wanted was to find a way out of the shadows and to go back to the party—and as far away from Tray...and as quickly as possible.

So, would giving her a small kiss really be all that bad, if it meant that I could escape?

* * * *

I leaned in slowly, intending to give her the quickest of pecks on the cheek.

She wasn't having any of it, however. _"Uh-uh_...I want to be kissed on the mouth. A real kiss."

It was an amused voice— _not mine_ —that responded. _"Why I would love to kiss you on the mouth, you hot little piece of ass!"_

Tray jumped away from me, as if she'd been stung.

Meanwhile, Cherry Winslette came out of the shadows, a wicked grin on her face. "I'll even give you tongue," teased the pink-haired girl—and she stuck it out, wiggling it in our direction.

For a moment, Tray just stood there, staring at Cherry with what looked like intense hatred.

A moment later—she was gone.

* * * *

I was shaking so much that I had to put a hand against the wall to steady myself as Cherry came up beside me.

" _You okay, Kaylee?"_

"She was just like, suddenly there, you know. One minute, I was walking back to the party and the next minute Tray was just there and I didn't know what to do!" I was talking way too quickly, but somehow I couldn't stop.

"You know that Tray is crazy, right?"

"She's kind of mean," I admitted.

"Yeah, well...she's also dangerous." Cherry frowned—lowering her voice to a whisper. "Like you have to remember that, Kaylee. Because, no matter how beautiful Tray is, that bitch is also probably the most dangerous girl here. That means...you never be alone with her if you can help it... _never_."

I nodded.

" _Everyone okay?"_ It was Wandy, coming around the side of the building. "I got worried. Tray just stormed through the gym like she wanted to kill somebody."

Cherry reached out and pulled Wandy in for a hug. "I'm fine. It was Kaylee she was after."

Yup—they were a couple.

Wandy looked over at me, if anything, more worried now. I tried to look tough, but she must have seen the tears in my eyes. _"Did she hurt you?"_

I shook my head. "I just got scared a little. It was stupid."

Turning back to Cherry, Wandy gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "You need to go in there and dance with Kaylee, I think. Let Tray see you together." Wandy turned back to me. "If you're okay with that, of course. If Tray thinks you and Cherry have a thing, maybe she might leave you alone."

I looked at Cherry; she shrugged. "I'm okay with it if you are," she told me. "And I promise I won't try to kiss you."

" _Better not,"_ warned Wandy—only half-joking.

* * * *

The confused look on Jay's face when I was slow-dancing with Cherry was priceless. Beside her, Jude smirked and pointed. I tried to ignore both of them, by concentrating on my partner.

"Can I ask you something, Cherry?"

"Sorry...I'm already taken."

" _Seriously."_

"Sure. But hold on a sec."

She swung me around, moving quickly across the floor, to where the Foxes were sitting at their table. On one side, Orla was talking quietly at Peyton—who seemed to be both listening and disagreeing. Peyton kept shaking her head at whatever Orla was telling her, stopping only to take more swigs of her beer.

Tray, meanwhile, was on the other side of the table. She was holding her own bottle of beer in two fingers, swinging it slowly back and forth in obvious irritation. Orla and Peyton's animated conversation seemed to hold no interest for Tray; instead, her eyes never left Cherry and me.

It was unnerving.

And difficult to ignore.

Although I tried—by turning my attention to Cherry. "How come you stole that pug? The one you were going to sell for drugs."

Cherry burst into delighted laughter. She actually pulled me in closer, giving me a squeeze. As she did, she whispered in my ear. _"Don't worry...just using the moment."_

I stole a quick look at Tray; she appeared to be seething. Sophia made the mistake of crossing in front of her and Tray actually pushed her away, so that she could see Cherry and me better.

Meanwhile, we moved off, dancing toward the center of the room, Cherry leading all the way. I felt relieved when I couldn't see Tray anymore, when her disapproving glare got swallowed up by the other dancing couples _(mostly the younger girls or lesbians—the older ones were too 'cool' apparently to dance with other girls)._

"The pug I _stole_ ," explained Cherry, "was Christabelle. She was 13-years old and I'd had her since she was 3-months old."

" _It was your dog?!"_

Cherry nodded, as her eyes became moist with tears. "Christabelle was old and she was sick. It was her 'time', and I just wanted to be with her as much as possible before the end, you know."

"But everyone thought that you stole her. That you were going to sell her for meth. Why did you let us think that?"

Cherry shrugged. "My hair always changes color and I've got a ring through my nose. Everyone always thinks the worst of me... _So why disappoint them?"_

I was dumbfounded.

First Jude—now Cherry.

How could I have been so wrong about these two girls?

* * * *

We left the party a little before midnight.

Lily was falling asleep, Jay was bored, Jude couldn't care less, and frankly—I was afraid of being cornered by Tray when the clock reached midnight.

Because— _no way in hell was I going to give her a New Year's kiss!_

Just outside of the gym, we turned a corner to find Peyton leaning against a wall. She was throwing up, while Yaz held back her hair, trying to comfort her. "That's it, Peyton. Get it all out, honey...you'll feel a whole lot better."

" _Shouldn't of told 'em any of it,"_ slurred Peyton, between dry heaves. _"S'wrong."_

It felt awkward, witnessing Peyton's distress. I wanted to turn around and find another way to the street, but Jay was already ahead of us, and Jude—carrying Lily—was just passing Yaz and Peyton.

Instead, I sped up, intending to race by as quickly as possible. Peyton, however, glanced up and saw me.

" _You!"_ she barked. _"10th grader!"_

I reluctantly stopped, turning slowly toward her.

In front of me, Jude kept walking. I could hear her chuckling under her breath as she quickened her pace, trying to catch up to Jay.

" _Wanna' hear a secret?"_ mumbled Peyton.

"Peyton, no!" urged Yaz. She reached out to place a hand over the other girl's mouth.

" _S'annoying!"_ Peyton batted Yaz's hand away. "Not even Fox...go 'way, lying bitch!"

"Stop it, Peyton!" Yaz was more forceful this time. Then she turned in my direction, ordering me to, "Just keep walking!"

She didn't have to say it twice.

As I hurried away, Peyton continued to talk loudly, ignoring Yaz's attempts to shut her up. _"Stupid idea...stupid Yaz...s'a prison...supposed to be fun...s'not fun...stupid!"_

"Peyton, shut up!"

" _You shaddup! Didn't even wan' stupid you at my stupid birthday party anyway...so shaddup you...shaddup!"_

If only I had realized the significance of what Peyton was actually saying—

— _that she hadn't wanted Yaz at her birthday party._

JANUARY

### A FOX AT THE FRONT DOOR

It was a surprisingly cold beginning to the new year.

Being Southern California, we didn't get any snow, of course. That said, there was frost when we woke up in the morning, which made it eerie when we walked to our work details past all of the dead and iced-over vehicles— _silent relics of another age_.

There was also an increasing number of wild animals wandering along the streets. We'd always had rabbits, raccoons, egrets, and coyotes in Agoura Hills. Now, however, it wasn't unusual to see deer munching on a neighbor's lawn or a bobcat slinking along a fence.

One of the 12th graders insisted that she had even seen a black bear walking along Kanan Road. Another girl swore that there had been a mountain lion up by the giant 'A' on the hill above the school.

Thankfully, nobody had seen any sign of the beasts— _yet_. The hope was that they would remain on the other side of the hill—in the San Fernando Valley.

* * * *

What we did see was a Fox— _at our front door_.

Along with the Continuation girls—after a full day of scavenging through townhouses—we had all brought our suppers back to Jude's house, just to have some social time. Cherry, Wandy, Jay, Jude, and I were in the living room, just talking. Shawnee and Lily, meanwhile, were playing in the backyard.

Pugly— _luckily_ —was hidden in Lily's secret fort.

* * * *

"She's doing so much better now," Cherry observed, looking out the glass doors at Shawnee. The young girl was chasing Lily around, playing tag. "It was really hard for my sister at the _beginning_."

"For Lily, too," I said. "She didn't even talk until she found Jude."

Cherry looked over at Jude, who held up her glass of apple juice in a faux-salute. "I have that effect on people," she bragged.

Wandy reached out and poked Cherry in the shoulder. _"Just like you."_

Cherry blew her a kiss, then turned back to me. "So, Kaylee...I've been meaning to ask. Is that a picture of Jacob Riker I saw in your bedroom? Not that I was snooping around or anything."

Jay immediately started giggling.

" _Shaddup!"_ I told her.

"You like Jacob Riker?" asked Wandy.

"Who doesn't?" said Cherry. "If I was straight, I'd be his sex-slave. That boy has the eyes of a god?"

"And he's a cool dude," added Jude. "Even says _hi_ to me."

"That's saying something right there," laughed Cherry.

"But what about all that stuff going around...like doing the sex tape with Peyton?" asked Wandy.

"There was no sex tape," I snapped, irritated. "That was just Peyton dreaming."

"She wanted it for her reality show," added Jay. _"The one she never got."_

Cherry snorted. "That's so ridiculous! I can't stand girls who think that they should get famous just for going down on a guy on camera."

"Plus it's demeaning," frowned Wandy.

"And nasty," giggled Jay.

Suddenly— _there was a knock at the door_.

We all went silent.

Knock, knock, knock.

Nobody moved. We just looked at each other.

Knock, knock, knock.

A small figure raced by us.

It was Lily, running toward the door. _"I'll get it!"_

Jay, Jude, and I all jumped up at the same time. _"NO!"_

Lily didn't stop, however. "It's okay," she said, happily. "It's just Amelie. I invited her over to play."

And then she pulled the door open.

Sure enough—there stood Amelie—with her big sister, Peyton. Behind them, guns in their belts and whips in their hands, were two 12th graders from the Protection Detail.

* * * *

It was actually Peyton who spoke first.

"I'm sorry if we're interrupting," she said, politely. "Amelie said that Lily had asked her to come over today."

Shawnee chose that moment to run into the house through the back door. She crossed over to Amelie and grabbed her by the hand. _"Come on...we're outside!"_

A moment later, and all three girls raced off.

Peyton continued to stand in the entryway; she looked as uncomfortable as the rest of us probably felt.

Just outside the front door, meanwhile, the 12th graders guarding her didn't move an inch. They simply stared in at us, as if waiting for a reason to pull out their guns or crack their whips.

Jude— _surprisingly_ —made the first move.

"We're drinking apple juice," she said to Peyton. "It's canned, but I've got a glass with your name on it if you want."

Peyton didn't exactly smile— _but her lips made a slight movement in that direction_. "I need to get back. The Council is working on a charter for the community. Will Amelie be okay with you guys for about an hour?"

"We'll guard her with our lives," Jude told her.

For a moment, Peyton's eyes narrowed, as if she was considering Jude's words. Then she nodded, speaking quietly— _and very seriously_. "You would, wouldn't you, Jude...guard my sister with your life?"

" _Of course I would."_

Peyton was silent for a moment, looking down at her feet. When she looked up again, her eyes were moist with tears. She stood there, as if she had something difficult that she wanted to say.

Jude beat her to it, however. "It's okay, Peyton... _I'm not holding a grudge."_

At the entryway, Peyton stifled a sob; a tear escaped one eye, creating a small rivulet that ran down her cheek. Embarrassed, Peyton quickly turned and left, her Protection Detail following close behind.

Cherry looked over at Jude, astonished. "I am definitely missing something here."

"Peyton was apologizing, I think," Jay piped up.

"For what?"

" _For leaving Jude to die."_

* * * *

With the new year, came new responsibilities.

In the second week of January, Alice and Yaz stood in front of us at breakfast and handed out our new work assignments.

It was kind of exciting, reminding many of us of the sorting-hat scene from _"Harry Potter"_ —because we each walked up to the front of the room to be told where we'd be working next.

Depending on the assignment—the announcement was received with either big smiles or even bigger groans.

* * * *

" _What's with Sophia?"_ I leaned over to the next table and whispered to Cherry. "I don't think I've ever seen her looking so _un-Sophia-like."_

In the far corner of the room, Sophia was frowning and biting at her nails as she watched Yaz and Alice hand out assignments. Although a pretty girl, Sophia didn't look it at that moment; there was a big yellow food stain on her shirt and her hair looked like it hadn't been brushed in a while.

" _Dunno',"_ said Cherry quietly. "Sophia kind of stopped talking to us when she joined the Foxes."

"You think she's okay?"

" _I hope so."_

Wandy leaned in. "Are you talking about Sophia?"

We both nodded.

"Poor Sophia," said Wandy, looking over at the girl. "As my mom used to say— _I think she chose_ _very_ _badly."_

* * * *

_Lucky me_ —I got put on 'Laundry Detail'.

On the upside, Jay, Cherry, and Shawnee were chosen to wash clothes with me; it looked like the four of us would have to get used to pickled hands.

Wandy, meanwhile, was put on 'Garbage Detail'. Cherry wasn't happy about that, but Wandy accepted her assignment in her usual quiet way.

Jude became part of the 'Construction Detail', with the first big Council project being the building of a water tower up on the hill above the school, close to the giant _'A'_. The plan was to capture water in a giant storage tank during the rainy season, then let gravity pipe it downhill to another container in one of the back classrooms.

The final member of our small family— _Lily_ —was supposed to be on 'Animal Detail', helping with the pets. She refused, however, insisting that she would stay with Jude.

Surprisingly, the Council allowed it.

Later, I would discover that it had been Peyton's doing.

### JOURNAL ENTRY #17

It's ironic—but I kind of like Laundry Detail.

We first have to move the laundry. That involves loading up shopping carts and pushing them down to the creek that runs through the front yard of Beauty's house in Old Agoura—just down from the high school on Driver Avenue.

The whole cleaning process is then divided into stages.

_Stage One_ _—washing with soap. That takes place at the bottom of the creek._

_Stage Two_ _—rinsing. That happens a little farther upstream._

_Stage Three_ _—drying. We've set up a number of clotheslines among the trees on the property. Most days, the clothes are dry by the time we need to return to the school. If they're not, we just leave them flapping until the next day._

Not like anyone is going to steal them.

It's definitely a lot of work and, sometimes, the water can be very cold on our hands. Still, I like the feeling of doing something that's helping the whole community. Plus, the routine is kind of comforting. It's not like you have to expend a whole lot of brainpower doing it...very Zen.

Needless to say, I spend a lot of time daydreaming.

The one thing I do miss about doing laundry, however, are clothes dryers and fabric softener. Clothes dried on a line are so much stiffer. They feel odd on your body, too—much rougher. It's only after wearing them for about an hour that the clothes actually start to relax and stretch out.

_And, of course, there's the_ _wrinkles_ _._

So very many wrinkles.

Jay and I are going to ask the Council for permission to take a day trip to the antique stores on the other side of the 101 Freeway. We've been thinking that one of the stores might have an old iron that doesn't use electricity. You simply put it in a fire and—when it's heated up enough—you can use it to press your clothes.

Since neither the beasts nor the girl-gangs that Yaz told us about have made it this far up the 101, yet, Jay and I think that we've got a good chance at being allowed to go.

* * * *

Like I said, it's been kind of fun working Laundry Detail. Jay and me like being around Cherry and Shawnee. They're both really funny girls and we have lots of great conversations.

Shawnee's like me—she enjoys the actual act of doing the laundry; she finds it comforting.

Cherry and Jay both hate it, however. 'Scut-work'—that's what Cherry calls it. Of course, I think she also hates it because it separates her from her girlfriend.

Sometimes we see Wandy when we're moving clothes along Driver Avenue. There's an empty lot a few houses down from us where the Garbage Detail are dumping the trash. Whenever Wandy passes by with a shopping cart full of garbage, she and Cherry always exchange sad looks.

_I feel a little bad because it kind of amuses me...but not_ _too_ _bad._

_At least the love of Cherry's life hasn't_ _disappeared_ _!_

### JOURNAL ENTRY #18

Had a very creepy moment today!

Jay and I were at the top of the creek, rinsing out some sheets. We'd worked out a system where each of us would stand on either side of the creek, holding the sheet over the water. Then—we'd dip it in, pull it up, and start shaking it up and down.

Rinse, repeat, rinse, repeat—you get the idea.

At one point, a sheet we were shaking spun out of Jay's hand and flipped back toward me. I tried to catch it, but the tail end hit the ground, right in a mud puddle. Since it was on my side, I picked the sheet up and headed back down to Cherry and Shawnee to hand it over for re-washing.

_It was on my way back up that—I saw_ _her_ _._

Tray.

* * * *

She was standing at the top of the creek, about eighty yards from where Jay was rinsing out some pillowcases. Two 12th graders were lounging against a tree near her, one of them vaping what I'm pretty sure was weed.

My first reaction was dumb—I looked down to see if my t-shirt was wet and if I was giving her a show. My second reaction was even worse—I turned and walked back toward Cherry. Then, realizing that my butt was on display, I turned once more and returned to my rinsing station.

Jay had a curious look on her face when I reached my side of the creek. "That was interesting."

" _Don't look up," I whispered. "Tray is at the top of the hill. She's watching us."_

And, of course—Jay looked up.

" _Jay, don't!"_

" _Calm down," Jay told me. "There isn't even anybody there."_

I slowly looked up, toward the top of the creek.

Sure enough—nobody.

### JUDGING FOXES

The first we heard of Cherry being arrested was when Wandy came pounding on our front door at two in the morning. Sleep-addled as we were, it never even occurred to us as we opened the door that Lily was sleeping in the other room _with Pugly_.

Wandy tumbled in first, grasping a terrified-looking Shawnee by the hand. They both were shaking badly, so Jude and I made Wandy sit on the couch, while Jay took Shawnee into Lily's room.

" _What happened?"_ I asked.

"They came while we were sleeping!" Wandy's hands fluttered in front of her; she was wearing pajamas under a dark trench coat and her fingers plucked at the buttons nervously. "It was Tray and four of the Protection Detail. They said that Cherry had stolen food from the supply room and they were arresting her for it."

"Did she?" asked Jude.

" _What...no!"_

Jay came out of the back room and sat down beside Wandy.

"How's Shawnee?" I asked.

"Pretty scared," Jay reported. "She's talking it out with Lily right now."

"I'm scared, too," admitted Wandy. "Really scared. Like, the Foxes hate Cherry!"

"Especially Tray," I muttered—before my brain kicked in and could stop me.

" _Especially Tray,"_ Wandy agreed, sadly.

There was a small blanket over one corner of the couch. Jay picked it up and tucked it around Wandy's trembling shoulders. "Why do they think that Cherry stole food?" Jay asked.

Wandy struggled not to cry. "It was in our house."

I was confused. "But I thought you said Cherry didn't steal the food."

" _She didn't."_

Jay, Jude, and I figured it out, all at the same time.

Meanwhile, the door to the back bedroom opened, and Lily and Shawnee came out. Pugly lumbered at their feet, half-asleep and farting.

"I'm sorry I stole the food," said Shawnee, meekly. _"I was just_ _so_ _hungry."_

* * * *

" _This is ridiculous!"_ I hissed.

We were sitting in the high school theater, waiting for Cherry's _'trial'_ to begin. The whole community was there, the girls sitting in the audience—the armed 11th and 12th graders standing along the walls.

Having arrived early, we had managed to get seats near the front. Jay and Wandy were seated on opposite sides of me; Jude was next to Wandy. We had left Lily and Shawnee with the younger kids who were all gathered in a separate room—too young apparently to witness the Foxes' particular brand of 'justice'.

Meanwhile, down on the stage— _facing us_ —Cherry sat quietly in a chair. Her head was down and she held her hands folded primly in her lap. An armed 12th grader stood on each side of Cherry, their hands never far from the guns at their waist.

"Please don't say anything, Kaylee!" Wandy reached out and took my hand. _"Please don't!"_

"But it doesn't make any sense!" I was so angry, I was having a hard time remaining in my seat. "Cherry obviously didn't do it!"

To the polite applause of the girls seated in the auditorium, Orla, Peyton, and Tray suddenly emerged from the side of the stage, taking their places on chairs to the left of Cherry.

Yaz, meanwhile, came out from the other side of the stage and walked up to a podium. She was carrying a piece of paper, from which she began to read. _"Cherry Winslette has pleaded guilty to stealing from our food stores. Her punishment, as set out in our new Charter, will be seventeen lashes—one for each year that she has been alive. Thank you."_

Horrified, I turned to Wandy. "We can't let this happen... _this is crazy!"_

"Please, be quiet!" she begged.

"I don't understand. How can you just sit by and let this happen? Don't you get it...they're going to whip Cherry!"

There were tears pouring out of Wandy's eyes now; she wiped at them, furiously. Then she pulled me in close, hissing in my ear. _"Don't_ _you_ _get it?!_ —Shawnee might not survive a whipping...but Cherry absolutely will."

" _Cherry pleaded guilty to protect Shawnee?"_

"Of course she did," said Wandy. "Wouldn't you do the same for Lily?"

Meanwhile, down on the stage, Orla made her way over to the podium. Tray walked beside her, eventually stopping mere feet away from Cherry.

There was a large whip hanging down from Tray's belt. She saw me looking at it and—when our eyes met—Tray grinned.

Honestly—I had never hated anyone more than I did Tray at that moment.

* * * *

Orla began to speak—her expression one of deep sadness.

"If we are to work as a community, we need to be able to trust each other—to know that we are in this together. We all understand that these are difficult times that we are facing. However, by pooling our resources, I am confident that we will be able to survive.

_But_ —we will not survive if we steal from each other, if we take from our community for personal gain. That behavior—selfish and thoughtless—will ultimately spell our destruction."

(There were grumblings throughout the theater. I wasn't sure whether it was because the girls were upset with Cherry or with the ridiculous sentence she'd just been given.)

"Sadly, we are now facing the first crime against our community—theft from our food stores."

(More grumblings. Cherry continued to look at the floor. In fact, she had not looked up once since we entered the theater.)

"Cherry Winslette has pleaded guilty to a selfish, thoughtless act—stealing one bag of oranges and seven candy bars. She has further admitted to breaking one of the windows to enter the storeroom—thereby making our food stores even less secure.

Now—under our new Community Charter that your Council and I have been writing—the punishment for crimes against the community range from lashing to expulsion and—for the worst offensives—capital punishment."

(All around me, girls gasped.)

"But for a first offense of thievery, the Charter dictates a lashing equal to the perpetrator's age. In this case, because Cherry is seventeen, so she will be given seventeen lashes—a fair and equitable justice, as I am sure everyone will agree."

(Not waiting for a response, Orla nodded to Tray. Too quickly, Tray pulled the whip out from her belt, allowing it to fall to its full length along the floor. Furious, I started to rise. Wandy and Jay pulled at me urgently, begging me to sit down. My eyes fell on Peyton, still sitting onstage. She gave the slightest shake of her head—as if to also tell me to sit back down. Slowly—reluctantly—I returned to my seat.)

"I ask everyone to remember that the law in our community must be absolute," continued Orla—as Tray circled Cherry, the long whip trailing on the floor behind her. "We cannot allow ourselves to fall into the barbarity of our sisters to the south of us. We will not become _animals_ like them. We will not! Above all— _Agoura Hills must remain civilized!_

And—with that in mind—as your President, I stand by the punishment accorded to Cherry Winslette by the benefit of our new Charter. But, as your President, I also stand by the exceptions given under that Charter. And, accordingly, our Charter states that the President may—at any time—commute a sentence if she believes it to be in the best interests of the community."

(For the first time, Cherry looked up. There was a bruise on the right side of her face and I had no doubt that one of the Protection Detail had put it there.)

"So...Cherry Winslette—for the good of this Community—I commute your sentence. You are free to go."

_(The theater erupted in cheers and applause. Beside me, Wandy burst into tears. Up onstage, Cherry slowly rose from her chair, as if uncertain whether it was a trick or not. Tray, meanwhile, rolled up her whip and tucked it back onto her belt. As she did, she smirked—_ _directly_ _at me.)_

"One last thing," Orla continued, her voice rising to be heard above the excited chattering of the girls. "And let this be a warning to all of you. Justice will not be lenient next time. If you steal from this community, there will be no more commutations. You will be whipped!"

* * * *

Jay, Wandy, and I waited outside the theater for a half hour before Cherry finally emerged. I thought she and Wandy would hug but, instead, they just leaned forward, their foreheads touching, their eyes closed— _relieved_.

"You okay?" Wandy finally asked.

"I am now," Cherry sighed. She opened her eyes and looked around. "Where's Shawnee?

"Jude took her and Lily to our place," I explained. "We thought it would be for the best, until things got figured out."

"How did you get this?" Wandy gently touched the bruise on Cherry's cheek.

Cherry shrugged. "My face accidentally fell into Tray's fist."

"Guess the Protection Detail won't arrest her for that," I groused.

"Don't worry about it," said Cherry. _"We've got a bigger problem."_

"What's going on?" asked Jay.

Before she said anything, Cherry took her time checking the area around us; it appeared to be empty except for the four of us.

"I'm not sure," she said, quietly, "but last night—some 12th graders took me up to the Foxes Compound. They stuck me in this little gardening shed that was attached to the house where Orla, Tray, and Peyton are living. I guess they didn't realize it but, every once in a while, I could hear a little of what they were saying inside of the house."

Once again, Cherry scanned the area around us carefully.

Then she motioned us in closer, whispering, "Peyton's really upset. I didn't catch much, but it's over some _'big lie'_. She said that when _'everybody found out'_..."

Cherry suddenly stopped talking.

Sue and Rachel— _the twins_ —had just come out of the theater. We waited for what seemed like forever for them to cross to the far side of Driver Avenue and head toward Chumash Park.

The moment they were gone, however, Jay turned back to Cherry. "What did Peyton think would happen when we found out whatever?"

"Peyton said that we would revolt," Cherry confided, her eyes shining with excitement. _"She said that it would be a freaking revolution!"_

FEBRUARY

### JOURNAL ENTRY #19

Five days until Valentine's Day!

_It's_ _so_ _unfair._

* * * *

Jay won't stop teasing me about the 'Secret Valentine' that I gave Jacob Riker last year. It wasn't anything special, just a heart that I drew. On the back, I wrote that it was from his 'secret admirer'. During homeroom, I stuck it through the slots of Jacob's locker.

He found it at lunchtime.

_I know, because I was talking to Jay across the walkway._ (Well, we were pretend-talking. What we were really doing was Jacob-stalking.)

When he pulled the card out and realized that it was a valentine, Jacob immediately looked around. Our eyes met for, like half a second, but I'm pretty sure he figured out that it was from me because he smiled.

Of course, stupid Brandon Keretsky had to come along right then and rip the valentine out of Jacob's hand. Then it de-evolved into stupid boy-stuff, with Brandon running off with the valentine held above his head and Jacob chasing him.

This year, I was kind of hoping that I would get my own 'Secret Admirer' valentine from the boy that I love.

_Guess that's_ _not_ _going to be happening._

So unfair!

### OH, AMELIE

Even without boys, we girls had one thing we could all look forward to on February 14th. Because it was also Yazmeen's 18th birthday, the Council had decided to give our community a combined birthday/Valentine's Day party.

Sophia was in charge of the refreshments and—a few days before the big event—she asked me to meet up with her in the kitchen. I had assumed that it was to help with the party-preparations.

Sadly, I was mistaken.

"You need to talk to Jude for me," a frazzled-looking Sophia announced, as soon as I came through the door. She stood—hands on her hips in front of me—as if barring entry.

"About what?" I asked, unable to stop myself from peeking over Sophia's shoulder. There were dirty dishes everywhere and the garbage cans were overflowing.

A bucket of soaking beans was on the floor near the stove; live flies were buzzing above the beans—dead flies were floating on the scum of the bean-water.

Frankly—the kitchen was a pigsty.

And Sophia wasn't looking much better.

The tidy, clean girl I had once known had somehow turned _nasty_.

Her hair was greasy and so was her skin. There were yellow pit stains on her blouse and I didn't even want to guess what the dark spots were on her pants.

Sophia moved to her left—trying to block my view—and shook a finger at me. "It's bad enough that Jude is going to hell, but Lily is just a little girl!"

Oh crap...religion.

I looked around quickly, hoping that there might be someone nearby who could save me from a conversation that I really didn't want to have. Unfortunately, Sophia and I appeared to be alone.

" _Um_...Sophia," I finally stammered. "I'm not really sure what you want me to do here."

"That 'girl' is your friend," she barked. "So, you tell Jude that Lily needs to be going to church."

" _Church?"_ This was getting so confusing.

" _Church?!"_ Sophia looked insulted. "The mass that Reena and I lead every Sunday in the theater."

"Oh, of course," I mumbled. "Sorry...I forgot."

I didn't forget...I didn't even know there was a Sunday mass.

"So, will you tell her?" asked Sophia. "Because she'll listen to you. You tell that 'girl' that Lily's immortal soul is at risk!"

What choice did I have—being confronted with 'crazy' like that?

I lied.

" _Um_...okay."

* * * *

I eventually found Jude, Lily, and Shawnee just outside the room Orla and the Council had set up for a Medical Center. It was connected to the school's Nurse's Office and outfitted with a handful of emergency cots. Beside each cot was a pail to be used as a bedpan.

"What's going on?" I asked, the moment I saw the worry on all of their faces.

Jude pointed inside the Medical Center. When I looked through the door, I saw that the cots were all empty— _except one_.

" _It's Amelie,"_ said Shawnee, sadly.

Lily began to sob. _"She's really sick!"_

* * * *

Even though the Council had set up the Medical Center soon after our community had assembled, it had never been used for anything more than disinfecting scratches and putting on bandages. The worst medical emergency that we had experienced so far was when a 9th grader was stung by a bee and had a slight allergic reaction. That had been treated with a couple of antihistamines.

But now—we had our first true medical emergency.

And it was Amelie.

* * * *

A few hours previously—just after lunch—Peyton had dropped Amelie off at our house. Peyton had a Council meeting to attend, and it had become routine for Amelie to spend those times with Lily and Shawnee.

Usually, the three girls would chase each other around in the backyard for a while, before coming inside for snacks _(typically oranges which we picked off the neighbors' tree—thank you, California!)_. The rest of the girls' time together would be spent kid-gossiping or trying on make-up that Amelie would bring from Peyton's seemingly inexhaustible supply.

This day, however—when Amelie was dropped off—Jude said that she hadn't seemed like herself. The younger girl was too tired to play tag and fell asleep during the make-up session; her orange went untouched and she eventually started coughing.

Because I had been called to the kitchen by Sophia, Jay and Jude were alone with the young girls. Cherry and Wandy had dropped Shawnee off earlier and were away somewhere, enjoying some private time together. They weren't due to be back until sometime later in the afternoon.

* * * *

(It's important to remember here that Jay not only wanted to be an astronaut/doctor when she grew up, but that her mother had been a pediatrician back in Pakistan. In that way, Jay had grown up with medicine in her blood.

Whenever I was sick—it was Jay I would call first. She would diagnose whatever I had and then we'd go to her mother for confirmation.

It was almost like a game we would all play.

_To prepare Jay for her future—at least, the one she_ _hoped_ _she would have.)_

* * * *

When Jude told me that Jay had become increasingly alarmed by Amelie's symptoms that morning, it didn't surprise me. If anyone would have recognized that Amelie was in danger, it would have been Jay.

So—even as Amelie's eyes were rolling up in her head—Jay and Jude were racing down the middle of the road, carrying a bundled up Amelie toward the Medical Center.

Meanwhile, Lily and Shawnee trailed behind, sobbing— _terrified for their young friend_.

* * * *

The Medical Center was empty when they arrived— _not that it would have made a difference._

Because Loran—the 11th grader the Council had put in charge—had no medical training. She was really only there to hand out Bactine and bandages.

But— _luckily_ —there were supplies at the Center—and medications. And—while Jay wasn't a doctor—she was absolutely the closest thing we had to one.

Within moments of taking Amelie's temperature, Jay realized that the girl was in serious trouble. Her body temperature had risen so high that she was burning up inside.

At 105 degrees and rising— _Amelie was in mortal danger_.

* * * *

Right around the time that I arrived at the Medical Center, Jay had become frantic. She felt that it was imperative that Amelie's temperature be brought down immediately. Even unconscious, it was obvious that Amelie was in terrible shape; she was pale and sweating, groaning as if in pain.

"My mom says that a fever is the body's way of burning off sickness," Jay told us. "But then it gets to a point where the body can't handle the higher temperatures. That's when the seizures will start."

As if she had been listening, Amelie began to spasm. She made harsh, grunting noises, and her eyes rolled back in her head.

" _It's time!"_ yelled Jay. _"We have to cool her down now!"_

But that wasn't going to be easy— _because Jay had no way to lower Amelie's temperature_.

Even if there actually were medicines capable of treating Amelie in the Medical Center, Jay didn't know what they were—and Loran, of course, was completely useless.

Plus, not having electricity meant not having air conditioning, or cold water— _or ice_.

So, if Jay was going to bring down Amelie's temperature, it was going to have to be with something pretty darn creative... _and pretty darn quick_.

* * * *

Most people would have given up.

The Goddess of Victory went to work.

My friend, this tiny little girl— _all 5'1" of her_ —began barking out orders.

— _Lily was to go to the Foxes Compound to bring back Peyton._

— _Shawnee was to run to the cafeteria and grab as much water as she could._

— _Jude and I needed to pick up Amelie and carry her to the foul area_.

Jay, meanwhile, followed behind, bringing a large towel.

_Water...towel...foul area_ —it showed how much we trusted Jay that, confused as we all were, not a single one of us questioned her intentions.

* * * *

Jay had Jude and me lay Amelie down in one of the foul area trenches. _(It was a smaller furrow that had just been dug, so it had_ _never_ _been used!)_

Then Jay laid the towel over top of the young girl, leaving only her head exposed.

Shawnee, meanwhile, raced up with a large bottle of water. She had bumped into Sue and Rachel— _the twins_ —in the cafeteria. They had come along, each carrying their own water.

Jay immediately grabbed the bottle from Shawnee and began pouring its contents over the towel-covered body of Amelie, soaking her upper torso. Then Jay reached down, slid her hand under the towel and checked the shaking girl's temperature.

"She's still burning up. Take off your shirts... _quick!"_ Jay told us.

Only Jude and I instantly obeyed.

Shawnee and the twins merely gaped at Jay as if she was mad.

"We need to get Amelie's temperature down!" insisted Jay. "I think she's having these seizures because she's too hot. If we don't lower her temperature, she could die."

Shawnee immediately ripped off her top.

Sue and Rachel, however, slowly backed up, obviously uncomfortable by what was being asked of them. Moments later, they had disappeared completely— _running back the way they had come._

"Okay," Jay ordered the rest of us, "you need to surround Amelie. It's cold in the ground here, but we're going to make it even colder. We're going to make old-school air conditioning—straight out of the olden days. I'm going to pour water over the towel. You guys flap your shirts up and down over Amelie. We want to create enough of an air current that it begins _evaporation_ and cools her down."

Following Jay's instructions—we circled Amelie's hole, swinging our t-shirts above her spasming body.

* * * *

I could only imagine how it must have looked to the Foxes _(and their Protection Detail)_ , when they raced around the corner a few minutes later. Three half-naked girls waving their shirts over a large 'pee-hole', in which Jay was standing, pouring a bottle of water over a towel-covered, spasming Amelie.

Orla made it only halfway to the hole before she stopped, hand to her mouth in horror. Tray, however, pulled out her gun—anger distorting her features.

"No, Tray... _stop!"_ It was Peyton who yelled, rushing forward to stand next to me at the edge of the hole.

"What the hell, Peyton!" snarled Tray. "That's Amelie down in there!"

"But they're helping her!" Peyton leaned down on her knees until her eyes became level with Jay's—who was still standing in the furrow. "Please tell me that you're helping my sister," Peyton begged. _"Please!"_

"We're trying to lower Amelie's temperature," explained Jay. "It was the only way I could think of to cool her down. It's something my dad told me once—of how they did it back in Pakistan, in his village. Putting someone in the ground and pouring water over top of them."

" _Evaporation,"_ murmured Peyton—getting it.

Tray's response, however, was an unimpressed snort.

Jay ignored her, concentrating instead on Peyton. "It's just like we learned in Science class. _'Evaporative cooling'_ —for water to be changed to a vapor, it needs heat, which it'll take from Amelie's body! And increased wind current accelerates evaporation. So if we do it right and it works, it should bring her fever down."

Surprisingly, Peyton must have understood, because she immediately took off her shirt and joined us—increasing the air current around Amelie.

Down in the hole, meanwhile, the spasming of the young girl's body lessened. Then, finally— _it stopped_.

After a few more minutes, Jay pulled back the towel and placed a thermometer in Amelie's mouth. The young girl's body was wet and covered in dirt—but her temperature was finally down and her eyes were fluttering open.

She gazed half-lidded up at her sister and smiled weakly. _"Hey, Peyton."_

Then...Amelie closed her eyes and passed out again.

* * * *

Two hours later, an exhausted Jay joined Jude and me.

We were sitting on the floor just outside of the Medical Center, and Jay slid down the wall to sit between us. Through the open doorway, meanwhile, we could see inside to where Peyton—leaning over Amelie's sick bed—was rearranging the younger girl's covers.

"How's Amelie doing?" I asked.

"Her temperature is back to normal," Jay yawned, "but she's still really sick."

"What is it?" asked Jude.

"I don't know," Jay admitted. "She's running a fever, she's nauseous, feels weak all over. Those symptoms are usually because of some infection or something. But then Amelie's also got these big bruises on one side of her waist—kind of like she's been beaten."

Jude's face darkened. "Is there a chance that she was...I mean, _beaten?"_

Jay shook her head. "I don't think so. Amelie seemed honestly shocked to see them on her body. So did Peyton—which makes me believe that the bruises are happening internally." She sighed, frustrated. "I just wish my mom was here. She'd know."

"Is there a book that you can look in, maybe in the nurse's office or the school library?" I suggested.

"Orla had the Detail bring all the medical books they could find to the Center. I've gone through every one but—whatever Amelie's got—I just don't know enough to figure it out."

" _Yet,"_ I said, patting Jay's hand. "You just need a little more time."

"What about Loran?" asked Jude—meaning the 11th grader who was assigned to the Medical Center. "What does she think is wrong with Amelie?"

Jay leaned her head back against the wall, frowning. "Loran's too scared to go anywhere near Amelie...afraid she'll catch something."

"Do you think what Amelie has is contagious?" My thoughts had gone to Lily and Shawnee, thinking of how close all three girls had become.

"Well, that's another thing I just don't know!" Jay's frustration was increasing. "But whatever it is—we need to be smart now. It's gotta' be gloves and masks for everyone going into her room from now on. And they gotta' quarantine Amelie until someone figures out what's wrong with her. I mean, it just makes sense. If something gets into this community—with what little medical knowledge we have—it could be deadly for all of us."

"You mean like the plague?" asked Jude.

"No," sighed Jay. _"I mean like the flu."_

* * * *

Living in an industrialized nation in the 21st Century, American kids like ourselves generally didn't worry about something like the flu. That was for third world countries like Somalia or Eritrea, where the medical systems were poor and the sanitary conditions even worse—where what was an easily cured sickness in our country became often deadly in theirs.

Third world countries were where the flu was so dangerous, that it wiped out thousands of people around the globe every year.

But not in America, and definitely not in one of its wealthiest states.

No, in California—we bravely submitted to our annual flu shots and, if we did manage to get sick, there were always medicines and doctors and hospitals to save us.

Needless to say, the _'whatever-it-was-that-had-happened'_ had changed all that.

Which meant—if Amelie really did have the flu—we were all at tremendous risk.

Because we didn't live in an industrialized, first world country anymore.

The United States of America was now— _a third world nation_.

* * * *

It was almost midnight.

Peyton was sitting quietly at Amelie's bedside, holding her sister's hand while she slept. Meanwhile, Cherry and Wandy had taken Shawnee and Lily back to their place for the night. Jude and I remained sitting in the hallway, however, just in case we were needed.

An exhausted Jay was next to me—her head on my shoulder—taking a few well-earned minutes of rest until Amelie might need her next.

With the _click-clack_ of high heels, Orla and Tray—followed by two 12th graders from their Protection Detail—came around the corner.

Frankly, I was too tired to be concerned; I merely nudged Jay awake. She squinted up at Orla, her eyes red and tired.

" _Yes?"_ Jay yawned.

"Loran's an idiot, isn't she?" stated Orla.

"Pretty much," agreed Jay.

Orla frowned. "You're not on Laundry Detail anymore, Sitipala. You're in charge of the Medical Center now."

"You know I'm not a doctor," said Jay, yawning again. "I don't even play one on t.v."

"Yet you have a sonic screwdriver," murmured Jude, beside her.

Jay immediately burst into laughter. "I stand corrected," she said, waving a finger at Orla. "I am the Doctor!"

Orla— _obviously not a "Doctor Who" fangirl_ —chose to ignore Jay's exhausted amusement. "You're in charge now, Sitipala. Got it?"

"Okey-dokey," Jay responded. Then, she leaned her head back onto my shoulder and closed her eyes once again.

Beside Orla, Tray shook her head, obviously annoyed. "And she's the best we've got," she sniffed.

My hackles went up.

"You're right, Tray." I snapped, glaring up at her. _"Jayalakshmi_ _is_ _the best."_

* * * *

Sue became sick two days later; Rachel the day after that.

Suddenly, Jay had three patients in _her_ Medical Center—where she would spend countless hours, bent over the community's small collection of medical books, trying desperately to figure out some way to help all of them.

I worried constantly about Jay.

My best friend was a 15-year old girl, trying to be a doctor. No matter how much Jay learned from her books—I knew that it would never be enough. Sooner or later, someone from the community was going to be seriously hurt— _or they would die_.

And Jay would never forgive herself for not saving them.

Until that time, however, Jay was struggling just to keep her patients hydrated and their temperatures as close to normal as possible. She'd taken to loading syringes with sugar water and squirting it into their mouths, drop-by-drop— _like a mother bird feeding her babies_.

Cherry, Jude, and I would help when we could—but we still had our own work details to complete. Shawnee and Lily had wanted to volunteer also, but Jay not only would not allow them to help, she had also banned them from the Medical Center completely.

Until the crisis was over—we were on _'Quarantine Procedures'_.

As head of the Medical Center, Jay had decreed that no one was allowed to enter without her permission. And anyone who did enter had to be wearing gloves and a facemask _(courtesy of our local pharmacies)_.

We girls had gone through so much already. The last thing Jay wanted was to add an _epidemic_ to our lives.

Quarantine was her way of keeping us all safe.

### JOURNAL ENTRY #20

Laundry Detail just got way harder!

_Because of the 'sickness', the Council has ordered us to boil everything first. Then we still have to wash the laundry in the creek. Plus, we have to wear rubber gloves._ (Actually, I'm okay with that part. The creek water has been really cold lately and the gloves help to keep my fingers warm.)

I'm not really complaining, by the way; I'm just explaining.

Jay's actually the one behind the new 'laundry rules'. Two 12th graders have now joined Amelie, Sue, and Rachel in the Medical Center and Jay's worried that there might be more unless we disinfect everything.

That's five girls out of sixty-six.

No one's died, yet. But they're all very sick.

With quarantine and boiling the laundry, Jay is hoping that we can keep it from spreading to the rest of us.

Fingers crossed.

* * * *

With everything that has happened, I almost forgot that tomorrow is Valentine's Day.

How sad is that?

Plus, we all figured that Yaz's 18th birthday would be cancelled—because of the Quarantine. But Orla and the Council have decided that we should go ahead with the party anyway. They think that the community needs a little break from everything we've been going through.

Jude and I are still undecided about attending.

We're worried about having Lily around the other girls right now. Cherry and Wandy feel the same way about exposing Shawnee to a possible epidemic. And Jay, of course, will be busy in the Medical Center, so she's definitely not going.

Also, truthfully—after seeing how Sophia is keeping the kitchen now—I don't even think that I would miss not having a piece of the birthday cake.

* * * *

By the way, the Continuation girls and my little family are getting along really well now. We spend a lot of time together—sometimes at our house, sometimes at theirs—with our school meals usually spent at the same cafeteria table.

Well, they were.

Now—because of the sickness—we tend to bring our food back to one of our homes. It just feels awkward and unsafe to eat meals around the other girls at the moment. All it takes is for one person to cough and everyone else starts glaring at the offender.

* * * *

We did have our supper together at our house today.

_It was some sort of bean soup._ (We eat a lot of beans these days! We're kind of giving Pugly a run for his fart-money.)

Truthfully, it wasn't very tasty and they didn't give us enough; the portions were really small. Our bellies were definitely grumbling afterward. Luckily—like probably everyone else in the community—we have extra food hidden around the house. Jude opened up some potato chips and I introduced the rest of the girls to the joys of soy chocolate milk.

_Afterward, Jude, Cherry, Wandy, and I sat in the backyard and looked up at the stars. We tried to figure out the constellations but, without Jay_ (as always, at the Medical Center) _, we were useless. Lily and Shawnee, meanwhile, were in Lily's bedroom, playing with dolls by candlelight. Pugly, no doubt, was probably snuffling and farting around at their feet._

(Although we haven't told them not to, the Continuation girls have never mentioned Pugly to anyone else. They're smart girls—they understand.)

* * * *

" _Have you seen Jay today?" asked Wandy._

I nodded. "After Laundry Detail, I helped out in the Medical Center for a couple of hours."

" _How's she doing?" asked Cherry._

" _She's exhausted. It's killing Jay because she doesn't have enough knowledge to help the girls more than just keeping them comfortable and making sure their temperatures don't go out of control."_

" _Nobody here could do better," said Jude._

We all nodded, agreeing.

" _Is Peyton still there?" asked Cherry._

" _She's like Jay," I said. "Peyton goes home to get clean and change clothes once a day, then she's back in the Medical Center again."_

" _That Fox is a good sister," nodded Jude. "You have to give her that."_

" _But it's not just Amelie," I told them. "Peyton helps out with all the girls. I've even seen her emptying bedpans—and I_ _hate_ _doing that."_

" _Wow," Cherry mused, impressed. "I guess the princess isn't the complete bitch that I thought she was."_

There were giggles from all of us—except for Wandy.

She remained suspiciously quiet, staring into her glass of chocolate milk like a drunk peering down an empty beer bottle.

" _What is it?" I finally asked._

_Wandy sighed. "I knew Peyton...when we were kids. Once upon a time...well...we were_ _friends_ _."_

" _You were friends with a Fox?!" sputtered Cherry. "You never told me that."_

" _At Sumac Elementary...2nd to 6th grade." Wandy took a swig of milk; she looked sad. "We were best friends."_

" _Peyton Buckingham?" Jude looked shocked. Frankly, I was just as surprised._

" _What happened?" I asked._

" _I'm not one hundred percent sure," admitted Wandy. "It's complicated when you're a kid. You hear things when grown-ups don't think you're listening, so you kind of have to put it all together to figure it out. One day I was playing with Peyton at my house—the next day her dad pulled her out of Sumac and she was gone. I didn't really see her again until the first day of high school. By then, Peyton was with the Foxes, so I simply didn't exist for her anymore."_

" _Why did she get pulled out of Sumac?" asked Jude. "To go to some private school? I heard Peyton went to one of those rich girl academies down in Beverly Hills."_

Wandy nodded. "She did. In fact, I think that's where she first met Tray."

" _Now Tray's a definite bitch," said Cherry._

" _Without a doubt," Jude agreed._

" _But why wouldn't Peyton talk to you?" I persisted. "I mean, even if she was going to private school in Beverly Hills, you'd still see her around Agoura Hills, wouldn't you?"_

" _Except...I think she was pulled out of Sumac because of my grandma," Wandy admitted. "I think maybe Peyton wasn't allowed to talk to me after that."_

(FYI, Wandy lives with her grandmother on the far side of Kanan Road. She was just a baby when her dad overdosed on heroin, so Wandy has no memories of him. And her mom is living somewhere up in San Jose—also a drug addict—and Wandy rarely hears from her.)

" _Why would your grandma have anything to do with it?" I continued._

" _My grandma's really amazing, really smart." Wandy smiled at Cherry. "You've met her."_

Cherry was nodding. "I love her. She's gotta be like ninety, and she's still quicker than someone half her age. And I'm talking of her brain."

" _Which was the problem," continued Wandy. "I think that my grandma put something together in her head from when Peyton and me would play together. She probably heard things, saw things, you know. And the last day I played with Peyton, grandma took her into the other room for a private talk. I don't know what it was about, but it was while we were having a snack, because I remember sitting at the table, eating peanut butter and crackers and they were both gone. A few hours later, me and Peyton are back playing in my bedroom and her dad shows up. Next thing we know, my grandma's yelling at him in the living room. Just two words, over and over again..._ _you bastard_ _!"_

" _Son of a bitch," growled Jude._

" _No!" whispered Cherry._

_I guess I was the only one who_ _wasn't_ _getting it._

" _What did Peyton's father do to make your grandma so mad?" I asked._

" _I think she figured out what he was doing to Peyton."_

_And then—horrified—I finally_ _got_ _it. "Ohmigod!"_

" _I saw Peyton one last time after that—before high school. Grandma and I were coming out of Baskin-Robbins. Peyton and her dad passed by us in their Maserati. She didn't even look at me," Wandy told us. "I had my hand up to wave hi and they just drove by, both looking straight ahead, as if I didn't exist."_

_From the bedroom came the sudden, girlish laughter of Shawnee and Lily—so full of the joy and innocence of youth. Listening to their happiness, Wandy sighed, sadly—most likely, remembering two_ _other_ _little girls._

" _Later, I found out that my grandma had actually called the cops on her dad. Nothing happened, though," Wandy shrugged. "Peyton's dad was already pretty famous as a director by then. I think he had 'connections', you know."_

" _Figures!" Jude grumbled, disgusted. "Rich people."_

I suddenly thought of something that made my skin crawl.

" _Amelie!" I gasped. "What about Amelie?"_

Wandy took a deep breath, considering. "I've often wondered about that myself. I mean, Peyton's so protective of Amelie. Whenever I see the family together at school functions or out in Agoura, I've noticed that Peyton is always sitting or standing between Amelie and her dad."

" _Come to think of it," said Cherry, "I've seen that, too—at the Spring Art Show this year. Her dad was whispering in Amelie's ear and Peyton rushed over, grabbed Amelie by the arm, and pulled her away. Then Peyton pushed her dad—and I mean, she_ _pushed_ _him. After that, her dad just followed Peyton around like a puppy dog. I remember thinking that Peyton was just being her total bitch self. Now—after what you just told us—I think that it might have been something else completely different."_

Jude nodded, agreeing. "Peyton was controlling her dad to save her sister."

We all looked at each other—shocked.

It was the first time that any of us had ever suspected that Peyton might be more than just a Fox.

That Peyton Buckingham—might actually be one of the good guys.

### MY SECRET VALENTINE

On the night of February 14th, Jude and Wandy decided to stay home and take care of Lily and Shawnee, while Cherry and I went to the big party together. We figured that we'd make an appearance, stay a half hour, and then return home to our respective houses.

When we first entered the small gym at the high school, Cherry and I were surprised at how few girls were actually attending the party. Out of the sixty-six girls in our community, there had to be less than twenty who showed up...and most of those were either 11th or 12th graders.

Cherry and I immediately went over to the food table. The fixings were significantly less than what we had been served on New Year's Eve. There were small bowls of candies and chips, while—over in one corner—a big bowl of stew had been set up over a small camp stove.

Sophia had done a beautiful job on Yaz's birthday cake, however.

It was a three-tiered chocolate with strawberry filling. It looked so yummy, I even decided to put Sophia's nasty-kitchen out of my mind— _I couldn't wait to have a piece!_

"Do you even see Yaz?" I asked Cherry, looking around. "We should probably go over and say 'Happy Birthday'."

"Nope. I don't think any of the Foxes are here either," Cherry answered.

"Well, we know that Peyton is probably at the Medical Center, but I would have thought that Orla and Tray would be here by now, at least."

"They probably want to make an entrance." Cherry snorted.

"No doubt—putting last minute touches on their spectacular Dolce & Gabbana's, so that we will all be suitably impressed when they finally decide to grace us with their presence."

We were both wrong.

Because right at that moment, Orla was standing at the doorway to Yaz's bathroom looking down at a toothbrush on the tiled floor—still wet with toothpaste.

Of Yaz—there was no sign.

_She had simply_ _disappeared_ _._

* * * *

We spent hours—searching through the neighborhood and going through each of the schoolrooms. By morning, Orla finally had to admit what the rest of us had already accepted.

Yaz was gone.

Of course, everybody had a theory.

Some girls thought that maybe Yaz had been kidnapped by one of the gangs coming up the 101 Freeway. Others suggested that perhaps she had simply returned to South L.A. and her old neighborhood.

Alice wondered if one of the dreaded _beasts_ had finally shown up and taken Yaz. It was no great secret that Yaz liked to smoke cigarettes. What if she had simply gone outside for a cigarette and a beast had caught her?

Of course, that didn't explain how Yaz would have managed to have walked by the two 12th graders waiting just outside her bedroom door to escort her to the party. Plus, the only window in her bedroom was barred and locked shut— _from the inside_.

And, of course, none of the theories could explain the toothbrush on the bathroom floor.

Except for Sophia's and Reena's.

To them, it was obvious.

Yaz must have finally repented and accepted Jesus into her heart; she was now sitting at the Holy Father's table in heaven.

"God has a plan for all of us," preached Sophia that morning. "We would do well to follow Yaz's example and get down on our knees and pray."

Reena, of course, was in total agreement.

* * * *

We were all exhausted when Orla finally allowed us to return to our homes. Cherry took off immediately, while I slogged over to the Medical Center to take Jay a piece of chocolate cake.

" _Here,"_ I said, handing it to her. "It was the best part of the party, that's for sure."

"She's really gone, huh?" Jay was too tired to look really astonished. That didn't stop her from hungrily stuffing the cake into her mouth, though.

"Just her grody toothbrush on the floor. Her Detail was right outside the room, too. They said that they didn't hear anything. One minute Yaz was there—the next minute she was gone. And, of course, Sophia says that she's gone to heaven."

Jay shrugged. _"Whatever."_ She yawned, not even bothering to cover her mouth in her fatigue.

"You seem especially tired," I said. "How are the patients doing?"

"Sue and Rachel are slightly better. The rest are the same."

"Amelie?"

"She's the worst."

"Still?"

Jay shook her head, almost angry. "Maybe it's just that she's smaller and more fragile. Honestly, Kaylee, I don't know how much more her body can take."

"Is Peyton with her?"

"Of course."

"Does she know about Yaz?"

"Orla came." Jay looked disgusted. "She stood at the door and told her. She didn't even come in. Frankly, I think our President is scared of being infected."

"How did Peyton take it?"

"I don't think she cared. She has more important things on her mind right now."

* * * *

There was one last thing I did before I left school that day.

Even though he would never receive it, I dropped a 'Secret Valentine' through the slots of Jacob Riker's locker.

### JOURNAL ENTRY #21

I'm beginning to really dislike Sophia.

She showed up at the Medical Center when I was helping Jay with the sick girls. I was holding one of the 12th grader's heads, while she puked in a bucket. Suddenly, I hear this voice yelling about 'God' and 'damnation' and 'plague' being part of the 'Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse'.

When I spun around, there was Sophia.

She was standing at the doorway, holding a bible up in her hand like she was Moses holding up the "Ten Commandments".

" _You must repent!" she yelled. "You must accept Jesus into your hearts!"_

I didn't know what to do—I was so surprised.

It was Peyton who came to our rescue. She simply stood up and walked to the door and slammed it in Sophia's face.

" _Dumbass," Peyton muttered._

Then—without another word—she returned to Amelie's bedside.

### JOURNAL ENTRY #22

Everyone's losing weight.

And our tummies are always grumbling.

It seems like every girl I meet is either food-cranky, has PMS because she's on her period, or just plain old pissy.

Except the 11th and 12th graders on the Protection Detail—it's amazing how they look 'exactly' the same.

_Almost as if they're_ _not_ _on rations._

* * * *

_And now Shawnee_ _is_ _sick!_

Cherry is obviously devastated. She had thought that her younger sister was just tired because she hadn't been getting enough to eat lately.

She was wrong.

Including Shawnee, there are now thirteen girls sick in the Medical Center.

We didn't have enough cots for all of them, so Orla had us go into the townhouses and bring back mattresses. We've put them on the floor and the sick girls are sleeping on those.

The Council also assigned two other girls to take over Laundry Detail, so that Cherry and I could help out in the Medical Center. Of course, Cherry spends almost all of her time with Shawnee, so I do most of the work.

I'm okay with that.

Cherry's going through enough—watching someone she loves waste away.

* * * *

_Tray became sick, too. Sadly, it didn't last long._ (That sounds so horrible. What's even more horrible is that I mean it.)

She was in the Medical Center for no more than two days—puking up her guts, sweating, and shaking. Then she was back to her old mean self again.

Jay thinks that Tray didn't have the same thing as the other girls. She thinks that she probably had food poisoning from the way she was throwing up.

Hmmm—that's curious, don't you think?

What on earth could give Tray food poisoning?

_Especially since we're all supposed to be eating the_ _same_ _thing._

Wandy says that it's because the Foxes and the Protection Detail are eating the pets now. She said that she's been finding animal bones in the garbage when she takes it to the trash lot. When I suggested that maybe the Detail was trapping rabbits or squirrels and the older girls were eating them, Wandy just laughed.

" _How does that explain the collars and dog tags in their garbage, then?" she asked._

* * * *

About once a day Orla and her Protection Detail show up at the Medical Center. They never enter, just stand at the door, waiting for an update from Jay.

Today—I think that Orla wishes that she'd never showed up.

Jay was in a foul mood.

" _How do you think it's going?" Jay snapped at her. "I've got thirteen sick girls and only three helpers."_

" _I can ask for volunteers," Orla suggested._

" _Why don't you just order them to come and help?" Jay said. "You have no problem ordering us to do everything else."_

Orla looked shocked.

_Alice stepped forward, as if to tell Jay off, but—when Jay walked toward her—she immediately moved back._ (She was afraid of being infected, the coward!)

" _How about you, Alice?" Jay goaded her. "You're a big girl. You'll certainly be able to lift these girls when we need to change their bedding."_

" _Jay," interrupted Orla, gently, "let me see what I can do. I'm sure we can find you extra help."_

" _And I need more information!" Jay waved her arms around. "There have to be doctors' offices around here. Send someone to check for medical textbooks. I need to figure out what we're dealing with here if you want me to be able to fight it."_

" _I'll do my best," said Orla, turning to leave._

" _Do better!" yelled Jay at her departing back._

Orla tensed—but kept on walking.

### ORLA GIVES US BAD NEWS

Two days later, the girls started getting better.

Sue and Rachel were the first to leave the Medical Center. The rest followed over the next forty-eight hours.

Last to leave was Shawnee.

She looked weak and broken when she walked out the front door—but she definitely was on the mend.

Then—it was just Amelie.

Still sick.

Pale and clammy.

In and out of consciousness.

* * * *

With all the other patients gone, Jay and I pulled up chairs—joining Peyton at Amelie's bedside.

"She doesn't have what the other girls had, does she?" said Peyton sadly.

"I don't think so." Jay shook her head.

"Do you think she's going to..." Peyton wasn't going to say the word, especially not with Amelie beside her—but we knew what she meant.

"I'm going to do everything I can to make sure she doesn't," Jay promised.

We were silent for a while, just sitting there, watching the rise and fall of Amelie's chest with each shallow breath she took.

"You should go," Peyton said, after a while—so softly, that we could barely hear.

"It's okay." Jay stifled a yawn. "I've got a few more hours in me."

"No." Peyton shook her head. "You're not understanding. You should go—all of you. Leave this place— _while you still can."_

I was confused; so was Jay. But before we could ask what she meant, we heard a raspy voice.

" _Peyton?"_ It was Amelie—awake after so long.

She smiled weakly up at her sister and Peyton reached down, gently smoothing a stray hair from Amelie's clammy brow.

"Hey, brat," Peyton said. _"You think you could stop scaring me for a while?"_

* * * *

The next night, the Council ordered an 'Assembly'.

We met after work in the theater. It was a somber collection of girls and conversation was conducted in low voices, with drawn faces and worried looks.

With the exception of Jay, Peyton, and Amelie, it looked like everyone was there.

Of course—Yaz was still missing.

As soon as everyone was settled, Orla approached the podium. She was wearing another one of her 'power suits', this one in a dark plum. Unfortunately, the color— _while pretty_ —did not go well with her red hair. Even in the dim light coming from the tiki torches, Orla looked pasty against the deep purple of her suit jacket.

Flanking Orla, on either side of the stage, was a 12th grader from her Protection Detail. They looked appropriately serious—and well-armed.

Tray, meanwhile, was seated in the front row. I noticed that she was in a deep discussion with Alice—who was sitting to her right. Every once in a while, however, Tray would turn around and survey the audience.

Eventually we made eye contact.

When that happened, Tray smiled. To anyone watching, it must have looked like Tray was happy to see me.

Her smile was big and wide and showing lots of teeth.

To me— _she simply looked like a predator who had just spotted her prey_.

* * * *

Jude leaned over and whispered in my ear. _"To your right...look at Sophia."_

Leaning forward, I caught sight of Sophia, sitting in the very last seat of our row. She had her hands clasped together, her eyes closed, and she was praying.

"Whack job called me a demon today," Jude told me.

"It's because she wants you to let Lily go to her church services," I explained.

"Not a chance," snorted Jude. "If Lily _wanted_ to go, maybe I'd say different. But Lily thinks Sophia is weird."

Down at the end of the row, Sophia had finally stopped praying. Now she was scratching her head—the way people with really dirty hair do when they haven't bathed for a while.

"She's certainly not the Sophia I used to know," I murmured.

"Do you know what's really funny?" asked Jude.

"What's that?"

"Sophia's always getting on everyone's case about repenting so God will take them up to Heaven, yet she still got left behind... _ironic_."

* * * *

At the podium, Orla began her speech:

"Good evening, everyone. Well, this certainly has been a difficult couple of weeks. Because of that, I thought it was important to talk to you—to get the community up to speed on a couple of things."

(Someone yelled out, wanting to know if Yaz had been found. Orla shook her head.)

"I am sorry to say that we cannot find a trace of Yazmeen anywhere. I know that some of you think that it was the beasts that took her. While I am not saying that this is impossible, I do think it is improbable. Since Yaz disappeared from a room with a locked window—with a Protection Detail standing just outside—it is my opinion that she probably got _'taken'_ , just like all the others from our families who are missing."

(Someone else wanted to know if it was because Yazmeen had turned eighteen.)

"I don't know. But I think that's a distinct possibility. Of all the girls here, there isn't a single one who is over seventeen."

(Up on stage, the 12th graders from Orla's Protection Detail frowned. One of them actually began counting on her fingers—as if figuring out how many months were left until her 18th birthday.)

"Whatever the reason, Yaz's disappearance has taught us that we need to cherish the time we spend with the people we love. And we also need to protect them. Not just from violence but—as we have discovered—from sickness."

(I looked over at Lily on the left side of Jude. She had fallen asleep, her head on the older girl's shoulder. Farther down, Shawnee—seated between Wandy and Cherry—also seemed to be having difficulty staying awake. Her head was nodding, her eyes closing.)

"We came close to losing girls through sickness this week... _very close_. This has shown us that we need to be better prepared medically. We need information—education. Before this _thing_ happened, medical knowledge was 'Google-able'. Now we have only what we can find in books.

Which means that we need more books, because what we have in the school library does not meet our needs. So, in a few days, the Council will be sending a team to the Agoura Hills Library to bring back books—primarily medical texts."

(There was much interested chatter at that. Girls actually sat up straighter in their seats, looking excited.)

" _However_ —we have also received an unconfirmed report that the Agoura Hills Library has been vandalized and most of the books already taken. If this is true, then that means that we will have to travel farther north, to the Westlake Village Library. Obviously, that decision will have to be made by the Library Detail on the day of the expedition.

Further to that, there is some concern about traveling through the Westlake Village girls' territory. After some discussion with their _representative_ , the Council has received permission and visas for ten girls and five members of the Protection Detail to travel through their city. If the Detail does not find what they need at the Agoura Hills Library, then Westlake will give safe passage to their library for this one trip only.

To that end, a specific route along Agoura Road has been permitted. Any girl who strays from that route will be detained by Westlake Village and— _possibly_ —shot."

_(Some of the girls groaned. Our local Target store was in Westlake Village, which meant that we probably wouldn't be making any side trips to do a little_ _personal_ _shopping.)_

"You must all remember that the objective of this trip will be to gather the books we need to manage our community—in a medical capacity and to educate ourselves for survival in this new world. If you wish to be part of this Library Detail—at the end of the Assembly—please write down your name on a piece of paper and hand it to Alice."

(I looked down the row at Sophia. 'Organizing and lists' were usually her responsibility. But Sophia didn't seem to care that she was being left out. Instead, she rocked back and forth in her chair, chewing on a hangnail.)

"To make it fair, we will place all the names of the girls who want to go to the Agoura Hills Library into a hat. Ten will be chosen at random to make the trip. The five members of the Protection Detail, however, will be chosen by the Council.

For those of you who won't be able to make the trip, I encourage each of you to create a list of books that you would like the Library Detail to bring back. Think carefully about what you want to read. Choose books for entertainment, books for education, and books for survival."

(All around me, girls were pulling out pieces of paper; lists were already being written.)

"One of the other goals of the Library Detail will be to find books on agriculture. As you can all tell—given that we're now on rations—our food is running out. It's time for us to grow our own. So, if there is anybody out there with the knowledge or desire to be on our new 'Farming Detail', please let us know soonest."

(I actually thought that the idea of farming would be met with groans. Instead, I was surprised at how many girls actually looked interested. Beside Shawnee, I could see Wandy already writing 'fertilizer' and 'organic farming' on her book list.)

"Now, I have a few other important items to tell you. _First_ —in my discussions with girls from the other communities nearby, I am sad to say that there have been incursions by the beasts into the mountains around us. They have been reported all along Topanga Canyon now and Moorpark has witnessed them coming down from Simi Valley.

Also, it appears that an area from Malibou Lake _(different from Malibu)_ to Kanan and over to Triunfo Canyon has been taken over by some of the girls who were in one of the Probationary Camps near Malibu Creek. As you know, those girls are particularly vicious and violent juvenile delinquents, most being sent to the camps because of their criminal activities. They have now closed down all travel along Kanan-Dume Road _(a specific part of Kanan Road that connects to the coast at Point Dume, Malibu)_. There, and along Mulholland Highway where it crosses Kanan-Dume, they are shooting at people."

(There were some gasps. If this was true, then that meant—between the beasts and the Probationary girls—Agoura Hills was close to being cut off on all sides.)

"I will remind you once again that— _under no circumstance_ —should you travel outside our community without a Council visa _and_ at least one armed member of our Protection Detail. It has simply become too dangerous. And—inside our borders—do not forget that the curfew from dusk-to-daybreak is still in effect. This is for all our safety and security."

(I wondered if maybe this 'oncoming-isolation' was what Peyton had been talking about—when she told Jay and me that we needed to 'get out while we still could'.)

"And finally—I have very sad news indeed. While a terrible sickness has run through our human population, I am devastated to tell you that it has also run through our animal population."

(Beside me, Jude muttered, "Here we go.")

"I'm so sorry, everyone. Our wonderful animals—our dear pets.

They're gone."

MARCH

### GETTING RIPPED

A few days after Orla's Assembly, Sophia showed up at Cherry and Wandy's front door— _suitcase in hand_.

Although she wouldn't say what had happened, Sophia was clearly upset about _something_ that had gone on at the Foxes Compound. Whatever it was, it was enough to send her scurrying back to her old friends.

Luckily for Sophia, Cherry and Wandy graciously accepted her back into the fold—but with some very strict ground rules.

_She had to bathe regularly_ _and_ _she was not allowed to preach to any of them._

Reluctantly, she agreed.

For the most part, Sophia remained clean and respectfully quiet.

Every once in a while, though, a _Tribulations_ -warning would slip out of Sophia's mouth. Immediately, Cherry would silence her with a deadly look and a nod toward the front door. What followed then would be Sophia sulking off into a corner, muttering away about _something_ we could never quite catch.

Truthfully—she worried me.

And Jude hated her— _she said that Sophia 'stank of corruption'_.

* * * *

On one cold and intermittently spitting-rain day, we sat in the football stands to eat our lunch and watch 'Orla's Army' doing defensive tactics training. Jude, Lily, Shawnee, and I were on the very top level; Wandy and Cherry were on the bench just below us.

Jay, meanwhile, was in the Medical Center.

Though conscious and talking now, Amelie was still not well enough to be released. Except to eat and catch a few hours of sleep, Jay rarely left Amelie's side these days.

Even with the weather as bad as it was, our group had decided to eat lunch in the football stands—mostly because we were all so bored. With no television or internet, and not being allowed to travel outside of our borders, watching the older girls parade on the field and learn how to fight was at least something to do.

Orla's Army— _basically the Protection Detail_ —had started 'battle training' in the middle of February. After Orla's announcement that the beasts and the Probationary Camp girls were getting progressively nearer to Agoura Hills, their training had only intensified.

At one point, Jude had asked Alice if she could possibly join in. She was told, in no uncertain terms, that _only_ the members of the Protection Detail were allowed to train at this time. Alice said that they didn't have enough weapons for 'civilians' and the priority had to be on getting 'Security' up and running first.

Of course, our group never let on that we still had weapons.

Jude had her gun; I had mine. _(We never did find one for Jay.)_

Lily had her pepper spray, which she kept in her purse or tucked into a pocket.

Jay and I also had our cop-socks, but those were back in the Sitipala hidden room. We should probably have handed those over to the Protection Detail, but we just couldn't bring ourselves to do it. Jay and I simply felt that we had gone through too much to get them.

And—although we never saw any—we assumed that the Continuation girls had their own weapons stashed away. In fact, we assumed that many of the girls around us were secretly armed in one way or another.

These were dangerous times.

_It just made sense_.

* * * *

"Damn, but that girl is quick," said Jude.

Down on the field, the Protection Detail girls had all separated into pairs and— _wearing football helmets and pads_ —were punching and kicking at each other. Tray had just spun around, delivering a roundhouse kick that sent Alice flying to the ground.

It was supposed to be just practicing; Tray, obviously, was making it full-contact.

"She and Brandon met in karate class," said Cherry. "That's when they first started dating. I think they both have their brown belts."

"Figures," said Wandy. "Brandon Keretsky and Traynesha Davis—the two biggest bullies in Agoura High. Who had the bright idea to give them fighting lessons, too?"

"This is yucky," said Lily, holding up her sandwich.

It was one of Sophia's creations. The bread was passable, though slightly burnt at the corners. Nobody was certain about the spread, however.

"You don't think it's 'Rover', do you?" asked Jude.

"It better not be," I said, feeling suddenly sick. "Sophia promised me that it was vegetarian. Some sort of _bean-cucumber-thing_."

"I'm tired of beans," groused Shawnee, even as she took another bite of her own sandwich.

"Who isn't?" said Jude.

"Plus it makes everyone farty," said Lily.

We all laughed, while Lily just looked confused.

"It does," she insisted. _"Especially Jude."_

We laughed harder...even Jude.

* * * *

"Are you kidding me?!" Cherry sputtered—suddenly angry. _"Bitch has highlights!"_

She was pointing down onto the field where one of the 12th graders had just taken off her football helmet. It was a girl named Shelton, who was tall and pretty, with blond hair that gleamed, even on this wet, dismal day.

"Isn't that her natural color?" I asked.

Cherry looked at me like I was an idiot. _"Dude,"_ she chided, "like I don't know my hair color!"

"So she has highlights," sniffed Jude. "Who cares?"

" _I care!"_ Cherry ran a hand through her own shoulder-length hair. The pink had become cloudy and there were two-inches of blond showing at the roots. "Fracking Orla won't let me get any color. She says that she can't spare the security needed for the five minutes it'd take me to grab a box at CVS!"

"That's stupid," I said. "CVS is literally just across the street on Kanan Road."

"According to _Ms. President_...that side of the street is out of our borders. Convenient, huh? Personally, I think she just doesn't want me to dye my hair."

I looked back down at Shelton; her hair really did look good— _nice color, well-conditioned_.

"But why would Orla care about what you did with your hair?" I asked. "It doesn't make any sense."

Jude tapped me on the head. "Because it's not about Cherry's hair, Barbie... _it's about control."_

Lily, meanwhile, reached over and twirled a finger around Cherry's pink tips. "Shelton's got pretty hair, but yours is prettier."

" _Thanks, Lily,"_ sighed Cherry, giving her a quick hug.

I would never have mentioned it, but I was glad that Orla wouldn't let Cherry have any dye. While I really didn't mind her pink hair, I was kind of fascinated to see what Cherry would look like with her _normal_ hair color.

* * * *

We were all transforming—in different ways.

Some of it, I'm certain, was just due to growing older. A lot of it, however, was because of our circumstances.

Almost all of us had lost weight; some of us had lost a lot.

For those of us who hadn't been overweight to begin with, that meant our bodies were becoming ripped. Like meathead guys, we suddenly began comparing our '6-packs' and 'guns'.

Meanwhile, the ones who had been overweight were now experiencing what it was like to be thin. Muffin tops disappeared, thighs slimmed— _clothes actually fit for once_.

There were a few like Shawnee, who still had a few pounds to lose before they _wouldn't_ be considered 'chubby', but they were becoming rare.

(Jay and I had seen Shawnee sneaking out of the kitchen one afternoon when no one was supposed to be there. She was carrying a box of cookies that she quickly tucked into her jacket. We figured that might have been one of the reasons that her weight-loss was so much slower than the rest of us.)

* * * *

Jude's transformation was the most amazing of us all.

Like Cherry, Jude's natural hair color was finally growing in—a very pretty chestnut brown. Meanwhile, her acne had all but cleared up and her face was becoming thinner, exposing high model-cheekbones.

It appeared that our Jude was going to be _'very pretty'_.

The best part of it all, was that she hadn't realized it, yet. Jude still thought of herself as _that_ lumbering, spotty, fat girl.

* * * *

And then there was Jay and me.

Truthfully—our hair was longer and we were a little skinnier but, mostly, we just looked the same.

So disappointing.

* * * *

The upcoming library trip continued to be a source of excitement in the community. All the girls wanted to go—some because they truly wanted to get books, others because they just wanted a chance to travel outside of the boundaries.

Like everyone else, I was compiling a list of books I wanted. There were a number of authors I was having an ongoing 'reading-love affair' with—Ray Bradbury, Amanda Hocking, Stephenie Meyer, to name just a few.

Hopefully, some of their books would be available.

I also made up a second list; this one was of books that could teach us survival skills— _sewing, canning, wilderness emergency first aid_.

Meanwhile, Lily asked for the _"Harry Potter"_ series and a book on pugs. Though she probably wasn't going to like it, I also added books on elementary history, science, and math to her list. Cherry, Wandy, and I had decided that— _when the books came back_ —we were going to start regular classes for both Lily and Shawnee _(and anyone else who wanted to learn)._

* * * *

Wandy's book list was especially interesting.

She had been the first to sign up for the Farming Detail and wanted every book the search team could find on composting and crop rotation. In particular, Wandy was looking for a book that would explain how you could turn human waste into fertilizer. _(Yuck!)_

Also—during her spare time—Wandy had begun working with Jude on a design for running PVC pipes from the soon-to-be-completed water tank down to the fields that would be used for the community's farm.

Which meant—books on water filtration and irrigation also made Wandy's list.

Meanwhile, Jay— _of course_ —just wanted medical reference books, while Cherry and Shawnee were both into Anime and Manga.

* * * *

The only girl I never saw write out a book list was Jude. When I asked her why, she merely shrugged.

" _Too busy to read," she said. "What do I care?"_

### JOURNAL ENTRY #23

_I've been chosen to go to the library..._ _so_ _exciting!_

And Jude and Cherry also got chosen.

_Wandy is really disappointed that her name_ _didn't_ _get picked. She wanted to go to the Library so badly. Both Cherry and Jude asked the Council to substitute one of their spots for Wandy, but the Council wouldn't let them._

_Or what I should really say is—the_ _Foxes_ _wouldn't let them._

And, ironically, Jude didn't even put her name into the drawing.

_The only reason she's going is that Orla is making her a temporary member of the Protection Detail. Because we're going to be pushing shopping carts all the way to the Agoura Hills Library and back_ (it's about three miles away) _, she wanted Jude on the trip because she's so strong and fierce._

_And I actually agree with Orla for once—Jude_ _is_ _strong and fierce._

_So glad she's on_ _my_ _team._

* * * *

Unfortunately, Jay isn't coming.

Like Jude, she didn't put her name into the drawing. In her case, it was because she didn't want to leave Amelie alone.

For a while, it looked like Amelie was actually getting better. That didn't last, though. Now, she just keeps getting sicker and sicker.

And Peyton—of course—isn't coming on the trip because she rarely leaves her sister's side.

* * * *

Speaking of Peyton...

While Jude might be the girl who's changed the most physically over these last four and a half months—I think that Peyton might be the one who has had the biggest 'character-change'.

The other day I saw Wandy sitting with Peyton at Amelie's bedside. While Amelie slept, Wandy and Peyton talked quietly, their heads close together. There were tears coming down both of their cheeks and Peyton actually reached out and hugged Wandy.

I wonder what Cherry thinks about that.

* * * *

Now speaking about Jude...both Jay and I are kind of worried about her.

Lately, Jude's just been so—pissy.

_It seems like she's angry at everybody. Nothing makes her happy. She even snapped at Lily the other day—and Jude's_ _never_ _mean to Lily. I mean, she absolutely dotes on the girl._

Jude also has been really unfocused lately.

At times, I've caught her staring out into space, as if trying to remember what it was she was looking for or doing. When she sees that I've noticed, she pretends that it's nothing, but I can see that it really bugs her.

The worst thing, though, was when I got up last night and went into the kitchen for a glass of water from the big bottle we keep on the counter. As I was reaching for it, I heard a sob. I thought maybe that I was imagining it, but then I realized it was coming from the backyard.

_When I peeked out the window—I saw_ _her_ _._

_Jude was sitting on the ground, with Pugly on her lap..._ _and she was crying_ _._

As much as I wanted to go and give her a hug—this being Jude—I knew the best thing I could do for her was to turn around, go back to bed, and never mention that I'd seen her in such a vulnerable way.

But—I'm still going to talk to Jay about it, I think.

Maybe, together, we can figure out what's going on and how we can help Jude.

### JOURNAL ENTRY #24

It all makes sense now; so many things make sense.

So, here's what happened...

I had just finished my shift at the Medical Center and I was pretty tired. All I really wanted was to have a bath and get ready for the trip to the library tomorrow.

But, first, I needed to sort out my 'lists'—so that I'd be better organized.

The Council has divided up all the book lists into categories. Each of the girls who have been chosen to go to the Library have been given a particular category of books that they'll be responsible for finding. I'll be looking for books on natural medicines, first aid, and water purification. Plus, I'm allowed to find the books on my own personal list, of course.

_Anyway—I took my half-eaten sandwich from dinner_ (mashed beans and cucumber again!) _, my lists, and a soy chocolate milk and went and sat out in the backyard where the light was better_ (it was dusk) _._

About five minutes later, Jude came out from the house and sat down beside me. She was holding her own handful of assigned book lists. "Barbie, I need your help."

" _I don't know," I responded, not looking up from the list I was working on. "Are you going to snap at me, because I'm really not in the mood?"_

There was no answer.

I looked up to see Jude sitting there, head down—staring morosely at her lists.

" _What?!" I snapped, irritated. "Look, I'm sorry, but you've been very cranky these last few days."_

Jude nodded. "I know," she said, quietly. "I get that way when I'm off my Adderall. It's so hard for me to focus sometimes."

" _Your ADHD!" I suddenly felt very stupid. "Oh god, Jude. You ran out of meds! Why didn't you tell us?"_

" _I was hoping that I could get by without them."_

" _Look, we'll talk to Jay about it when she gets home. There's probably some Addie in the Medical Center."_

" _Yeah," sighed Jude. "It's probably a good idea."_

" _It's_ _definitely_ _a good idea," I agreed._

Jude frowned at me.

" _Really cranky," I said, holding my hands up. "So, is that what you needed help with?"_

" _Not really."_

I waited. Sometimes you have to do that with Jude. Give her time to feel comfortable speaking.

" _Do you know Porter McIntyre?" she asked, after a moment._

" _Sure. He's that really smart kid from our Chemistry class."_

" _I work—worked—with him down at Vons."_

" _I know...I've seen you both there."_

" _Well, it's just that...Porter always helped me with my homework."_

" _That was nice of him."_

_Jude looked down at the lists in her hand. "Well, it's kind of more than that...Porter helped me_ _read_ _my homework."_

There was a period of about five seconds where I had absolutely no idea what she was saying. Then it hit me.

" _Are you kidding me?" I blurted out. "ADHD and Dyslexia?!"_

Jude nodded, giving me a bemused grin. "Hit the motherlode, didn't I?"

* * * *

_See, it's not that Jude can't read—it's that it's_ _difficult_ _for her to read._

In her mind, the letters tend to jumble themselves up. It takes time for Jude to figure out the words. And—when she's off her meds—her ability to focus is so low that it becomes almost impossible.

I suppose that some of the teachers at Agoura High knew that Jude had dyslexia, but none of us kids did.

_We just thought she was—_ _less smart_ _._

It's very humbling to learn how ridiculous some of your preconceived notions are. Frankly, it makes me feel like a less smart person myself.

Porter was apparently the only kid at Agoura High who knew about Jude's dyslexia...and Jude didn't tell him!

She said that he figured it out himself the first day he worked with her at Vons. But, instead of making fun of Jude, like she was certain he would—Porter spent much of his free time helping her to overcome it.

_In fact—Jude says—if it wasn't for Porter coaching her through practice tests, she doesn't think that she would have made it through the last two years of high school. And the thing that's_ _really_ _sad—is that Jude says that she loves school and learning._

It's just that it's really difficult for her.

She just can't keep up with everybody.

* * * *

I wish Jude would let me tell the others about her dyslexia. But she's still too embarrassed about it. When you've been teased for so much of your life, I guess it's hard to trust that your friends will actually support and care for you.

At least, Jude let me help her with her library lists.

It took a long time, but we figured out some tricks to help her find the books. We created a little 'picture alphabet' to phonetically spell out the titles. It looks a little weird, but it seems to work. Plus, I'll make sure to keep checking on her when we're in the library, just in case she needs any more help.

Even though I think we've got it covered, Jude's still a little nervous that she's going to screw up; I think that, overall—I have more confidence in her than she does.

It's going to work out fine. I know it.

### AND THE SWEETEST BELL RANG

I got up early the day of the library trip, so that I could go to the Medical Center. Jay wasn't there, yet, but Peyton was sleeping on a cot next to her sister.

Amelie was wide-awake when I entered, her head turned to the side, looking out a window. She seemed very frail and she was so pale that I could see the veins through her skin.

"Hey, cutie-pie," I said, quietly pulling up a chair beside her.

" _Kaylee...."_ Her voice was so low and raspy, I had to strain to hear it.

"We're heading to the library in a few hours. Did your sister tell you about it?" Amelie gave a slight nod of her head. "So, I thought I'd come and see if there was a book you might like. I can't promise it'll be there, but I'll definitely look."

Amelie said something, but her voice was so soft that I didn't hear it. I bent down low, my head close to her lips. _"Say it again, sweetheart."_

Like a butterfly's wings, her breath fluttered against my cheek as I listened closely. Then sitting back up, I smiled down at her.

"I'll do my best," I said. _"I promise."_

With a kiss to her cheek, I said good-bye to Amelie, and walked out of the Medical Center.

Once in the hallway—I sat down against the wall... _and cried_.

Amelie had asked me to find her a book about 'heaven'.

* * * *

Forty-five minutes later, Amelie died in her sister's arms.

* * * *

It was Jude and the Construction Detail, who climbed the hill above Agoura High and dug Amelie's grave. They buried her there, right above the giant _'A'_ —where she could look out over the entire Conejo Valley.

Everyone attended the funeral.

It wasn't easy for some to climb the steep hill, but we all helped each other, waiting until every girl was assembled.

Before us, was a mound of dirt—covered in flowers. Jude and her Detail had already buried Amelie, wrapping her in a soft blanket and laying her head on a pillow.

A small, wooden cross had been driven into the ground at the head of her grave. On it someone had carved:

' _She was our sister—our Amelie.'_

* * * *

All of the Foxes were dressed appropriately in black.

Peyton had on a _BCBG_ dress that should have been stunning, with its swishy skirt and little pearl buttons. Except that Peyton had either miscalculated, or simply given up—three of the buttons were undone. And when I looked down at her feet, I noticed that Peyton was wearing a simple pair of socks and sneakers— _with the socks mismatched_.

Beside Peyton—Tray looked flawless in a black pinstriped pantsuit.

It was odd, looking at the two of them. Peyton, so shattered with grief, slowly weaving back and forth as if being shaken by the wind. Tray, standing ramrod straight, her reaction non-existent.

As in—there was _nothing_ on Tray's face.

No tears. No sadness.

(Honestly—to this day—I truly believe that Tray couldn't have cared less that Amelie had died.)

* * * *

Orla, meanwhile, stood before us in a black gabardine shift and tights. She was struggling not to cry, and seemed to be truly grief-stricken.

"I just want to say—that I loved Amelie Buckingham. She was a beautiful girl and she will be missed. This is a horrible day for our community. Peyton, I am so very, very sorry."

Stepping back, Orla blew her nose quietly into a tissue.

I looked around, wondering what would happen next.

Jay was beside me, tears streaming down her face. Lily was next to her, one hand holding Jay's, the other holding onto Jude's on her other side.

My heart dropped—gazing down at Lily.

The little girl looked traumatized, her eyes wide, her mouth open. She was beginning to breathe in tiny gasps of grief and panic.

" _Psst!"_ I hissed.

Jude was staring out across the green and silent valley below, her thoughts obviously far away. My whisper brought her back to life, however, and I nodded my head toward Lily.

Seeing Lily's distress, Jude reached down and lifted the smaller girl up and into her arms. Lily immediately laid her head down on Jude's shoulder; her thumb went into her mouth and she began to cry softly.

Sophia, meanwhile— _carrying a_ _large bible_ —moved into position at the head of Amelie's grave.

"I am the resurrection and the life," she began. "Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live."

On the other side of the grave, Wandy _(standing with Cherry and a tearful Shawnee)_ crossed herself and said, _"Amen."_

But... _Sophia wasn't finished, yet_.

She held her bible tightly to her chest, took a deep breath, and began to preach. "In the Book of Revelation, God speaks of smiting the earth with all plagues. Can anyone doubt that His words have come true? Can anyone doubt that this young girl was taken from us by the plague of sin and depravity?"

Around me, girls began to grumble; others shifted, looking uncomfortable.

Not noticing— _or not caring_ —Sophia continued. "We live at the right hand of Babylon—that which others call _Hollywood_. A world of false images, of whores and sodomites..."

Cherry's head shot up, her brow furrowing in anger.

"...where this young girl lost her way, a sinner amongst the worst of humanity. That God should send the Pale Horse—the Fourth Horseman—to strike her down first. It surely must be a sign to all of us. A warning...a...

" _NO...you shut up...you shut up right now!"_

* * * *

It took me a moment to realize that the angry voice shouting was my own.

All around, heads were turning in my direction.

Sophia looked shocked. She stood there, mouth open, not knowing if she should stop or continue.

"Don't you dare, Sophia!" I warned—moving toward her. "Don't you dare call that sweet girl a sinner! If anyone deserves to sit at the right hand of God, it is Amelie. She was good and she was kind and...and...she was an angel on earth!"

At the side of Amelie's grave, Peyton suddenly collapsed to her knees.

Rushing forward, I knelt down beside her.

I felt absolutely horrible.

"Oh my god, Peyton," I cried. "I'm _so_ sorry! Please, please forgive me for ruining Amelie's funeral. I shouldn't have said anything—I should have just kept my stupid mouth shut. I'm so very, very sorry... _I'm such an idiot!"_

But—instead of being upset with me—Peyton reached out and pulled me in close. She held onto me tightly, sobbing. _"You were absolutely perfect, Kaylee—and Amelie would have just loved that!"_

* * * *

That night, Jude, Jay, and I sat in the backyard, talking with Lily.

"Do you think that Amelie is with my mom and Ethan?" our youngest asked.

"I don't think your mom and brother are dead," I said, truthfully.

"Where do you think they are, then?"

"I'm not sure. But I like to think that they're still going on with their lives somewhere. That would be nice, wouldn't it?"

"But Amelie is dead," Lily said, sadly.

"Amelie is dead," I nodded.

"Why was Sophia so mean at the funeral?" she asked, changing directions.

"Because Sophia is a crazy bi..." Jude stopped short when Jay and I both gave her dirty looks. She started again. "Because Sophia is a bit crazy."

"Sophia's confused," said Jay. "Like you were when we first found you. Remember how you didn't talk for a while?"

Lily nodded.

"Too bad Sophia wouldn't stop talking for a while," grunted Jude. "Give us a break from all that ridiculousness." She quickly looked down at Lily. "I'm not talking about believing in God," Jude told the little girl. "I'm talking about the _'sinners-this'_ and _'plague-and-damnation-that'_...the whack-a-doodle stuff."

"You don't think that God made everybody disappear?" Lily asked.

Jude shrugged. "I don't know. And if everybody else was being honest—they'd tell you that they don't know either. So we just have to continue on living and being the best people we can."

"But we're all girls," said Lily.

"There might be some boys somewhere," said Jay, hopefully.

"What if there aren't no boys?" asked Lily.

"No pee around the toilet, then," I joked.

"No burping the alphabet," Jay added.

"No more pulling my baby finger," I continued.

" _No more babies,"_ said Lily, sadly—then she sighed. "I sure hope I'm not the last girl left. Who will bury me on the hill if everyone else is gone?"

APRIL

### OFF TO THE LIBRARY

Because of Amelie's death and funeral, the trip to the Agoura Hills Library had been put off until the first week of April. Those of us making the journey finally assembled one morning, at the gate to the high school football field.

Since there was always the possibility that we would have to travel as far as the Westlake Village Library, we carried small overnight backpacks. One of the 12th graders on the Protection Detail also carried a special first aid kit that Jay had prepared, containing bandages and antiseptic.

Plus—the day before—Jay had given all of us a short lesson on what we should do in various medical emergencies.

Obviously, we were all hoping not to have to use that knowledge.

As part of the Protection Detail that was accompanying us, Jude was given a large knife and—believe it or not—a spear (scavenged from the Performing Arts Center). It really irritated Jude, especially because all of the 11th and 12th graders in the Detail had guns or rifles.

Of course, Jude was carrying her own gun hidden in her fanny pack. It was just that she was insulted that the Council didn't give her another gun. To Jude, that meant that they didn't really want her for security—they just wanted to use her for muscle.

To push the carts.

* * * *

Just before we left, Alice and Shelton rode up on Beauty and the chestnut horse. They had been tasked with being in charge of the expedition.

Lucky us—Tray wasn't going!

To keep our group from being distracted during the departure preparations, Orla had ordered all bystanders to the far side of Argos Street. There were about fifteen girls watching from the sidewalk opposite the high school—some looking excited, others bored, still others plainly jealous that they hadn't been chosen for the Library Detail.

Wandy and Jay were also among the bystanders—both looking very solemn, while they talked quietly together. At their feet, Shawnee and Lily sat on the curb, and I noticed that Shawnee kept slipping Lily bits of what looked to be chocolate from a large bar that was peeking out of her left jacket pocket.

On our side of Argos, meanwhile, we were all busy checking our backpacks—making sure that everything was well-secured.

Except Jude.

She was next to a stanchion, whacking her spear on the cement post. "Stupid thing won't break!" she muttered, finally giving up.

"You still hoping that they'll give you a gun?" asked Cherry.

"Just don't want to carry a stupid spear the whole way," Jude complained. "It's embarrassing."

"Give it here." I took the spear, turned Jude around, and tied it to her backpack. The tip of the spear now stuck up just above her shoulder, so Jude could grab it easily if she needed it.

"Nice," she grinned. "Very "Lord of the Rings".

"Ladies."

We all turned to find Orla and Tray, standing a few feet away.

"I just wanted to say, have a wonderful trip." Orla motioned to everyone assembled. "And to be careful...stay safe."

Then she handed some papers up to Alice, who was still astride Beauty. "These are your visas," Orla said—loud enough for everyone to hear. "As long as you stay on Agoura Road and don't leave the group, the Westlake Village girls have agreed to leave you guys alone."

"Heard anything more about the beasts?" asked Alice.

Orla shook her head. "Just what I've already told everyone. So keep your eyes peeled and your heads up. They're out there somewhere...and if they're coming up Topanga and down from Simi Valley, then that means that they've got you boxed in. They could be in front or behind of you. So make sure everyone stays in the group where you'll all have a better chance at defending yourselves."

Alice nodded. "Absolutely."

"I'd have a better chance of defending us with a gun than with a stupid spear," Jude muttered—a little too loudly.

If she had heard Jude's words, however, Orla chose to ignore them. Instead, she walked to the head of the line, held up her hand, and said, "Be safe, sisters."

* * * *

It was actually kind of exciting when we finally started walking.

The girls across the street began to applaud; some even cheered.

Lily stood up and started jumping up and down. Jay waved and Wandy blew a kiss toward Cherry. Shawnee yelled 'goodbye' from the curb, even as she continued to sneak bites from her hidden candy bar.

I wondered if this had been what it was like for soldiers heading off to war.

Of course, soldiers probably didn't have to walk down only one block, head into Ralphs, and come out pushing a shopping cart.

* * * *

There is a small strip mall, just across the 101 Freeway—right on the edge of our border. In our old lives, this was where we came to a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant for arguably the best Chinese food in the Conejo Valley. And if you weren't hungry for Chinese food, there were also pancakes at IHOP or burritos at Taco Bell or moules-frites at Ladyface Ale Companie—a popular restaurant and microbrewery.

* * * *

"What does it say?" asked Alice.

We were standing in front of Taco Bell, where somebody had spray painted all over the front windows—a series of letters and symbols.

"It looks like a gang tag," said Shelton. "Like from down in Compton."

"Do you think it's from those Probationary girls from the juvie camps?" asked a 9th grader. "Maybe they've made it up this far."

Shelton looked around nervously. "If they have, then they're probably marking their territory."

"We'll have to be extra careful checking out the mall," said Alice. "We walk in two's now. Security patrols along the outside. If anything happens, we do like in the movies. Circle the carts. Girls without weapons in the middle."

Jude snorted—trying unsuccessfully not to laugh.

"Got a problem, Rude?" asked Alice.

"End of the world, toilet paper is running out, and I'm an extra in a Cowboys and Indians movie," Jude chuckled. "So, yes, Alice...I've got lots of problems."

The 12th grader stared furiously at Jude—who stared right back.

It was Alice who blinked first.

Recovering quickly, she motioned everyone forward. "Let's go, Ladies...now!"

* * * *

Ladyface Ale was a mess.

Chairs and tables had been torn apart; not a single one was still intact. On the walls, the glass mirrors were all smashed, their remnants crunching under our feet as we walked through the front door.

And—if there had been any alcohol left in the microbrewery when the event happened—it certainly wasn't there now. Somebody had emptied all the product shelves.

Meanwhile, in the production room, the large brewing tanks had been spray-painted with the same letters and symbols that we had seen on the Taco Bell windows.

On a wall nearby, however, was a new addition—'FU Agoura Hills!'

"Well, that's not very polite," drawled Jude.

* * * *

We wound up searching through each of the shops and restaurants in the strip mall and, everywhere we went, we discovered the same—vandalism and graffiti.

With each scene of devastation that we uncovered, we found ourselves nervously looking over our shoulders more and more. I don't think that any of us would have been surprised had a group of vicious delinquent teenage girls suddenly come war-whooping towards us, their teeth sharpened into points, their eyes filled with rage.

But—we saw no one.

* * * *

It was late afternoon before we finally reached the Agoura Hills Library.

I had spent many hours in that building—reading books, checking out movies, attending special events. Like many in our city, the Library had become a big part of my life; it was important to me.

Now—sadly—I was standing in front of a broken shell.

The Library had indeed burned down.

Part of the south wall still stood, however, teetering at an unnatural angle. The rest was ashes.

Ironically, the 'Book Return' boxes out front had been left untouched by the fire. There were no books inside of them, however. Someone had already been there and had jimmied their little side-doors open.

They were empty.

* * * *

We wandered through the ashes for a while.

Alice found two books tucked under a fallen beam—one on computer operating systems, the other was a book on car maintenance.

She left them both where they were.

A couple of other girls found a book here or there—fiction, all of them, none on our lists.

They still went into our carts.

The real 'prize' was found by Jude, though—a calendar that she discovered inside one of the cars in the parking lot.

We all oohed and ahhed when she pulled it out of the vehicle. Girls shoved at one another to look over Jude's shoulder as she turned from one page to another, all photos of bare-chested young men, each holding a dog or a cat.

Half-naked television actors with their pets—it just didn't get better than that!

* * * *

It started raining soon after we arrived at the library—big, fat drops that eventually transformed themselves into a torrential downpour. On the hill behind the library, mud began to wash away, cascading down into the parking lot and turning everything into a brown, sticky soup.

We took refuge in City Hall—a small building that (until the fire) had been attached to the Library.

For the most part, the building had been left intact. There was some evidence that people had gone through the offices and rooms, however. Drawers had been pulled open, supply cabinets emptied.

There was no sign of any direct vandalism, though; neither, did we see any graffiti.

* * * *

Alice decided that we'd bunk down in the main hall.

To protect them from predators—human or otherwise—the horses were also brought inside and stabled in a nearby office. They would be fed from a sack of oats that one of the girls had been pushing in her cart.

Other girls built a small fire, using wooden legs that they broke from some of the office chairs. Then two 11th graders cooked a rather amazing supper of bean stew and fried bread. Cherry and I added dessert when we came across a candy machine in a back room that—miraculously—hadn't already been emptied.

The Protection Detail, meanwhile, alternated sentries throughout the storm and—when the rains didn't stop—through the next morning and into mid-afternoon.

Two girls were always on duty—patrolling inside City Hall and without.

* * * *

Just for fun, a bunch of us played 'Truth or Dare' that night.

During the game, I found out that Cherry had kissed four different boys and that Jude had played the accordion when she was little. Because I took the dare, everyone got to see me doing cartwheels through the muddy parking lot. Then Jude sang the National Anthem as she hung upside down, while Cherry mooned us from an outside window.

And—just around midnight—we ate all the rest of the candy and chocolate bars from the machine.

So worth the bellyache!

For a few hours—we were just a bunch of girls on a sleepover being silly.

It was great.

### JOURNAL ENTRY: JAY #1

Hi, it's Jay here.

Kaylee has asked me to write this next bit for the record, because she wasn't there. I'm not as good a writer as Kaylee, so you're going to have to forgive me if I mess things up.

The first thing me and Wandy did when Kaylee, Cherry, and Jude left for the library was to take Shawnee and Lily over to the cafeteria to wait for lunch. Then Wandy watched the girls while I went on my own mission. With so many of the Protection Detail gone to the library, I figured that it would be a good time to score some Adderall for Jude.

Even though I'm in charge of the Medical Center, the Council keeps really tight control on all the medication. They have it locked up in one of the classrooms on the south side of the school. When I want something I have to actually order it through one of the 12th graders. The only thing I'm allowed to keep in the Medical Center are some light pain relievers and antibiotics.

It's way stupid!

Anyway, I just waited until everyone was eating lunch. Then I used my keys and went into the room and pulled out enough Addies to last Jude for the next few months. Since I was there, I also grabbed some other stuff I might need, mainly sedatives and some of the stronger pain relievers.

* * * *

When I went back to the cafeteria—it was crazy!

Wandy was screaming, Lily was crying, and Tray and the Protection Detail were pulling a sobbing Shawnee off by gunpoint.

" _What the heck are you doing?" I yelled, running forward._

A 12th grader immediately rushed me, holding me back—just like the one who was holding back Wandy. We were both struggling, trying to reach Shawnee, who was holding onto the edges of the doorway as Tray ripped at her fingers.

" _Stop it, you little brat!" Tray snarled. "Let go!"_

" _Tray, why are you doing this?" I called out. "She's just a girl!"_

" _She's a thief is what she is!" Tray finally managed to pry loose Shawnee's fingers. Immediately, another 12th grader rushed forward, and helped Tray pull Shawnee around the corner._

Wandy, meanwhile, was still struggling with the girl who was holding her.

" _What happened?" I called over to Wandy._

" _They caught Shawnee with some cookies," she yelled back. "Now they're going to put her on trial."_

" _What?!"_

" _That's what we do to thieves!" This had come from the girl holding onto me. I turned and looked her straight in the face, absolutely furious._

" _You better hope to heck that you don't get sick—because I'll be the one treating you," I warned. "And I know lots of stuff to make you hurt now!"_

She immediately let me go.

So did the girl holding onto Wandy.

Then, both 12th graders stalked out of the cafeteria—frowning, throwing me dirty looks over their shoulders.

As I helped a sobbing Lily off of the floor—where she'd apparently been thrown as she'd tried to protect Shawnee—Wandy came over, sat down on a chair, and promptly burst into tears.

" _Oh god!" she cried. "What are we going to do?"_

* * * *

We had always kept a careful watch over Shawnee and Lily because we knew there could be trouble. Mostly we figured it would come from something dangerous like mountain lions breaching our territory or an attack by another group of girls.

And, of course, there were always the 'beasts'.

We didn't like to talk about them too much, however—because even the thought of such feral monsters coming our way was just too scary.

But the one thing none of us had ever considered—was that 'trouble' would ultimately come from a stupid cookie!

* * * *

It had started while everyone was eating lunch.

Wandy had left the girls alone for a few moments, while she visited the foul area. When she came back, Lily was sitting at their table—but Shawnee was missing.

When asked where Shawnee went, Lily said that she wasn't supposed to tell. She said that Shawnee had told her that it was a big secret.

Of course, it only took a few minutes for Wandy to get Lily to spill everything, but it was too late by then. The Protection Detail had already caught Shawnee, as she was sneaking into the back of the kitchen to steal a cookie.

* * * *

Full of righteous anger, I stalked over to the Foxes Compound, intending to talk some sense into Orla. Wandy had wanted to come with me, but I figured that maybe it was better if she stayed behind with Lily. I was hoping that Orla and Tray might listen to me because of everything I was doing over in the Medical Center.

Wandy, I knew, held absolutely no sway over either of them. In fact, her presence might actually have made everything worse.

When I arrived at the house that the Foxes lived in, there were two 11th graders from the Protection Detail standing outside. They had their guns out, which I thought was kind of stupid. I mean, I was unarmed and half their size. What did they think I was going to do? Pull a Chuck Norris on them?!

They also wouldn't let me speak to Orla—and I didn't get to see Shawnee either.

Tray came out, though. "What do you want, Jay?"

" _It was a cookie," I said, trying to sound reasonable. "Shawnee is 12-years old. She made a mistake."_

" _And she needs to pay for it."_

" _But it was her first time. So, show her some compassion and let her off with a warning."_

Tray snorted. "You think we don't know that Cherry lied for her that last time. Shawnee is a thief. She's stolen before and she's going to steal again unless she gets punished."

" _So, what are you going to do? Whip a 12-year old girl?" It was difficult to remain calm. I was so angry right then that I wanted to whip Tray!_

" _Oh, we're not going to whip Shawnee. But she's going to get punished," said Tray, grinning. "No big sister to protect her this time."_

" _What about a trial?" I asked. "Like, she's going to get a trial, right? I'll represent her then."_

Tray burst out into laughter. "This isn't the United States of freaking-America anymore, Jay. This is Agoura Hills and we've got our own judicial system now. Shawnee was caught red-handed. There isn't going to be a trial."

" _But that isn't right!" I gasped._

" _Oh, boo-hoo," Tray sneered. "Tell it to someone who cares. Assembly is tonight at 8 p.m. She'll be punished then."_

" _Tray, come on."_

" _Be there or be square."_

And Tray turned and walked back into the house.

I yelled at her to come back and talk to me—but she didn't. The Protection Detail wouldn't let me go any closer, so I couldn't knock on the Foxes' door either.

So, I just stood there for a while.

Then, finally, I went back to the cafeteria to tell Wandy.

* * * *

When they let us into the auditorium at 8 p.m., Shawnee was already sitting on a chair in the middle of the stage.

She looked absolutely terrified.

There were tear stains on her cheeks and one of the sleeves of her blouse had been ripped and was hanging down.

Two 12th graders were on stage with her—one on each side. They had their guns in their belts and one of them was carrying a whip. Shawnee kept looking at the whip, her lips quivering in fear each time.

Both Wandy and I tried to go up and talk to Shawnee, but there were other 12th graders at the front of the audience who held us back. They said that nobody was allowed to talk to the thief until after the sentence had been carried out.

" _It's okay, Shawnee," I called out, trying to reassure her. "It's going to be okay."_

" _I want to go home," cried Shawnee. She sounded so scared, it broke my heart. "Can't you make them let me go home?"_

The 12th grader on the left smacked Shawnee on the head. "Shaddup...no talking!"

" _Hey!" yelled Wandy. "Don't you dare hit her!"_

Other girls in the audience yelled out the same thing, which kind of surprised me. I think that it surprised the Protection Detail, too, because they didn't touch Shawnee again after that.

A little while later, the side door opened, and Orla and Tray came onto the stage. While Orla went directly to the podium, Tray stood behind Shawnee.

No one in the audience applauded. I wondered if Orla noticed.

" _Once again," Orla began, "we are here because of stealing. Shawnee Winslette has been found guilty of the attempted theft of a box of cookies from our kitchen."_

" _How can she be found guilty if there wasn't a trial?" Wandy yelled out._

There was some grumbling at this from the girls in the audience.

Orla held up her hands for quiet. "We had no need for a trial. Shawnee Winslette admitted her guilt."

" _Oh, Shawnee!" Wandy cried out. "What did you do?!"_

" _I was supposed to tell the truth," Shawnee sobbed. "You always told me that it was what I was supposed to do!"_

" _You were right, Shawnee," said Orla, turning directly toward the girl. "And the Council and I appreciated your honesty. Believe me—that counted a great deal in our sentencing."_

" _I'm not going to be whipped," asked the girl, hopefully._

" _No, sweetheart," said Orla. "But you do need to be punished. We simply cannot have people stealing from the Community. It's unacceptable."_

The grumbling from the girls around me had stopped. They were listening carefully to what Orla was saying, trying to figure out what the punishment would be.

A slight nod passed from Orla to Tray.

" _Stand up." Tray grabbed Shawnee by the arm and pulled her up. Then—Tray sat down in the chair that Shawnee had just left._

I was confused, but Wandy wasn't. "No!" she gasped, horrified.

" _In view of your young age, Shawnee," Orla continued, "instead of being whipped twelve times—you will be spanked twelve times."_

" _Come on, Orla!" I yelled, jumping up. "You know this isn't right."_

Orla pointed a finger directly at me. "And—for every interruption—Tray will add another hit. This isn't your Medical Center, Jay. This is my court and I make the rules here. So—interrupt or sit down. It's your choice. But if you interrupt again, it will be Shawnee who pays the price."

Wandy quickly reached up and pulled me back down into my seat.

" _But...this is stupid!" I hissed. "I mean, we can't really let this happen, can we?"_

" _It's a spanking," said Wandy—her lips tight with suppressed anger. "Twelve hits and Shawnee will be done. We can't make it worse for her."_

But—it did get worse.

Tray made Shawnee pull down her jeans and panties and lean over her knees. Then she started hitting Shawnee hard.

On her bare bottom.

Humiliated...in pain...Shawnee began to cry.

* * * *

Some of the girls in the audience began to cry, too.

But I saw others who were actually snickering. One 11thgrader even said that she wished there was still internet—so she could YouTube it.

Up on the stage, meanwhile, Orla stood to one side. She wasn't watching what was going on between Tray and Shawnee, though.

She was watching us—the girls in the audience.

And—the absolutely worst thing about the whole thing—I'm pretty sure that Tray was getting off on hitting Shawnee.

I think that she was actually having fun.

### ON TO THE NEXT LIBRARY

As we pushed our carts down Agoura Road toward the Westlake Village Library that second day, we came across two other buildings that had also burned up. Because they were blocks apart and on opposite sides of the street, it left little doubt that the fires had been intentionally set.

We also discovered one significant incident of graffiti along our route.

At Reyes Adobe Road and Agoura Road—near the onramp to the 101 Freeway—we found a collection of letters and symbols, spray-painted onto the side of a bus bench. These ones were almost identical to the graffiti inside of Ladyface Ale Companie.

"Guess they've made it farther than Orla thinks," announced Cherry—obviously talking about the juvie girls from the Probationary Camp near Malibu Creek.

"I wonder if they're the ones who burned down the Agoura Hills Library," I said.

"Stupid if they did," Cherry snorted. "Guess they missed the one about 'knowledge being power'.

* * * *

The entrance to the Westlake Village Library was actually situated just off of Agoura Road. As we neared the turn off, our eyes widened at the sight of a skinny girl, seated cross-legged on the trunk of a car—smack dab in the middle of the road.

She was loosely cradling a shotgun and appeared to have been waiting for us.

The girl was about sixteen and had red hair, much like Orla's, except that hers was much longer—worn in two braids that fell down on either side of her head. And, while she was quite pretty, both the girl's face and the overalls she was wearing were smudged with dirt.

"Heard you coming," she grinned. "Hard to sneak up when you're pushing shopping carts."

Alice rode right up to her—taking out her gun and aiming it directly at the younger girl. "Who are you?"

"Cammie," the girl answered, calmly. "And you might want to put that mischief-maker away."

"Why should I?" asked Alice.

"Because she's not alone!" called a voice to our left.

We all spun around looking but—we could see no one.

Cammie burst out into delighted laughter, waving her hands in a circle around her. "Yeah, they're everywhere. Bam-bam, you get too frisky."

"So, what do you want?" growled Alice.

"Don't want anything," smiled Cammie. "But definitely wondering what you want?"

Shelton rode up beside Alice. She gave Cammie a diplomatic nod. "We've got visas. So we got a right to be on this road."

For the first time, Cammie's smile faltered. She looked confused. "Pardon?"

Alice shushed Shelton, then turned back to Cammie. "We don't mean anybody any harm." She quickly tucked her gun back into its holster and then held up her hands to show they were empty. "We're just here to go to the library—to get books."

Cammie nodded, as if that made perfect sense.

"A lot of people want books these days," she said, jumping off of the car and motioning us to follow her. "Well, come on."

* * * *

Besides Cammie, there were three other girls who lived in the Westlake Village Library. Two of them were a pair of 12-year old sisters from nearby Lindero Canyon Road, while the fourth was a 17-year old from the city of Calabasas.

They were all very proud—and certainly deserved to be—of how they'd been taking care of the Library and its thousands of books.

"I found Julie and Wenna living in a house down the road. Melina was already here when I arrived," Cammie told us. "We were only going to stay in the library a month maybe, then move on once we figured out how to survive. But people kept coming for books and we just started taking care of things. I guess you could say that we're the librarians here now."

"But how do you eat?" asked Cherry. "If you're in the library most of the time, how do you get your food?"

"There are other girls around here. Not a lot, but some. They bring us food in exchange for taking care of the books. Plus, there's still a lot of food over at Target."

"So, you're under the Westlake Village girls' jurisdiction?" I asked.

The look Cammie gave me was one of complete confusion. "You're in Westlake Village now."

"I know. What I meant was..."

But—before I could continue—Alice butted in. "We need medical texts. Those are the most important books right now. And the ones on farming."

Cammie looked over at the three other 'librarians'; they were presently going over the lists we'd given to them. "Melina," she asked. "What's the damage?"

The other girl held up a tally sheet. "Approximate total of three thousand books."

"You got how many girls in your group?" asked Cammie—all business now. "Not the ones here, but total."

"Sixty-six," said Alice. "No, sorry. It's sixty-five now."

Cammie whistled. "That's—let me see—just under fifty books per girl. Tell you what...we'll let you take ten books per girl plus five each on medicine and agriculture."

Alice looked shocked. "We need more than that!" she insisted.

"Well, like I said, there are other girls around here who need books, too. You can borrow what we give you. When you return those, you can take out more."

"Are you serious?" asked Alice, incredulously.

"As a heart attack." Cammie walked behind the front counter, as if she was a clerk about to check out books. "This is a library, Ma'am. We lend books. We don't give them away."

Meanwhile, Shelton came up to stand beside Alice, her hand resting on the gun in her holster.

The rest of us girls crowded in behind.

"You do realize that there's more of us than you," said Alice, ominously. "So what if we just decide to take what we need?"

Cammie immediately rang a bell on the top of the counter.

Ding!

From all around, girls of different ages came out from behind the book stacks. There were about ten in total and they were all holding guns and rifles that they aimed in our direction.

"Now," said Cammie, sweetly, "we are more than happy to be neighborly and share. But...we're also not totally unprepared for any Greedy-Gusses who might happen along. So, I have to ask—are you a bunch of Greedy-Gusses?"

Alice didn't answer; she was fuming.

Beside her, Shelton's hand continued to hover over her gun.

As far as I was concerned—this was getting stupid!

I took a step forward, positioning myself in front of Alice and Shelton.

"Cammie—without a doubt—I think what you're doing is an amazing thing here. We all do," I said, motioning toward the girls behind me.

Most of them nodded, which made Cammie smile.

"Now, my best friend, Jay...she's in charge of our Medical Center. We just lost a close friend, because Jay didn't know enough medicine. So anything you could give us to help her out would be really, really appreciated. She especially wanted to find a "Merd Manual" and a book with good pictures on anatomy."

Cammie burst into laughter. "I think your friend most probably is looking for a "Merck Manual". 'Merde' is something entirely different in French, of course."

A few of the girls obviously knew French; they started giggling.

I must have blushed, because Cammie put her hand around my shoulder. "No worries, mate. We have your "Merck"—which is a great choice for medical information, if I do say so myself."

Then—to Alice—she said, "Another librarian will help you, ma'am. I'm presently busy with this customer."

And she led me away, down among the stacks.

I looked back to see Alice staring after us; she did not seem at all happy.

* * * *

Cammie handed me a large black book. "It's our last "Merck Manual". We had two others, but they're presently out."

"Thanks. How many girls are borrowing books out of this library?" I asked.

"We had thirteen through here in the last week alone," she said proudly.

"Our library burned down."

The redhead nodded. "We saw the fire a couple of weeks back. By the time we got there, your library was already gone. Melina and I brought back the books that were left in the Book Returns. Other than that, everything was burned up."

"We thought maybe the Probationary Camp girls took the books."

"The what?"

"The girls from the camp for juvenile delinquents over near Malibu Creek. They've taken over the area from Mulholland Highway all the way up to Kanan Road and they're shooting anyone who tries to head down to Malibu and the beach."

Once again, Cammie looked confused. "What juvie camp?"

"Well, I'm not really sure exactly where it is, but Orla—she's the one in charge of our community—she said that it was near Malibu Creek State Park."

Cammie shook her head. "There are no girls' juvie camps there. As far as I know, there are no girls' juvie camps anywhere in these hills."

"But there's that Probationary camp down near Encinal Canyon Road, just off of Kanan. I've driven by there with my mom."

"That's a boys' camp."

Now I was confused. "Maybe Orla got the camps mixed up."

"Or maybe this Orla is simply lying to you," suggested Cammie.

"Why would she lie about something like that?" I asked.

Cammie didn't have a chance to answer, because Alice suddenly came stalking down the row toward us. "Kaylee!" she yelled at me. "Did you get that medical book or not?"

"Got it." I held up the "Merck Manual".

"Go help Rude, then," she ordered. "She's useless."

I turned back to Cammie. "Thanks again."

Then I walked past Alice, stopping just long enough to put a finger in her face. "And her name is Jude—not Rude," I corrected. "You don't see us calling you 'Brady Bob'. So, stop being such a dick, Alice!"

* * * *

"You know, I was being completely serious," I said to Cammie, about an hour later, as she helped me load some books into my shopping cart. "I think what you guys are doing here in the library is just amazing."

"Thanks," Cammie grinned, proud. "I like to think that there are other girls out there doing the same thing, you know—in other libraries, museums. Somebody has to protect the 'culture' for when civilization returns. Otherwise we're just barbarians, right?"

I nodded. "Do you have any idea what might have happened? Does anybody you've talked to?"

She shook her head. "Everyone's got a theory. Nobody knows nothing, though."

"And I don't suppose any of the girls you've talked to have seen any boys anywhere?"

"I wish," Cammie sighed.

"What about the beasts? Have you seen any down here, yet?"

"You mean, like the mountain lions? We saw a couple of them running along the 101 the other day."

Before I could respond, Melina came out and handed Cammie two books. She tucked those into my cart, too.

"Are those Amanda Hocking's?" I asked, delighted. "I thought you were all out."

"Melina managed to find a couple in the back room. They're from her "Watersong" series."

"Thanks, Melina!" I was so excited about the books that I completely forgot that Cammie didn't really answer my question about the beasts.

* * * *

Our shopping carts were loaded and we were ready to start our trip back to Agoura Hills. Although we hadn't gotten everything on our lists, we certainly had enough to make our return trip long and arduous.

Pushing those heavy carts was not going to be easy.

"You guys are over at Agoura High, right?" said Cammie. "Maybe I'll come and visit."

"That'd be great," I told her. "You could meet my friends, Jay and Lily. Just make sure that you get a visa first. Our Protection Detail is kind of ridiculous about that."

"What is that about anyways?" asked Cammie. "The visas?"

"You don't know? You need a visa to travel through the communities in the Conejo Valley now."

"Who says?"

"The different Councils. We had to get one from Westlake Village just to travel here. Otherwise we might have been shot."

Cammie gave me the look that dogs give—the one where their heads tilt a little to one side, like they're trying to figure out what you're going on about.

"You guys were waiting for us," I said. "With guns...you knew we were coming, right?"

"Because we heard you pushing those carts down Agoura Road."

"So—your Council didn't send you out to meet us?"

Alice was walking by; as she did, she stopped to look in my cart. "You guys good?"

"Like pepper on a Pop-Tart," said Cammie.

"Whatever that means," grunted Alice. Then she walked off to check on the rest of our girls.

Meanwhile, Cammie leaned in close, keeping her voice low. "Kaylee...I think you're being sold a bill of goods."

"What do you mean?"

"There's no Westlake Village Council...I don't think there are any Councils."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Abso-positively. We've got girls coming from all the cities around here—Moorpark, Thousand Oaks...some are even coming up from the beaches. Not a single one has ever mentioned any Council or visas, nothing like that."

"But if there's no Westlake Village Council, then who did Orla get the visa from?" I wondered.

"A better question would be," Cammie said, "if this Orla is wrong about the girls' juvie camp—is it possible she's wrong about the visas, too?"

"We saw the visa, though. She gave it to Alice."

"Did you actually read it? I mean, what was on the paper?"

"Well, no."

Cammie shrugged. "So, you don't really even know what it said."

A short distance away, Alice got on Beauty; Shelton was already sitting on the chestnut. "All right, ladies," yelled Alice. "Let's get these books home!"

I turned back to Cammie. She reached out and pulled me in for a hug, at the same time, whispering in my ear. "You've got a place here, Kaylee...for you and your friends...just in case."

"Thank you," I whispered back. "And I'm gonna' think about what you said...I promise."

"Kaylee, let's go!" It was Alice, trotting over toward me. "You're holding up the line!"

I quickly grabbed my cart and started pushing.

* * * *

As we headed down Agoura Road, I maneuvered my cart until I was walking between Cherry and Jude. Like the rest of us, they were both exhausted. Between the lack of sleep and the weight of the heavy carts, we were all moving very slowly, our footsteps heavy and cumbersome.

"Man, this blows!" groaned Jude.

"Alice and Shelton seem to be doing okay," Cherry noted. "Must be nice to ride horses all day long."

"Get this." I leaned in close, whispering. "There are no girls' juvies in Malibu Canyon. Cammie told me that there aren't any girls' Probationary Camps anywhere in these mountains around here—not that she knows."

I was expecting Cherry and Jude to be surprised by the news.

They weren't.

Instead, they simply looked at each other and nodded.

Cherry motioned me closer. "Jude and I had our own little talk with Melina. She doesn't think that there are any beasts, either."

"What?!" I said, a little too loudly.

They both shushed me. "Keep your voice down!"

"No beasts?" I whispered. "What are you talking about?!"

"Melina says that there are girls coming through the library all the time. Some of them are coming up Kanan-Dume Road from Malibu," Cherry said, quietly.

"Kanan's open all the way to the beach?!"

"As of a couple of days ago, it was."

"There's no beasts?" I repeated. "Like none at all?"

Cherry shook her head. "Melina doesn't think there is."

"But I don't get it. Why would Orla lie to us?"

"Why does Orla ever lie?" said Jude. "Like I told you before. It's how she controls us."

"If we think we're surrounded," explained Cherry, "that there are beasts and gangs of violent girls out there...then no one's going to leave the community, are they?"

"Oh my god," I gasped. "I wonder if that's what Peyton meant."

"What are you talking about?" asked Cherry. "What did Peyton say to you?"

"That we should all get out...while we still could."

* * * *

"But are we one hundred percent certain that Orla's been lying to us?" I asked, a little while later.

Cherry shook her head. "Not one hundred percent."

"Then—however slight—there's still a possibility that she might be telling us the truth."

"There's also a possibility that there's really a monster in Loch Ness," said Jude. "I personally don't believe it, though. Just like I don't believe there's a monster here either."

My mind was reeling. "What should we do, then...stay or leave?"

"I say we play it cool for the moment," said Cherry. "At least, until we're a hundred percent certain. Then, if Orla is lying, we get out of here."

"Should we tell the other girls?" I asked.

"They're so far up Orla's butt," groused Cherry, "that I doubt they'd believe anything we said—especially now that they've seen all the graffiti and vandalism."

"Convenient proof," said Jude. "I'll bet the Foxes had the Protection Detail do it themselves."

"But that would mean that they burned down the Agoura Hills Library!" I was horrified by the thought.

"Wouldn't be surprised." Jude snorted.

"It would definitely serve Orla's purpose," mused Cherry. "The worse things are outside our Community's borders, the more we'll want to remain inside of them."

I sighed. "Well, if worse comes to worst, Cammie said we'd be welcome to live at their library."

"Books and reading," frowned Jude. "Figures."

"Or we could always go to Malibu," I suggested. "My dad lives on Point Dume."

"In one of the mansions?" Cherry's eyes twinkled with sudden interest. "Seriously?!"

"In a house," I corrected. "But it'll still be big enough for all of us."

"Nice."

* * * *

There was nothing nice about Cherry's reaction, however, when she found out about Shawnee.

### JOURNAL ENTRY #25

It was so scary when we got back to the school.

All the girls from the Protection Detail were lined up in front of Orla and Tray. At first, we thought it was to welcome us back. Then we realized that no one was smiling.

Except for Tray.

_When I realized that—_ _that's when I got scared_ _._

Because if Tray was smiling—then something had definitely gone wrong.

_There were other girls_ (not from the Protection Detail) _, who were milling about on the other side of the street. They seemed to be watching, waiting._

Even Alice and Shelton looked confused as we pushed our carts over to where Orla was standing.

" _Did you have a good trip?" Orla asked, once we had all stopped._

" _It was good," said Alice. "But there were some..._ _complications_ _."_

" _Really?"_

" _We should talk later...in private."_

Orla nodded. Then she smiled at the rest of us who were just standing there, waiting. "You look like you're all very tired, ladies. Sophia Rojas has sodas and cake at the cafeteria for those who want it. Thank you so very much for making this trip for the community."

There was a sudden commotion from the girls across the street as Jay pushed her way through. "Kaylee!" she yelled, loudly. "Cherry!"

" _What am I—chopped liver?" grumbled Jude._

Ignoring the stern looks from the girls on the Protection Detail, Jay ran across the street toward us. She was breathing hard, like she had run all the way from the Medical Center.

_And she looked angry...very angry. "_ _We need to talk_ _."_

" _What's wrong?" I asked._

" _Do we have time to get a soda and some cake?" asked Jude._

Jay seemed to notice Jude for the first time. "Oh good, there you are, Jude. I need you, too. Come on—all three of you."

Beside me, Jude immediately tensed. "Where's Lily?"

" _She's fine," Jay said, quickly. Then, looking at Cherry, she added, "Lily's with Shawnee and Wandy—at your house."_

Unsure about what to do with our shopping carts, I turned back to Orla. I wasn't surprised to discover that she had been listening closely to our conversation.

" _Go," she said, motioning with her hands. "I've got girls who can take your carts the rest of the way."_

Jude and Cherry immediately abandoned their carts. I, however, took just long enough to reach inside of mine and take out the Hocking books.

* * * *

I still can't believe it—that bitch Tray spanked Shawnee!

Cherry was absolutely livid when she found out. She immediately wanted to go to the Foxes Compound and beat up Tray for what she did.

We all begged Cherry not to go.

No matter how stupid the spanking was—Tray is surrounded by the Protection Detail. If Cherry went after her, she'd be coming up against a dozen guns.

Wandy actually held onto Cherry's arms, trying to keep her from racing out the front door. "It's what Tray wants!" cried Wandy. "Don't you get it, Cherry?! She wants you to try and beat her up. Then she'll have a reason to shoot you!"

" _I'll gladly give her a reason!" growled Cherry. "Nobody spanks my little sister! Nobody!"_

Cherry managed to eventually shake off Wandy but—when Cherry reached the front door—Jude had stationed herself in front of it. Her arms were crossed and she wasn't moving.

" _Seriously, Jude!" Cherry hissed. "You really want to do this?"_

" _Pretty much," Jude answered._

" _You don't think I could make you move?"_

" _I'd like to see you try."_

" _Stop it!" It was Shawnee who had cried out. She ran up to Cherry and put her arms around her big sister. "Please stop it, Cherry," she begged. "Please!"_

Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Lily began to cry. "I don't want anyone else to get spanked!" she blubbered.

_Cherry slowly looked around at the rest of us. "What would_ _you_ _do?" she asked us. "Truthfully? What would you do if they spanked Lily?"_

" _Kill them!" Jude snarled._

" _You're supposed to be helping, Jude," Jay cautioned._

" _Sorry," Jude said—_ _not_ _looking sorry at all._

_Shawnee began pulling Cherry away from the front door. "It didn't even hurt," she lied. "And I really_ _did_ _steal those cookies, so I kind of deserved it anyway."_

" _No one deserves to be spanked," Jay and I said, at the same time._

" _Well...it doesn't matter anymore," Shawnee quickly added, "because...because it's over now. So, you gotta' promise me, Cherry...you gotta' promise me that you're not gonna' go and beat up Tray."_

Cherry said nothing, but I could tell that her anger was starting to diminish.

" _You gotta' promise me," Shawnee continued to insist._

Even as her eyes filled with tears, Cherry nodded. "I promise, baby sister."

Shawnee beamed, and she gave Cherry a big hug. "Me and Lily brought sodas and cake from the cafeteria for everyone," she said, happily. Then—she added, quickly. "Orla said it was okay, so it wasn't like we were stealing!"

" _Why don't you and Lily go get it ready for us?" I suggested._

A moment later, Shawnee and Lily were skipping toward the kitchen.

" _Cherry?" I asked, worried. "Are you going to be okay?"_

She was just standing there, frowning. Jude reached over and punched Cherry in the arm. "Dude, you're going after Tray, aren't you?"

" _First chance I get," Cherry growled._

* * * *

About an hour later, Shawnee and Lily were playing on the hill, just outside of Wandy and Cherry's house. The rest of us, meanwhile, were out on the back patio—alternately watching the two girls play or looking at all the dead cars along the 101 Freeway.

" _Have you guys noticed how some of the cars are already starting to rust?" I asked. "Not a whole bunch—kind of like just at the edges."_

" _I noticed that, too," said Wandy. "And there's grass growing on the freeway. It's coming up through all the cracks."_

" _We see a lot of coyotes traveling along there now," added Cherry. "Wandy even saw a herd of deer cross over a couple of days ago."_

Wandy nodded. "I keep waiting for a bear."

" _At least we don't have to worry about the beasts anymore," said Jude._

" _Maybe," I said._

" _Probably_ _," insisted Jude._

" _Do you really think that Orla just made it all up to control us?" asked Wandy. "That just sounds so manipulative."_

" _I believe it," said Cherry._

" _It's just that it would have to be more than just Orla and the Foxes for it to work. That would mean that a lot more girls would have to be involved in the 'lie'. Like the whole Protection Detail probably," mused Wandy. "What do you think, Jay?"_

" _I'm not sure, yet," said Jay, honestly. "But now I_ _am_ _wondering if there was really a drawing to choose which girls got to go to the library."_

" _What do you mean?" I asked._

" _Well, think of it," she said. "You, Cherry, and Jude got chosen, but Wandy and I didn't."_

" _You didn't put your name in," I said._

Jay waved that aside. "Yeah, I know. And Jude didn't either, but she still went."

" _Then, what are you saying?"_

" _It's just curious, you know. I wonder if maybe Orla made sure that some girls in each of the 'groups' went, but some of us stayed behind. So—no matter what happened outside of the boundaries..."_

"... _we'd all have a reason to come back again," Jude finished._

" _Exactly."_

* * * *

When Sophia came through the front door an hour later, Wandy quickly leaned over and whispered, "Careful what you say in front of her."

" _You don't trust her?" I whispered back._

Wandy shrugged. "Let's just say that Sophia's still a little unstable at the moment."

" _True that," agreed Jude._

A moment later, Sophia dragged herself out onto the back patio and collapsed in a lounge chair. She looked fatigued, and gave a big sigh as she settled in.

" _The cake was good, Sophia," I offered._

" _Thanks," she said. "I just wish I had eggs, you know...and milk...and some decent chillies"_

" _Well, I think you're doing amazing things with what you've been given."_

" _It's not going to last for long," she warned. "Supplies are getting very low."_

" _We'll get the farm started," Wandy assured her. "I think I can get us our first vegetables in a couple of months. Chillies take about three to four months, though...I think." She turned to Cherry. "Hopefully, you guys brought back a book on growing times, right?"_

" _That was on my list," nodded Cherry. "I think you're going to be happy. Westlake lent us almost every book that you wanted."_

Sophia sighed. "I don't know why you are even bothering."

" _Um...because we need to eat," said Cherry._

" _I just think it is a waste of time, is all"_

" _Why do you say that?"_

" _It is not going to last much longer...this 'thing'. I think that is very obvious."_

I should have just kept quiet, but I couldn't help myself. "Why do you say that, Sophia?"

" _Because Orla is the devil...and Tray is a black demon who does her bidding."_

Jude actually choked on her soda; she sputtered, spraying her drink over all of us.

Sophia frowned at her. "It's true!" she insisted. "I was sleeping in the home of the devil—so I know these things."

" _The Foxes Compound," said Jay._

" _And there are horrible, horrible sins there," Sophia told us._

### FLAMES IN THE DISTANCE

Five days later— _around three in the morning_ —Jude, Jay, and I woke to the faint echo of shopping carts being pushed along Argos Street. Even though it was dark and we were still under curfew, Jude and I snuck out and climbed along the back of the houses until we could see what was going on.

Sure enough, there were 11th and 12th graders—pushing carts down Argos toward Driver Avenue. In total, there were ten girls—eight of them pushing shopping carts.

All full of books!

"What do you think is going on?" I whispered, confused by what I was seeing.

" _Come on!"_ Jude took off running.

Keeping to the shadows, we eventually made our way down to the culvert. From there, we followed it around until we were in Chumash Park.

"Make sure you keep your voice down," whispered Jude. "Sometimes they station a girl up in the rocks."

I wondered how she knew.

Had Jude been sneaking around during the night while the rest of us had been sleeping?

* * * *

Luckily, there was no one on guard in the rocks that evening.

We climbed up the hill— _across from my townhouse_ —one quiet step at a time. When we finally reached the top, Jude looked out over the Conejo Valley—toward the north.

" _Damn,"_ she said softly. "Do you see it?"

I looked to where she was pointing. It was faint, but there was a definite _flicker_ of light coming from the Westlake Village area of Agoura Road.

"Is that what I think it is?" I asked.

"The library," said Jude. _"I think they just burned it down."_

"Cammie and the others!" I gasped.

"They're smart girls," said Jude. "They'll have gotten out. I'm sure of it."

But— _I wasn't_.

* * * *

We met after work the next day to plan our escape.

There were five of us sitting in the living room of my townhouse— _Jay, Jude, Wandy, Cherry, and me_.

Jay placed the trail book that she had taken from Jacob's house onto the coffee table in front of us. "I think we need to create a number of different routes. Like _Plan A, Plan B, Plan C_ —that sort of thing. That way, if one way gets cut off, we'll already be prepared."

"Do you think the Foxes will figure out where we're going?" asked Cherry.

"I haven't really talked about my dad at school," I told them. "I mean, Jay knows, but I was kind of too embarrassed to mention that I was originally from Malibu. I didn't want anyone to think that I was a snob or anything."

"So, that might give us a good chance to make it all the way down Kanan before they know we're gone," said Jay.

"Unless they've got it covered," said Cherry. "I mean, we don't know where they've stationed all the Protection Detail girls—especially at night."

"That's why we need to have a number of different routes through the mountains." Jay tapped the trail book. "They can't cover everything."

"Or we could go somewhere they wouldn't be expecting," suggested Wandy. "Maybe to Simi Valley."

We all just looked at her— _was she really suggesting that we go further inland, where it was even hotter and dryer, as opposed to the beach and Malibu?_

"Never mind," Wandy quickly corrected.

"And we'll all need weapons," I added. "Now I know we're pretty sure that there aren't any gangs or beasts out there, but— _just in case_. Plus, we'll be walking through mountain lion territory."

" _Just in case,"_ agreed Cherry, nodding.

Wandy looked at her, then; her eyebrows went up, questioning.

She and Cherry seemed to be having an unspoken conversation. An agreement must have eventually been made, because Wandy nodded once, then turned back to us. "We have a shotgun and thirty-two shells."

" _Excellent,"_ said Jude, opening her fanny pack and pulling out her own gun. At the same time, I opened my purse and exposed my revolver.

Cherry and Wandy both looked at Jay.

She shrugged. _"I got nothing."_

* * * *

Jude and Cherry wanted to leave as soon as possible.

Jay and Wandy asked for a month. They both had things that they wanted to do before we left. As they reminded us— _there would still be fifty-eight girls left behind_ —and Jay and Wandy felt a responsibility toward them.

Wandy wanted to make sure that the farm was up and running first.

Jay needed to find someone to take over the Medical Center.

Me— _I just wanted to go to Malibu_.

But my vote still went with Wandy and Jay's. Because, let's face it—of all of us—they were the most level-headed.

Sadly... _I made the wrong choice_.

MAY

### STATE YOUR CASE

During the first week of May, the Foxes set up a 'Tribunal'.

Every Wednesday— _just after work_ —Orla, Tray, and Peyton would sit on the stage in the auditorium and listen to any disputes or petitions from the girls. The Tribunal would then make a decision on the matter, which would be considered final.

As in— _there would be no chance for an appeal_.

Even though a lot of the girls didn't consider this very fair, Orla explained at an Assembly that—for the time being—the Tribunal needed to have 'absolute power' because of our 'unique circumstances'. She said that, later—after we had held elections for a new government—we would once again return to a normal 'appeals system'.

When Jay heard this, she just shook her head in dismay. _"Absolute power corrupts absolutely,"_ she quoted, sadly.

* * * *

We were all waiting for the first Tribunal to begin.

Up on the stage, Orla, Peyton, and Tray sat in three chairs behind a long table. Meanwhile, the girls doing the petitioning would be required to stand in front of them and state their cases. Shelton, meanwhile, sat at a desk to one side of the stage, taking notes for the 'official record'.

As I looked around at the audience, I wasn't surprised to see that almost everyone was there. This was going to be today's 'entertainment'—in essence, off-the-grid television for 'Generation Y-us'.

Orla and Tray, of course, were their usual well-dressed selves—wearing expensive sheath dresses and matching jackets. Peyton, however, was dressed in a pair of simple jeans and a turquoise t-shirt. Her hair was back in a high-pony, but it was messy and appeared to be unwashed.

Jude leaned over to whisper to Jay and me. "Peyton's losing her _mojo_."

"She hasn't gotten over Amelie," said Jay. "I think she's seriously depressed."

"Has she been into the clinic...since... _you know?"_ I asked.

Jay shook her head. "Far as I can tell, she spends all her time in the Foxes Compound. I overheard Alice telling Shelton that Peyton doesn't even talk much anymore."

"She must be depressed," said Jude. "Girl couldn't keep her mouth shut before."

Up onstage, Sophia walked forward to stand before the Tribunal.

Cherry and Wandy were seated in front of us—with Lily and Shawnee to one side. I tapped Cherry on the shoulder. "What's Sophia going up for?"

"Got me," she shrugged.

"Let the record show that Sophia Rojas will be the first to petition the Tribunal this Wednesday," announced Orla. She swept her hand toward Sophia, a somewhat-royal gesture, indicating that the girl should speak.

"Gracias...thank-you," said Sophia, looking nervous and uncomfortable. She had a paper in her hand, which she placed on the table in front of the Tribunal. "I ask the Tribunal to please make Church Sunday Services for all girls to have to attend. The exception, of course, is the Protection Detail—those girls on duty."

Without picking it up, Orla leaned over and read the paper on the table. "I see that Reena Coddlemeier has _seconded_ your petition."

We all looked over at Reena in the audience. She was nodding and smiling widely.

"Any one in disagreement," announced Orla, "has ten minutes for discussion before the Tribunal will make their decision."

Jay immediately stood up.

" _Yes, Jay,"_ sighed Orla.

"Can I have compulsory mosque for all girls on Friday—with the exception, of course, of those members of the Protection Detail who would be on duty?"

Sophia turned and gave Jay a dirty look. "This is a Christian country, Jay. You know this!"

"I actually don't," said Jay, sweetly. "But then, when I _legally_ entered this country and _legally_ became a citizen, I'm pretty sure that I learned that our Constitution doesn't give us 'freedom of just _Christian_ religion' but 'freedom of _all_ religion'."

Sophia's mouth fell open. She looked absolutely offended. We all knew that she was illegal, but everyone had always been careful not to mention it.

Now Jay had just gone and thrown it right in her face.

* * * *

None of us had expected Orla to actually approve Sophia's petition— _and she didn't_.

The Tribunal did agree, however, that Sophia could continue her Sunday sermons in the auditorium. They simply added that no one could be forced to attend.

Sophia and Reena were both highly annoyed and walked out on the rest of the Tribunal.

They didn't miss much.

There was an argument between two girls over a pot-bellied stove that was in the living room of the house that they shared. The Tribunal solved that disagreement by appropriating the stove—saying that the Community would be better served by placing it in the high school's kitchen.

Sue and Rachel, meanwhile, wanted permission to travel to the Lost Hills Sheriff's Station, ostensibly to get more weapons and ammunition. Their petition was approved.

(I remember wondering if Jay's and my note was still there. Then I wondered what Sue and Rachel would do if they found it.)

The last petitioner of the afternoon was Wandy.

She requested a number of girls to help with the Farming Project. Also, she had a list of supplies that she needed.

All approved.

* * * *

It was raining by the time Jude, Jay, Lily, and I started toward home. Although it was dark— _and past curfew_ —the Tribunal had given everyone fifteen minutes to make it back to our houses. After that, the Protection Detail would be let loose in the streets and anyone discovered wandering around would be subject to _'arrest and discipline'._

Lily trotted ahead of us, jumping from puddle to puddle. There were other girls nearby—all heading toward their own residences.

I motioned Jay and Jude closer, so we could talk quietly without Lily hearing. "Wandy said that Alice brought her a couple of farming books today and, when she opened one of them, it had blood on some of its pages."

Jay nodded, her face grim. "There was blood on the _"Physician's Reference"_ she brought by yesterday. It was faint, but it was definitely there."

"You think it might be from the Westlake girls?" asked Jude. "The ones from the library?"

"I hope not," I said. "But who else could it have been? And where could they have gotten the books, if not from Westlake Village?"

Jude thought about this for a moment. She didn't look happy. "You sure you and Wandy need the extra month?" she asked Jay.

"I don't know a lot of medicine, not like a real doctor," said Jay. "But I'm all these girls have right now. And I keep learning more and more every day. I just need enough time to find someone I can train to take over, then I can leave."

"I don't think Wandy's ready to leave, either," I added. "She seems so excited, working on the Farm Project right now."

Jude sighed. "Just seems dumb to wait around." She lowered her voice even more. "And I want Lily somewhere safe, you know."

"You're such a Mama Bear," I teased.

" _Shaddup, Barbie,"_ she growled, whacking me on the head.

* * * *

That night, after Lily was safely asleep in her bed, Jay, Jude, and I retired to the backyard, to sit on lawn chairs and look at the stars.

"Sophia's become such a fanatic lately," I said, stifling a yawn.

"Which makes her dangerous," said Jay. "If my parents were here, they'd tell you. In our old country, fanatics are the worst."

"She wasn't always that way," said Jude. "Cherry says that she and Sophia even kissed a couple of times."

" _What?!"_ Jay and I both spoke at the same time.

Jude chuckled. "Cherry said that they were just trying it out, you know. Nothing came from it. Sophia decided that she was straight and that was that."

"But like... _Sophia kissed Cherry?!"_ I couldn't fathom it.

"There might have been some over-the-top action as well." Jude wiggled her eyebrows and Jay and I burst into immature giggles.

Suddenly... _thump!_

We immediately went silent, on alert— _listening_.

With a _snuffle-snort_ , Pugly came trotting out from Lily's bedroom. He wandered around the backyard for a moment, before choosing the edge of a bougainvillea to 'whizz' on.

Then, he trundled back inside the house.

A moment later, we heard _baby-thumps_ coming from the bedroom.

Thumpity-thump...thumpity-thump...thumpity-thump.

"He can't make it back up on the bed," Jay giggled.

"I'll help him back up," said Jude, rising. "I'm heading out anyway."

"What do you mean— _heading out?"_ I asked, immediately concerned. "It's curfew!"

"Yeah, whatever," said Jude. "I'll be back when I'm back." And she walked into the house, disappearing into the darkness.

The _baby-thumps_ stopped.

Half a minute after that— _we heard the front door opening and closing_.

"Where do you think she's going?" I asked.

"I don't know," said Jay. "But, she's definitely up to something."

"Do you think she's got a girlfriend?"

Jay looked surprised. _"Jude's gay?"_

"Not that I know of," I admitted. "But it's not like there are any guys around. Maybe she's experimenting."

Jay thought about this for a moment, then she sighed. "I can't believe that I'll never be kissed."

"I'm a year older," I said. "How do you think I feel?"

"You realize that we're not just going to die 'virgins'," she said, sadly. "We're going to die 'kissing-virgins' as well."

"Except... _um_...Cherry was talking the other day and... _um_...well, she said that it's natural for girls to be turning to other girls now for affection and stuff. She says that it doesn't even mean that you're gay. It's just because that's all there is."

Jay looked at me, curious. "Do you think you could do it?"

"What?"

" _Kiss a girl."_

"I don't know." I thought about it. "Maybe...I mean, yeah probably. What about you?"

"Maybe."

There was a long silence between us, then— _and it was_ _very uncomfortable_.

We kept peeking at each other—trying to look, but not look.

Finally, I couldn't take it any longer. _"What?!"_

Jay looked down at the ground. "It's just—you're my best friend."

"You're my best friend."

"Well, _uh_ —do you think we should—I mean— _kiss?"_

" _Pardon?"_

"I don't mean, like full-on tongue or anything," Jay said, quickly. "I mean, should we just try a quick one, to see if we could do it?"

I thought about that for a moment. "Okay... _um_...sure, why not?"

"Who knows," Jay giggled—more out of embarrassment than anything else. "We might even discover that we're gay or something. Sure would make things a whole lot easier, considering there isn't any boys."

" _Maybe."_

Slowly, we turned until we were facing each other. We were both trying hard to be serious, but it wasn't easy.

"Should I maybe lean my head this way?" Jay tilted her head to the right.

" _Um_...okay," I replied. "I guess I can go the other way."

Leaning in opposite directions, we moved our heads closer— _and closer_.

"But no tongue!" Jay suddenly squeaked.

"No tongue," I agreed.

We stopped with our lips about two inches apart.

"You ready?" asked Jay.

"Ready."

Neither of us moved.

Then— _at the same instant_ —Jay and I burst into laughter and pushed each other away.

Needless to say, we never did have our kiss.

But what we did have—was the realization that we were both undeniably straight...and would probably die as virgins.

### JOURNAL ENTRY #26

We're down to sixty-two girls now. Three 12th graders disappeared last week.

One moment they were there—the next they weren't.

All of the older girls are terrified now, because it looks like no one is going to make it past their eighteenth birthday.

Personally—I'm wondering if maybe the girls didn't really disappear exactly.

_Maybe they just_ _returned_ _...like to the old world._

_And—if that's what really happened—then wouldn't that make them the_ _lucky ones_ _?_

The really weird thing, though—we keep waiting for 7-year old girls to appear out of thin air. It just makes sense, right? If the older girls are disappearing when they hit their 18th birthday—shouldn't the younger girls be showing up when they reach their 7th?

_But—so far—_ _they haven't_ _._

* * * *

It's actually been a fun couple of weeks—except for the disappearances.

_We've all been working on Wandy's Farm Project. Even Jay and I got to work in the field with everyone else_ (since no one had a medical emergency.)

At first, Wandy was going to plow up the football field in the middle of Chumash Park. It's so big that she figured it would make for a good farm.

_Problem was, it's also pretty far from the water tower that the Construction Detail just finished on top of the hill behind the school. That would mean that we'd have to lay a lot of irrigation pipe_ (we're using PVC pipe from the hardware store across the 101 Freeway) _. Plus, gravity would be working against us on some of the hillier portions._

_So, now Wandy has decided that the farm—instead—is going to be in the field just behind the school. That means it will be smaller_ (less plowing!) _than Chumash, but it'll still be a good-size farm. Also, being so close to the school, it will be easier for the Protection Detail to guard it—and I don't just mean against animal-varmints!_

Unfortunately, we weren't allowed to use the horses to plow the field.

Orla said that they were too valuable to the Community's security to put them in front of farm machinery. Instead, we had to pull the plows ourselves.

One of the 'lucky' things about living next to Old Agoura—we have access to a lot of farming equipment. It was surprisingly easy to find a plow along Driver Avenue. An old one was actually being used as a yard decoration.

_So far, Wandy has planted an assortment of vegetables—potatoes, carrots, lettuce, radishes—that sort of thing. She's also planted fruit trees all the way around the edges of the plowed area._ (Seeds and fruit trees also courtesy of the hardware store.) _Wandy says that the fruit will be good for Vitamin C, plus the trees will act as a wind-break, to protect the other crops._

* * * *

It's been kind of amazing to watch Wandy. She's always been such a quiet girl. Now that she's in charge, though, she's so authoritative that—sometimes—she's really kind of bossy.

Even Cherry gets a little irritated with her on occasion.

_It's like Wandy has to have everything her way now_ _and_ _if it doesn't get done exactly the way she wants_ _and_ _to the exact deadline she's set—then she gets kind of frantic and cranky._

* * * *

The day that we finished planting all the seeds and fruit trees, Orla came down to give a speech. She said that we should all be really proud of ourselves. She said that our moms and dads would be amazed at what we've accomplished so far.

_I don't like agreeing with Orla on anything anymore. But she's right in this instance, because we're_ (and Wandy is the one who really deserves the credit here) _actually growing our own food!_

We girls are proud farmers now!

* * * *

Another good thing is that one of the 10th graders—Belinda McIlroy—has become interested in helping out at the Clinic. Jay says that Belinda's not the quickest, but that she's definitely learning.

Ultimately, that means that Jay has a replacement for herself.

And—Wandy has her farm up and running.

So, now we get to leave. We're finally going to Malibu!

* * * *

Even though we're probably being way too paranoid about it, we've decided not to tell anyone that we're leaving.

We'll just head out during the night—May 31st.

The reason that we chose that day is because it's Wandy's 18th birthday. Well, actually—Wandy chose it. Truth is, I think she's terrified of the day. She doesn't say anything to us—but we all know that she's worried that she's going to disappear on the thirty-first.

Cherry, Jay, Jude, and I had a long conversation about it. We've decided that we're going to BELIEVE that Wandy will be all right.

_She is absolutely coming with us to Malibu_ _!_

But—just in case—we're going to give her the best birthday party ever!

There are actually two reasons for that.

_The first is that we want Wandy to have a good birthday. The second reason is that we think a party will be a good_ _cover_ _._

If any of the Foxes suspect that we might want to leave, they'll probably never believe that we'd actually do it on the night of Wandy's birthday party.

Which, of course, means—no Foxes at the party!!

### JOURNAL ENTRY #27

Yesterday, Jay and I were in the Medical Center and something really sad happened.

_It was after Belinda had left for the day. Jay had sent her home early because she and I had a 'secret mission'. With Wandy's birthday and the Malibu trip coming up in two days, we had decided that this might be one of our last chances to_ _appropriate_ _some medical supplies for our upcoming journey._

_No doubt, we could always find lots of meds and stuff down in Malibu. But Jay still wanted to be sure that we were protected on the trip there._ (I think all this talk of mountain lions has got Jay really nervous that we might just run into one of the big cats.)

So, anyway—Jay and I were shoving bandages and antiseptic and pain relievers into a backpack, when the door suddenly opened.

Both of us nearly had a heart attack!

But—it was only Jude and Cherry.

They were there on their own mission...to talk to Jay and me.

* * * *

We all sat down for a little heart-to-heart at one of the picnic benches in Chumash Park. It was getting close to curfew, so we needed to hurry.

" _My eighteenth birthday is on October 31st," began Jude._

" _Nice," I grinned. "You're a Halloween baby."_

But she wasn't smiling.

" _And my birthday is December 14th," said Cherry. "So—Jude and I will both turn eighteen this year."_

It took Jay and me a moment to catch on. "Oh," I said, quietly. "That doesn't have to mean that you guys will disappear, you know."

" _Except we might," said Jude._

" _So_ _...we need to know that Shawnee and Lily will be taken care of if we disappear," Cherry said. "That—no matter what happens to me and Jude—that you guys will never leave them behind."_

My eyes immediately filled with tears. "Of course not...we would never!"

" _They're our sisters, too," added Jay—sounding a little offended._

" _We're serious," continued Cherry. "You're the_ _only_ _ones we trust."_

I crossed my heart. "Promise...Lily and Shawnee will always be safe with us."

" _Where we go, they'll go," Jay added. Then—she crossed her heart, too._

We were all quiet; everyone looked incredibly sad.

_So—of course—Jude chose that moment to let out a massive_ _burp_ _. "Enough with the drama," she grinned, punching Jay and me in the shoulder. "Since we're not going to disappear anyway."_

" _Fracking, eh!" agreed Cherry._

And she and Jude high-fived.

### WANDY TURNS EIGHTEEN

The day of Wandy's birthday, Jay, Jude, Lily, and I made our way over to the Continuation girls' house a few hours before dusk— _and the curfew_.

Pugly was already there; Jude had transferred him over the night before, following the culvert along Chumash Park and then moving along the top of the ridge until she reached their house, which— _being so close to the 101 Freeway_ —was to be our 'departure-point'.

The first step in our secret escape plan.

At around three in the morning, we were going to leave through the rear door of the house, descend the hill leading down from the backyard and head across the 101 Freeway. Then, instead of turning and traveling down Agoura Road toward one of the canyon routes to Malibu, we planned to climb directly up and over the next hill.

By hiking 'as the crow flies', we would eventually meet up with Cornell Road. From there, we could head in a number of different directions—all of which would take us toward Malibu and, eventually... _my dad's house on Point Dume_.

* * * *

We still didn't know if we'd be taking Sophia with us on the journey. Jude, Jay, and I had left that decision up to Cherry and Wandy, since they knew her best.

Unfortunately, neither one of them trusted Sophia—certainly not like they used to in the past. Because of that, they eventually decided that it would be Sophia's own behavior during Wandy's party which would be the deciding factor.

If Sophia was to come with us...Cherry and Wandy would tell her a few minutes before we left.

If Sophia was to be left in Agoura Hills...well, Jay had appropriated a few sedatives from the clinic. They would be dropped into whatever Sophia was drinking, sometime during the party. The girl would then simply fall asleep, waking up in the morning to discover that we were gone and that she was sporting a mild headache.

Lily and Shawnee— _of course_ —would also be kept in the dark until just before we were ready to depart. Until then, they would just be two young girls enjoying a birthday party of another girl—one they both loved dearly.

It certainly sounded like a good plan.

But, like my mother would always say... _the devil is in the details_.

* * * *

_Wandy_ _wasn't_ _at the house when we arrived._

Cherry was beside herself— _frantic, scared_ —running from window-to-window to peer out into the lengthening shadows for any sign of her girlfriend. As the sun finally set and darkness descended, our hearts sank.

Wandy must have been _'taken'_.

But she eventually showed up, all sweaty and smelling of dirt. Cherry, Jay, and I rushed to meet her at the door; Jude was in the backyard with the younger girls.

"Sorry, guys," Wandy apologized. "They put too much crap on the compost and it was becoming overburdened. I needed to show the girls how to fluff the pile."

Jay snorted, stifling a giggle. _"Fluff..."_

Wandy frowned at her. "If they don't turn the compost, get some air between the layers, they're just going to wind up with a useless pile of slime."

Cherry wagged an accusing finger at her. _"You scared us!"_

"I'm sorry," said Wandy. "But this was important."

"It's your birthday and we've got plans and you promised you'd be here!"

"I am here," insisted Wandy. "I just had to finish the compost first."

" _It's just fertilizer!"_ Cherry stamped her foot in frustration.

Wandy shook her head—a little annoyed. "Fertilizer that might keep those girls alive! Don't you understand that? Do you want them to all die of starvation? What's wrong with you?"

Cherry's eyes filled with tears. I had never seen her look so vulnerable—so conflicted.

" _What?"_ asked Wandy. "What's going on, Cherry...what am I missing?"

"I—I thought you had _disappeared_ ," Cherry admitted. "When you didn't come home on time...I thought..." Her words trailed off.

Wandy's frustration evaporated immediately. "I'm sorry I scared you," she told Cherry. "I just—well, I just wanted to leave something _behind_ , you know. Something good. So— _no matter what happens_ —at least I did something right, something important."

Jude came into the hallway from the back of the house. She was carrying a soda, which she handed to Wandy. _"Happy Birthday!"_ Jude said. Then she wiggled her nose and took a step back in disgust. "Dude, seriously...you stink! And where's the rope? I don't see no rope!"

Wandy held up a finger. _"Sophia?"_

Jay pointed toward the back of the house. Through the window there, we could just make out Sophia, placing a large pot over a camp stove in the backyard. Shawnee and Lily were standing next to her, intently interested in what she was about to cook.

Wandy reached under the back of her hoodie and pulled out a coiled rope and handed it to Jude. "It's all I could get."

"Then it'll have to do." Jude quickly tucked the rope into a backpack that she'd stowed in a nearby closet when we had arrived earlier. Because we were going to be traveling over the mountains, it only made sense to bring along some rope.

"Is Sophia suspicious?" Wandy asked.

"Doesn't seem like it," said Jay. "She's just doing her usual cooking and non-stop preaching about the Tribulations."

"What's she cooking?"

"Right now? I think it's the birthday cake."

" _Nice."_

"You still stink," reminded Jude.

Wandy gave an offended snort, then began walking toward the master bedroom. "Think I better heat up some water and have a bath, then. Get some of this _stink_ off."

She disappeared around a corner.

I looked over at Cherry; there were still tears in her eyes.

"What is it?" I asked. "She didn't disappear, Cherry. Wandy hit eighteen and she's still here."

Cherry shook her head, unhappily. "Wandy was born just before midnight. It's not her 'true' birthday, yet... _she's still seventeen."_

Our hearts sank once again.

* * * *

We ate dinner out on the back patio.

Sophia had somehow managed to create a variation on her shepherd's pie, using canned black beans and instant mashed potatoes. While it wasn't amazing, it was still pretty tasty.

Dessert, meanwhile, was a cherry-filled chocolate cake and sugar cookies.

Without a doubt, the girl might have been a whack-a-doodle, but she was a genius when it came to the kitchen.

* * * *

One of the few things that Wandy had brought over from the house she had shared with her grandmother was an old Victrola and a box of 78 records. Using a big key, she wound up the Victrola and we played music that night— _old, scratchy, odd music_ —songs that I'd never heard before and probably never would again.

But it was fun.

Shawnee and Lily led the dancing—innocently jumping around, leaping over the furniture like only the really young can do without embarrassment. I, of course, did my usual hop-dance _(and made certain not to do it anywhere near Jude!)_. Cherry and Wandy, meanwhile, had a couple of slow-dances together, which—in all honesty—made Jay and I a little uncomfortable and brought a sour frown to Sophia's face.

When we reached the end of Wandy's record collection, Jay switched things up, by trying to teach us all how to do the 'bhangra'—a traditional Pakistani dance.

We all sucked at it—to varying degrees.

Except for Shawnee.

Somehow, that chubby young girl took to the dance steps like she was born to them. She and Jay fairly flew across the living room.

It was just wonderful to watch.

And—when I looked over at Cherry—she was staring at her younger sister with such obvious pride, that it made my eyes tear up.

* * * *

Later, we gave Wandy presents.

Of course, she wouldn't be able to take them with her when we left _(too much to carry)_. We simply wanted her birthday party to appear as normal as possible.

_As a cover_ —because of Sophia.

* * * *

Just after eleven, Cherry and Wandy excused themselves and retired to their room. Meanwhile, Jay and I helped Shawnee and Lily into their beds, while Sophia and Jude cleaned up in the living room.

Afterward, the four of us— _Jay, Jude, Sophia, and I_ —sat on the back patio and drank hot chocolate.

"She's scared," Sophia noted. "She is trying to hide it, but it's true...Wandy, she is scared."

"She'll make it," said Jude. "Wandy will be here in the morning. You'll see."

Sophia nodded. "Perhaps. But it is okay, I think. Wandy—she will be saved in a different way."

"What do you mean?" I asked, confused.

"She was at church service last Sunday. God has forgiven Wandy."

This was news to all of us.

We had no idea that Wandy was religious.

"God will forgive all who repent," Sophia continued. "God is very kind that way."

Jude snorted in amusement, which gained her a nasty look from Sophia.

"You must speak to God," Sophia told her. "Before it is too late, Jude."

"Actually, I have spoken to God," said Jude. "He told me to tell you to shut your pie hole, Sophia...or maybe it was that you were supposed to go make some more pies. I don't remember exactly, but it was definitely something to do with pies."

"This is not good, these things you say, Jude." Sophia stopped for a moment, covering her mouth while she yawned. "You should not joke about God."

I looked over at Jay; I knew that—in one of her pockets—Jay had hidden a container of sedatives. Because Sophia had been ever-present that evening, I hadn't yet learned what Cherry and Wandy's decision was in regards to Sophia—if, in fact, the sedatives in Jay's pocket had actually been used.

"Have you seen an aardvark?" asked Jude. "I'm pretty sure that God can take a joke."

"Is not... _funny_." Sophia might have said more, but an enormous yawn suddenly interrupted her; her mouth stretched wide and her eyes drooped with fatigue.

"Well, I'm tired," I quickly said—talking to Sophia _but_ looking directly at Jay. "How about you? You ready for bed, Sophia?"

She yawned a third time and Jay smiled, wiggling her eyebrows at me. "Oh, I think Sophia's going to be sleeping any moment now."

Guess I had my answer.

Sophia was staying behind.

* * * *

Sometime later, Jay and I woke up Lily and Shawnee and helped them dress in their traveling clothes. They were tired and confused and— _in Lily's case_ —a little cranky. She objected loudly when I grabbed Pugly off the bed and stuffed him into a large over-the-shoulder bag. There was a towel inside and the little dog immediately snuggled down and— _with a fart_ —went quickly back to sleep.

Jude, meanwhile, began pacing up and down the living room, peering out the front windows, searching for any movement along Driver Avenue. She stopped only when the bedroom door finally opened around 2:30 a.m., and Wandy and Cherry exited with their backpacks.

In two quick steps, Jude had reached Wandy and pulled her in for a very _un-Jude-like_ hug. _"Dude!"_ Jude exclaimed—obviously relieved. Then— _just as quickly_ —she pushed Wandy away.

"Good to see you, too, Jude," grinned Wandy. "Guess I'll be staying with you guys after all."

The rest of us moved in then, giving Wandy our own bone-crushing hugs. Lily and Shawnee weren't exactly certain what was really going on, but they joined in, too.

Cherry, meanwhile, stood to one side—brushing away happy tears from her cheeks. When we finally released Wandy, she asked about Sophia. _"Did you get_ _it_ _done?"_

"Tucked in and dreaming of sugarplums," Jay told her.

Walking to the front window, Cherry's eyes panned across the front yard—from shadow to shadow. _"Any sign of the Detail?"_

Jude shook her head. "I've been watching Driver for the last half hour. It's silent."

"Okay, ladies," I said—happy. "It's time... _let's go to Malibu!"_

* * * *

We got as far as the backyard.

They were waiting for us there.

Ten 11th and 12th graders—all with guns pointed directly at us—came out from between the bushes. Their faces were devoid of expression as they circled us.

A moment later, Alice came around the side of the house, carrying a whip. Behind her stepped Orla, Peyton, and Tray.

All three of the Foxes were wearing fur coats _(which made me hate them even more)_. They moved slowly toward us and the 11th and 12th graders in front stepped to the side to allow them inside the circle.

Then— _the circle closed back up again_.

* * * *

Orla walked around us, slowly—a measured step, obviously meant to establish her authority. Tray, meanwhile, remained facing us, just waiting, with a smirk on her face. Peyton stood next to her, looking down at the ground.

"So...where you going, Ladies?" asked Orla, in a faux-cheery voice.

"None of your business," growled Jude.

" _Really?"_ Orla stopped in front of us, her cheeriness suddenly gone. "This is my community, Rude. Seems like that makes it my business."

"Then, let us be on our way and we'll get out of your business and your damned community," hissed Cherry.

Beside her, Shawnee began to sniffle—obviously scared. Lily, taking her cue from Shawnee, also began to cry.

Peyton's head snapped up. "Come here, Lily," she said, softly.

As Lily lifted her foot to take a step forward, Jude reached out and grabbed her hand, holding her in place.

"Jude, you have to understand," Peyton said—trying to sound reasonable. "Lily needs to come with me. I'll...I'll keep her safe...I promise. So, don't make her see this, Jude... _please_."

" _Please?!"_ Tray looked absolutely disgusted with Peyton. "Just grab the little bitch and take her, Peyton!"

The menace in Tray's voice was chilling.

I immediately turned to Jude, urging her to, _"Give Lily to Peyton!"_

Jude didn't move; she didn't say a word.

But— _she did loosen her hold on Lily_.

Peyton reached out and carefully unhooked Lily's hand from Jude's. "Come on, sweetheart," she said, gently. "Come with me."

"What about Shawnee?" I asked.

Peyton looked over to Orla.

"Just the girl," Orla told her. _"Now, go!"_

And—quickly—Peyton pulled Lily away from us and around the far corner of the house. Their footsteps echoed for a while before... _fading away_...they were swallowed up in the darkness.

Lily was gone.

I turned to look at Jude. Her head was slowly lowering, her eyes becoming tiny slits. Down at her side, Jude's left hand was beginning to twitch, slowly inching its way up toward her fanny pack and the gun zipped inside.

She reminded me of a bull about to charge.

Quickly, I reached out and grabbed her hand. On the far side, Jay followed my lead and grabbed Jude's other hand.

We both held on tight.

Orla laughed. "You guys kill me, you really do."

Jude growled—under her breath. _"I_ _will_ _kill you."_

"You can try," said Orla. "But I've got at least ten guns on you that say different."

At that moment—deep inside the large bag that still hung from my shoulder—a sleeping Pugly let out a loud _fart_. For a second, everything stopped; even Orla looked confused by the _'pwfft'_.

"My stomach's sensitive," I quickly said. "It gets weird under stress."

"Well, how very... _distressing_...for you," she smirked, trying hard not to laugh.

"Look...what are you going to do, Orla?" I asked, pointedly. "What's your plan? Shoot us all...arrest us...put us on trial— _spank our naked bottoms."_

She pretended shock. "You're not being killed. You're not even being arrested. In fact, you're all free to go, if you want...wherever you want."

It was my turn to look confused.

"What's the catch?" I asked, warily.

Orla smiled brightly—enjoying the moment.

"Why, Lily stays here," she finally said—as if it should be obvious. _"And Jay, of course."_

* * * *

We could hear banging and crashing from inside of the house. Four 12th graders had gone inside and were now rummaging around.

"Get the record player!" yelled Orla. "Take it back to our house." She turned back to where we were still standing, guns trained at our chests. "You probably stole it anyways, right?"

"It was my grandmother's," said Wandy, quietly.

"Well," Orla shrugged, "not anymore. Now it's the Community's property."

"Why are you doing this, Orla?" I asked, frustrated. "Are you really this much of a bitch?"

Turning serious, Orla leaned in close, wagging a finger in front of my face. "You know, it's bad enough that you wanted to take one of our young," she said, angrily. "But did you really think that we'd let you take our only doctor, too?"

Jay's mouth gaped open, shocked. _"I'm not a doctor...I'm 15-years old."_

"And yet," Orla's finger turned to wag in her direction, "you're all we've got."

"That's not true!" Jay insisted. "Belinda can take over. She wants to!"

"What are the _A-B-C's of Medicine_? Quick, Jay. What are they?" Orla asked.

" _Um—"_

"Quicker than that."

" _Airway, breathing, circulation,"_ said Jay. "The first things to check."

"Exactly," nodded Orla. "Funny, though...I asked Belinda the same thing this afternoon and she had absolutely no idea what I was talking about."

"She can be taught," Jay insisted. "She can learn from a book just like I was doing."

"And she will...but she will also learn from you."

" _Or what?"_

Tray barked out an ugly laugh.

A few of the 11th and 12th graders began to move in closer— _threatening_. Orla motioned for them to stay where they were, however. Instead, she merely poked Jay in the chest. "It's simple." She poked Jay again—one poke for each word.

" _We've...got..._ _Lily_ _."_

* * * *

I heard a _low growl_.

My first thought was that Pugly must have woken up, but then I realized that the growl wasn't coming from the bag over my shoulder.

It was coming from beside me... _from Jude!_

Orla obviously heard it, too, because she stepped back quickly. "Now you listen," Orla said—her shaky voice betraying her sudden uncertainty. "All of you—listen good. Except for Jay I don't care if any of you stay or go. But if you do stay—you do your jobs, you be good citizens— _and you keep your mouth shut."_

"And if we don't?" asked Cherry. "If we, say...tell strange little tales about fake beasts and ugly beauties?"

Orla's eyes narrowed in surprise.

" _What?"_ Cherry continued. "Did you really think that we'd all be so gullible?"

It took a moment for Orla to compose herself. When she did, she was all business again. "Lily is with Peyton right now," she told us, "so it's _big sister_ time. They'll put on nail polish, try on clothes, talk about kittens. It'll be fun for Lily and it will be good for Peyton."

" _That's_ how you're threatening us?" I asked.

"No," she grinned. "That's just the 'carrot'...here's the 'stick'. You stop doing what you're supposed to in the Community, or start flapping your gums to the other girls, telling tales out of school, let's say...well, that's when Lily's fun stops...when she goes somewhere else."

"Where?" I asked.

If anything, Orla's grin got even bigger. _"Why, I give her to Tray, of course."_

* * * *

For a moment, I thought that Jude would pull out her gun.

With all the 11th and 12th graders surrounding us, there was no doubt in my mind that that action would result in, at the very least, one fatality— _Jude's_.

And she was straining hard to pull her hand free from mine.

I held on even tighter, my fingers twisting to hold hers in place.

"Trust me," Orla continued. "You really don't want Lily with Tray." She turned suddenly and punched Tray slightly on the arm. _"No offense, bitch."_

Tray punched her back—just a little bit harder. "None taken...bitch."

Meanwhile, the growling beside me was growing even louder.

I didn't know about Jay's, but I was losing sensation in the hand that was holding onto Jude's— _she was squeezing me so hard, I felt that my fingers would eventually break_.

"Even if we don't say anything," I said—my words tumbling out—a rushed mixture of fear and pain, "you know that the other girls will eventually figure it out—the visas, the beasts, all the lies— _everything_."

Orla snorted out a laugh. In the circle surrounding us, the 11th and 12th graders all smiled.

"Were you not paying attention during Social Sciences?" Orla asked me. "Like, those girls out there in the Community—they aren't big thinkers. They're the _masses_. They're the _peasants_. Give them food in their bellies, a roof over their heads, and the threat of a bullet if they misbehave— _they will follow their leaders anywhere_. History has proven that again and again."

"And the ones who don't," said Tray, ominously, "can always spend time with me."

Orla motioned to the girls from the Protection Detail. "Come on. This is just getting boring now. Brews and chips at my place, Ladies."

The circle immediately began to fall apart—girls backing away, slowly lowering their guns—until only Tray remained.

"Come on, Tray," called Orla, from the side of the house.

"Give me a sec," Tray called back, her eyes never leaving us. She was holding her gun down at her side, tapping it against her right leg—as if trying to decide whether to actually use it or not.

"You heard your master," taunted Cherry.

"Seriously," said Tray, amused. "You're going there?"

"Just go, Tray," I urged her. "You did what you came to do. You ruined everything. So get the hell out of here!"

"Absolutely," she nodded.

She turned and took a step. Then, as if she'd just remembered something, she turned back around— _grinning_.

"Two words for you," she said. "Well...for Cherry, actually."

"What?" sighed Cherry.

Tray grinned even wider. _"Where's Wandy?"_

* * * *

Cherry spun around. We all did.

But—there was no one there.

Wandy was gone!

JUNE

### JOURNAL ENTRY #28

It's Lily's eighth birthday today.

None of us have seen her since the Foxes took her away.

The house seems so quiet and empty without her. We all miss her smiling face sooo much.

* * * *

Jude carved Lily a miniature Pugly out of a piece of wood that she found in Chumash Park. Then Jay and I made Lily a 'care package', and put in some of her toys and clothes. And—of course—I added a couple of Barbies, while Jay snuck in a "Doctor Who" paperback.

In our own way, the presents are us saying—'We're still here, Lily! Please don't forget us or think that we've abandoned you.'

Needless to say, it would have been a bad idea for Jude to take the presents to Lily. And—since Jay was training Belinda at the Medical Center today—I became the designated 'present-giver'.

_The Protection Detail, however,_ _didn't_ _agree._

* * * *

I made it as far as the first driveway of the first house on the hill of the Foxes Compound before they showed up—with their guns out.

" _What do you want?" barked Alice, coming toward me. There was a group of five or six 11th and 12th graders right behind her._

" _I just brought some presents for Lily," I said, holding up the box filled with our wrapped gifts._

" _So?"_

" _So...it's her birthday."_

" _And you thought that would get you inside?" Alice scoffed._

" _Honestly, I could care less about going inside," I said, truthfully. "So just call Lily. I'll give the gifts to her standing on the sidewalk. I just want to make sure she has a nice birthday."_

" _She's not here," said a quiet voice._

The Detail immediately parted, letting Tray through. She stopped beside Alice and gave me a very slow 'up-down' look.

" _Give your presents to Alice," Tray told me. "She'll put them in Lily's room for when she returns."_

" _Should I go through them first?" asked Alice. "Make sure there isn't any contraband in them."_

Tray smiled at me. "Anything we need to know about in the gifts, Blondie?"

I shook my head. "Just toys and clothes."

She motioned Alice back toward the compound. "Put them in Lily's room."

" _You're going to trust_ _her_ _?!" Alice seemed surprised—and a little offended._

Tray shrugged, her attention all on me now. "This one's honest, I think," she said, quietly. "I like that about her."

Mumbling under her breath, Alice took the box of presents from my arms. A moment later, she and the 11th and 12th graders had disappeared up the hill.

Tray remained on the sidewalk, however, standing in front of me. "You're really pretty," she said, studying me. "Not even wearing make-up, you're very pretty."

I decided to ignore her words. Instead, I asked, "Where's Lily?"

" _Peyton took her out for a birthday trip. They went shopping."_

" _They went shopping?!"_

I was stunned and must have looked it, because Tray burst out laughing. "Over at the Antiques Mall, across the 101," she explained. "Peyton thought it would be fun for Lily to choose some knick-knacks, that sort of thing."

" _She's okay—Lily?"_

" _Peyton's good with her," Tray nodded. "Actually, truth is—Lily is good for her. It's been helping Peyton a lot, having Lily around. Because of Amelie, you know."_

I nodded. That, I could understand.

Tray looked down at the ground, drawing her foot along the edge of the sidewalk—as if considering her next words.

Finally, she looked back up again. "I can get her back for you. Lily—if you want her."

" _Of course we want her. She's our family."_

" _But...well...I'd want_ _something_ _in exchange."_

The hackles rose up on the back of my neck. "What?"

She looked directly at me with her way-too-beautiful amber eyes. "I like you, Kaylee...and I think that you maybe like me a little, too."

Not a chance in hell—but I wasn't about to tell her that.

" _What do you want, Tray?" I asked carefully. "How do we get Lily back?"_

" _Not 'we'," she said. "_ _You_ _."_

Crap—this was going to be tricky.

" _Um...I kind of like this boy," I squeaked._

" _Jacob Riker." She nodded, as if she understood. Then—as if she was speaking to herself—Tray said, "And now I like this girl even more, because she's being faithful to a guy that doesn't even exist anymore. How weird is that?"_

" _Pretty weird," I agreed._

" _Tell you what, Kaylee." Tray reached out and touched my hair._

I wanted to pull back—I was so repulsed. Because of what was at stake, however, I held my ground.

" _I want you to think about it, okay?" she said. "We don't have to be roomies or anything like that. Just friends with benefits every once in a while."_

" _And you'll give Lily back?"_

_Tray grinned. "Oh, I will give you_ _so_ _much more."_

* * * *

_I'm still trying to decide whether or not to tell Jay and Jude about what happened. But it's all so..._ _icky_ _._

No matter how beautiful Tray is physically—to me—she has to be one of the most ugly girls that I have ever met.

The world might have changed.

One day I might even kiss a girl.

But I promise this...it will never be Tray!

### CHANGING DETAILS

Summer came early to Agoura Hills.

The heat rose with the sun—rising to an intensity that drove us indoors for most of the day. Grass that had grown to knee-length during the last few months, suddenly shriveled up, turned brown, and died. The smell of distant fires we couldn't see ebbed and flowed in the air, causing us to search the skies for life-threatening billows of smoke.

Those of us who worked outside came home each afternoon sweaty, sunburned, and exhausted. Those who worked inside sweltered in temperatures that easily hit well over a hundred degrees.

We all desperately missed air-conditioning and swimming pools.

And ice cream.

* * * *

If anything—the Foxes became even more imperial.

We saw less of them now, but— _when they did emerge from their Compound_ —it was with a royal retinue. Like ladies-in-waiting, some of the younger girls had either been drafted to the Foxes 'royal court' or—even more scary to us—joined of their own accord.

The group moved as a solid block when they traveled now—Protection Detail on the outside, ladies-in-waiting in front and behind—the Foxes in the middle.

Jude said _(only half-joking)_ —that this was probably the Foxes' way of making it near impossible for us to assassinate them.

* * * *

And the saddest thing of all— _Orla had been right_.

The other girls in the community didn't see anything wrong with what the 11th and 12th graders were doing.

Whenever the Foxes appeared, it would be like a queen and her royal court had chosen to venture among the lower classes. The girls would duck and weave, pushing each other aside to get a better look.

Some would even applaud.

* * * *

Each Wednesday, either Jay or I would petition the Tribunal to have Lily returned. And—each Wednesday—our petition would be denied.

Shelton would hand our paper to Alice, who would then take it to Orla, who would then take one look at it and inevitably shake her head.

While this was happening, Tray would always look over and give me a smile that was more invitation than anything else.

And—seated beside Tray— _Peyton would_ _not_ _even look at us at all_.

* * * *

Lily, of course—was nowhere to be seen—as if the Foxes had swallowed her up and eaten her whole.

It was hard on all of us but— _it was killing Jude_.

In some ways, that little girl had civilized her.

Where Jay and I had been Lily's older sisters, Jude had become Lily's substitute-mother. And now— _like a mother_ —Jude was sick with worry about her little girl.

(Of course, it didn't help that Pugly was always mooning about the house—whining and farting—pushing his nose through Lily's things, as if that would make her suddenly appear.)

* * * *

Shawnee and Cherry, meanwhile, were still dealing with the loss of a member of their own household— _Wandy_.

We'd still sit with them during meal times, but they spent more and more time alone, up in their house on Driver Avenue.

I worried about both of them but— _frankly_ —I had absolutely no idea of how to help them through their grief.

* * * *

Meanwhile, Jay couldn't prove it, but she was pretty sure that Shawnee had started stealing again. While the rest of us continued to lose weight—Shawnee was actually getting heavier.

There were times when Jay swore that she could even smell the chocolate on the young girl's breath. And— _once_ —I caught Shawnee coming out of the supply room with bulging pockets.

Before I could question her, however, she ran away.

Neither Jay nor I knew how to bring the subject of Shawnee's thievery up with Cherry while she was still grieving over Wandy's loss.

But we should have tried.

* * * *

Sophia was— _of course_ —still living with Cherry and Shawnee.

While it bothered us to see her with them, Jay and I agreed that it wasn't any of our business. Jude's distaste for Sophia, however, had continued to grow.

And Sophia returned the favor.

She started making the sign of the cross whenever she came across Jude—as if warding herself against some demon. She spoke of Jude as being in 'league with the devil' and soon to be 'called to Judgment'.

With Reena by her side, Sophia often walked the perimeter of the high school, just before dusk. They would recite verses of the bible or sing church hymns—encouraging other girls to join them in this nightly ritual.

I often wondered if it had been Sophia who had told the Foxes that we were planning on leaving the Community on the night of Wandy's birthday. When she was asked this directly by Cherry, however, Sophia adamantly denied it.

She even swore on her bible—which was why Cherry believed her.

But— _I still wondered_.

* * * *

The second week of June—new Work Details were given out.

Despite Jay's objections that I was still needed in the Medical Center, I was sent to work in the field. It was hot, hard work, but I liked seeing the tiny seedlings struggling to find their way out of the ground.

Like us, the plants burned in the sun. It took myself and the other farm-girls a week to figure out that we had to cover the seedlings with a fine mesh to protect them from the glare.

Wandy— _of course_ —would have known immediately.

* * * *

Cherry, meanwhile, remained on Laundry Detail.

Shawnee, however, was transferred to the Foxes Compound. She became one of a number of the younger girls who were chosen to work as chambermaids. In the mornings, they would clean the rooms of the Foxes and their followers. Then, at lunchtime, they would go to the cafeteria and bring them back their meals.

At first, Cherry was incensed that Shawnee was chosen for this duty. Not only did she not want Shawnee working anywhere near the Foxes, she was also offended that her younger sister was being treated like a _'house slave'_.

"It's just because she's black!" Cherry insisted.

Jay tried to reason with her. "It's not," she said, carefully. "If anything, it's because she's your sister."

"Then that's even more reason why Shawnee shouldn't do it. I won't allow it!"

It was Jude who eventually made Cherry change her mind.

"She might see Lily," Jude told her. _"Shawnee might be our only chance to get Lily back."_

* * * *

So—Shawnee became our _eyes_ and _ears_ in the Foxes Compound.

Truthfully, she hated working there in the beginning. She was assigned to a house belonging to three of the 11th graders on the Protection Detail. Shawnee said that the girls who lived there made her empty their 'chamber pots' every morning. Then, she had to make all the beds and do whatever other menial chores they had waiting for her.

Plus, the three older girls often teased her—sometimes about her weight, more often about her 'wacko-sister'.

But one day— _after about a week and a half_ —Shawnee was reassigned; she was now to work in the Foxes' giant house.

Shawnee had just become Peyton's personal maid.

### JOURNAL ENTRY #29

Jay and I took lunch to Jude today.

She's just started work on the new project for the Construction Detail. They're making a big container in the middle of the football field. Jude said that the Council wanted a safe place to store things 'in a secure manner'.

Honestly—it's just a big cage with a locked door—there are bars on all six sides.

_Jude had to learn how to do welding the old-Pioneer-way, from a blacksmithing book we got from the library. It's called 'forge welding'_ (kind of neat) _, and doesn't use any electricity._

The last three nights, I've stayed up with Jude—helping her memorize the manual.

It's a dyslexia thing.

* * * *

Jude was welding when we arrived—sticking something shiny to something else even shinier. So, Jay and I decided to wait in the football stands and eat our own lunch of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, with four Oreo cookies for dessert.

Jay went for the cookies first, of course, twisting one after another open and licking out the icing.

" _I am so going to miss Oreos when they're all gone," she sighed._

" _I wonder where they're made," I mused. "Wouldn't it be great if it was somewhere near here? We could have an expedition and clean out their warehouse."_

" _Have you ever noticed how much we all talk about food now?" We both spun around to find Cherry plunking herself down on the bleacher behind us. "And welding without electricity," she pondered, watching Jude heat up a metal bar in the giant barbeque that was serving as her forge. "Hard to believe that she learned this from library books?! Can you imagine what we girls could do if we actually got the internet back?"_

" _I thought you were still down at the laundry," I said._

" _Crap's on the line right now. Thought I'd see what this so-called 'container business' is all about."_

* * * *

Down on the field, Jude lifted off her safety helmet, flexing her arms—stretching out the kinks.

" _Girl's looking pretty butch these days," Cherry said, admiringly. "And I mean that in a bronzed-muscle goddess kind of way...very Flashdance-O.G."_

There was sweat staining Jude's t-shirt and her hair was matted against her forehead. But Cherry was right—Jude looked good.

In fact, now that I was really studying her, Jude could easily have passed as Brad Pitt's younger, meaner sister.

" _You sure she's straight?" asked Cherry._

Down on the football field, Jude suddenly looked up. As if she sensed that we were talking about her, she took off one of her work gloves and gave us the finger.

" _Pretty sure," I said._

" _Too bad," said Cherry. "It would have been romantic."_

I looked at her, shocked—thinking about Wandy.

Cherry shook her head quickly. "Not for me, doof! Just in general. Things the way they are, it's not like she'd have a lot of competition."

Thinking about that, I sighed. "I wish Porter could have seen her like this."

" _Porter McIntyre...the smarty-pants whiz-kid?"_

" _He and Jude worked together at Vons. They were friends."_

" _Isn't he, like two years younger than Jude?" asked Cherry._

" _Yeah, but they still got along."_

_Cherry stared down at Jude, who was now measuring out another shiny piece of metal. "_ _Interesting_ _...our girl's got some game."_

Beside me, Jay finished the last of her Oreos. She turned toward Cherry, telling her, "This is where Kaylee used to sit, mooning over Jacob Riker during football practices."

I immediately whacked Jay on the top of her head. She merely giggled.

Cherry, meanwhile, smiled and pointed to a bench higher up from where we were sitting. "That's where I used to sit, mooning over the cheerleaders during football practices."

* * * *

" _Hand it over."_

Jude sat astride the bleacher in front of us and grabbed the paper bag Jay was holding out. She looked inside. "Peanut butter and jelly again?"

" _At least we get cookies this time," I noted._

" _Cool." Reaching inside the bag, Jude pulled out the cookies. "Did you see who's been watching the build?"_

" _You mean, besides us?" said Cherry._

" _Over by the Concession stand." Jude motioned with her head. "In the shadows."_

I leaned over to take a look. It was hard to see, but I could just barely make out a skinny girl with long blond hair. "Is that Peyton?"

Jude nodded. "Uh-huh...she shows up every day, watches for about an hour, then goes away again. Doesn't say a word...just watches."

" _Maybe she's into your bulging muscles," joked Cherry, which made me giggle. Since I was the closest, it was my arm that took the brunt of Jude's punches._

" _Ouch...ouch...stop it!"_

" _Toughen up, Barbie," Jude flexed her arm, about to whack me again, but got side-tracked by her own muscles. "Wow," she said, touching her biceps. "I really do have guns!"_

" _Stop admiring yourself," I chided. "Now tell us why Peyton is here. Is it just to watch you build the container?"_

Jude unwrapped her cookies and shoved one in her mouth. She chewed slowly, savoring the Oreo—even if it was a little stale. "It's only a guess," she finally said, "but I think Peyton's trying to wrap her mind around it."

" _The container you're building?" asked Cherry._

" _What container?" Jude grinned. "You innocents still haven't realized that I'm building a prison?"_

The three of us—Jay, Cherry, and I—turned and gaped down at the center of the field.

How could we have not seen it?! The bars, the locked door, the unbreakable steel.

Of course, Jude was right.

The Foxes were building a prison!

### JOURNAL ENTRY: Jay #2

(Jay here again. Kaylee wants this in my own words.)

So one of the 12th graders—Janna Carter—has been pretty sick lately. I don't know for sure, but I think that she might be anemic or something like that. At least, I'm hoping that might be the problem, because the alternative would really be scary.

I'm talking about the 'Big C'—Cancer.

If she's got that, then there isn't anything that I'd really know how to do to help her.

Anyway—Janna's pretty weak and, right now, the only thing I can do is to make sure that she gets lots of rest and fluids and eats better than the rest of us. Because anemia is caused by being low in iron, I've put her on some high-iron supplements that were in the medical supply.

Also, I read in one of the medical books about what iron-rich foods would help her out. We don't really have any of the ones listed, but I did find thirty cans of oysters in the kitchen and they've got a lot of iron in them. Sophia wasn't happy when I took all of the cans, but I don't care.

I just want to help Janna.

Fingers crossed.

* * * *

I don't usually go and visit the girls in their houses when there's a medical problem. Instead, everyone has to come to the Medical Center.

Janna is an exception.

Because she's so sick right now, I go up to the Foxes Compound every day and check on her there. She lives in a yellow house, on the same hill where the Foxes live. There's another 12th grader who lives with her. Plus, a 9th grader comes each day to do the housework.

So—yesterday, I go to see Janna just after five, when my shift ended at the Medical Center. I had spent the afternoon, teaching Belinda how to sew stitches. We'd both been practicing by sewing up multiple layers of fabric together. I wish I could say that I learned how to stitch up lacerations from my doctor-mom, but the truth is that I learned it from one of the medical books that Kaylee brought back from the Westlake Village Library.

Hopefully, I will never have to actually sew stitches into anybody.

I'm kind of messy. Belinda is even worse.

Back to Janna—she was actually doing better today. When I made her eat the oysters, she complained, but she still ate the whole can. Plus, Belinda found two cans of cranberry-grape juice in the back of the kitchen, which was a real treat and some good Vitamin C for Janna.

Overall, I'd have to say that Janna is progressing. Her color is coming back and she seems to have a lot more energy. I'm still really worried about her, though.

Please, please don't let it be cancer.

* * * *

It was just past dusk when I finally left Janna's house.

Because I'm the 'doctor', the Protection Detail usually leaves me alone when I'm walking through the Compound—even if it is past curfew. Still, I try to move fast. It always creeps me out, the way the 11th and 12th graders watch me go by, wearing their stupid guns and suspicious faces.

_However, I always_ _slow down_ _when I pass the Foxes' house._

Every time, I look at the windows when I pass, hoping to see Lily looking back out at me.

She never does.

So, tonight—when I was walking through the Compound area—I was surprised because there weren't any older girls around. In fact, I only saw one guard at the Foxes' house. She was seated on the right side of the house, leaning back with her head against the wall, fast asleep.

For a moment, I was tempted to try and sneak into the Foxes' house to see if I could find Lily. But—truthfully—I was too scared to do it.

_Then—I heard_ _music_ _._

It was faint, but it was coming from the house across the street.

That was odd to me because, as far as I knew, nobody lived in that house. It was a big, old two-storey with bougainvillea hedges all the way around. And now that I was looking at it, I was pretty sure that there was light coming from the basement windows.

* * * *

I couldn't help myself; curiosity got the better of me, and I decided to look through the windows.

First, I made sure that nobody else was around.

Then, I tiptoed around the side of the house and bent down beside the nearest basement window.

_There was definitely light_ _and_ _music coming through it._

Unfortunately, there was also a curtain over the window, so I could see nothing inside of the basement but vague shadows.

I moved further along, to the next window—curtain there, also.

Suddenly...a door creaked open!

I barely had time to hide behind the bougainvillea, before Orla and Tray came out of the back door of the house. They were both carrying drinks. Orla had something in a whiskey glass and Tray was drinking from a beer bottle.

Through the open door, I could hear the music better. It was one of the same songs that Wandy had played the night of her birthday.

It was Wandy's Victrola that I was hearing!

" _God, I miss boys," sighed Orla._

" _Yeah," agreed Tray. "Partying isn't the same without Brandon."_

" _And Shelton's being kind of a little bitch."_

" _She's two weeks away from her eighteenth. I think her conscience is getting the better of her. She wants to stop."_

" _That's stupid," said Orla. "What does she think—that she's going to hell or something?"_

" _Or something." Tray took a swig of her beer. "What about Peyton?"_

" _What about her?"_

" _I don't know. She just seems, like_ _weird_ _."_

" _She misses Amelie."_

" _Yeah, I guess." Tray must have finished her beer, because she threw the bottle into the bushes next to me. It hit a rock and shattered._

" _So...do you think we have to take care of the Shelton-thing?" asked Tray._

" _Hope not," said Orla. "But we should probably at least work out the details...just in case."_

* * * *

Nervous about what I'd just heard, I decided that it was time to sneak out of there and head for home. Only—when I turned and went back around the side of the house—I ran straight into Peyton! She was just standing there, waiting—as if she knew that I'd be eventually coming her way.

" _Oh my god, Peyton!" I screeched. "Um—I—you scared me."_

" _Keep your voice down!" she ordered me. "What are you doing here anyway?"_

" _I—um—went to check on Janna."_

Peyton glared at me, her eyes narrowing. "Look, Jay...you really don't want to be here. It's too dangerous and I can only do so much."

" _Okay...sure." I immediately started moving past, but Peyton grabbed my arm. For a skinny girl she was really strong._

She leaned in close, whispering in my ear. "Orla and Tray's birthdays are the third week of November. Mine is on the fourth. It's why we always celebrate together."

* * * *

Kaylee and Jude and I talked a lot about what Peyton meant. We think that maybe she was trying to warn us that, all we had to do was to make it to the end of November. If the Foxes disappeared like everyone else who turned eighteen, then everything would change on their birthdays.

We'd have Lily back, and the rest of the 11th and 12th graders would ultimately disappear when they turned eighteen.

But—there's one problem with that.

_If it's true—Jude and Cherry's eighteenth birthdays are_ _also_ _coming._

### AND THE LIONS ENTER STAGE LEFT

Sometimes—just after my shift ended—I would sneak into the high school and work on the 'yearbook-that-would-never-be'. I knew that it was stupid and a gigantic waste of time. But I liked looking at all the pictures of teenagers just being teenagers.

I'd place the photos in different layouts—enjoying the scenes of kids who had their whole lives ahead of them in a technological wonder of a world. When I looked at those pictures, I'd think back to what had been important to us then.

_This_ kid had wanted _that_ phone, but his 'stupid parents' couldn't afford it. _That_ girl had bought three different prom dresses and was 'stressing' over which one to wear and which ones to return to the store. _This_ other boy was 'bummed out' because Mr. Matchling actually gave him a _D_ \- on the quarter-finals when he'd 'kind-of-even-studied'.

And me?

I won't lie—I was always complaining just like everyone else.

Why did we have to leave Malibu for the Valley? Why does everyone else have an iPad and I've got a Dell? It's stupid, learning about 'statistical equivalency'—like when would we ever need that in real life anyway?

It made me cringe, looking back at how self-entitled we kids thought we were.

What a bunch of whiners we had all been; what a whiner I had been!

Sorry, Mom.

* * * *

_There was_ _someone_ _in the yearbook room._

No candles had been lit, but I could still see her. She was sitting on the window ledge, positioning herself to catch the last rays of sunlight as she drew in a large sketchbook.

I moved forward slowly.

This close to dusk it was rare to find anyone in the school.

Even the Protection Detail girls would be moving out into the streets right about now. The only reason I could be in the school at all was because I was waiting for Jay. Since she could travel through the streets _somewhat_ freely, I often took the opportunity to stay late in the yearbook room and walk home with her after she was finished in the Medical Center.

_One more step closer_...no, I definitely did not know this girl.

She was entirely bald, except for a tiny strip of hair coming down the back of her head—like a little pig's _curlicue-tail_. There were gold studs and hoops, all up and down her earlobes. A chain connected one hoop directly to a smaller golden circle that was threaded through her columella.

" _Cherry?!"_

My friend put down her sketchpad and turned to face me. She was grinning. "You like?" she asked, patting her head.

I didn't know what to say. Moving closer, I reached up and tentatively ran a hand over her bald head. "Why did you do it?"

"Orla-bitch wouldn't let me have any dye."

"So...it's just _get-back?"_

Cherry shrugged. "Kind of, but not really. It's actually something I was thinking of trying anyway. It's just icing that it'll probably piss Orla off, too."

" _Wow,"_ I said. "What does Shawnee think?"

"She's seen me through eight different hair colors. It's _same-old_ to her now."

"Wow," I repeated.

"You don't like it, do you?"

"You know, I kind of do," I said, honestly. _"Shock and awe_ —it's just all part of you. You're like, this really pretty girl who forces people to see beyond the _pretty_ —to the real you."

She grinned. "You think I'm pretty?"

" _Shaddup,"_ I said, grinning back.

* * * *

I found out that Cherry often snuck into the yearbook room. She liked to use the graphic supplies there to work on her drawings.

That was another thing I found out that afternoon— _Cherry was an artist_.

She usually drew in the _Anime_ -style and had a whole series of graphic comic books that she had been selling online—all big-busty warrior women fighting vampires and, ironically, werewolves. But Cherry was also that unique artist—the kind who could draw or paint almost anything.

"You're really talented," I said, paging through her sketchbook. "Like... _really_."

"Thanks," Cherry said. "Art calms me, you know...makes things less painful."

"It's hard, huh," I ventured, "not having Wandy around anymore?"

Cherry nodded—sad. "It sucks ass. And it doesn't help that Shawnee won't stop blubbering all the time."

"She's just twelve."

"I know," Cherry acknowledged. "Plus, she doesn't have our mother. If mom was around, it'd be so much easier, you know. My mom always knows what to say to Shawnee when she gets like this."

"Moms are good that way."

"I miss my mom," Cherry sighed.

"Second that," I agreed.

"And my dad," she added.

" _Not so much."_

Cherry looked at me, shocked.

I shrugged. "He dumped me and my mom for the Boob-Bimbo."

" _Oh,"_ said Cherry. "Well, then...sucks to be you."

"Tell me about it."

And we both laughed.

* * * *

"That's a nice picture of Jacob," said Cherry. "But this close-up is even better. Because you can see his baby-blues."

We were arranging photos on a layout page devoted to my 'sweet intended'— _just because_.

"How does Shawnee like working for Peyton?" I asked.

Cherry shrugged. "She's okay with it. She says that Peyton is being nice to her."

"But it still worries you?"

She nodded.

"My offer still stands," I said. "You can take my key and Shawnee and go to my dad's house down in Malibu. You should be safe there."

"Without you guys, it would be impossible."

" _Why?"_

When she looked at me, Cherry's eyes were glistening—like eyes get just before they fill with tears. "You have to understand, Kaylee. I'll be turning eighteen soon. If that happens here and I'm gone, well...there'll still be someone to take care of Shawnee. But, if it's just her and me in Malibu, and suddenly I'm gone and she's all alone—I don't know what she'd do. She might just give up, you know."

I understood. "She's a _young_ twelve."

"And she's a little slower than everybody else, you know. Not that there's something wrong with her mind or anything. She's smart. She's just—".

"—slower."

" _Exactly."_

* * * *

An irritated and very fatigued Jay entered the room a half hour later. She flopped down on a stool next to where Cherry and I were working.

For a moment, she didn't say anything—just stared up at Cherry's bald head.

When she finally did speak, Jay's voice came out in a _grumble_. "I suppose I should be surprised, but it feels like my insides are being ripped out, I've had four Midols already, and I just couldn't care less."

" _You got your first period?!"_ I cried.

" _Oh shaddup!"_ she griped. "Like why didn't you tell me that it would hurt this much? And how come I'm suddenly jonesing for chocolate _and_ peanuts? Seriously, what's up with that?!"

Cherry and I both burst out laughing.

"And look at this on my chin," Jay continued to complain. "I've got a pimple! I've got actual _chin-acne_ at the end of the world. Like how stupid is that?!"

We laughed even harder.

* * * *

Five minutes later, a terrified Belinda rushed in through the door, looking for Jay. There had been a mountain lion attack up in the Foxes Compound.

Shelton had been killed.

### JOURNAL ENTRY #30

Things have gone very wrong here.

If we were smart we would all grab our things and head down to Malibu.

But—how can we leave without Lily?

* * * *

When Belinda came and told us that Shelton had been attacked by a mountain lion, Jay and I immediately grabbed the emergency first aid kit and raced over to the Foxes Compound. We were hoping that maybe she was wrong—that maybe Shelton was still alive.

Belinda followed behind us, crying and wringing her hands. I felt bad for her, because I knew that she had been close friends with Shelton.

Cherry, meanwhile, had ducked down behind a filing cabinet the moment we heard Belinda coming down the hall. I was hoping that she had left the yearbook room by now and managed to make her way safely home, without meeting up with anyone from the Protection Detail.

* * * *

There was so much blood!

Shelton had been attacked in the backyard of the house right across the street from where the Foxes lived.

_As we arrived, Jay whispered to me that this was the_ _same_ _house where she had heard the music coming from the other night. I tried to look through the basement windows as we passed by, but the curtains were all closed._

* * * *

We found Shelton lying on the ground in the backyard.

_Someone had placed a blanket over top of her body. My first thought on seeing it was that no one should have disturbed the body until the authorities got here._ (Shades of too many "CSI" reruns, I guess.)

Poor Belinda—she took one look at Shelton's bloody remains and turned and ran back the way we came.

There were at least eight girls standing around the body—all members of the Protection Detail—crying or talking quietly.

Orla and Tray were also there—standing on the back patio. They were both smoking, and Orla kept chewing worriedly on her nails.

_Tray—as always—looked immaculate and_ _unemotional_ _._

She did give me a slight smile when I came around the corner, though.

... _yippee..._

* * * *

When Jay pulled the blanket off of Shelton's body, Orla and Tray came over to look down at their 'friend'.

" _I just don't understand why Shelton didn't pull out her gun," said Orla, sadly. "It doesn't make any sense."_

With a start, I realized that—indeed—Shelton's revolver was still in its holster at her waist.

" _She probably didn't have enough time," said Jay, kneeling down to examine the body. "Mountain lions are quick. It looks like it caught her over there and then was dragging her through the bushes over here. What stopped it, though? Do you know?"_

" _Orla and I heard her scream," said Tray. "When we came running around the corner, the lion ran off."_

" _But it was big," continued Orla. "And it had one of those collars on...like the ones the Wildlife-people put on to track them."_

" _Are you the one who tried to stop the bleeding?" Jay pointed to the bloody jacket pushed into a large gash on the side of Shelton's pelvis. Her wrists were also sliced badly, the left hand hanging from a slip of gristle._

" _Yeah, that's my jacket," Tray nodded. She looked down at the ground, kicking at some dirt. "I don't want it back."_

" _But at least you tried," said Jay. "That was a good thing, Tray....you tried."_

" _Thanks," she said, quietly._

Jay replaced the blanket over Shelton's body and stood up. "Look, I'm sorry," she spoke to the girls standing nearby, "but—in this heat—we need to bury Shelton as soon as possible. I'll need some volunteers. And you'll need to wear gloves and masks. They probably aren't necessary, but we can't take any chances anymore."

All around, hands went up.

_The only two who_ _didn't_ _volunteer were Tray and Orla._

* * * *

It was a long night, but we finally got Shelton buried just before dawn. Later on that day—after all the work details were finished—there would be an 'actual' funeral.

But at that moment—for Jay and me—we just wanted to go home, wash off the blood and grime, and go to bed for a few hours.

" _Well, that was entirely unpleasant," I commented, as we walked toward Jude's house._

Jay yawned—not even bothering to cover her mouth. "Want to hear a secret?"

" _Sure," I said, tiredly. "What is it?"_

" _Shelton_ _wasn't_ _killed by a mountain lion."_

" _What?! When did you figure_ _that_ _out?"_

" _Soon as I got there. Those cuts on her arms—they came from a knife. I'm sure of it. And the wound in her belly was too straight and deep to be from a big cat."_

" _Why didn't you say anything, then?!"_

" _I would think that'd be obvious," she said, yawning again._

" _Well, not to me. Maybe I'm just too tired but..." And then it hit me. "Oh my god, Jay," I whispered. "You think someone killed Shelton."_

" _Not someone," she said. "_ _Tray and Orla_ _."_

### A LEADER IS CHOSEN

Shelton was buried on the hill next to Amelie.

At her service, Sophia once again spoke of the _Tribulations_. However, her sermon was more generalized this time. I didn't know if she was afraid that I would interrupt again or if she had been told by Orla to be more respectful.

One thing Sophia did do, though, was suggest to the other girls that Shelton hadn't been killed by a mountain lion. That— _instead_ —she had been killed by one of the 'beasts'.

When she said that, I looked over at Orla, expecting that she would correct Sophia.

But she didn't.

If anything, Orla looked pleased.

It made me wonder if Orla hadn't been the one to put the beasts in Sophia's fracturing mind in the first place.

* * * *

Because we didn't want Sophia to overhear us talk, our small group went to Jude's house after the funeral. It was after curfew, which meant that Shawnee and Cherry would be staying the night.

Shawnee—in particular—was extremely happy about this.

She loved to play with Pugly, and the two of them chased each other around the backyard. More than a few times, we had to calm both of them down, because Pugly got so worked up he actually started barking.

Luckily, his bark was more like a _huff-huff-huff_.

Still, we didn't want to take any chances that a passing Protection Detail would overhear.

* * * *

While Shawnee played with Pugly—Jay, Jude, Cherry, and I sat around the kitchen table, talking. It was dark and we had one small candle before us. Because of what we were discussing, we kept the light low—not wanting to draw the attention of anyone on the street outside.

"You really think that Tray and Orla killed Shelton?" Cherry didn't seem quite convinced.

"Those were knife wounds," asserted Jay. "I'm absolutely certain. I can show you pictures just like them in one of my medical texts. And I can also show you pictures of an animal attack. Shelton's wounds weren't anything like that. They simply weren't caused by claws or teeth."

"And since Tray and Orla were the only ones who saw the supposed 'mountain lion'," I added, "they'd have to be the ones who killed her."

"But why?" asked Cherry. "If there was a somewhat-nice 12th grader, Shelton was it."

"Maybe that was the problem," said Jay. "That night—behind the house across from the Foxes—when I heard Orla talking to Tray, they said that Shelton's conscience was bothering her and she wanted to come clean. Maybe they were afraid of what she might say to the other girls. Maybe she was going to tell everyone that the beasts weren't real."

"Plus, Shelton's eighteenth birthday was coming up," I added. "She might have felt that she had to make amends—like before she _disappeared_."

"Damn," murmured Cherry. "If they killed her, that's really cold."

"Orla and Tray basically have five months left until their eighteenth birthdays," I said. "So...we have a choice here. We can stay and keep our noses clean until they hit eighteen and they're probably gone _or_ we can pick up and just go now."

"I'm not leaving Lily," Jude immediately declared.

"Nobody's asking you to," I told her. "If we decide to go, we'll figure out a way to grab Lily first."

"Have you got a plan?" she asked, perking up.

"Not yet. But I will."

"Then you need to be the leader."

For a moment, I thought I had misheard Jude. _"Pardon?"_

"You heard me," she snapped. "If we're going to get Lily back, we'll need to work as a team. That means—we'll need a leader."

"Okay," I nodded. "But then it should be you. That only makes sense. You're older and bigger."

"And I've got a temper and I tend to use it," she growled. "I'd make a lousy leader."

" _Then Cherry."_

Cherry immediately put her hands up in the air. "Not a chance. I suck at leading. I just wind up letting everybody do what they want."

"But you're both older than me," I protested.

"And Jay's a 15-year old doctor," said Jude. "Look, Kaylee...you've got to be real for a second. You're a smart girl and you're level-headed. It's obvious to the rest of us that you're our leader. We don't care that you're younger, so you shouldn't either."

I looked at Jay—hoping for some guidance.

" _Hey, boss!" she said, with a grin._

JULY

### MAKING THE PLAN

We started meeting regularly at our house—working on a plan to rescue Lily.

At first we considered breaking into the Foxes' house at night and taking Lily right out of her bed. Shawnee— _our house-spy_ —put a quick stop to that, when she told us that Lily slept in an alcove that was attached to Peyton's room.

A daytime rescue was also rejected.

There was simply too much activity going on in the Foxes Compound. Members of the Protection Detail were always coming and going during the day. Plus, other girls sometimes visited with petitions to be presented for Wednesday's Tribunal.

So—we couldn't rescue Lily at night _or_ in the day.

This was going to be tricky.

* * * *

"Well, that sucked," said Cherry. "Sophia's definitely losing her edge."

Because we were working on our rescue-plan at Jude's house that night, Cherry and Shawnee had joined us for dinner—watery tomato soup and some very musty crackers that we'd brought home from the school's cafeteria.

A very _un_ -appetizing meal.

" _I have something good for dessert."_ We all turned in surprise, because it was Shawnee who had spoken. She was sitting at one end of the table, with Pugly snoring away in her lap. "I've got chocolate!" she grinned—pulling out two large bars from a purse she had stowed under her chair.

" _Where did you get chocolate?"_ demanded Cherry, looking very unhappy.

Shawnee pursed her lips, looking hurt. _"I don't know."_

"You sure as heck do!" said Cherry. "You stole that, didn't you?"

"No, I didn't...I found it."

"Damn it, Shawnee!" Cherry was close to yelling, she was so mad. "I told you— _no more stealing!"_

Shawnee looked down at the table, speaking in a little girl voice. _"Sorry."_

Now, Cherry did yell. _"No...sorry just doesn't cut it anymore!"_

Silent tears began to stream down Shawnee's cheeks.

Jay, Jude, and I were frozen in our seats. We didn't know what to say— _it was beyond uncomfortable._

Cherry waved a finger in front of her sister's face. "I'm serious, Shawnee. This is, like _crazy-dangerous_. You promise me...you promise me right now that you won't ever, ever do it again."

" _I promise."_

"Swear on Pugly," Cherry demanded.

Shawnee put one hand on the dog's back and another on her own heart. "Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in Pugly's eye."

"Oh my god!" cried Jay, horrified. "That's nasty! Who swears like that anyway?!"

Meanwhile, Jude reached over and grabbed one of the chocolate bars. "Since these are obviously not going back," she grinned. _"Let's have dessert!"_

Shawnee broke into a big smile and wiped away her tears.

Cherry just frowned.

* * * *

"From what I've seen, it looks like the Protection Detail live in these four houses... _here, here, here and there."_ Jude had laid a hand-drawn map across the now-cleared kitchen table and was pointing out various houses in the Foxes Compound. "I've also seen some of the girls go into this house, but I don't think anyone lives there."

"That's where Shelton's body was," said Jay. "In the backyard."

"Is this what you've been doing when you go out at night?" I asked Jude. _"Making this map?"_

"I've been watching the Compound," she nodded. "Trying to figure out a way to get Lily out."

"Those four houses completely surround the Foxes," Cherry noted. "It'll be hard just to get past them, let alone get into the Foxes' house."

"Do we know which room Lily is in?" asked Jay.

Shawnee leaned over to study the map. After a while, it became obvious that she didn't quite understand it. Jude took the next five minutes to explain what all the lines and symbols meant.

Finally, Shawnee tapped a corner of the map. "That's where Lily sleeps...right there. She's got a big bed and it's got this curtain all around the sides."

"Shawnee, can you spend some time with Jude and Cherry," I asked, "and help them draw what the inside of the Foxes' house looks like? You're the only one who's been inside."

She nodded. "I can show you where the key is."

We all looked at her— _huh?_

" _The key to Lily's room."_ Shawnee gave a frustrated sigh, as if we should already know this. "The one that locks her in at night with Peyton. I know where they hide it."

Cherry immediately reached out and pulled Shawnee into a gentle headlock, giving her a noogie. _"You really are our little spy, aren't you?"_

Shawnee grinned up at me, still stuck in Cherry's headlock. _"I did good?"_

### JOURNAL ENTRY #31

Oh my gosh!

It was so funny tonight.

Jay actually thought that we had forgotten that it was her sixteenth birthday.

* * * *

So—after we had finished working on our 'Lily-plan'—Shawnee and Cherry went into the back bedroom to get ready for bed. They took Pugly with them, too, because Shawnee likes sleeping with him.

It was only Jay, Jude, and me left in the kitchen.

Jude was busy, looking over her map, and I was cleaning up the dishes (not easy, by the way, when you only have a small bucket of water that you also have to use for bathing!)

Jay, meanwhile, was just sitting in her chair.

She had her arms crossed and was wearing this real sour look on her face.

It was so hilarious that I almost burst out laughing a few times. Finally, she gave up waiting for us to notice how annoyed she was, because she gave a big sigh and said, "Anyone know what day this is?"

" _It's Tuesday," murmured Jude—not even looking up from her map._

Jay sighed even louder.

I spun around, as if I was the one irritated this time. "What?!" I snapped. "Jude's right. It's Tuesday, so what's the big deal?"

" _Not a big deal." Jay's head went down; she looked really hurt. "Just my birthday, that's all."_

" _Oh my god!" I said. "I'm so sorry, Jay."_

" _It's okay," she sniffed._

" _I'm so very sorry," I continued, "that you_ _actually_ _thought that we would forget your 'Sweet Sixteen'!"_

Jay looked up, surprised.

At that same moment, the door to the back bedroom opened. Cherry came out carrying an Oreo-cookie birthday cake, covered in sixteen flaming candles. Shawnee followed, holding Pugly in one arm, a brightly wrapped present in the other.

" _Happy Birthday, Skipper!" grinned Jude._

As we all began to sing "Happy Birthday" to her, Jay began to cry. Jude immediately whacked her on the back of the head.

" _Stop it, dumbass," she commanded._

* * * *

" _Did Sophia make this cake?" asked Jay, as she shoved a forkful of cookie-cake into her mouth._

" _Are you kidding?" I said. "If Sophia had made this cake, don't you think it would have looked a whole lot better?"_

" _Plus, we would have had to ask her to the party, then," said Jude, "and that simply wasn't happening."_

Cherry, Jude, Shawnee and I had been saving all of our Oreo cookies for the last two weeks to make Jay's cake. Between us, we had managed seventy-two cookies (some of which were a little bit stale, but what could you do?) Some of the cookies we had left intact; others we had screwed open, scooping out the middle to create icing.

Honestly—the cake was a mess.

" _I think it looks beautiful," insisted Jay. "Besides, how can you go wrong with Oreos?"_

Shawnee placed the wrapped present in front of Jay. "It's from all of us," she said, beaming.

" _This is amazing, you guys!" said Jay, her eyes becoming moist._

Jude tapped her on the head again. "No tears," she ordered. "It makes me uncomfortable."

_But—Jay did cry—when she saw what was_ _inside_ _of that wrapping._

* * * *

There were actually two presents.

The first was a blue t-shirt—one that I had 'appropriated' from Jacob's bedroom. On the front we had written:

Doctor Who?

Exactly.

_Then—on the back—we had created a stylized-drawing of the 'Tardis'_ (which is Doctor Who's spaceship, in case you don't watch the show) _._

It was really neat, because the lines of the Tardis were actually formed from the letters of all our names: Jay, Jude, Lily, Cherry, Shawnee, Wandy, Kaylee...and Pugly.

And—right underneath the Tardis drawing—we had placed the number '16'.

(This is kind of important to a "Doctor Who" fan like Jay, because the number wouldn't just stand for her sixteenth birthday; it would also mean that she was the 16th Doctor—I know, it's all fangirl stuff.)

_The second gift we gave Jay was a small pin that Jude had_ _somehow_ _made in her forge. It was a 'caduceus'. That's the medical symbol you see everywhere—the two snakes twisting around a staff._

* * * *

Jay blubbered like a big baby.

She looked so funny that the rest of us started giggling. Then we just plain old burst out laughing. Which got Jay to blubber-giggling. Then she was laughing right along with us.

Finally, when we had all settled down, Jay asked who drew the Tardis.

I pointed at Cherry. "She's a pretty good artist, isn't she?"

Jay held up the t-shirt, admiring. "She's amazing! I just wish we still had the net, so I could pin a picture of this on my Pinterest board." She turned to Jude. "And you made the caduceus? Like really?"

Jude shrugged. "It was easy. I just copied what Kaylee had traced from one of your medical books."

Leaning over, I placed an arm around Shawnee's shoulders. "And—since we're not the artists in this group, Shawnee and I made the cake."

" _Looks like you also gave up one of your Jacob-shirts," teased Jay._

" _It was for a good cause," I shrugged._

Jay got up then and gave us all a thank-you hug. Jude, however, took a step backward before Jay could even get close. "Seriously, Skipper!"

" _Take it now or I'll get you in your sleep," warned Jay._

" _Make it quick then," Jude grunted._

But Jay didn't; she gave Jude a big, strong hug. And—although I would never mention it to her—I noticed that Jude didn't even try to pull away.

### SOMEONE'S GETTING A WHIPPING

The searing July temperatures made working in the field excruciating.

We farm-girls petitioned the Tribunal for a change in hours to help combat our heat exhaustion. Instead of working through the day, the Council approved us splitting up our shift. We would now arrive at five in the morning and work until nine. Then we would abandon the farm to the heat of the sun, returning at five in the evening for another four hours of work.

It wasn't a perfect solution—but it was doable.

I felt bad for the Laundry Detail, however.

Cherry and her fellow clothes-washers still had to work straight through the day. The Council refused their request to split their workday into shifts.

Sometimes Orla could be such a bitch.

_Did I say_ _sometimes_ _?_

* * * *

I had just arrived at the field for the second part of my shift. The carrots were starting to mature and I looked forward to pulling a few for a personal taste-test.

As I walked the rows, looking for a likely candidate, Cherry came walking up one row over. She looked exhausted; there were pit stains on her t-shirt and her arms were a nasty red color.

"You should go see Jay," I suggested. "She's got something that you can put on that burn."

"It was bitching hot today!" Cherry complained. "Like have I mentioned how much I hate the Council?"

I bent down and pulled a carrot out of the ground. It was no more than four inches long, but it was still a healthy orange color. Reaching across the row, I handed it to Cherry. "First vegetable ever. You try it...for _Wandy_."

Cherry's eyes immediately filled with tears. _"Oh crap!"_ She wiped a dirty hand across her face. "Now, why'd you have to go and say that?"

"I'm sorry," I apologized. "Do you want me to taste it instead?"

" _Screw you!"_ Cherry took a big bite of the carrot.

I watched her chew. _"Well?"_

Cherry nodded. "It's very— _carrot-y."_

"Excellent!" I couldn't have been more proud. Before I could say anything else, however— _the warning trumpet sounded!_

Cherry and I both froze.

"That's not the 'stranger-sequence' they're blowing," I said, worried. _"What is that?"_

A few months ago, the Council had created an 'Alarm List'; different notes blown on a sentry's trumpet would mean different emergencies. _(And as much as I despised Orla, even I had to admit that it had been a brilliant idea.)_

"Should we go to our 'defensive positions'?" asked Cherry, looking around.

"That was _'two short, one long'_ ," I said. "I'm pretty sure that means we're supposed to go to the football field."

From around the corner, Alice came trotting up on Beauty. She waved at us to start walking. "Come on, ladies. You heard the trumpet. Get your butts in gear!"

"What's going on?" I asked.

"We finally caught the girl who's been stealing from the supplies," Alice said, grinning. "No forgiveness this time. Council said there's gonna' be a whipping!"

"Oh my god!" gasped Cherry. _"Shawnee, no!"_

She took off running.

I wasn't far behind.

* * * *

By the time Cherry and I reached the football field, the stands were already full of girls. They were all chattering and pointing toward the cage in the center of the field—the very cage that Jude had built.

It was hard to see who was inside, because the Protection Detail had the cage completely surrounded, but there was definitely a girl there— _backed up against the far bars, a hood over her head and her hands tied behind her back._

Cherry immediately sprinted toward the cage.

" _Wait!"_ I tried to grab her, but she was too quick.

Racing forward, she whipped around a 12th grader who reached toward her, but missed. As she neared the cage, however, two of the larger girls from the Protection Detail managed to grab Cherry—one on each arm—and throw her to the ground.

"What the frack is up with you, Winslette?" yelled one of the girls.

Before anything worse happened, I ran across the field to Cherry and tried to pick her off the ground, hoping to carry-pull her back to the football stands.

"Let me go!" she screeched, batting at my hands.

Suddenly—Jude was there.

Between the two of us, we lifted Cherry off the ground. She fought hard, but we still managed to drag her to the side of the bleachers. There, Jude pinned her against the backboard, holding her in place.

Cherry was absolutely furious. _"Are you insane?! They're going to whip Shawnee!"_

" _Shaddup!"_ Jude hissed.

"Don't you tell me to shaddup...that's my sis—"

Before she could say another word, Jude shoved her hand over Cherry's mouth. "Look up, dumbass—to your right...middle of the rows."

Like Cherry, my eyes went across the bleachers, following the rows up to where Shawnee was sitting next to a 9th grader. Cherry was so happy to see her sister that she practically collapsed in relief.

Frankly, I was just as astonished.

Because if Shawnee wasn't in the cage— _who was?_

* * * *

Over the next few minutes, we sat in the stands, waiting for the _'show'_ to begin. I was seated in the front row, with Jude by my side. Cherry was a few rows behind us, sitting with her sister.

Jay was nowhere to be seen.

Like everyone else, I was scanning the stands—looking for the _missing face_ —trying to figure out who was in the cage, under the hood. The only thing I could see for certain was that she was white. The girl's pale hands tied behind her back gave that much away.

"Any idea?" I asked Jude.

She shook her head—muttering under her breath. _"Knew it_ —knew they wanted the damn thing for a prison."

"It's not your fault, Jude."

"Yeah, I know...but I still built it."

The volume level of the chattering girls all around us suddenly increased. Jude and I looked up to see the Foxes entering through the gate.

Beside me, Jude gasped. _"Lily!"_

* * * *

It had been forty-eight days since we'd last seen our girl.

And she had changed.

Like the rest of the Foxes, Lily now dressed immaculately. She wore a pair of light green shorts and a pink and white striped top. On her feet were little white flats that matched the white Gucci bag she carried across one shoulder.

Her hair had been styled into two French braids, one that went down each side of her head; each braid was tied at the end with a pink and green ribbon.

If it wasn't for the haughty look on her face, Lily would have looked adorable. Instead, she just looked arrogant and snobbish, as she took her seat beside Peyton.

Jude said nothing, but I called out to Lily, trying to catch her attention.

She completely ignored me— _staring straight ahead_.

* * * *

I was actually quite hurt by Lily's behavior. Jude, however, put it all into perspective. "She's just 8-years old," she said, quietly.

Orla, meanwhile, walked directly onto the center of the field.

All around us—the girls went silent.

"Well," Orla began, "this is certainly a day that I personally hoped would never come." She was standing in front of the cage; behind her was the Protection Detail, still obscuring our view of the _'prisoner'_. "As some of you may know, our Community has been plagued by theft these last few weeks. For a while, I am ashamed to say, I suspected that it might have been one of our own."

At this, the chatter started up again.

Orla put up her hands for silence.

"Yes," she said, when things quieted down, "it turns out that it was an _Outsider_. But thanks to our wonderful Protection Detail, the Outsider was caught this morning red-handed... _ladies_."

The large girls who had held Cherry back, unlocked the cage and pulled the hooded prisoner out. It was a thin girl—obviously weak and starving—her head lowered, her legs shaking as her jailors stood her next to Orla.

"As you all know," said Orla, "our punishment for theft is to be whipped equal to your age. But that is for our Community. For Outsiders, we must set a different example. They must know that here— _in Agoura Hills_ —we are strong, and we will not put up with thieves. If you come into our Community and take from us— _you will be punished!"_

Behind me, more than a few girls cheered, while a handful of others clapped.

" _Dumbasses,"_ Jude hissed, under her breath.

"So, for Outsiders," continued Orla, "the punishment is that they will be whipped twice that of their age."

I gasped. _"Ohmigod!"_

Out on the field, Orla waved Tray forward. With her unearthly elegance, Tray glided over to Alice—who handed her a whip. It wasn't long like you see in the movies. This whip was about five feet in length, splitting down the center toward its end.

Meanwhile, two other girls pushed a piece of football equipment called a 'sled' in front of the cage. _(From watching Jacob practice, I knew that the football players would push up against this 'sled'—a large metal structure, with two arms jutting up.)_

Under Tray's direction, the prisoner was placed against the sled—back toward us—while her arms were tied down, one on each side, to a crossbeam.

" _Bear witness!"_ Orla cried out, loudly. "To this thief who must be punished—who stole from our Community. Who thought we were weak...who thought we were victims!"

Tray reached over and pulled the hood off of the girl.

I immediately felt my stomach drop.

Even with her head turned away from us, I would have recognized those two messy red braids anywhere.

Cammie!

* * * *

The young librarian from Westlake Village was slumped against the sled. She didn't move and, for a moment, I wondered if she was already dead.

"16-years old...two times her age," said Orla. "Thirty-two lashes if you will, Tray, please."

Immediately, Tray lifted her arm and brought the whip down on the girl's back, causing Cammie to jerk violently.

_Thwack_...the sound was horrifying!

_However, that Cammie remained silent was somehow even_ _more_ _horrifying._

As the whip tore through her light shirt, staining it red with her own blood, Cammie said nothing. Her head lowered even more, her body tensed— _but she made_ _no_ _sound_.

Behind me, someone yelled out, _"One!"_

* * * *

Tray lifted her arm and brought down the whip again.

Thwack!

" _Two!"_

Cammie's shirt shredded even more—the whip was biting deep.

Another strike; Cammie's small body jerked back.

Thwack!

" _Three!"_ It wasn't just one voice; now more girls were yelling.

I turned to look at Lily. She was staring straight ahead—but not at Cammie. Instead, her eyes were focused somewhere in the sky... _and she was trembling_.

Thwack!

" _Four!"_

"Harder, Tray!" a girl yelled.

I spun around, searching for the offender. From the avid smiles on some of the girls, I sadly realized that it could have come from one of many.

Thwack!

" _Five!"_

Cammie's back was becoming covered in blood. The ends of the whip must have twisted around her face at one point, because I could see red, oozing scores down the side of one cheek.

Thwack!

" _Six!"_

"Yeah, baby! Get that bitch!"

_I didn't understand_ —what was wrong with the girls behind me? Why was I about to be sick and they were having so much fun?

Thwack!

" _Seven!"_

Cammie suddenly seemed lower—closer to the ground. It took a moment for me to realize that it was because I had risen from my seat. It had become too much— _someone had to stop this brutality!_

"Screw this!" I growled, pushing my way down from the stands.

But— _I was too slow_.

Jude vaulted over the waist-high wall in front of the bleachers, landed on the football field, and made straight for Tray. She moved so fast that—before the Protection Detail even had a chance to react—Jude had ripped the whip out of Tray's hand.

"Let's see how you like it, bitch!" she yelled. And Jude brought the whip down—right across Tray's face.

Thwack!

* * * *

Everything seemed to happen at once after that.

I lost sight of Jude as the 11th and 12th graders surrounded her, throwing her to the ground.

Meanwhile, Alice jumped me a few feet from the bleachers, just as I stepped onto the field. She tossed me easily to the ground and placed her boot on my head, holding me in place.

Cherry— _who I didn't even know was following me_ —didn't even make it out of the stands. Another 12th grader stopped her at the bottom of the stairs, by shoving a gun in her face.

But— _it was Jude who was getting the worst of it_.

Out on the field, the 11th and 12th graders were viciously punching and kicking her. With my face on the ground— _held in place by Alice's boot_ —I could just manage enough of an angle to see that Jude was being badly beaten. She was on the ground, bleeding badly from a gash on her cheek. Another had opened just above Jude's ear.

Still, the older girls kept punching and kicking.

_They were_ _killing_ _her._

* * * *

It was a little white Gucci bag that saved Jude's life that day— _and the young girl who shot out of the stands to wield it._

Lily swung her purse at the 11th and 12th graders— _again and again_ —screaming at the top of her lungs. _"You stop that...you stop that now! You're killing her! You're killing my Jude!"_

And, amazingly— _they stopped_.

Filled with rage, Lily stood guard over Jude. Not taking her eyes off of the surrounding girls, she reached into her Gucci bag and pulled out her pepper spray—aiming it from one girl to another.

"I will kill you," she warned them. "You come near my Jude and I will kill you!"

Below her, Jude turned on her side and coughed up a big gob of blood—peering up at the menacing slip of a warrior above her.

"Much appreciated, Sailor Moon," Jude panted, painfully.

Then— _she passed out_.

* * * *

There were three patients in the Medical Center that evening.

While Belinda disinfected and stitched up Cammie's wounds, Jay worked hard to save Jude's life. Besides the gashes in her head and cheek, it was obvious that Jude also had a serious concussion and possible internal injuries from the beating she'd endured.

Ironically, Jude had never pulled out her gun.

It was still hidden in the fanny pack that Jay had quietly undone and stuck in a filing cabinet before anyone became the wiser.

_I was forced, meanwhile, to treat the_ _third_ _patient._

* * * *

" _You think I deserve this, don't you?"_

Tray was seated on the edge of a desk, while I slowly drew an antiseptic pad across the bloody slice on her cheek.

"I think you deserve a lot of things," I said, honestly. "But I wouldn't wish a whipping on anybody."

"Not even me?"

I stopped and looked directly into her eyes. There was no animosity or anger there—merely curiosity. "Not even you," I said.

Orla came up beside us.

There were Protection Detail throughout the Medical Center, watching all of us—but especially Jude and Cammie.

"How are you doing?" Orla asked Tray. "Sorry we don't have a Plastic Surgeon on staff."

"Are you kidding?" Tray grinned. "A scar will make me look even more dangerous."

Orla patted her on the shoulder and wandered away, while I continued to clean up Tray's wound. _"Can I ask you a personal question, Tray?"_

"Yes, Kaylee."

"Did you like it? What you did today?"

"Do you want a truthful answer to that?"

At my nod, Tray leaned back and thought to herself for a moment. Then she looked over at Cammie, and— _finally_ —back to me. "Kaylee, Kaylee," she sighed. "There is something so sweet about you wanting to understand. I think that is simply part of your good nature."

"Did you like it?" I asked again—this time more forcefully.

Tray responded by reaching up, gently placing a hand around my neck. She applied pressure, drawing me down, so she could whisper in my ear. "I hate to tell you this," she said, quietly, _"but this is simply part of my_ _bad_ _nature."_

I tried to pull away, but she held me tight.

Her tongue flicked out to lick at my earlobe, and her breathing increased—heavier now, almost panting. "Truth is, I loved it, Kaylee," Tray said in an excited whisper. _"I loved it so very, very much._ "

* * * *

Ironically, the whipping Cammie took probably saved her life.

We found out later that she had been captured by the Protection Detail, the night that they had burned down the Westlake Village Library and stole all the books. Since then, she had been held— _gagged and handcuffed_ —in the basement of the empty house across from the Foxes Compound.

They had thrown her onto a dirty mattress, locked her hands to a pipe, and left her a bucket to relieve herself in. Once or twice a day, someone _(usually Tray)_ would show up to empty her bucket and give her something to eat.

And beat her.

At first, it was just light whacks around the head and shoulders. Later, Cammie said that Tray began to use the whip.

It was always on the legs and feet.

Tray said that was because she was saving Cammie's back for the _'big show'_.

* * * *

There would be only one chance.

I waited until after midnight.

Then I snuck out of the house, following the culvert around Chumash Park and the townhouses, down to where it came out across from the high school.

There were two members of the Protection Detail there, smoking cigarettes on the front stairs of the Main Office. I moved farther down Driver Avenue, crossing where it was darker and less likely that I would be seen. Finally, I made my way back, creeping slowly through the shadows, until I could use Jay's keys and enter the high school from the South side.

* * * *

The lack of moonlight made it incredibly difficult to see much of anything as I tiptoed toward the Medical Center. Since I wasn't about to take the chance of using any candles, I had to feel my way through the darker portions of the school's walkways.

My fingers reluctantly skimmed the walls—terrified by what they might accidentally encounter _(bugs, snakes, Tray's face!)_.

As I got closer to the Medical Center— _thankfully_ —it became easier to see. There was a flickering of candlelight emanating from the Center's open doorway, and I stopped just outside— _listening_.

Hearing nothing, I slowly peeked around the corner.

Jay was sitting by Jude's bed, holding her hand. Both appeared to be asleep—Jay, with her chin to her chest, snoring softly—Jude, twitching and moaning, either from bad dreams or pain.

There were bandages wrapped around Jude's head, stained red from where the blood was seeping through. Her belly looked odd—distended and slightly out of shape; I worried about what might be happening internally and, like Jay, hated that there was so little that we could do about it.

Off to one side, meanwhile, Cammie was _'asleep'_ on her own cot. Her wrists were tied, one to each side of the bed and— _like Jay_ —she was snoring.

The final person in the room was Alice.

She was leaning back in a chair, her head against a wall. There was both a paperback and a gun in her lap, and she was sipping from a bottle of Snapple. On the floor, in front of Alice, there were two additional Snapple bottles... _both_ _empty_.

Moving as silently as possible, I retreated back into the dark hallway, found myself a nearby classroom, and sat down to wait. Forty-five minutes later, Alice hurried past my hiding spot—no doubt on her way to the foul area.

* * * *

Jay was already sawing away at Cammie's bonds with a scalpel when I raced into the Medical Center.

" _Hurry!"_ I urged. "If we've got five minutes, I'd be surprised!"

A moment later—Cammie was free.

She stumbled, coming off of the bed, and I grabbed at her. Before she could even recover, I was already dragging her out of the room and into the darkened hallway.

Glancing behind me, I saw Jay return to her spot next to Jude. She sat down in the chair that she'd vacated previously and—dropping her chin to her chest—resumed her _'snoring'_.

"We need to move fast!" I hissed at Cammie, tugging her around a corner.

The librarian said nothing—just nodded weakly.

* * * *

" _This is where we have to part."_

Cammie and I were standing in the culvert, hidden by the trees. On one side was Chumash Park, on the other was a metal gate.

"That's where you need to go," I told her, pointing. "That gate will take you into a whole different apartment complex, right across from the 101 Freeway. You'll need to move as fast as you can, Cammie. If you can cross the 101 and get into the hills, I doubt they'll be able to track you...especially at night. But if you hear the sound of horses— _hide!"_

" _What...about...you?"_ she panted—her voice filled with pain.

"Don't worry about me," I ordered, quickly shoving a key in her hand and closing her fingers around it. "And remember—my dad's house is on Point Dume in Malibu. You have the address on Dume Drive. As long as no one's been there before you, you'll find a whole pantry full of food and even more in the basement."

A trumpet started blasting... _four long notes_.

"Oh god! That means we're supposed to 'take cover and stay in our homes', Cammie!" I cried. "I have to go now...they'll be coming to check our house!"

" _Can...you...make...it?"_ She looked scared, concerned for my well-being. _"Come...with...me?"_

"Worry about yourself, Librarian," I grinned, trying desperately to appear confident. _"See you in Malibu!"_

Then I took off running—along the culvert, this time in the direction of Jude's house. At the last moment, I turned and looked back; I could barely make out Cammie, stumbling slowly up the hill, on the other side of the metal gate.

* * * *

The Protection Detail was already _banging_ on our front door, when I stumbled in through the back. As I ran toward the entry, I pulled off my jeans, shoes, and socks, throwing them to one side.

Bang, bang, bang!

"I'm coming!" I yelled. "Just give me a moment, will you?"

Quickly, I rubbed my hands through my hair, trying to achieve a 'just-been-sleeping-look'.

Bang, bang, bang!

I eased opened the door, just enough to see that it was Tray and two 12th graders. All three of them were holding hurricane lanterns, the candles inside flickering bright in the night.

The 12th graders were also holding guns.

"What's happened?" I asked, pretending concern. "Is it Jude...is she okay?"

"She's fine," said Tray. "Can I come in, Kaylee?"

I pretended to stifle a yawn. "I'd rather you didn't."

She ignored me, though, and pushed by, moving into the living room. The two 12th graders followed suit, one knocking me into the wall as she passed.

Tray immediately turned on the girl. "You do not touch her!" she growled.

The 12th grader moved some distance away from me, scowling.

"Anything you want to tell me, Kaylee?" Tray asked.

"Not that I can think of," I shrugged.

With an amused snort, Tray waved her hands around. "Look everywhere," she ordered.

The other girls immediately moved toward the bedrooms.

Tray, meanwhile, turned back to me. I tried to maintain eye contact, willing my gaze not to flick in the direction of the backyard.

I was scared that—if they expanded their search—they might find Pugly's safehouse.

* * * *

Tray's gaze traveled down my body; I was wearing just a t-shirt and panties. _"That's_ what you wear to bed?"

"Is that a problem?"

"Not at all." She tugged slightly at the bandage on her cheek.

" _Itchy?"_

"Like a mofo," she admitted, scratching.

I reached out and slapped her hand away. "Stop it!" I ordered. "You'll give yourself a scar."

Tray smiled at me, then—one of those 'supermodel-beautiful smiles'. I hated when she did that.

It always confused me that evil should be so pretty.

" _You going to tell me what this is all about?"_ My words came out squeaky and nervous—and I quickly coughed, hoping that she wouldn't notice.

Tray just continued her infernal smiling. "The Westlake girl escaped tonight."

"From the Medical Center?" I pretended shock. "Are Jay and Jude okay? Like did she hurt them or anything?"

"They're fine."

"Then...why are you here?"

Tray didn't say anything, just waited.

I decided that I should probably act offended. "You think that the Westlake girl is here?!" I huffed. "Why would she come here?"

If anything, Tray's beautiful smile grew even wider. _"Why indeed?"_

At that moment, the two 12th graders appeared from out of the shadows, having apparently finished their search. They shook their heads at Tray.

"Okay then," said Tray. "We've a few other houses to check. Let's head out."

As the two 12th graders exited through the front door, Tray remained with me. She was still smiling.

In fact— _she looked positively delighted_.

"You're so much fun, Kaylee," she told me. "I just love when we do this—this _thing_ we do."

I walked to the front door and held it open for her. "Have a good night, Tray."

"You know, there's a wonderful color to your face right now," she murmured. "Two big spots of pink, right on the apples of your cheeks. I love that about blonds. That sweet pink color they get, usually from when they've been outside... _running_."

Then— _with a chuckle_ —she walked past me and out into the dark.

* * * *

I waited an hour, peeking through the curtains, wondering when the Protection Detail would be coming back.

Finally, I gave up—believing I was probably safe.

Hopefully— _the same could be said for Cammie_.

* * * *

"Oh, Pugly...I'm so sorry," I cooed, when I finally opened up the door to Lily's secret fort. "You must be so hungry, baby."

Because I was carrying a candle and a bowl of dog food, I backed into the small shed, using my body to hold open the door. Perhaps—if I had been facing forward—I would have immediately noticed that there was already _light_ in the shed.

And that Pugly wasn't alone.

He was sleeping in Peyton's arms.

* * * *

I carefully inched into the room, my eyes scanning the dark corners for anyone hidden in the shadows.

"Don't worry...I'm alone," Peyton assured me. She was sitting in a chair, cradling Pugly. A small candle was burning on a card table next to her.

Beside the candle was... _a gun_.

"Why are you here, Peyton?"

She shrugged.

"Did Lily tell you about Pugly?" I moved slowly closer. My eyes were on that gun and I wondered if I would be able to reach it before Peyton.

"It was Amelie," Peyton said. "When they played together, here at your house—Lily told her about her dog."

"But you didn't tell the others?" I said, surprised.

She looked up at me, as if I should have known better. _"Of course not_...they would have eaten him." Pugly yawned in her arms; he was starting to wake up. "What a funny little dog he is."

"He farts a lot."

"I have noticed that tonight," she agreed.

We shared a smile.

"Did Cammie get away all right?" she asked.

My hackles immediately rose. "I don't know what you mean," I lied, wary. "But Tray was here a while ago. She did say that Cammie had escaped."

Peyton nodded to herself. "I'll take that as a _yes_...good."

Having smelled the dog food, Pugly began wiggling in Peyton's arms. She put him gently on the ground, so he could make his way to his bowl.

"Is Lily okay?" I asked.

"They haven't hurt her, if that's what you're asking. But you'll have to be careful," Peyton warned. "They've put a guard on her now, some bitch from Oak Park who sleeps on a cot beside Lily's bed at night. It's because they're scared that you'll come for her."

I was so confused.

"Why are you telling me this, Peyton?" Again, she shrugged. "Peyton... _please_."

Carefully brushing dog hair off of her dress, Peyton stood up. "I should get back," she murmured— _talking to herself_. "They'll be looking for me. I know...I'll go out through the back and make my way through the fence onto Thousand Oaks Boulevard. If I climb the stairs that go up the hill there, I can cut across and I'll be home. Yes...that will work."

Peyton headed toward the door. Just as she was about to open it, she seemed to change her mind. She turned back. "I told you my birthday was November 4th, right?"

I nodded.

"And that Orla and Tray's were in the third week of November?"

Again, I nodded.

"So I probably told you about how we celebrate our birthdays together. Except this year...this year we added in Halloween...mostly because we wanted to wear cute costumes. And we had this amazing party planned—like a massive blow-out. All the 12th graders were invited, and a lot of the 11th graders...plus anyone else we thought was cool."

"Sorry, I missed my invitation," I joked, earning a small grin from Peyton.

"I invited Jacob," she said.

Grrrrrrr...

"Don't worry. He didn't come. I think he went surfing down at Zuma instead."

"He surfs there a lot."

She nodded. "But Brandon Keretsky was there...Frank Gornman, Denny Passelmore...some of the other guys from the football team...mostly 12th grader guys. It was a pretty amazing party."

"Peyton...why are you telling me this?"

"Because it was the night before _'it'_ happened. And because—when we woke up in the morning—it was just Orla and Tray and me and eight other girls."

Down near our feet, Pugly had finished his food. Now he was nosing around for attention or crumbs, so Peyton reached down and scratched behind his ears. "No matter what you think about Orla," she continued, "that girl understands complicated things better than anyone I've ever met. It's like she sees patterns where none exists. The rest of us were all scared and wondering what we were going to do when _it_ happened. But Orla—she was already seeing how we could manipulate this."

"Manipulate what?"

"The first thing she had us do was find the other 12th graders. Then, we worked down to the 11th and 10th graders—but only the ones we thought we could control."

I was stunned. "So there might be other girls from our school still alive out there?"

Peyton shrugged. "Who knows? Probably. We certainly had way more than sixty-odd girls in the school to begin with—so there'd have to be, wouldn't there?"

"But why?" I asked. "What was Orla doing?"

"It was—kind of—like a big _experiment_. At first, Orla said that she just wanted to see if she could make it happen. Then, when girls started falling in line, doing exactly what she said they would, we all realized that Orla was right."

"How was she right?"

Peyton gave Pugly one last scratch behind his ears. "I'm here to give you a warning, Kaylee... _for all of you."_

"I'm listening."

"The whipping tonight—that was a _'Step'_ —and the next one will be worse. The one after that...well, that will be horrendous. Orla has five months before she _disappears_. Until then, _this_ —," she waved her hands all around, "— _all this_ is her board game. And you have to understand that Orla is willing to sacrifice any of the players."

" _Like Shelton?"_

Peyton looked surprised. "How did you know?"

"Were you part of it?"

" _Murder?"_ She looked shocked by the very idea. _"Never."_

"But you knew that they had Cammie locked in the basement? And you did nothing."

" _I did nothing?!"_ she scoffed. "I was the one who got Cammie whipped."

My mouth dropped open—horrified.

Peyton sighed. "You still don't get it. Tray and Orla were planning on killing that girl. At least—out there on the field—I thought that she might have a chance. And it looks like I was right."

" _You were trying to save Cammie?"_

"Of course...it was simple. All I had to do was give Tray the gift of beating and humiliating another human being _and_ Orla the chance to be a pompous ass in front of her adoring public." Peyton looked sickened by the thought. _"I mean, like how could those two resist?"_

"But...they're your _friends_."

Peyton went to the door and stepped outside. She looked back at me—a pale face in the darkness. "Those are not my friends," she hissed. _"They're monsters!"_

"Then why are you living with them?" I asked, confused. "Why don't you just leave?"

"Because," Peyton said, sadly, "if there's one thing I can do well— _it's live with monsters."_

"Peyton..."

" _Better me, better me,"_ she murmured—as if to herself.

And I finally understood.

"You're protecting Lily, aren't you," I said, quietly. _"Just like you protected Amelie."_

She looked at me, then—her eyes wide and fearful.

"And us," I added. _"You're protecting all of us."_

"Monsters," she whispered.

Then, she turned— _and was gone_.

* * * *

When I woke up in the morning, I found Jay in the backyard. She was leaning over a small pail of water, trying to wash Jude's blood out of her _"Doctor Who"_ t-shirt. There were tears running down her face and she kept sniffling as she dunked the shirt into the water again and again.

"The blood won't come out," she cried, looking up at me. _"It's ruined!"_

I came over and pried the shirt out of her hands. "It's not ruined. You're just not doing it right." I picked up the dish soap and spread it liberally over the stains. Then I pressed the shirt into the pail, completely covering it with water. "There," I said. "We'll just let it soak for a while. Then we'll work at the stains."

Jay sat down on the ground. "It's ruined," she insisted. "I just know it."

"Oh, stop it...it'll be fine." I sat down beside her. _"How's Jude doing?"_

" _I don't know!"_ she wailed. "I mean, she looks better and she's awake...but what do I know?! She could be bleeding internally and I wouldn't know and— _even if I did_ —how could I help her?!"

"Boy-oh-boy," I shook my head. "You are so lucky that Jude isn't here right now, because she would definitely whack you over the head for blubbering like a little baby."

Then— _I whacked her_.

Jay looked shocked.

"Just consider me your Jude-substitute," I grinned.

* * * *

Even though Jay was exhausted, we talked a little before she went inside to go to sleep. I told her about Peyton and how she knew about Pugly. We talked about Cammie and how she should be in Malibu by now _(hopefully)._

Jay explained how Alice had come back into the Medical Center, took one look at Cammie's empty bed, then she went racing out again, yelling for the Protection Detail.

We even talked about Tray and how psychotically dangerous she was.

But mostly— _Jay just listened while I told her of my plan to_ _save Lily_.

AUGUST

### THE TYRANNY OF TEENAGE GIRLS

A week into August, the Council closed down our Community.

The penalties for disobeying were steep.

For any girl caught leaving or coming into our borders without prior permission, punishment would range from 'age-appropriate' whippings to summary executions for the worst offenders.

* * * *

"I don't know what that means," whispered Shawnee. _"Summary execution."_

With the exception of Jude _(who was still recuperating in the Medical Center)_ , we were all sitting in the auditorium, listening to Orla outline the Council's new rules.

"Actually," said Cherry, "I'm a little unsure on the concept myself."

"It means that the Protection Detail can kill us immediately without even giving us a trial," I told them.

Jay looked at me, astonished; I frowned right back at her. "Don't look at me like that," I sniffed, irritated. "I listen in class— _sometimes_."

Up onstage, meanwhile, Orla continued listing off the new restrictions. Behind her, Tray and Peyton sat in their usual spots, both looking completely bored.

Lily was nowhere to be seen.

"I think we can all agree," spoke Orla, "that in a developing Community like ours, we need to all be of a 'like mind'. While dissension and differences in opinions flourish in democracies, to survive and grow in these strange times, we must be 'united'.

"I thought we already were," Jay grumbled—under her breath. _"United States, biatch!"_

Looking around the room, I noticed that the rest of the girls seemed to have fallen into one of two camps—those who were listening avidly, hanging onto Orla's every word—and those who were half asleep in their seats.

I wondered if maybe that was why Orla always chose to have these Assemblies after supper. If we were exhausted from the day's work and wanted only to retire to our beds, was it possible that she thought we'd be more likely to accept any new rules and regulations without complaint?

" _So_ —and it pains me to say this," continued Orla, "but the Council and I have decided to put off elections for at least the following year. At this point in time, we believe a change in government would cause too much disruption in this fine society our Community is in the midst of creating."

If I had expected anyone to object to Orla completely bypassing the democratic system, I was sadly mistaken.

Not a single person raised an objection.

Tyrants—one.

Common sense—nil.

### JOURNAL ENTRY: #32

We went to Sophia and Reena's church today.

_I didn't want to, and Jay_ _absolutely_ _didn't want to go but—we had no choice. It's another one of Orla's stupid rules that everyone now has to attend church! She said that it helps to 'foster a united Community'._

When Jay objected and said that she goes to mosque and that most of the other girls aren't even Catholic, Orla said that it didn't matter. She said that we can pray to whomever we want or to no one at all.

She doesn't care—just as long as we go to church.

If we don't, we lose our 'food rights'.

_And—considering how skinny we all are—nobody wants to miss a meal right now. Some of the girls are looking downright Kate Moss-skeletal. Even Shawnee is losing weight_ (of course, not stealing from the kitchen probably helps.)

Needless to say—Sophia and Reena are ecstatic.

Probably less so when we actually showed up. I hate to say it, but we weren't very respectful—way too much yakking and giggling.

There was Jay, Cherry, Shawnee, and I—seated in a back row on the far left side of the auditorium. We were going to sit closer but—when we first came in—a number of the girls got up and moved away from us.

_Looks like we're the Community_ _pariahs_ _at the moment._

* * * *

Orla, of course, was sitting in the front row.

Although Peyton was beside her, neither Tray nor Lily were there.

The members of the Protection Detail took up the seats to the sides and in back of Orla and Peyton.

' _Church' started with Sophia walking across the stage to the podium, where she set down her large bible with a self-satisfied flourish. Reena was already moving around in the background, lighting candles on a makeshift altar._

_Just as Sophia opened her mouth to begin reading from her bible, there was a_ _commotion_ _at the rear of the auditorium. We all looked over to see Jude limping in, her face bruised and a bloody bandage over one ear; she was using crutches and wincing with every step._

" _Oh-oh," said Jay, slumping down in her seat and shaking her head._

Up onstage, Sophia frowned, clearly agitated. Reena came forward quickly to whisper in her ear. It calmed Sophia somewhat, although her sour look still didn't change.

" _Welcome, Jude," Sophia said—her lips thin and white with irritation. "All God's children are welcome in His church."_

" _All God's children_ _," Jude chuckled. "Reminds me of a bad joke. Like a Muslim, an atheist, and a bitch walk into a church. Oh, wait." She looked around, specifically at Orla and the Protection Detail. "Not so much of an appropriate joke after all, I guess. My bad."_

A couple of the girls—including Cherry—burst into laughter.

Before an increasingly angry Sophia could respond, Reena quickly spoke loudly. "Take your seat, please," she urged.

_Limping slowly_ (and very noisily) _, Jude took her time, making her way over to sit between Cherry and myself. As she plunked herself down with a giant_ _whoosh_ _, Jude looked up at Sophia and grinned._

" _All right," Jude crowed, clapping her hands together. "Let's get our state-mandated fundamentalism going!" Then she reached over and ran a hand over Cherry's head. "Nice peach fuzz you've got going, lesbo."_

" _Touch me again, Rude," warned Cherry, "and I'll break your hand...or kiss you."_

" _Better get your 'licks' in soon then...before the Council outlaws our sweet girl-love."_

It must have been an ongoing joke between them, because Cherry and Jude both fist-bumped each other then—grinning.

Up onstage, a thoroughly exasperated Sophia, began to read from her bible in a loud voice. As she droned on, I leaned over and whispered into Jude's ear. "Nice entrance."

" _Anything to bug the crap out of them," she grinned._

" _So, how you feeling?" I asked, quietly. "Really?"_

_Jude's grin faltered. "_ _It hurts_ _."_

* * * *

Part of Orla's new 'feel-good, we're united' rules, is that we all have to eat lunch together in the cafeteria after Sunday church services. As stupid as that is, I'll admit that I was really excited about today's 'togetherness-lunch'.

Because we had salad!

The first fresh vegetables in months...and they came from our very own garden!

Wandy would have been so proud.

* * * *

Although Jude wanted to stay for lunch, Jay insisted on taking her back to the Medical Center. She was actually really angry that Jude came to the church service at all. She said that Jude wasn't anywhere near well enough to leave her bed.

_It hurt to watch Jude limping away. I'll be completely honest—I'm still really scared that there might be something_ _broken_ _inside of her._

After Jude left with Jay, Orla came up to our table. Peyton and Tray—of course—were right beside her. The rest of her Protection Detail stayed back at their table, though. Who knows—maybe Orla thought Cherry and I might say something that she didn't want the other girls to hear.

" _Just so you know," said Orla, "the Council had a vote on whether to arrest Jude."_

The hackles began to rise on the back of my neck.

" _I voted for it, but these two," Orla nodded toward Tray and Peyton, "voted to give Rude a second chance."_

" _But," Peyton added—wagging a well-manicured finger at us, "Jude only gets one chance. And that goes for all of you guys. Next time you misbehave—you're all out on your asses, bitches!"_

And she turned and flounced off, back to her table.

Orla, meanwhile, turned and frowned at Tray. "This still doesn't make any sense," she said, angrily. "Rude scarred your face."

Tray shrugged. "Makes sense to me." Then she turned her beautiful amber eyes toward me. "Hey, Kaylee."

### A DESPERATE PLAN

At the end of August, we held our final meeting one hot, sunny afternoon.

The next day— _if everything went as we hoped it would_ —Lily would be back in our family and we would finally be on our way to Malibu.

As we sat around the kitchen table, I looked from face-to-face, wondering if I was doing right by these girls. If my plan didn't work, would I be condemning them to a whipping— _or something even worse?_

I knew that, as their leader, I had to remain positive—but inside— _I was absolutely terrified_.

Ten months ago, I was just a normal high school girl who liked to play soccer and dreamed of a beautiful boy with light blue eyes. I was the girl who was friendly with everyone, but to whom nobody looked for leadership.

An utterly normal girl—boring even.

Just Kaylee.

* * * *

"Maybe we should postpone it," Jay suggested. "To give Jude a little more time to heal."

"I'll be fine," growled Jude. "Worry about yourself, Skipper."

"It's just that we probably won't be on roads or trails for most of the way. It'll be hard going."

Jude poked Jay in the shoulder. "Seriously, dude...stop being such a worrywart! The sooner I get out of this wacko-joint, the happier I'll be."

Jay turned toward me, no doubt hoping I'd back her up. _"She's still healing."_

I shrugged. "If Jude says she's okay to travel, I have to take her at her word." Then, pulling out my _list_ , I set it on the table in front of me. "All right, let's go over this one more time. You're first, Jay."

She sighed, irritated. "I've found the drugs that you wanted in the storeroom, but it's still going to be part guesswork."

"But you've done your research?"

"As much as I could with the books I have. But it's not like with Sophia. Then, it was just one person. This time, there's a lot of math involved to figure out the correct amount to use. If I'm off by much it might not work at all."

"I'm sure it'll be fine," I said. "In any case, it's a chance we have to take."

"Also," Jay continued, "there's a good possibility that all the 11th and 12th graders won't be there. I mean, Tray wasn't even at the last church service."

"I've got Tray covered," I said. _"Cherry?"_

"We don't have a lot," said Cherry, "but Shawnee and I have managed to hide three bottles of water and two power bars for each of us in Jay's townhouse—up in that little secret room of hers."

"That will have to do," I nodded. "If we need anything else, we'll just have to figure it out on the way... _Jude?"_

"Cherry's shotgun and our guns are already at the townhouse. Plus those two sticks you guys call cop-socks."

"Excellent. Now, I'll take Pugly over later on this evening and stick him in the attic room. That way, we won't even have to think about him tomorrow. With any luck, we should be able to make Malibu in about a half a day. If we get separated, however, you've all memorized my dad's address. And don't forget that Cammie will hopefully already be there. Let her know that you're at the door before you go bursting in. There are guns in my dad's house and, if she's found them, I don't want there to be any accidents."

I took the hand of our youngest member. "Shawnee, are you absolutely certain about Lily?"

She nodded. "They lock her in Peyton's bedroom when they go to church—and the Oak Park girl who guards her at night is going to mass, too. I heard them talking. And the key to Peyton's bedroom is on top of the door, on that little ledge there."

I patted her hand. "Good girl."

"We're really going to do this, aren't we?" Jay looked as scared as I felt.

"Time to get Lily," I nodded. "And time to get out of this insanity."

" _Rock and roll,"_ added Jude.

Cherry nodded. _"Let's blow this popsicle stand."_

I put my hand in the center of the table. _"One for all_ —" I began.

Everyone put their hands over mine— _except for Jude_. Instead, she lifted an amused eyebrow, scoffing, "This is really how you're playing it, Barbie?"

"Just go with it," I sighed.

With a snort, Jude relented and added her hand to our pile.

"— _and all for one."_

* * * *

There was still one very important thing to accomplish before it got dark.

And unfortunately— _I was the only one who could do it_.

Which was the reason that I was standing half a block down from the Foxes Compound—watching _her_ saunter toward me.

She looked absolutely stunning in a green halter top and denim Daisy Dukes. Even the scar on her cheek couldn't take away from her beauty. If anything, it enhanced it— _the one flaw in an otherwise perfect face_.

Tray stopped a few feet away from me. _"Hello, Kaylee."_

Now that she was directly in front of me, I felt all my confidence drain away.

I was so small and ugly compared to Tray. What I was contemplating had to be pure madness—a ridiculous and stupid schoolgirl folly.

" _Um...well,"_ I stammered. _"Um_...like I was coming to see you, but the Detail wouldn't let me any farther than this."

Tray looked behind her at the two 11th graders leaning against a wall, watching us with amusement. "They can be a tad over-protective at times. You're welcome to come up to the house if you'd like."

"I...no, thank you."

" _To see Lily?"_ she offered.

Reluctantly, I shook my head.

"Oh well, now this is getting interesting, I think," she grinned. _"What_ _does_ _my sweet Kaylee want if not to see Lily?"_

Trying my best to be brave, I looked Tray directly in those _fracking_ amber eyes. _"I want Lily back."_

It was a moment before she spoke, a soft, gentle purr. "Very interesting indeed."

There was silence between us then.

I was trying to get up my nerve to continue, while Tray was studying me like I was some kind of fascinating insect.

Finally—I took a deep breath and spoke. Embarrassingly, my voice came out sounding small and squeaky. "Does your offer still stand?"

She immediately broke into a beautiful smile. _"Absolutely."_

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

Tray reached over and touched my cheek. She was very gentle. I could hardly feel her fingers as they drew down my face. Still, they sent shivers down my spine— _and not the good kind._

"You sure you don't want to come up to the house?" she asked me.

" _No."_ I shook my head. "I—I don't want anyone to know, okay? Is that a problem...will that ruin everything?"

"Not at all," Tray smiled. "A secret liaison is always— _trés exotique."_ Her hand had now drifted to my hair and she laced her fingers through it. "I just love your hair," she sighed. _"So pretty."_

" _Um_...so like...I was wondering if maybe tomorrow...while everyone was at church..." I suggested, trying hard not to stutter.

"Why, I think that's a perfect idea," Tray murmured, pulling her hand from my hair and dropping it to my shoulder softly— _the softest of caresses_.

"But...well, I'm supposed to be at Sophia and Reena's mass," I continued, "and I'll be in trouble if I don't attend."

" _I'll take care of it."_

"Could we _maybe_ meet at my house?" I suggested.

Tray removed her hand from my shoulder, then. She stared at me, her eyes narrowing— _considering_. I forced myself to look directly back—trying desperately to appear honest.

" _Tomorrow_...at your house," Tray finally said. "I guess we can take our own _special mass_ together there."

"And then you'll give Lily back?"

She shook her head. "Have you forgotten the deal, sweet Kaylee? You'll get Lily back after the _second time_. And you'll keep her for only as long as our liaisons continue. Will that be a problem?"

I hesitated—pretending to consider this. Finally, I shook my head. _"No...no problem."_

She leaned in close and I forced myself to hold steady, dreading what was to follow.

But Tray didn't kiss me on the lips like I was expecting she would.

_Instead_ —she gently kissed me on my cheek. _"Until tomorrow, sweet Kaylee."_

### JOURNAL ENTRY: Jay #3

(Jay here—This is being written a long time after this happened to us so, hopefully, I'll remember it right. Maybe I'll have Jude look it over, since she was with me.)

(Jude here—Skipper did good.)

_The morning of 'Lily's rescue', Jude met me at the Medical Center. She pretended that she was there to see me about some pain she was having. It was Sunday and—after_ _treating_ _her—we would go across to the Performing Arts Center and be bored at Reena and Sophia's church service together._

But first—we packed Jude's crutches with sedatives.

Because they were hollow, when we pulled the top part of the crutches away from the bottom, there was just enough space inside to hide the drugs that I had managed to 'appropriate' from the medical supplies.

_I was still worried that we didn't have enough_ (or maybe too much!) _but—with the exception of the ones I had given Kaylee—these were all I had left._

So, it wasn't like we really had much of a choice.

* * * *

As Jude and I sat with Cherry and Shawnee in the back of the Performing Arts Center, listening to Sophia lead mass, Jude quietly pulled her crutches apart and passed the pills to Cherry.

For once we were lucky to be pariahs. Because we were seated by ourselves, no girl was close enough to overhear as we talked quietly together.

" _How's Kaylee?" asked Cherry._

" _She's being brave, but I can tell she's really scared," I answered, honestly._

" _She'll be fine," said Jude. "Barbie's wearing her big girl panties today."_

Trying to appear casual, I glanced toward the front of the auditorium. Tray was nowhere to be seen, but Orla and Peyton were in their usual seats, with 11th and 12th graders seated all around them.

" _I count eight Protection Detail," I whispered. "There's two missing...and Alice."_

Cherry motioned with her head. "Alice is right over there. She's sitting with Sue and Rachel today."

Moving my head slightly to check, I looked to my right to see Alice talking to the twins. All three were chuckling quietly over something that had just been said.

" _So, that means there are at least_ _two_ _left out there patrolling...or maybe with Lily."_

Shawnee shook her head. "They just lock her in," she squeaked—her voice breaking with nerves.

I turned to look at the younger girl. She was biting at the skin along the edge of her thumb and her eyes were wide.

Up onstage, meanwhile, Sophia finished a prayer—closing her bible with an over-loud thump. She lifted her arms and instructed us to all rise and sing some hymn I didn't know and couldn't have cared less about.

Instead of singing, I leaned over and whispered in Cherry's ear. "If there are eight girls eating lunch—as well as Orla and Peyton—you're going to have to use all of the pills. Any less and it probably won't work."

Cherry nodded.

" _And you're sure it's going to be soup?" I asked, worried._

" _That's what Sophia said—something with lentils and carrots," Cherry whispered back._

_Which_ _was_ _important—we had been waiting impatiently for two weeks now for Sophia to make soup after church services._

Because—it was an integral part of Kaylee's 'plan'.

_As the church-song ended, Sophia began her usual sermon—this time something about hell and damnation, with a lot of quotes from the bible, especially the Book of Revelation. About two minutes in_ (Sophia usually spoke for about ten to fifteen minutes) _, I tapped Cherry on the leg._

_Immediately, she began to_ _cough_ _._

I tapped her leg again and she stopped coughing.

Thirty seconds later, I tapped Cherry's leg once more.

_Her coughing was_ _loud_ _this time. It went on and on...a big, hacking nasty cough._

Girls started turning around to look; a few began to titter in amusement. Sophia finally became irritated and stopped speaking.

But—it was when Orla half-rose in her seat to search out the 'cougher' that I rose up, pulling Cherry with me.

" _It's okay!" I said loudly. "I'm on it. I'll get her a glass of water or something."_

Then, with Cherry still coughing, we both walked quickly out of the auditorium. As we went, I kept whacking Cherry on the back, pretending to help her.

Shawnee started to rise from her seat to follow us, but Jude held her back. "Sit!" I heard her tell Shawnee, quietly. "They've got it covered."

* * * *

Cherry and I figured that we had maybe five minutes before someone would come looking for us. And that didn't even include accidentally running into the girls from the Protection Detail who were somewhere out there patrolling.

_So—we_ _ran_ _—as if our lives depended on it._

Because they probably did.

* * * *

_Except for two pots of soup bubbling away—kept warm by those little lighted cans they put under trays at a buffet table—the kitchen was_ _very_ _quiet. Cherry and I had been worried that Sophia might have left somebody behind to watch over the soup but—I guess, to Sophia—the call of the Lord was more important._

" _Oh, crap! They look exactly the same," I cried, lifting up the lids and looking into the soup pots. "What if we choose the wrong one?"_

Cherry picked up a ladle, dipped it in one pot, then the other—tasting both. "It's this one," she said, motioning to the pot on the left.

" _How can you be so sure?"_

" _More vegetables in this one. Sophia's always been a brown-noser. She'll give the best stuff to the Foxes and the Detail...no doubt."_

Taking out the bag of pills, Cherry dumped them into the soup pot on the left. They floated on top of the broth, causing Cherry to take the ladle and stir them vigorously to make them melt.

" _Hurry!" I urged._

" _Do you think they'll be able to taste them?" she asked._

" _I don't know, but it won't make any difference if they catch us here. Come on! We have to go!"_

After one last stir, Cherry placed the ladle back where she found it. Then she replaced the lid on the pot and turned to me.

" _Let's rocket!" she said, grinning._

* * * *

Sophia was right outside the kitchen door.

We practically ran into her as we came around the corner. Seeing her, Cherry immediately gave a couple of weak coughs.

" _You okay?" Sophia asked._

(Was it just me or did Sophia seem suspicious? Was she just guessing that something was going on or had she been outside the door long enough to see what we had done?)

Cherry stifled another fake-cough with her hand. "Dude, it's like there's some scratchy-bug in my throat or something! It's driving me nuts."

" _Come," commanded Sophia, walking into the kitchen._

Cherry looked at me—questioning. I shrugged, turning to follow Sophia inside. She went over to a cabinet and pulled out a plastic container of honey. Then, she put some on a teaspoon and gave it to Cherry.

" _Here," she said. "Mommy uses this, when my throat hurts."_

Cherry swallowed the honey, then sucked on the spoon for a while. Finally, she took the spoon out of her mouth and aimed it at the soup pots. "I looked inside. Soup smells real good."

Sophia beamed. "I made bread, too, for lunch. Rose it in the sun, just like my mommy taught."

" _I'm sure it will be delicious," I said, truthfully. "Um...Sophia, how come you're not in the church?"_

She shrugged. "Reena can do it. I was worried about Cherry. Plus, I needed to check on the soup."

Cherry handed back the spoon. "The honey worked real good," she said, giving Sophia a quick hug. "Thanks, Soph."

" _You should go back now," said Sophia. "The singing will start soon. That is always the most fun part."_

" _Are you coming?" I asked, wanting to get her out of the kitchen. Part of me was still worried that the pills hadn't completely melted, yet._

" _Soon," she said. "I just gotta' check. Make sure everything is like it is supposed to be."_

What choice did we have?

Cherry and I left.

* * * *

On the way back to the auditorium, I grew increasingly worried. "I think she knows...I think Sophia saw something."

" _You're just being paranoid," Cherry tried to assure me. "I'm sure that everything's fine."_

_But—she was_ _wrong_ _._

* * * *

We sat there at lunch, the four of us—Cherry, Shawnee, Jude, and me—sipping our soup nervously, waiting. A few tables away, meanwhile, Orla, Peyton, and the 11th and 12th graders were happily chattering away over their own bowls of soup.

" _I think I've lost my appetite," I finally said, pushing away my bowl. My nerves were simply making my belly do too many flip-flops for me to actually eat._

Shawnee immediately reached over and pulled my bowl of soup toward her. "I'll finish it for you."

" _You're so helpful," Cherry teased._

" _Here, kid." Jude pushed her slice of bread over toward Shawnee. I guess I wasn't the only one having nerves._

" _How long do we wait?" Shawnee whispered._

" _Eat quickly," I suggested._

Within moments, Shawnee clinked her spoon against her empty bowl. "Done!" she grinned.

Trying to appear casual, I glanced over at the Foxes' table.

Two of the 12th graders were yawning, while Peyton had actually put her head on Orla's shoulder. Her lashes were fluttering, as if Peyton was struggling to stay awake.

" _Now!" I hissed at the other girls. "We move_ _now_ _!"_

* * * *

As soon as we were out of the cafeteria, we all started running.

I had been worried that Shawnee wouldn't be able to keep up. Surprisingly, she not only kept up, she was quicker than the rest of us.

" _Come on!" she yelled over her shoulder, urging us to run faster._

Meanwhile, Jude was huffing and puffing. She was still recuperating and the run was obviously hurting her. She looked pale, winded—close to passing out.

" _You okay?" I asked, as we turned the corner at the end of the football field and headed up Thousand Oaks Boulevard._

" _Let's just get this done!" she growled._

There was a set of stairs off Thousand Oaks Boulevard that heads up into the hill behind the Compound. We planned on using them to get us as close as possible to the Foxes' house, hopefully without anyone noticing us.

Unfortunately, it would involve us jumping a few fences and climbing over some rocks.

As we started up the stairs, I turned to look at Jude.

She frowned. "You're seriously annoying me, Skipper...I'm fine!"

But—she sure didn't look it.

* * * *

The house that the Foxes lived in was beautiful. It was three stories high and covered in white wood paneling. The doors were a forest green and there was gold detailing along the side walls and the edges of the roof.

_It_ _appeared_ _to be deserted._

However, there were at least two girls from the Protection Detail still unaccounted for; they could be anywhere.

" _Jude, you stay here," I said, as we hid just outside the fence._

She shook her head. "I'm going in. I'm fine."

" _This isn't about being fine," I told her. "It's about leaving our heavy muscle outside to cover our backs. Something happens, we need you to be able to rescue us."_

Her eyes narrowed—not quite believing me—but she nodded anyway.

" _And Shawnee—you stay with Jude. Help her watch for anyone coming."_

The young girl immediately moved over to stand beside Jude.

I turned toward Cherry. "You're coming with me...ready?"

" _You're so sassy today, Jay," Cherry grinned. "I like sassy girls."_

* * * *

It was remarkably easy to free Lily—I guess that should have been our first clue.

The key was exactly where Shawnee had said it would be. Cherry took it from the ledge over top of the door and placed it in the lock. It turned easily and she pushed the door open slowly.

Lily was sitting on her bed, in a little alcove at one end of Peyton's bedroom, reading a book. She looked up slowly and—when she realized it was us—burst into a huge smile.

She practically flew into my arms. "Jay!"

" _Sorry it took us so long," I told her._

" _It's okay. I knew that you'd come...where's Jude?"_

" _Right here, kiddo," said a voice behind me._

I turned to see Jude—standing there, grinning.

Shawnee was right behind her; at least she had the decency to look guilty for having abandoned her post.

" _You were supposed to wait outside," I told Jude, frowning._

" _Whatever." Jude swung Lily up in her arms, holding her tightly. "You okay, Sailor Moon?"_

" _Now I am." Lily hugged Jude, burying her head happily in Jude's neck. "My Jude," she purred._

I could swear that there were tears in Jude's eyes.

* * * *

After Lily quickly grabbed a few of her things, we locked up Peyton's bedroom, returned the key to the ledge above the door, and ran out of the house. We were hoping that—when the Foxes returned—they would see the locked door and assume that Lily was behind it.

If we were lucky, it might give us a few extra minutes.

Which meant being that much farther away when the trumpet sounded.

* * * *

Unable to help myself, I fretted about Kaylee as we ran back down the hillside stairs.

In the distance, I could just barely see the roof of Jude's house. If everything was going according to her plan, Kaylee would be there right now with Tray, completing her part of Lily's rescue—and our escape.

The rest of us, meanwhile, were heading to the secret room in my family's townhouse. When Kaylee was done with Tray, she would be meeting us there. Then, we would grab the supplies we'd already placed in the attic—and make for the hills!

And—if we were really lucky—the Foxes and the Protection Detail would be so busy sleeping off the sedatives that Cherry and I had placed in Sophia's soup, that they wouldn't even know that we were gone until they woke up—hours later.

At least—that was the plan.

### MY PART OF THE PLAN

I paced throughout Jude's house—absolutely sick with worry about Jay and the others.

Had they managed to free Lily, yet?

Did they get caught by the Protection Detail?

Were they even now learning the true definition of 'summary execution'?

But I had to put my worries aside—I had to get myself together.

Because at any moment, Tray would show up at the front door and I needed to be ready for her.

* * * *

It was strange to put on make-up again.

After so many months _without_ , I had difficulty getting everything right. My fingers had lost their sense-memory somehow, and they shook when I put on eyeliner. Twice I had to wipe it off and start all over again.

Putting on mascara was even worse.

I kept missing my eyelashes, instead poking the corners of my eyes; my frustration continued to mount with each little blob of misplaced black goo.

Finally— _I burst into tears_.

_And then_...I cried even harder, because my tears had caused my mascara to run.

_This was_ _so_ _not going the way I had planned._

* * * *

There was enough natural light in the house that I could just see myself in the full-length mirror in the bathroom. I was wearing dark navy shorts with six gold buttons in the front— _two rows across, three buttons down_.

My top, meanwhile, was a light pink tank with a scooped neck; all along the scoop were tiny blue embroidered anchors.

I had always liked this sailor-suit ensemble.

Hopefully, Tray would, too.

* * * *

Earlier, I had dumped the sedatives that Jay had given me into a pitcher of tea that was now sun-brewing on the windowsill.

The plan was simple.

Because I knew Tray drank tea, I would suggest a glass before—well, _before_.

Jay had told me that the pills worked quickly. So, as soon as Tray fell asleep, I would hightail it out of there and race over to the Sitipala's townhouse. From there, our little group would head off to Malibu before anybody was the wiser.

Except that Tray never showed.

* * * *

After thirty minutes, I finally gave up waiting.

Because I hadn't heard the trumpet _sound_ , I was somewhat encouraged that everything was probably still going as planned with the other girls. And— _if Tray hadn't shown up_ —maybe it was simply because she had enjoyed some soup with the Foxes in the cafeteria.

Yes—that made sense to me.

That absolutely made sense.

As I ran along the culvert toward Jay's townhouse, I thought it over.

Tray had probably been at Sophia's church service for at least a little bit. She might even have decided to have lunch in the cafeteria afterward. Then, if she had become drugged off of the soup, no doubt Tray was already sleeping off the effects of the sedatives somewhere.

Which would be why she hadn't shown up—or why I hadn't heard any trumpet.

That simply had to be it.

Tray, the Foxes, and the girls from the Protection Detail were sleeping it off.

So, now—all I had to do was make my way to the Sitipala secret room, grab my backpack and my friends— _and escape_.

* * * *

The first floor of the Sitipala townhouse was deathly quiet.

I slowly crept up the stairs, my nerves increasing with each creak and groan of the risers. If the other members of our little group were already here, they were certainly keeping well-hidden.

_Creak, groan_ —I seemed to be hitting every loose board on the staircase.

As I reached the second floor landing, I could see down the hallway to the open doorway to Jay's bedroom. For a moment, I debated going inside, but my nerves were beginning to _jangle_. More than anything, I just wanted to get into the attic room and get everybody out and away from Agoura Hills.

_Slowly_ —I moved into the master bedroom.

And immediately relaxed.

Everyone's backpacks were on the bed. And— _now that I was looking_ —I could see Lily's little white Gucci purse was also there.

Which meant that the plan worked; they actually did it!

They got Lily!

I ran toward the closet; its doors were open and the stairs to the secret room already pulled down.

" _Jay...Jude!"_ I called out. _"It's me!"_

Two long, slender legs immediately began to descend the secret room's stairs.

Abject terror shot through my veins at the sight!

There was a _noise_ behind me—coming from the hallway. When I spun around to look, Alice and a 12th grader were coming out of the second bedroom. They were both armed, holding guns in their hands, with whips at their belts.

Slowly, I turned back to the attic stairs— _just as Tray stepped off the last rung_.

She smiled. _"Hi, Kaylee!"_

I looked down at the backpacks on the bed, confused.

"Oh, don't worry about your friends," Tray explained. "We've found them alternate accommodations."

It was utterly devastating.

We had worked so hard at this escape—planned for almost every detail, every eventuality.

Except for the traitor, the one informer we had unknowingly kept in our midst...

... _me_ _..._

"How?" I asked. "How did you know?"

She shrugged. "That's what's made this so much fun, sweet Kaylee. That you actually thought you were playing _your game_ —while all this time, you've been playing mine."

"But this isn't a game!" I said, angrily. "This is our lives!"

"I agree," she nodded. "Which, trust me, has made this all so much more entertaining." She held up a piece of paper, chuckling. "By the way...thanks ever so much for the _cheat sheet_."

My stomach dropped.

Tray was holding the note that I had left for Jacob Riker—the one that I had stuck to his bulletin board once upon a time, so very long ago.

_Telling him_ _exactly_ _where Jay and I could be found._

SEPTEMBER

### PRISONERS

I could see just enough through a tiny slit of the pillowslip they had jammed on my head, that I knew I was being taken to the Compound. But instead of going to the Foxes' house, the two 12th graders from the Protection Detail took me to the house across the street— _the one where Shelton had been killed_.

When they opened up the basement door and threw me down the stairs, I wondered if I was going to be their next victim.

Because—with my hands tied—I couldn't even protect my head.

It bounced off the concrete floor and everything went immediately _dark!_

* * * *

When I finally woke up again, night had apparently fallen.

The only light in the basement appeared to be coming from high up in the bricked wall. Moonlight shone through a sliver of space between the curtains of one of the tiny windows there.

It was just enough light for me to see.

Good news—bad news.

The good news was that the pillowslip over my head had been removed.

The bad news was that my hands were handcuffed around a pipe that crossed the ceiling.

* * * *

I wondered how long I had been hanging there— _because my shoulder muscles were screaming in pain_. Pulling at the pipe, I used my bodyweight to bear down, hoping that I could loosen the pipe's wall fitting that way. Maybe if fate was with me, I might even break it completely.

"Good luck," came a weak voice from a darkened corner.

" _Cherry!"_ I cried out—peering into the inky black shadows. "Is that you?"

"Jude's here, too," she said, softly. "But she's not doing so well. They beat her again."

My heart sank. "Is she going to be okay?"

"I don't know," said Cherry's voice. "I've got my hand on her chest. I can feel her breathing, so at least she's still alive...but it's really weak."

"What about Shawnee and Jay and Lily?" I asked.

"The Detail took Jay and Lily somewhere else. I don't know where, but they were okay when I saw them last."

" _And Shawnee?"_

Her silence terrified me.

"Cherry?"

In the darkness, Cherry began to sob. _"Shawnee escaped."_

* * * *

Throughout the night, Cherry and I spoke quietly. She told me about how they had been captured. Their story, sadly, wasn't so dissimilar to mine.

Tray and the 11th and 12th graders had been waiting. The moment Jay had pulled down the attic door, girls with guns had rushed at them from the second bedroom.

And Tray—just like with me—had descended from the attic; a black widow heading slowly toward her prey.

Jude had tried to pull out her gun, but the Protection Detail had been too quick. Nobody else even had a chance to try for their weapons before their hands had been handcuffed behind their backs.

They were all caught.

Except for Shawnee.

In a stroke of luck, she had been dawdling downstairs, playing with Pugly.

(He had been in the attic when the Protection Detail had arrived, so I can only assume that he had run out when Tray initially pulled down the door. I guess she had figured that they could catch him later. A big mistake on her part.)

When Tray and the Protection Detail had come out of hiding, Cherry hadn't been able to reach for her shotgun. But she did manage one thing.

Cherry yelled to her younger sister to... _"_ _GET OUT, SHAWNEE_ _!!"_

The next thing Cherry had heard was the sound of _running feet_ , then a door had opened and _slammed shut_.

Alice had immediately been sent after Shawnee but—when she came back ten minutes later— _she was alone_.

Our second youngest member— _the one who had held our lowest expectations_ —had been the only one to escape.

And she had taken Pugly with her!

* * * *

It became easier to see as dawn approached. Light filtered in through the curtains, throwing dappled shadows on the basement floor.

I could finally see Cherry over in her corner. She was handcuffed to her own pipe, this one running vertically up the side wall of the basement. An unconscious Jude was lying on the floor beside her, handcuffed to a bolt rising out of a massive cement block. There was blood on Jude's head and dark bruises all along her arms and legs.

Those were the wounds that I could see— _I fretted over the ones I couldn't._

"How's she doing?" I asked Cherry.

"Her breathing is weird—all raspy-like. I'll bet that means they broke her ribs. A couple of the 11th graders kicked her in the chest."

"Did Lily see?"

Cherry shook her head. "They'd already taken her away with Jay."

"Did they beat you?" I asked.

"No," she said. "They just did this."

She turned around so I could see the back of her head. The curlicue of hair was missing.

"They cut your ponytail off?!" I was astonished.

Cherry shrugged. "I guess they thought it would bug me. What a bunch of dumbasses! Don't they realize that I mess with my hair precisely because it's so _unimportant?"_ She looked back at me. "How's your head doing? You took quite a knock to it when they threw you down the stairs."

"Hurts like a mofo," I admitted. "And my arms hurt, too."

The weight from hanging by my arms when I was unconscious had caused some serious strain on my shoulders and under my armpits. It was easier to control the pain when I stood straight up but—with my arms handcuffed over my head—even that was now starting to become extremely difficult.

"You can't see it from where you're standing," said Cherry, "but if you slide along the pipe in that direction, it hits a wall and doglegs down. You should be able to sit on the ground back there."

I followed Cherry's instructions. Sure, enough— _moving away from her_ —I came to a wall. The pipe I was attached to did a right angle, straight down—where again it right-angled, this time connecting to a radiator.

With a sigh of relief, I sat down, my back against the wall.

It felt amazing; the sharp pains in my shoulders and arms lifted almost immediately, replaced with only a dull ache. Unfortunately, the new position also made it more difficult for me to see Cherry and Jude.

We could still talk, however.

* * * *

"Do you think this is where they kept Cammie?" asked Cherry.

"I'm sure of it."

"They had her here for so long. I wonder how long they'll keep us."

"I wonder what they're going to do with us. I didn't get much of a chance to talk to Cammie before she left for Malibu, but she said that the Foxes did horrible things to her while she was in this basement."

Cherry sighed deeply from the other side of the room. _"Mean girls can be such bitches."_

* * * *

Around mid-morning, while Cherry was asleep and Jude still unconscious at her side, I lifted myself off of the floor and wandered the length of my pipe—searching for any weakness, testing my prison.

I could find none.

From what I could see, the basement appeared to run the length of the house. There were boxes piled up all through the dark space—many moldy and rotting with mildew. I wondered if there might be something in one of them I could use to escape.

Moving back and forth along my pipe, I reached out with my legs, trying desperately to reach even one of the boxes. But— _no matter how hard I tried_ —the boxes were simply too far away.

Looking down in disgust, I finally saw the _drag marks_ in the dust on the floor.

It was useless.

Somebody had already made sure to move the boxes just out of our reach.

* * * *

We were alone in that basement for two and a half days before anyone showed up.

Without food.

Without water.

Without bathroom facilities.

Ironically, of those three—it was not having bathroom facilities which was the most distressing to Cherry and me; it was humbling—and humiliating to have to 'go' in front of another human being.

Plus, it smelled...bad.

Cherry and I each chose a spot on our side of the basement for our 'foul area'. And— _although it was difficult_ —we could maneuver our handcuffs just enough to pull down our clothes to relieve ourselves.

What we lacked, however— _was privacy_.

To counter this, Cherry and I created a system. When one of us had to go, the other one agreed to turn around, close her eyes, and sing a song— _loudly_.

Poor Cherry had it the worst, of course, because she also had an unconscious Jude by her side. Every time Jude _messed herself_ —Cherry had to use one of her own socks to clean her up.

I so _felt_ for Cherry.

But I really felt for Jude.

She was going to be absolutely humiliated when she woke up.

* * * *

And I was certain that Jude would wake up.

When she did— _it would be entirely because of Cherry_.

Between dusk until just after dawn, there was a small line of _damp_ on their side of the basement—dew dripping down a slight crack in the cement wall.

Cherry would stand on her tiptoes, straining against her handcuffs, and collect those drips on her tongue, one-by-one. Then she would lean down to Jude, transferring the precious moisture into the unconscious girl's mouth.

To this day, I am thoroughly convinced that it was Cherry's act of intense compassion that kept Jude alive those first days in the basement.

If Jude had died, it would have been because of the Foxes.

That she lived— _all Cherry_.

* * * *

By the third morning, Jude's breathing had finally started to improve.

Instead of appearing _dead_ , her eyelids began to flutter and she made small groans.

That evening— _Jude awoke_.

* * * *

"Well, this sucks," said Jude, looking around the basement.

"Doesn't it ever?" agreed Cherry.

Jude and she were both sitting against the wall, while I stood in front of them, my hands hanging from the pipe.

Sniffing the air, a frowning Jude turned toward Cherry. "Dude...I hate to say this, but you kind of stink."

"Yeah, well," grinned Cherry, "you smell like ass."

They both burst out laughing; however, Jude's hilarity was cut short by a shot of pain that left her gasping.

She groaned, clutching at her side. _"Son of a biscuit!"_

* * * *

From the surprised looks on the Foxes' faces when they finally showed up in the basement later on that night, I realized that they had been expecting to find only two of us alive. That Jude was not only still breathing—but filled with 'piss and vinegar'—brought frowns to each of their faces.

Even Peyton's.

"You were warned," Peyton said, looking absolutely disgusted as she stood in front of Jude, her hands on her hips. "I told you that there would be no second chances."

Jude was sitting on the floor, one arm wrapped protectively around her aching belly. Still, she managed to grin up at Peyton. "You know, from down here I can see right up your skirt to your _hoohaw_. Doing a Lindsey Lohen, I see."

With a horrified gasp, Peyton quickly stumbled backward.

Meanwhile, Orla approached Cherry—close enough to look her in the eye, far enough to be out of range of a lashing foot or hand. "Hate to tell you this, weirdo, but your little sister didn't make it. Like could she have found a more obvious place to hide?!"

Cherry's face paled in horror.

"Fat bitch ran all the way home," Orla continued, laughing, "just like the little piggy she was. And I'm emphasizing the word 'was', by the way."

Tears were falling down Cherry's cheeks now; her face alternated between grief and rage.

I looked over at Tray to find her grinning.

_Peyton, however, was_ _not_ _._

Instead, she was scowling— _standing just behind Tray_ —her body hidden from everybody's view except mine.

A slight movement made me look down at her hands. She was moving her index finger on her right hand slowly, making the shape of the letter _'S'_. Then, looking straight at me, Peyton's other hand made a 'thumbs-up'.

"What about Lily?" Jude asked. "And Jay."

"Needless to say," Orla sneered, "our Jay has a big incentive now to be the best-behaved Doctor ever."

" _And Lily?"_ I asked.

Tray came and stood in front of me. Her eyes traveled from my face to my body, then back up to my face again. "Lily is mine now," she grinned.

And again— _unseen by anyone else_ —Peyton made a 'thumbs-up' with her right hand. Then she waved her hand in front of her nose.

"They stink," said Peyton, looking disgusted. _"I'm outtie."_ And she turned and practically skipped back up the stairs.

Tray, meanwhile, remained where she was—studying me. "Princess is right. You all smell nasty."

"Sorry," I said. "No hot water in the shower."

Tray's hand shot out, slapping me across the face. It stung, but I didn't want to give her the satisfaction of thinking that she had in any way hurt me.

"Thanks," I yawned. "I was feeling a little sleepy. That woke me up."

I steeled myself for another slap.

Tray surprised me, instead, by smiling and wiping her hands on her skirt, smoothing out the wrinkles. "Game's in overtime, Kaylee. Which means that this is going to get fun." Then she turned and walked over to Orla. "I feel the need for a little entertainment. Got a problem with me taking Lily for a ride?"

Orla smiled. _"Go for it!"_

Across from me, Jude struggled against her handcuffs, trying desperately to reach Tray. "You touch one hair on her body, you bitch," she yelled, "and I will kill you! I swear to god, I will kill you!"

With a small wave to me, Tray turned and walked up the stairs and out of the basement. Jude, meanwhile, leaned against the wall, gasping—one hand pressing in on her right side. Her face had turned deadly-white and she looked horrible.

I glared at Orla. "Jude needs to see a doctor. She needs to see Jay!"

Ignoring me, Orla went to a box in the corner and pulled out two pails. She threw one to Cherry and Jude. The other landed a few feet away from me.

"Stop being such barbarians," she commanded. "Clean up your mess."

At that moment, I felt such intense rage; if I could have, I think I would have strangled Orla.

"They'll find out!" I snarled at her. "The other girls...they'll find out what you're doing here and they'll stop you!"

She just laughed. "The other girls think you're a bunch of thieves. They think you stole food and ran away."

"Is that what you told them? That we were thieves?!"

"Among other things."

Orla walked toward the stairs. On the bottom rung, she leaned down to look back at us. "You dumb bitches just never got it, did you? This is my world. I made it and I intend to play however I want in it for the next three and a half months. After that," she shrugged, _"what the hell do I care?"_

* * * *

I waited a good hour before I told the other girls.

Part of me was worried that either Tray or Orla were listening outside of the basement window.

The other part of me simply needed to go over it in my mind, to make sure that I hadn't misinterpreted what I'd seen.

_Peyton_ _._

* * * *

Cherry had finally stopped crying. She was exhausted, her head leaning against the wall, her eyes staring out into nothingness.

Beside her, Jude was glowering—whether from pain or fury, I didn't know.

I had been sitting against my own wall, waiting and figuring things out. Finally, I got to my feet and maneuvered my handcuffs along the pipe until I was standing in front of them.

When I spoke, it was in a very low voice; I was still afraid that someone might be eavesdropping. "Guys, listen to me," I whispered. "Look over at me. I need to tell you something. It's important."

Slowly, Cherry and Jude turned to look in my direction.

"I think Peyton's pretending," I said, softly. "Like I don't think she's a Fox anymore."

"So what?" said Jude, disinterested.

"So, I think that Peyton's on our side," I continued. "And I think that she tried to let me know that Orla and Tray are lying—and that Shawnee got away and that Lily is still safe with her."

Sudden hope flared across both of their faces.

* * * *

When the door opened the next morning, it was not the Foxes who entered— _but Sophia_. She was carrying a tray of food and water and behind her— _armed and looking extremely irritated_ —was Alice.

"No talking!" the 12th grader ordered. "If you talk, the food goes away."

All three of us watched silently as Sophia came forward and set down her tray between us. We were so hungry and thirsty that our stomachs roiled as she ladled bean soup into three small bowls.

Like Cherry and Jude, any water I had received during the last few days had been from licking at drops of dew on the walls. Because of this, my throat was sore and my lips were chapped.

When Sophia handed me a bottle of water, I immediately unscrewed the lid and gulped the whole thing down. On the other side of the basement, Cherry and Jude did the same thing.

Moments later, I threw it all up.

Cherry and Jude were luckier. Their stomachs heaved, but they just managed to keep their water down.

Alice, meanwhile, just laughed. "You greedy idiots," she scoffed. "Serves you right."

A moment later, Sophia slid a bowl of soup toward me. I noticed that she wasn't making any eye contact. As she moved to place a bowl in front of Cherry and Jude, I put my hands in the air—as if trying to ask a question in class.

With a sigh, Alice pointed in my direction. "Okay, what?"

"Do you know what's going to happen to us?" I asked.

Alice shrugged. "Don't know...don't care." She tapped Sophia on the shoulder. "Need to take a leak. You okay?"

Sophia nodded. "No worries."

Then, Alice turned and walked up the stairs and out of the basement.

* * * *

Cherry immediately held out her hands. "Soph, can you help us? Find us something that we can use to get us out of these handcuffs?"

Sophia had been kneeling over her tray. She sat back on her haunches now, looking at Cherry with disgust. "Why do you do this?" she asked, waving her hands around.

"Do what?" said Cherry.

"God must want you here—because of what you do," Sophia stated. "Why must you continue this way, to disobey His word?"

"You think God wants us to be locked up by psychopathic teenage girls in a basement? Are you insane?!" Cherry shook her head, angrily. "God damn it, Sophia! Use your head."

Sophia frowned. _"Thou shalt not take the Lord's name in vain."_

There were footsteps on the stairs.

Alice had returned.

And— _Tray was with her_.

* * * *

Five minutes later, we listened to the diminishing footsteps of Sophia and Alice as they walked past the basement window, heading along the side of the house toward the street.

Now—only Tray remained.

She sat on the lowest step, watching us as we finished our soup. When we had licked the final drops from our bowls, she rose and motioned for us to slide our dishes toward her. We complied and she picked them up, cradling them in one hand.

"That was good soup, huh?" Tray said. "Do you know what Sophia calls it?"

None of us spoke.

" _Potage au Pugly,"_ she grinned.

Jude immediately started coughing.

Tray laughed. _"Our Sophia_...what a nut? But, at least—she's our nut."

"I don't believe you. She's not with you. Sophia hates you," Cherry insisted. "That's why she left you guys and came to live with us."

"She does hate me," Tray admitted. "But, apparently, little Ms. Nutcase is also jonesing for the End of Days. Anything to make it come quicker, if you get my drift."

It took a moment for Cherry to understand; then her face fell. _"Sophia's been spying on us for you?!"_

Tray nodded, enjoying this. "From the beginning."

I looked across at Cherry; she seemed heartbroken, betrayed.

"Look," said Tray, "you might treat her like one, but Sophia's not an idiot. She knows that you drugged her the night your Wandy-bird went _'poof'_. And if you don't think that she saw you guys drop those pills in the soup—then you're the idiots."

" _Sophia's a snitch,"_ murmured Cherry—sadly.

"A snitch?!" snorted Tray. "Orla and I put Sophia in your house precisely so she would watch you. Sophia was just doing her job!"

"And that's how you knew we were leaving that first time," I said.

"Now you're getting it," she nodded.

"We didn't even have a chance to escape, did we?"

Tray walked over to me. I was standing, my hands up over my head. She reached out and placed her free hand on my waist and squeezed— _hard_. "You might have a chance now, Blondie," she said, quietly.

"Not in my wildest nightmares," I growled back at her.

"Your choice."

Then, smiling pleasantly, Tray turned and left.

* * * *

I could hear the sounds that Jude's stomach was making from across the room. The soup definitely wasn't sitting well with her.

She groaned loudly. "Do you think Tray was telling the truth about Pugly?"

"There were those little chunks in the soup," added Cherry—looking worried. "They did kind of taste like meat."

"Stop it," I said. "Take it from a vegetarian. No animals were killed in the making of that soup. Totally veggie."

"Are you sure?" asked Cherry.

I wasn't.

"Of course," I said, nodding.

* * * *

It was strange.

When we were first imprisoned, it was—without a doubt—terrifying and confusing. Then— _as time passed_ —it became monotonous. Finally, as the days we spent chained in that basement inevitably turned into weeks— _it became downright boring_.

Cherry's hair began to grow in—Jude's wounds healed.

I began to exercise.

Even handcuffed, I found that there were things I could do to stay in shape. I jumped on the spot, did a wonky kind of push-up and— _eventually_ —even succeeded at doing chin-ups on my pipe.

The other girls laughed at me; they teased me.

But—I didn't care.

Because if there was a chance to escape—any chance—I was going to be ready.

* * * *

_There became a_ _routine_ _of sorts._

Twice a day, someone— _usually Sophia_ —would show up with food and water. Then, mid-day, an 11th or 12th grader from the Protection Detail would descend the stairs to replace our foul-pails. And— _every couple of days_ —either Orla or Tray would drop by to amuse themselves by tormenting us.

With Orla, it was always with words.

With Tray— _it was with pain_.

She seemed to take particular pleasure in punching and kicking Cherry and Jude, laughing as they scrambled across the floor, trying desperately to protect their heads and stomachs.

On occasion she would even burn them with cigarettes.

With me— _Tray liked to slap_ —usually across my face, sometimes along my legs.

I won't deny that it hurt; even more—it scared me.

Just like Tray had once told me—she was loving this.

_Inflicting pain truly was_ _fun_ _for Tray._

* * * *

Sometime into the third week of our imprisonment, Peyton and Tray showed up in the basement at dinnertime. While Sophia carefully laid out our meager supper of bean stew, Tray moved around us—checking our handcuffs and the pipes we were locked to—making sure that we were all still secure.

Peyton, meanwhile, stood in the middle of the room, holding her nose and looking disgusted. "Oh my god! Like you're all seriously such a bunch of stinky pigs!" Then she walked over to Jude and kicked at her foot. "Stupid Rude...you stink the worst!"

Jude didn't even respond; instead, she just pulled her foot back and turned away.

With an annoyed sigh, Peyton turned her attention toward Cherry. "Your hair looks dumb," she offered. "You've got, like such a stupid Marine-hair buzz cut, now."

"I'm so insulted," yawned Cherry.

Frustrated, Peyton pulled back her foot to kick her.

"You might want to reconsider, bitch," warned Cherry.

For a second, Peyton actually did; then her foot shot forward.

Unfortunately for her, Cherry was quick.

Her hands flew out and latched onto Peyton's offending foot. With a quick jerk, Cherry upended Peyton. She fell on her butt and Cherry—still holding onto her foot—pulled her across the cement floor toward her.

And things started happening all at once.

Peyton screamed and Tray raced toward her. As Tray passed by, I put out a foot, hoping to trip her. Without hesitation, she jumped over my foot and ran to where Cherry was trying to loop her handcuffed-hands over Peyton's head.

The scream must have been heard upstairs, because Alice and another 12th grader came bounding down into the basement. Responding to Tray's quickly barked orders, the two of them went, not for Cherry, but for Jude—one on each side—holding her back.

_So, that Tray was now_ _free_ _to beat Cherry._

* * * *

"You okay?" I asked, knowing that she wasn't.

Cherry was sitting with her back against the wall, trying to staunch the blood that was seeping from her nose. Her left eye was swollen to a small slit and her right eye was not much better. Beside her, Jude had taken off her shirt and was using the corner of it to wipe at a cut on Cherry's cheek.

I— _of course_ —was locked up across the room and could do nothing.

"So worth it," rasped Cherry, smiling.

Jude pulled back, surprised. "Sorry, Dude...like no offence—but you didn't even get your licks in."

"Wasn't about that." Cherry opened her left hand, revealing a slightly bloody piece of paper. "It was about this," she grinned. _"Mail call."_

" _Oh my gosh!"_ I gasped. "Is that from Peyton?"

Cherry nodded. "Her delivery system is somewhat flawed— _and a little painful_ —but we take what we can get, right?"

"Read it," ordered Jude.

"Actually, I'm seeing two of everything right now." Cherry handed the note to Jude. "So, you're going to have to read it."

A sudden look of trepidation appeared on Jude's face— _dyslexia rearing its head, no doubt._

"Throw it over here," I said, quickly. "Light's better on my side. I'll read it."

Jude gave me a look of gratitude and quickly tossed over the note.

I took a moment to read it, then looked up at my friends, surprised. "It's not from Peyton," I divulged—astonished. _"It's from Jay!"_

* * * *

There were only twenty-nine words on the note. I know, because I counted every single one of them.

And then I ate the paper.

Both Jude and Cherry looked disgusted, but I didn't care. There was no way that I was taking the chance that one of the Foxes would find the note on us.

It would be dangerous for Jay; it would be dangerous for us.

Because of what the note said:

Belinda's birthday is on the 29th. They will kill her before then.

You will be blamed.

Escape if you can. If not, be prepared.

I love you all.

Jay

### A KANGAROO COURT

Sadly, we never did manage to escape.

Instead, they came for us on September 30th.

There were nine 11th and 12th graders, including Alice, Orla, and Tray.

— _and Peyton._

* * * *

Ironically, the first thing I noticed as they marched us over to the high school was how the weather was cooling down. There was a slight breeze and it wafted among us, ruffling the pillowslips on our heads and tickling our senses with the slight scent of jasmine and the possibility of rain.

I could hear other girls around us—murmuring as we passed. Their words were harsh and unkind and, once or twice, I could swear that we were being spit upon.

* * * *

During the last days of our basement-captivity, Jude, Cherry, and I had talked incessantly of escape. Plans had been made and discarded— _honed and adapted_ —until finally just one plan had been left.

When they unlocked our handcuffs to release us from the pipes, we were going to jump them.

But Orla— _as always_ —had been smarter than us.

Before we had been uncuffed, the Protection Detail had put loops of rope around our necks and drawn them tight. The loops had then been attached to sticks that kept us at arms-length.

Each of us had two loops around our necks, both threatening to strangle us. We were accompanied by two girls from the Detail, one on either side—using sticks to pull us in opposite directions.

I had a vague memory of seeing a picture of this 'immobilizing technique' in history class— _a hostage being controlled by terrorists._

Guess Orla really did pay attention during class.

* * * *

When they finally did take off our pillowslips, Cherry, Jude, and I found ourselves seated on one side of the Performing Arts Center stage. In the middle, was the Tribunal— _Orla, Tray, and Peyton._

Meanwhile, standing around the orchestra pit, facing the audience, were the 11th and 12th graders of the Protection Detail. They all had their weapons out and were holding them in their crossed arms.

* * * *

If we were hoping for any solidarity from the girls in the audience— _we were to be disappointed_. The faces that looked back at us were angry and mean. Many of the girls were downright hostile, as they yelled vicious things at the three of us.

We said nothing back, however—because we had no choice.

_Cherry, Jude, and I were_ _gagged_ _._

* * * *

After a few minutes, Orla rose from her seat and walked to the front of the stage. Immediately the girls in the audience went quiet— _waiting_.

As Orla began to speak, I searched the audience for Jay and Lily.

They weren't there.

"I have come to realize that the hardest thing for any leader," began Orla, "must be the lengths that she must go to protect her Community. I would give my life for Agoura Hills—and for you girls, I love you all so much."

Her voice broke with emotion.

Some of the girls in the audience applauded; others called out in support.

Orla pointed toward us. "At the beginning of this month— _September_ —it was discovered that Jude Engel, Cherry Winslette, and Kaylee Michelson had stolen three crates of canned turkey, fourteen cans of tomato soup, and twenty-eight cartons of Oreo cookies from our Community."

(Boos from the girls. Someone yelled out 'bitches'.)

"The Council and I— _at the time of the theft_ —decided that the Community would be better served if we didn't bring these girls to Tribunal. For the good of everyone, because of all the drama we have been through in the last few months, we believed it more expedient to simply expel and banish them from our Community.

Which we did.

Jude Engel, Cherry Winslette, and Kaylee Michelson were left at the corner of Reyes Adobe Road and Thousand Oaks Boulevard. There, they were instructed to head anywhere, except back here, to Agoura Hills. And—as we members of the Council wanted to be compassionate—we filled their backpacks with enough food and water for three days. Plus, we gave them knives, so that they would be able to protect themselves."

Behind her, Tray rose and came forward. She handed Orla a large, black plastic bag. From its outline, there was obviously something long and oddly-shaped inside. When I looked at Jude and Cherry in confusion, they both shrugged.

"I cannot tell you ladies how sorry the Council and I feel right now," Orla continued. "How we wish that we had made a different decision back at the beginning of this month. In our effort to be compassionate, we have failed both you as individuals and this Community as a whole. Now, we— _I_ —ask humbly and honestly for your forgiveness."

Immediately, the 11th and 12th graders around the orchestra pit began to clap. A moment later, the girls in the audience followed suit. Orla let the applause flow for a bit, then lifted her hands for silence once more.

"Thank you," she said—looking as if she was struggling not to cry. "Your support means everything to me."

Orla then walked across the stage, carrying the plastic bag. She stopped directly behind our chairs. I could feel her breath on the back of my neck and it sent shivers of dread down my spine.

"Last night," Orla proclaimed—her voice rising in volume and excitement, "Jude Engel, Cherry Winslette, and Kaylee Michelson— _starving and apparently unable to survive on their own_ —re-entered our Community and murdered one of our girls!"

The audience cried out in dismay. Shocked, I turned and looked up at Orla. She didn't even acknowledge me. Instead, she continued talking, her voice rising in anger.

"These three girls—whom the Council so mistakenly had given mercy to, used knives to stab and butcher— _and ultimately_ —murder Belinda McIlroy while she so innocently slept in her bed last night!"

With a flourish, Orla opened the plastic bag she was carrying and threw its contents flying over our heads to fall on the stage in front of us.

Looking down, I couldn't believe what I was seeing—a partial human arm, bloody and torn!

All around us there were screams and gasps. Girls broke into tears or angry muttering. A few threw up.

"These three girls—starving and without conscience," Orla practically screamed, "they killed Belinda McIlroy and then......... _they ate her_ _!!"_

The audience of girls erupted with cries of hate and vengeance. Orla moved to the front of the stage and held up her hands. The tumult slowly died down, but the angry faces remained.

Orla began to speak again—loudly and clearly.

"It is hereby the sentence of this Community's Tribunal that Jude Engel, Cherry Winslette, and Kaylee Michelson—for the crimes of theft, murder, and cannibalism—be executed. And, as befitting their horrendous crimes— _their sentence shall be carried out on Halloween_...October 31st."

And the girls in the audience cheered.

OCTOBER

### CAGED

It was miserable in the cage.

If we weren't baking in the noonday sun, we were huddled together for warmth as dusk fled toward a cold autumn night. On the days it rained, the ground beneath us softened into a mud that sucked and leeched away at our feet—a curious and squishy sensation of heat and ice— _ironically, both at the same time_.

The Protection Detail had at least removed our handcuffs and pillowslips, so we were able to move freely about our new prison. We walked constantly, to maintain warmth and to relieve boredom— _a slow plod_ —ten feet along each cage wall, with four _right_ turns. Reverse direction—ten feet along each cage wall, now four _left_ turns.

Outside the cage, there were two girls from the Protection Detail guarding us at all times—one never more than a few yards away. They carried guns and whips and, frankly, looked as bored as we actually were.

Over the days, we attempted to strike up a conversation with them—but they rarely answered us.

Mostly—they just watched.

_And_ _listened_ _._

* * * *

Our 'bathroom' was a bucket, set into one corner of the cage.

It was humiliating and degrading, having to do our 'business' in public. There was always— _at least_ —one person watching. During the day, it wasn't unusual for girls from the Community to sit in the stands—eating their lunches just like we did once upon a time—except that, instead of football players and cheerleaders, _we_ were now their entertainment.

To our watchers' twittering amusement, Jude was entirely capable of relieving herself in front of them. Both Cherry and I, however, waited until the dark of the evening. For us, using a truly 'public toilet' was both uncomfortable and dehumanizing.

Of course—that was the whole point.

* * * *

Ironically, the one good thing about being caged in public, was that Orla felt obliged to let us clean ourselves. Twice a day, a bucket of water and a bar of soap was placed inside our cage.

We began to take great pleasure in the simple act of washing.

No matter that our bare feet might have been muddy and black with filth; our bodies practically tingled from intense scrubbing and our hair smelled of generous applications of Ivory soap.

Later, in the afternoon, we'd often sit and braid each other's hair— _well, Jude's and mine_ —trying out new styles amidst the childish giggles and vicious taunts from the girls in the stands all around us.

* * * *

Like Cherry and Jude, I treasured the one toothbrush I was allowed. It wasn't electric like my toothbrush from the _old_ world, nor did it have pretty flowers on it like the one I used at Jude's house. This toothbrush was simply _green_.

But it was my green toothbrush... _and it made me feel human_.

Jude's feelings about her toothbrush differed slightly from mine, however. Hers was used to rub— _not so much as across her teeth_ —but across the base of the metal bars.

_She was secretly sharpening the handle into a_ _point_ _._

Because it was never about dental care with Jude; she was too busy making her toothbrush into a _shiv_.

(That's a 'homemade prison knife'—in case you didn't know.)

* * * *

Meals tended to be a variety of soups and stews, all catered by Sophia.

Most times, she arrived at the football field, carrying our food on a large tray. On occasion, though, Reena would accompany her. Then, the two of them would supplement our meal with bible verses and pleas for repentance.

For the most part, we simply ignored them.

But, every once in a while, it just became too much for Cherry.

Sophia's betrayal was still a very raw, very sore point for her.

* * * *

"So, I guess there's no chance that you'd actually tell the truth about what's really going on here to the other girls?" asked Cherry. "Or maybe even to your pretty apostle, Reena?"

Sophia's back was rigid as she pretended not to listen.

She and Reena were bent over their food tray, spooning vegetable ziti into bowls. Meanwhile, Cherry, Jude, and I were all sitting against the far side of the cage, as we had been instructed by the armed guard who was standing just outside.

" _Jesus would want you to tell the truth,"_ cautioned Jude. "Just saying."

This made Sophia pause—frowning.

"Oh, and almost forgot," added Cherry. "Someone was here this morning, looking for you."

Sophia finally looked up. "Who was it?" she asked, curious.

Cherry shrugged. "Not sure...but he said that his name was Judas, and that he wanted his thirty pieces of silver back."

Reena gasped in horror.

Sophia just looked angry. _"Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live,"_ she quoted, her lips pursed and thin.

"Then I guess you're real lucky that the bible didn't say 'traitorous bitch' or you'd be in here with us, hey Soph." Pleased with herself, Cherry held up a hand in Reena's direction, grinning. _"High-five, Apostle...don't leave me hanging!"_

If anything, Reena shrank back even farther.

"No worries" said Cherry, making a fist. "We'll _pound_ it extra hard at Sunday church service in a couple of days. Oh, wait—that's right—one of the benefits of our new accommodation... _we don't have to attend your dumb-ass coming-to-Jesus anymore!"_

Her eyes narrowing, Sophia leaned over and spat in a bowl of ziti. Then—with a mean smile—she pushed it in Cherry's direction.

Jude, however, reached out a hand and grabbed the bowl first. "Extra protein! Thanks, Sophia. That's just so very _Christian_ of you," she chuckled. And taking a big bite, Jude chewed away happily— _all the while, staring at Sophia_ —her mouth open, food particles flying everywhere.

Sophia was absolutely disgusted.

Within moments, she was gone—hurrying away across the field—Reena trailing a few feet behind her.

* * * *

It was ten days into our 'caging' before we saw the Foxes again.

They showed up on the field one morning, wandering around us, earnestly discussing the best way to _execute_ us.

"Hanging's dramatic," said Orla, "but then we'd need someone to build the platform."

"And, unfortunately, your best builder is in the cage!" Jude yelled.

She— _like Cherry and me_ —had been moving from side-to-side, following the Foxes' conversation along the bars as best we could. So far, they had obliged us by staying well-within our hearing range.

Personally, I thought they were doing it on purpose— _to add to our torment_.

" _Best builder?!"_ smirked Orla; she turned to face Jude, hands on her hips. "Trust me, Rude. You're not that good."

"I'm freaking amazing," bragged Jude. "In fact, I'm so good with my tools that you dream about me in your sleep. _Oh Jude, oh Jude—saw it, hammer it, put your big screw in my little bolt hole, Jude!"_

Behind Orla, Tray grinned and Peyton giggled.

"What we should do," sneered Orla, "is simply burn you at the stake like they used to do to witches. That's what Sophia wants and—thinking about it—it just might be more appropriate for Halloween."

"Actually, I'd think twice about that if I were you, Orla," warned Cherry. "All that burning flesh smelling like chicken and the stands filled with hungry girls. They might just mistake your skinny white legs for the wishbone."

Ignoring Cherry completely, Orla moved a little farther along the cage, until she was standing directly across from me. "What about you, Kaylee?" she asked. "You're awfully quiet today. You have no opinion?"

"What does it matter?" I shrugged. "However we die, we're out of this hellhole on Halloween. A month and a half later—you guys turn eighteen and follow... _win-win."_

Tray came up beside Orla. My fingers were curled around the metal bars and, before I could step back, she put her hands over mine— _holding me in place_. "What if I took my knife," she asked, quietly, "and skinned you slowly—piece-by-piece—until you bled to death? What would you think then?"

"I think that I'd feel sorry for you!" I snapped, wrenching my hands away. "And for your lack of imagination."

A few yards away, Peyton stomped her foot, irritated. "Can we please get on with this?" she grouched. "The heels on my Jimmy Choo's keep popping through the ground. _Like it's so annoying!"_

Orla stood up and turned to Peyton. "All right, Princess...what's your suggestion then?"

" _Duh,"_ shrugged Peyton. "Just shoot the bitches in the head... _no fuss, no muss."_

* * * *

Truthfully— _Peyton confused us_.

Sometimes, we thought she was on our side; other times, she was so completely a Fox it was disturbing.

Still— _on October 24th, my birthday_ —she showed up on the field, stalking toward us and looking totally irritated. She was pulling Jay behind her, a manicured hand wrapped up in Jay's _"Doctor Who"_ t-shirt.

"How come you're by yourself?!" Peyton snapped at Rowena, the 12th grader guarding us.

It was early morning and the football field was empty, except for a girl cutting across it at the far end, heading—no doubt—toward the cafeteria for breakfast.

" _Um_ —Katy just went for a quick smoke," said Rowena. "She should be back in five minutes, no later."

Peyton pushed Jay forward, so that she was standing in front of our cage. "Say what you gotta say, bitch," ordered Peyton. "You're lucky I'm feeling so generous."

Jay looked shaken. She rubbed a trembling hand over her t-shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles. "You guys okay?"

"We've been better," I said.

"Any sign of Shawnee?" Cherry asked, hopefully.

Jay shook her head. "Lily's okay, though."

Peyton smacked Jay on her shoulder. _"Shaddup_...follow the rules, bitch!"

Rowena smothered a laugh; she was enjoying this.

"They wouldn't let me come before," Jay explained, her voice nervous and squeaky. "I've been kind of like— _the girl who waited."_

There was something _weird_ going on with Jay. Her hands wouldn't stop playing with her t-shirt. And she was staring straight at me— _not blinking_ —as if trying to make me understand something.

"At least you're not waiting in this place," muttered Jude. "The maid service here sucks."

Behind Jay, Peyton was pacing—her eyes returning again and again to the gate that led onto the field. Suddenly, she reached out and pushed Jay. "Seriously, I don't have time for this, bitch!"

Jay immediately turned on her, yelling, _"Stop pushing me or I'll go all_ _River_ _on you!"_

Rowena moved forward, pulling out her gun, but Peyton held up a hand—stopping her. "I've got this," Peyton stated, calmly. Then—to Jay—she snarled. "You little turd! You've got, like thirty seconds... _then you're out of here!"_

Offended, Jay gave Peyton her dirtiest look.

Peyton merely sniffed. _"Tick, tick."_

With a squeak, Jay spun back toward us—her words tumbling out quickly, one-after-another. "Happy Birthday, Kaylee! So they wouldn't let me bring you anything...and... _um_...like all I have to give you as a present is this memory."

"Fifteen seconds," Peyton counted down. _"Fourteen, thirteen..."_

Jay was so incredibly nervous—practically bouncing up and down on her toes. "Like you remember that time my... _um_...my cousin Rory took us to see _"Pandorica?"_ she babbled. "That was such an amazing movie, wasn't it?"

" _Rory?"_ I said, puzzled. _Who the heck was Rory? And what was "Pandorica"?_

"We had the best time...like my favorite time ever with you."

"I'm sorry, Jay," I said. "I don't remember the movie...or Rory."

"Sure you do," she insisted. "It was like the _11th hour_ and the _universe was cracked_... _um_...I mean, in the movie...and then Rory...well, he was amazing, almost like a _last centurion_."

" _Rory?"_ I repeated, totally confused.

"Oh, for god's sake," snapped Peyton, exasperated. She motioned Rowena over to Jay. _"Get this dumbass off the field!"_

Jay looked stricken—tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

Rowena, meanwhile, began to stutter nervously. _"Um_...well, th-there... _um_...has to be s-someone here at all t-times. C-council's orders."

"So, do your math, Rowena. I'm one-third of the Council," declared Peyton, imperiously. "Which means that you will now give me your gun and I'll stand guard while you boot this bitch out on her ass. I've got something that I want to say to these losers anyway."

The 12th grader didn't look at all happy, but she handed over her gun. A moment later, she was escorting a sniffling Jay off of the field.

Peyton, meanwhile, turned back to us. "Well, I think we can all agree that was ridiculous."

"What's going on, Peyton?" I asked.

She looked behind her at Jay's disappearing back and shook her head in irritation. "What your dumbass friend was trying to tell you, is that we're coming back tonight around eleven to get you guys out. She was using some stupid _"Doctor Who"_ code that she said you'd understand."

"I didn't," I admitted.

"Well, obviously," she frowned. "Look, Orla is increasing your guards tomorrow, because it's getting so close to the execution. Tonight might be your only chance to escape."

As she spoke, Peyton pulled the magazine out of Rowena's gun and emptied it of bullets. Then she snapped the magazine back in its slot. "There you go—this one's empty. It's all I can do at the moment. Now, you need to get yourselves out of that cage."

"This is your plan?" asked Cherry, looking astounded. "Empty the bullets out of one gun, then tell us to get ourselves out?!"

Peyton shoved her hand under her shirt, and tucked the bullets into her bra. "No—this is me improvising. And it's not up to you or Kaylee to get you guys out of that cage... _is it, Jude?"_

Cherry and I turned to look at Jude; she said nothing, her face a _blank_.

Peyton sighed. "Bitch, seriously? Like I watched you build that thing for hours every day." She motioned with the gun toward the cage. "You don't think I know where the scratches are?"

At the edge of the field, Rowena came back through the gate. Peyton looked over at the guard casually, then turned her attention back to Jude. "Ten seconds before Rowena reaches us, Jude. So, can you or can you not get them out of the cage? Because I need to know now or I'll have to figure something else out."

Jude just stared at her.

And Cherry and I stared at Jude.

What the heck was going on?

A few seconds later and Rowena reached the cage and Peyton handed her the gun.

"Okay, then," Peyton said. "I'm _outtie_." She started to walk away, then turned back one final time— _looking directly at Jude_.

And, slowly— _Jude nodded_.

* * * *

I watched closely as our two guards—Katy and Rowena—walked over to the stands to talk to a girl passing by. As soon as they were out of earshot, I turned on Jude.

" _Scratches?!"_ I asked. "What did Peyton mean by that?"

"Don't be obvious about it," muttered Jude, quietly," but if you look up—at the very top of the bars—on each of the four sides there's one bar that has a scratch on it."

Both Cherry and I immediately started whipping our heads around—searching.

" _Dude!"_ growled Jude. "Like I said— _don't_ be obvious!"

We quickly looked down at the ground.

"You guys are killing me!" Jude groaned. She sat down, her back against the bars. She was facing toward the stands— _and Rowena and Katy_.

Cherry and I quickly sat down across from her.

"Okay," said Jude, quietly. "It goes like this. I'm a dummy and an idiot and everyone knows it."

"You are so _not!"_ I gasped.

"Why would you even say that?" Cherry asked, horrified.

Jude waved a hand around. _"Just listen!"_ When we'd settled down, Jude continued. "Look, I'm good with my hands, I know that. I can build stuff. But I also know that there are girls in this Community who are just as good builders as me. Only they didn't get put on this cage-building detail. That was all mine— _because I'm the dummy."_

_I finally got it_. "Orla thought that you wouldn't know what you were really building."

Jude snorted, nodding. "Like I was so stupid that I wouldn't know that I was making a prison!"

"Oh my god," whispered Cherry. _"You hacked the cage!"_

"Even a dummy like myself could figure out that— _sooner or later_ —me or someone I cared about was probably gonna' wind up in this thing."

"What did you do?" I asked.

She shrugged. "I took— _precautions."_

At the stands, Katy and Rowena said good-bye to their friend and were now casually making their way back toward us. I figured that we had less than thirty seconds before the 12th graders would be in hearing range.

Jude tapped her left index finger on her knee, speaking very quietly. "On my left—under the scratched bar, dig down six inches—you'll find a rasp."

"What's a rasp?" I asked, feeling stupid.

"It's like a big nail file for metal," said Cherry. "Right, Jude?"

Nodding, Jude tapped her right index finger on her other knee. "My right—screwdriver."

"Holy crap," whispered Cherry.

Rowena and Katy were getting closer.

"Opposite me—pocket knife."

As much as I tried not to—my eyes rose to the scratch on the bar above Jude's head. "And behind you?"

Jude just grinned. Then, she lifted her fingers to her lips— _and turned them_.

Tick-a-lock.

Both Cherry's and my eyes went wide.

_Jude had buried the_ _key_ _!_

* * * *

"I'm sorry you're not having such a great birthday," Cherry said to me—a few hours later.

"There have been worse," I told her.

" _Really?!"_

I shook my head, grinning. "Nope. Just kidding. This one is, like totally the worst."

Cherry reached over and gave me a hug. "Well... _Happy 17th!"_

" _No touching!"_ Katy yelled at us from a bench in front of the stands. She was sitting there with Rowena, sharing a cigarette.

With a snort, Cherry turned and gave them both the _finger_.

Behind us, meanwhile—Jude was trying to nonchalantly dig under one of the scratched bars. She was using her sharpened 'shiv' to loosen the packed dirt.

"How's it going on the penknife, Jude?" I asked, quietly.

"It's going," she grunted. _"Happy Birthday_ , by the way, Barbie. I'd hug you but I'd probably cut myself on all that bony-ness you got going on there."

"You're such a liar," I laughed. "You'd never hug me. Probably be afraid that you'd get soccer girl-cooties along the way."

"You do have a point," she nodded. "But I'd be okay giving you a solid whack in the shoulder—if I cared... _which I don't."_

"Love you, too," I grinned.

" _Shaddup!"_

Cherry sat down on the ground, positioning herself, so that she would be blocking the guards' view of Jude. "When were you going to tell us...about the scratches and what you had buried?"

With a quick tug, Jude pulled a tiny penknife out of the ground. I was pleased to see that it was the one I had given to her for her own birthday. Grinning at me, Jude stuck it in her pocket before the 12th graders noticed.

"I wasn't keeping the scratches a secret," Jude explained. "There just wasn't a chance to tell you guys before. The guards have always been too close—listening with 'big ears'. I figured that we'd only have one chance—I wanted to make sure it would count. Guess this was it."

She moved over to the opposite side of the cage. Slowly— _so as not to appear obvious_ —Jude began to dig under the scratched bar to the left of her.

"Is that why you were making a shiv out of your toothbrush?" I asked. "So you could use it to dig under the bars?"

She grinned. "Nope. That's to stab a Fox—preferably Tray."

"You really think that you could stab someone?" I asked, horrified by the thought.

Jude nodded. "Sure...couldn't you?"

I thought about it for a moment—remembering Tray beating up Jude and Cherry—Orla threatening Lily.

"Probably," I conceded. "But only if they really deserved it."

"Ask me the same question?" ordered Cherry.

"Okay," I said. "Cherry, could you stab—"

_Bam!_...Cherry slammed her fist into the ground.

"I take that to be a yes?" I asked.

Bam!

She did it again.

* * * *

It was closing in on eleven.

Cherry, Jude, and I were sitting on the ground, our backs against the bars of the cage—on the side farthest away from our guards.

It was dark out; a single torch flickered near the gate, casting a sliver of light our way. In the sky, meanwhile, meteorites shot across the heavens.

"I wonder if Jay is watching this," I mused, looking up. "She'd really enjoy the show."

"What was with Jay this morning?" asked Cherry, quietly. "Did you ever figure out what she was trying to say?"

"Possibly," I answered, keeping my voice low. "I mean, it was definitely a _"Doctor Who"_ reference, I know that much. I think Jay was maybe talking about an episode where one of the main characters gets stuck in this big box and the other characters have to get her out."

Cherry shook her head. "Sci-fi fangirls are so whacked."

In front of us, Katy took out a cigarette—lighting it. She and Rowena moved a little farther away, passing the cigarette between them.

"What do you think about Peyton?" whispered Cherry. "It's weird, huh?"

"Gotta give the girl her props," said Jude, quietly. "I thought I had her marked when she came sniffing around my build—thought I always knew when she was there. But it looks like she has some mad skills after all. I could of sworn that I was alone when I buried the stuff."

" _Almost eleven!"_ My voice trembled when I spoke. I was feeling an odd combination of scared and excited. "You got everything?"

Jude nodded. "I've got the rasp—almost useless for anything but stabbing. Cherry's got the screwdriver."

"It's under my skirt." Cherry pointed to her crotch. "In my panties."

"Well, that's a mind-image I can't undo," I joked.

Using her foot, Jude slowly pushed the penknife across the ground in my direction. "You take the knife, Kaylee."

Making sure that Rowena and Katy weren't looking, I picked up the penknife and practiced opening the different blades. "What about the key?" I asked.

Jude tapped her back pocket.

"So—how we gonna' do this?" Cherry asked.

I realized that she was looking at me.

Right...I'd forgotten that I was supposed to be the leader.

"Oh—okay," I began, thinking hard. "Well, as soon as we can, we need to get that lock on the cage door open. That has to be our first priority. Second goal is to take out the guards."

Jude opened her mouth to say something.

I quickly pointed my finger at her. _"No killing!"_

She closed her mouth.

"We're lucky," I continued, nodding toward Katy and Rowena, "because they look pretty tired. That might slow them down some."

For whatever reason, our guards hadn't been replaced. Rowena and Katy had now been on shift since early morning and were obviously suffering from fatigue. At times their eyelids appeared to droop shut and they were having some difficulty standing on their feet.

"Jude, you'll be responsible for taking down Katy," I ordered. "She's the biggest, so you'll be matched pretty even. Cherry and I will go for Rowena."

"She hasn't discovered that there's no bullets in her gun, yet, has she?" asked Cherry, worried.

I shook my head. "Not so far. But we'll still need to remember to grab their weapons before we lock them up in the cage. And I'm pretty sure there's some duct tape over near the flagpole. Cherry, you need to get that after we take them down. We'll use it to tape their hands and their mouths."

_A_ _movement_ _from the far side of the field suddenly caught my eye._

"Over there!" I whispered. "By the bathrooms."

Cherry and Jude both spun around to look. "I don't see anything," said Cherry, peering into the dark.

Deep in the shadows, a light suddenly flared; just as quickly— _it was extinguished_.

"What was that?" Cherry asked.

"If I had to guess," I said, "that was a candle being lit and put out."

"Is that our sign to escape?"

I looked over at our guards. Katy was actually lying down on one of the benches. Rowena was sitting beside her, head drooping, eyes closed.

"It has to be," I whispered. _"Let's go."_

Jude pulled the key out of her pocket. "Who wants to do the honors?" she asked in a low voice.

I immediately reached for the key. _"My birthday!"_ I grinned.

* * * *

Although it would have been difficult to see in the dark anyway, Jude and Cherry still stood in front of me while I reached through the bars. Carefully— _terrified that I might drop the key_ —I inserted it into the padlock that secured the door to our cage.

"How did you get the key anyway?" whispered Cherry to Jude.

"Dumbasses gave me the padlock to put on the cage," said Jude quietly. "It had three keys with it. Unfortunately, one of them got lost."

" _They didn't suspect anything?"_

Jude shrugged. "I'm an idiot, remember."

Click...

The padlock opened in my hand. I pulled it in through the bars and we all stared at it for a moment— _as if not quite believing what we were seeing_.

" _Oh crap!"_ said Cherry, suddenly.

Jude and I turned to see her looking over at the stands, where Rowena and Katy had just risen from the benches.

They were now heading our way!

"What do we do?!" Cherry asked, panicked.

"Take it easy," I said, quietly.

"But they're gonna' see that the lock is gone!"

" _Shhh!"_ I spun around toward Jude. "How difficult is it going to be to open this door?"

"It's heavy—but I oiled the hinges. It'll open when we push on it," she said. "Just probably not before they pull out their guns."

"Okay, then." I forced myself to think quickly. "Cherry—you're at the door. Be ready to take down Rowena. Jude, you're with me. Katy's leading, so we need to get her first."

I moved to the far side of the cage and Jude followed.

"Give me the rasp," I ordered.

Jude never even hesitated; she simply reached into her pants and pulled out the tool. I immediately placed it on the ground, just outside of the cage.

The guards were now mere seconds away.

"Don't forget...it's Katy that's your target," I whispered to Jude. "So, you don't have to worry about Rowena. Her gun's already empty, remember?"

Jude nodded. "I'm on it."

I leaned down then, and reached through the bars toward the rasp. "Almost got it," I grunted— _a little too loudly_. "Just a few more inches."

Running footsteps...

Katy raced around the corner of the cage. _"What the hell!"_

I reached out even farther, my fingertips just touching the rasp's handle.

"No, you don't!" cried Katy, leaping for the rasp.

The moment her hand touched the rasp's handle, Jude reached out and grabbed Katy by her hair, snapping her head back into the bars with a _bang!_

At the same time, I was reaching for the gun in Katy's hand.

I had expected resistance, but Katy gave up the gun easily—even as her eyes rolled back into her head.

"She's out," Jude announced. She dropped Katy's body to the ground and quickly turned her attention to Rowena. "Well, what do you know?" Jude murmured.

Expecting to see Rowena at the opened cage door, I turned— _instead_ —to find Peyton. She was standing, holding a machete, the tip of which was tickling the base of Rowena's trembling throat. Beside Peyton, Cherry and Jay were ripping off pieces of duct tape, which they were using to bind up Rowena's hands and mouth.

" _Jude!"_

A tiny dark shape raced across the field and straight into Jude's arms.

It was Lily.

* * * *

Moments later, we had both of our guards taped, gagged, and locked in the cage. Katy was still unconscious, but Rowena looked absolutely furious.

Jude grinned at her, as she pointed to the foul-bucket in the corner of the cage. "The _facilities_ are over there, ladies."

* * * *

"There are girls stationed all along Kanan Road...and on the 101," Peyton advised us. "There's also a team in Old Agoura on Driver Avenue, but I'm not exactly sure where."

"Then we head up," I said. "Right past the _'A'_ up there on the hill. We'll travel along the top of that range, then cut back through Oak Park to Westlake Village. After that, we'll head down through one of the canyons there—straight to Malibu. Hopefully, they won't expect that."

"Sounds like a plan," said Jude.

I turned to Peyton. "We'll be going right past Amelie. Is that okay with you?"

She nodded. "Amelie would be down for that."

"Are we heading out of the front gate?" asked Cherry, looking toward the far end of the football field.

I shook my head. "We stay off the roads wherever we can. Let's head straight for the fence and climb over that instead. It will be closer to the hill anyway. Stay in pairs—Jude, you're with Lily...Jay, you're with me...Cherry, you're with Peyton."

" _And what about me?"_

The voice that had spoken was both soft and menacing.

I immediately froze— _we all did_.

* * * *

They were like phantoms, suddenly coalescing from the shadows.

Tray appeared first—right behind Lily.

Six girls from the Protection Detail followed—all 12th graders—circling around us like sharks.

The last to appear was Orla.

And they were all armed; even Orla— _she carried a shotgun_.

Before Jude had a chance to react, Tray had ripped Lily from her arms and placed a knife against her throat.

"Don't struggle," Tray warned the young girl. "I've sharpened this blade and you won't even feel it cut you until it's too late."

" _Lily, don't move!"_ yelled Jude. _"Not an inch!"_

In front of her, Lily went stiff—her eyes wide with terror.

* * * *

It became complicated very fast.

Jude and I had Katy and Rowena's guns, Peyton had her machete, and Cherry had the screwdriver. Even as we held our meager weapons before us— _prepared for battle_ —Jay was already being subdued, her hands cuffed behind her back.

"Getting a little monotonous, I know," drawled Tray. "Poor babies—you didn't even make it ten feet this time. A tad embarrassing, wouldn't you say?"

" _Let Lily go,"_ Jude growled.

"I'd suggest that you put down your weapons first."

Nobody moved.

"Or we could play this your way," shrugged Tray. "That works for me, too." She pressed her knife into Lily's neck and a small line of blood appeared. It dribbled down Lily's throat, staining the top of her shirt.

There was a small _whimpering_ —like a keening almost too high for us to hear. It was Lily, trying to find her voice through her fear and panic.

" _Stop!"_ I cried, placing Katy's gun safely on the ground. Beside me, Jude followed suit, throwing Rowena's gun to the side.

A moment later—Cherry dropped her screwdriver.

Peyton, however, held onto her machete.

" _Knife vs. gun?"_ Orla took a few steps forward and aimed her shotgun at Peyton's stomach. "Bitch, you know you'd lose."

But Peyton still didn't lower her machete. Instead, she asked, "How did you know?"

"That you'd betray us?" Orla shrugged. "Honestly, I didn't think you would. It was Tray who said that you should be watched. She said that you were up to something. I guess she was right."

The look Peyton gave Tray was poisonous.

Tray just grinned. _"Whatever."_

"Put the knife down, Peyton," Orla commanded.

"I want Lily back first."

"All right...if you put down the machete, you can have the girl," offered Orla.

"Promise?"

Orla lowered her shotgun. _"I promise."_

Peyton immediately dropped the big knife. It clattered to the ground and one of the 12th graders rushed in quickly to scoop it up.

"Let the girl go, Tray," Orla told her.

Tray leaned in close and whispered into Lily's ear. "Listen up, little girl. When I let you go, you go straight to Peyton. You go anywhere else and I'll slice you open. Do you understand?"

" _Yes,"_ squeaked Lily—her voice small and scared.

Tray pulled her knife away from Lily's neck.

When Lily hesitated, Jude yelled at her, _"Go to Peyton...now!"_

Lily began to scramble—falling once—before she finally made it over and into Peyton's arms.

Behind us, meanwhile, four girls from the Protection Detail had entered the cage and freed Katy and Rowena—helping them to limp out through the door.

"Don't shut that," ordered Orla. She walked over to the cage door and motioned us inside. _"Ladies."_

As Cherry, Jude, and I shuffled back toward the cage, a mischievous look suddenly overcame Orla. She giggled, motioning toward Tray. "On second thought, let's have a little fun. Put the kid and Dr. Gunga Din in there with them."

" _But you promised!"_ yelled Peyton, furious. "If I put the machete down, you said I could have Lily!"

"And I gave you the girl just like I promised," Orla said, reasonably. "It's just that now I'm taking her back."

* * * *

When the cage door finally closed again that night, there were six of us inside—Jude, Cherry, Jay, Lily, me— _and Peyton_.

Orla stood outside the cage—annoyed and more than a little frustrated. "You don't have to do this, Peyton. You're being ridiculous."

"You guys are killing people," Peyton sniffed, "and yet I'm the one you're calling ridiculous."

"Don't you get it," snapped Orla, "when the sun rises and the other girls see you, I won't have a choice anymore. You'll be, like totally on your own."

Peyton actually yawned—as if she was bored. "You always have a choice, Orla. You just usually make the wrong one."

Tray picked up a small rock and tossed it between the bars. It hit Peyton in her right leg, causing a small red welt to spring up. "What a whiny little righteous bitch you've become," she taunted.

"I'm spoiled and a bitch," shrugged Peyton. "Big deal. At least, I'm not getting my kicks from murdering girls for no reason."

"That's what this is all about?!" asked Orla, shaking her head—angry. "Bitch, we had a good reason and you know it! Belinda was going to _disappear_ in a couple of days anyway! At least, our way—her death meant something."

" _You stabbed her and you killed her!"_ Peyton yelled, jabbing a finger at Orla in her fury. "You killed Belinda just to manipulate the situation, to use her death to frame these girls. And you actually think that meant _something?!"_

"But you don't even like these girls, Peyton!" Orla waved her hands dismissively toward us. "Like you're always calling them _common_ , for god's sake!"

" _Because they_ _are_ _common!"_ barked Peyton.

" _Uh_...we're right here," muttered Jude, under her breath.

"But they're also human," continued Peyton. "And they're good—annoyingly good—so good that they make my teeth ache sometimes. And you're right—I hate that about them...but not because of the reasons that you think. Not because they're common or not rich enough or not pretty enough."

" _Still here,"_ huffed Jude.

"Then, why?" asked Orla—looking truly confused. "Why would you give up everything we've achieved just for them?"

"Because, you dumb bitch," snarled Peyton, "they're better than us! Because they're the one thing that we can never be."

"Oh, yeah... _what's that?"_

And Peyton's eyes filled with tears as she spoke two simple words.

" _They're Amelie."_

* * * *

As the sun rose, girls started arriving at the high school for breakfast—only to discover that there were _new_ additions to the cage. For 'security reasons', the football field and stands were now closed.

With the exception of the Protection Detail, the closest anyone could get to us now, was to stand just outside the gates—looking across the field to our prison-cage in the center.

Even Sophia and Reena were denied entrance.

They delivered their food tray only as far as the closed gate now. A girl from the Protection Detail would then bring the tray to us from there.

_We had effectively been_ _isolated_ _._

* * * *

That first day, Peyton kept to herself—sitting quietly in a corner of the cage, her back against the bars. We all tried to talk to her, but she refused to respond.

Finally, we just left her alone—head down, deep in her own thoughts.

The night, however, brought a vicious cold. While the rest of us huddled together, arms around each other, trying to keep warm, Peyton remained in her corner—shivering in her light dress and open-toed sandals.

Slowly, I disengaged myself from the other girls and moved across the cage toward her. "Peyton," I said gently, touching her arm. "You can't be by yourself in this cold. Trust me, you need to be with us."

She didn't even look at me—just pulled her arm back.

"It's only going to get colder," I warned. "Come on, Peyton."

No response.

I leaned down, trying to get her to look at me.

When her eyes finally met mine, I grinned. "We promise not to kiss you." The corners of Peyton's lips turned up ever so slightly. "Except Cherry...sometimes she simply has no off-switch."

" _Liar!"_ cried Cherry.

A torrent of shaking suddenly overtook Peyton. She had to struggle to get it under control, her teeth were chattering so much. I quickly motioned to the others. They scuttled over— _a circle of shivering girls surrounding one tormented, very cold Fox_.

"And Jude will probably fart," I continued.

"Truth," Jude nodded. "Sorry, Princess."

"Jude's a stinky bum," agreed Lily. "But only sometimes."

Peyton smiled; it was small, barely there— _but it was definitely a smile_.

"And Jay tells bad jokes," I asserted, "only we don't ever get them, because she tells them in Pakistani."

" _Urdu,"_ corrected Jay.

"That's what I said—bad jokes in Urdu."

"But Lily's good," said Jude. "She makes up for the rest of us dumbasses."

" _You're not a dumbass!"_ Lily frowned at Jude. "You stop saying that."

Jude ran a hand over Lily's face, erasing her frown. "Sorry, Sailor Moon." Then, Jude looked down at Peyton. _"See_...I told you Lily was good."

Peyton's eyes filled with tears; her smile faltered and she turned toward me. "And you, Kaylee?" she asked, quietly. _"What about you?"_

"Well, I'm the worst, obviously," I said, "because I'm the common girl who's going to make you _our sister."_

And, ignoring her soft protests, I reached out and took her into my arms. The others quietly joined me—pulling Peyton close.

Into our warmth...into our family.

### SIX LIVES, SEVEN TICKETS

It had been 364 days since our world— _and our lives_ —had been irrevocably changed. Once we had been just normal girls, worrying about our grades, our clothes, our makeup— _and boys_.

But now we were prisoners, held in a cage in the middle of our high school's football field— _cold, miserable, scared_.

Because— _tomorrow_ —on Halloween...

We were to be executed.

Murdered.

* * * *

Orla tried one last time to convince Peyton to return to the Foxes Compound. She showed up just before supper, wearing a plaid, pleated skirt, pink sweater set—and a frown. _"What's with your hair, Peyton? It looks dumb."_

Earlier that day—after our daily 'washing'—Lily had amused all of us by braiding our hair. I had been given three braids, Jay got four, Jude received five, and Peyton got six.

The braids were sticking out from all sides of Peyton's head, giving her a goofy pincushion-look. Reaching up, Peyton patted one of her braids. "It's haute-couture, Orla. Sorry, if you don't get it."

Orla glared at the rest of us—her lips thin and pursed, like she'd just sucked on a lemon. "So, these are your friends now?"

Peyton shrugged. "Ironic, huh?"

" _Dammit, Peyton!"_ Orla clutched at the cage's bars, her knuckles white in frustration. "Why would you want to die like a peasant, when you can live like a queen?! It just doesn't make any sense!"

Sighing, Peyton stood up, brushed some imaginary lint off of her 'very' dirty skirt, and turned to face Orla. "Here's what makes sense," she began. "All my life, people have been telling me what I have to do, what I have to look like, what I have to say— _even what I have to lie about_. Well, guess what—I don't have to listen anymore. Not to you, not to my father, not to anyone. And guess what, with power like that... _I'm already living like a queen!"_

"This is so fricking stupid, Peyton," Orla groaned, shaking her head. "I'm so ashamed of you."

Now, if she had been smart, Orla probably would have left at that moment. Instead, she decided to taunt Peyton one last time.

" _And Amelie would_ _really_ _be ashamed of you,"_ she sneered.

I would never have believed the speed of Peyton's fist, if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. It shot out—straight between the bars—right into Orla's nose.

Blood spurted everywhere; Orla flew backward.

"That's from Amelie, bitch!" yelled Peyton. Then, she turned and stalked to the far side of the cage and sat down, facing away.

Jude, meanwhile, kneeled down for a closer look at Orla. "Well, what do you know," Jude pondered, studying her. "Guess blood really _isn't_ a good color on a ginger."

* * * *

Tray showed up an hour later.

She walked around our cage, looking us over, finally stopping in front of me. "Hey, Kaylee," she said, politely. "What's up?"

"Not much," I answered, just as polite. "What's up with you?"

"Get to shoot some girls tomorrow. That'll be fun."

"Any chance you'll just shoot five?" I asked. "Instead of six?"

A shadow fell over Tray's face; she frowned. "You're trying to save yourself? I wouldn't have expected that of you."

I shook my head. "Lily's only eight, Tray. She's just a kid. She doesn't deserve any of this, you know it."

"You want to give her to me... _nice."_

She was taunting me—I chose to ignore it.

"Not you, Tray," I said, honestly. "You know that would be wrong. But give her to anyone else. Heck, give her to Sophia... _just give Lily a chance."_

Tray walked around the outside of the cage until she was opposite Lily—sitting tucked between Jude's legs. She knelt down, studying the girl. "What do you say, little chicken? Do you want me to take you out of here?"

Lily responded by turning her head into Jude's chest, hiding her face from Tray.

"And you?" Tray nodded to Jude. "What do you want?"

Jude put her arms around Lily, holding her close. "Get Lily out of here," she said, quietly. And though it must have killed her to say it, Jude added— _"Please."_

Tray was quiet for a moment, as if considering it.

Then, she grinned. _"Nah_...I really want to shoot her. I want to shoot all of you." Tray looked over at me. "But as a favor to Blondie— _I can always do Lily first."_

* * * *

Our 'last supper' was amazingly good— _vegetable lasagna, salad, and chocolate cookies_. Sophia watched us as we ate; she was pacing back and forth on the far side of the field—wringing her hands, muttering under her breath.

"Do you think Sophia's conscience is finally getting to her?" I asked Cherry. "She looks upset."

" _Who cares?"_ Cherry responded, taking a big bite of cookie. "I'm so done with her it isn't even funny."

Over at the gate, Sophia wiped at her eyes.

That intrigued me— _was she actually crying?_

"Lily," I said, quietly. "I want you to get up and walk over to the edge of the cage—the side that's facing Sophia. When you get there, I want you to wave at Sophia and call her name. I'm going to tell you some things to say. You do that, okay?"

"Okay." Lily got up and walked to the bars closest to Sophia. _"Hi, Sophia!"_ she called out, waving.

At the gate, Sophia stopped her pacing. For a moment, she appeared frozen; then she gave a tentative wave back.

"Tell her how much you liked the meal," I whispered.

"I liked the meal!" Lily yelled. "Especially the cookies!" she added. "You make the best chocolate cookies ever, Sophia!"

"Thank you, Lily," Sophia called back.

One of the 12th graders guarding us started walking toward Sophia—no doubt to shoo her away. Quickly, I told Lily the rest of what I wanted her to say.

"Sophia," Lily yelled, "I'm going to be dead tomorrow, so I just wanted to say thank you for cooking such good meals just like my mom did. I love you, Sophia!"

Even from here, I could see the tears falling down Sophia's face. "I love you, too, Lily," she sobbed.

Then— _the 12th grader was there and pushing Sophia away_.

* * * *

"What was that all about?" asked Jude.

I shrugged. "Probably nothing...but maybe a chance for Lily."

"You think Sophia might save her?"

Looking down at the ground, I kicked at the dirt, frustrated. _"Listen_...I need to say something...to everybody. It's important."

The girls all gathered round me, forming a small huddle.

"What is it?" asked Jay, concerned by my seriousness.

" _First_...I want to apologize...for being such a bad leader."

Jay shook her head. "You're a great leader, Kaylee."

"We're in a cage, Jay."

"But that's not your fault—that's just bad luck."

I didn't want to debate it, so I just moved on. "There's something I've been thinking of...I can't save all of us...but I think that I might just have a way to at least save Lily."

"Does it have anything to do with what just happened with Sophia?" asked Jay.

"It has everything to do with Sophia," I nodded.

"If it will save Lily, I'm all for it," said Jude.

"You haven't heard my plan, yet," I warned. "We're going to have to do something very, very terrible."

And, as I began to explain— _their mouths opened wide in horror_.

* * * *

According to Jay, there was going to be a _gibbous moon_ in the sky that evening. Apparently, that meant that—at midnight—the moon would rise up from the horizon—heralding in Halloween.

October 31st— _which was also...Jude's 18th birthday!_

* * * *

Because of the angle of the stadium, there was only one side of the cage where we could stand and look at the horizon of the sky. That's where Cherry stood, for more than an hour—watching for the gibbous moon— _waiting_.

Meanwhile, Lily sat right in front of Jude. Resolute, stubborn, she held onto both of Jude's hands, refusing to look at any place other than the older girl's face. Lily was utterly convinced that— _if she didn't look away_ —Jude wouldn't be able to _disappear_.

The rest of us wandered the cage nervously—stopping to touch Jude's shoulder now and again, more to reassure ourselves than her.

" _Guys,"_ Jude finally complained, "you're all making me major league uncomfortable. Like I've got a massive booger hanging from my nose or something."

"We don't want you to go away," said Lily, simply. "So, we're gonna' keep you right here in front of us where we can see you."

"I already told you. I was born at 7:05 p.m. on the 31st," said Jude. "Since we're getting knocked off at ten in the morning, I think you guys can relax."

" _It's up!"_ Cherry pointed excitedly to the horizon. _"The moon's risen!"_

We all raced over to take a look.

Even Jude.

"Okay," she said, looking relieved. "It's Halloween. So, can you guys all give it a rest now?"

Lily hugged Jude. _"You're still here!"_

"I'm still here, Sailor. Now, go get some sleep. You've got a big acting job in the morning."

"You come sit with me." Lily ordered, tugging at Jude's hand.

"I'll be there in a minute," Jude said, pulling her hand free. "I just need to talk to Cherry for a moment."

Jay and Peyton took Lily and led her to the other side of the cage. They sat down, murmuring quietly to each other.

I was about to follow, but Jude put out her hand and stopped me. Looking down, I realized that Jude's hand was shaking.

Big faker— _she_ _had_ _been scared_.

Jude saw where I was looking and quickly pulled back her hand. "Shaddup," she said, quietly.

"I didn't say anything."

Cherry moved in close. _"What is it, Jude?"_

"Back in the basement, when it was just the three of us...well, I want you guys to know that I didn't sleep through it all," Jude said, quietly. "So, I know what you did for me, Cherry... _you saved my life_...and I just wanted to say thank you."

Cherry shrugged. "I did the same thing any one of us would do."

Jude looked around at our sad group—then she nodded. _"True that."_

"So, is your _wuss-out_ over?" asked Cherry, teasing.

_Whack!_ —Jude's hand shot out and connected with the side of Cherry's head.

* * * *

Not one of us slept during the night— _not even Lily_.

As the first rays of sun breached the edge of the stadium, I reached over and tapped Jude on her foot.

" _You're eighteen,"_ I told her. "You're old enough to join the army now."

"And vote," added Cherry—yawning.

"But still too young to drink," teased Jay. "Which is kind of ironic, considering how we first found you."

"I wish we could give you a party," I sighed. "Sorry, Jude."

"It's okay," she said. "Parties aren't really my thing, anyways."

Lily suddenly sat up straighter. "We can still give Jude presents," she declared. "Okay! I'm going to give Jude a boyfriend...and his name is going to be— _Porter!"_

We all laughed.

Jude tapped Lily on the head, gently. "Silly girl," she said, fondly.

"You go, Peyton," ordered Lily. "What will you give Jude for her birthday?"

"That's easy," Peyton said. "A machine gun."

Jude nodded her approval. "Good choice. I can put that to use immediately."

Lily looked at Jay, who thought about it for a moment. _"Well_...I suppose I'll give Jude a really good set of tools, so that she can build stuff or make jewelry—whatever she wants."

" _Nice."_ Jude reached out and pulled on one of Jay's four braids in gratitude.

"Sheesh," said Jay, pushing her hand away. "Try saying 'thank you' like normal people, why don't you?!"

"Your turn, Kaylee," said Lily.

"No problem...I'm giving her six tickets to Disneyland."

"So, we can all go together!" squealed Lily, clapping.

" _Together,"_ I nodded—trying to ignore the sadness building in my heart.

"Your gift sucks, Barbie," said Jude, frowning.

My face fell—the sadness growing exponentially larger.

Jude punched me lightly in the arm. "Dude, grow up! I simply need seven tickets. Didn't you hear?" she chuckled. "I've got a boyfriend named Porter that I have to take now, too."

### HOW IT ALL ENDED

_It was almost time—for our deaths, our executions...our_ _murders_ _._

Tray and Orla entered the field—surrounded by their Protection Detail. There was a tiny bandage on the bridge of Orla's nose and she was sporting two black eyes.

They stopped, just outside of our cage—staring in at us.

We were all sitting in a circle, quietly enjoying a non-existent birthday cake and drinking invisible fruit punch— _our pinkies extended, our souls intact_.

"What a bunch of freaks," said Tray, shaking her head.

I rose, dusting off my clothes and walked toward them. "You really going to do this?" I asked Orla. "Because it's going to be a heck of a body count. A lot of crosses going up on that hill today."

Orla grinned at me. "Who says that you're going up on the hill? Like Cherry said, the girls are hungry these days. A little meat in their soup pot might just hit the spot, don't you think?"

I tried not to react to her words—although I was reeling inside with disgust and horror.

Was Orla truly considering cannibalism?

Even more horrifying—had she already?

Ignoring the sickness I was feeling, I attempted to appeal to Orla's compassion. "Will you please let Lily go? She's just a little girl. I know that Sophia will want to take her."

Orla said nothing, just moved around the cage toward Peyton. "Last chance, bitch," she said, punctuating her words by grabbing the bars and giving them a good shake.

Peyton didn't even look at Orla.

Instead, she just waved her hand—as if she was swatting away an annoying fly.

Irritated, Orla came back to me.

" _Bang, bang,"_ she snarled. _"To all of you."_

* * * *

The stands filled up with girls a little while later.

Although I saw a solemn face here and there— _for the most part_ —the atmosphere seemed almost festive. Girls laughed and joked with each other—pointing at us, whispering in each other's ears.

I noticed that many of the girls were eating chocolate. Others had candy bars held in their hands or sticking out of their pockets. It appeared that Orla had opened up the food stores for the event.

Chocolate as the new popcorn.

In the front row, I was pleased to see Sophia seated beside Reena. Both girls were quietly reading from their bibles.

"Jude," I whispered. "Do you see them?"

She nodded, then turned to Lily—who was seated beside her and holding tightly onto Jude's arm. "You have to go now, Sailor Moon."

Lily didn't move; instead, her lips began to quiver. "I want to stay with you guys," she pleaded, in a tiny voice.

" _Please, Lily,"_ I urged. "You know how important it is that one of us gets out of here...to tell our story. So, you have to do this for us. You have to be our hero."

She nodded—tears falling down her cheeks.

Then, slowly, she let go of Jude and moved away from us.

* * * *

Cherry, Jay, Jude, Peyton, and I were seated against the bars on the far side of the cage. Lily, meanwhile, began walking slowly forward—to the side of the cage closest to Sophia and Reena.

"That's right," I told her. "Go right up to the bars, Lily." I kept my voice low, afraid that the Protection Detail might hear. "Now position yourself right across from Sophia. And if she looks up at you, make sure that you wave."

"... _okay."_

Lily knelt down on the far side of the cage, rubbing at her tear-filled eyes. As she did, a _rumble_ flowed through the girls in the stands.

What is Lily doing? Why is she kneeling?

"Please look up—please look up," I chanted, under my breath.

In the first row, Sophia turned a page of her bible. At the same time, she looked up in our direction.

"Now, Lily!" I hissed. _"Now!"_

Still kneeling—Lily bowed her head. Then— _she put her hands together and began to pray_.

The agitated _rumble_ from the stands grew louder.

_Lily is praying! Why is she_ _even_ _in that cage?_

Down on the first set of bleachers, I could see that Sophia and Reena were both watching Lily closely now.

Meanwhile, Orla and Tray had finally arrived.

They were both dressed in designer black and looked immaculate. As they stopped to talk to some of their friends in the stands, I reluctantly stood up.

And began to tremble.

Jude reached out and placed a comforting hand on my arm to steady me. "Do you want me to do it?"

I shook her hand off and moved forward.

One step, then another...straight toward Lily— _a tiny, fragile 8-year old girl who was on her knees, praying_.

"Please forgive me," I begged Lily, struggling not to cry. "Please, please forgive me for what I'm about to do."

Her head still bowed, I heard Lily say quietly. _"It's okay, Kaylee...I love you."_

"I love you, too, baby," I cried. "I'm so very sorry."

And then I ran for her— _screaming!_

* * * *

" _You stupid bitch!"_ I screeched. "I have fracking had it with you and your damn prayers!"

In front of me, the girls in the stands immediately went silent—obviously shocked and horrified—especially when I pulled Lily to her feet and hit her— _hard!_

Lily's head snapped back—her lip splitting open.

She began to cry, her tears mingling with the blood running down her chin. Swinging her around, I tossed her small body to the other side of the cage. She fell to the ground and I lunged for her, kicking at her legs.

Outside the cage, meanwhile, girls began yelling from the stands—crying out to Orla to _—"Help Lily...get her out of there!!"_

Inside of the cage, I continued to scream at Lily. _"I will kill you! Kill you!"_

On the ground, Lily curled her body up into a fetal position, trying to protect herself from my attack. She was sobbing now, calling out the one name that we had given her.

" _SOPHIA!!...SOPHIA!!...SOPHIA!!"_

Off to one side, I could sense Cherry and Jay holding Jude back.

I didn't want to look at them—was afraid of the _murder_ I would see in Jude's face. Instead, I reached down and pulled Lily up by the front of her dress. Lifting her off of the ground, I pushed her up against the cage.

My face was inches away from hers, and I screamed in her terrified, tear-streaked face. "You were never a part of us, Lily! You were never! I hate you—you whiny, annoying little brat!"

And I slapped her again... _and again_.

" _SOPHIA!!"_ Lily continued to sob, turning her face toward the bars.

* * * *

Then, suddenly— _there_ _she_ _was!_

_Sophia_ —in all her religious wrath and righteous fury.

Even as the Protective Detail was racing forward, Sophia was reaching through the bars, scratching at my face.

"You leave Lily alone!" she screamed at me. "You do not dare touch this innocent child, this gift from God!"

I immediately fell back—dropping Lily as if burnt.

Sophia, however, reached through the bars and grabbed Lily, pulling her close. "I am here, Lily...I am here!"

From over near the stands, I suddenly heard Reena's voice cry out. _"Let Lily go!"_

Moments later—another girl's voice joined in.

" _Let Lily go!"_

Then it was three voices—then four—then many. _"Let Lily go...let Lily go!"_

On the far side of the cage, Lily continued to sob in Sophia's arms—her face swollen and bleeding from my attack.

Horrified by what I had done, I slowly backed up, until I was crushed against the opposite bars. Jay, Peyton, and Cherry immediately moved to stand in front of me—a barrier against the crowd's fury.

Meanwhile, Jude stood to one side, torn, shaking—wanting to go to Lily—knowing that she couldn't.

" _Let Lily go...let Lily go!"_

Suddenly—SILENCE.

It was Orla, holding up her hand. The girls in the stands turned toward her, waiting eagerly for her decision.

Even Sophia stood up—although she continued to hold onto Lily.

"Your call for mercy has not gone unnoticed," Orla announced. Then, she turned toward our cage, pointed, and spoke loudly. _"Let Lily go!"_

* * * *

It was Tray who ultimately unlocked the cage door and pulled out Lily.

Sophia immediately ran to her, enveloping Lily in her arms and leading her away. As they walked by the stands, the girls there cheered, congratulating both Sophia and her young charge.

Moments later, both Sophia and Lily were gone— _disappeared_ behind the bleachers.

Suddenly—I sensed movement.

It was Jude—rushing toward me.

I tensed for the beating I suspected was forthcoming and that— _frankly_ —I felt that I deserved. But, instead, Jude grabbed my head in both of her hands and laid her forehead against mine. Tears were streaming down her face even as she spoke.

" _Best—leader—ever!"_

* * * *

_It was decided that I was to be the_ _first_ _to die._

Rowena and Katy pulled me out of the cage and over to where Tray was standing. They pushed me to the ground, making me kneel in the dirt.

Tray, grinning, leaned over to whisper in my ear. "That thing with Lily... _well-played, young Kaylee."_

"Don't hurt her, Tray," I begged. "Lily won't be any trouble to you now, I promise. Sophia will take care of her."

Tray shrugged. "I never cared about Lily one way or the other. She was just a tool to make the rest of you behave."

In front of us, meanwhile, Orla had come out onto the field to address the girls in the stands. From the looks that I was receiving there, I knew that there would be no calls for _mercy_ from the girls for me.

"We are here to witness justice," declared Orla, loudly, "for our Community, for Belinda McIntyre— _and for Lily."_

The girls in the stands cheered.

Orla turned and pointed at me. "Kaylee Michelson, you are hereby sentenced to death—for theft from our Community, for the murder of Belinda McIntyre, for cannibalism...and for the unprovoked and vicious attack on an innocent 8-year old girl."

Beside me, Tray put out her hand.

Rowena quickly unsnapped her holster, pulled out her gun and slapped it into Tray's hand.

As Tray placed the barrel of the gun against the back of my head, I twisted around to look back at the cage. Jay, Cherry, Peyton, and Jude were standing at the bars, their hands now duct-taped behind their backs.

There were tears streaming down all their faces and Jay looked unnaturally white—as if she was about to pass out.

"It's okay," I yelled to them. "I love you all!"

Click, click.

They couldn't respond, however— _their mouths had been taped_.

Click, click.

I turned to look up at Tray; she appeared confused.

"Just do it!" I snarled at her. _"Get it over with, Tray!"_

Frowning, Tray pulled the trigger— _click, click_.

And— _I suddenly understood_.

The 'clicks' I had been hearing; those had been Tray, trying to fire the gun.

But she had Rowena's gun— _and it was empty!_

Peyton had made certain of that when she'd taken out the bullets.

I thought back to all those hours I'd spent handcuffed in the basement, and all those ridiculous exercises I had done—just in case my chance to escape ever came.

Well, my chance was suddenly here and... _I figured I had mere moments_.

Quickly, I struggled to my feet.

I turned to run.

* * * *

... _and that's when I saw_ _him_ _..._

* * * *

No one was saying a word.

The girls in the stands had gone completely silent—their mouths open in shock at an actual boy being in our midst.

Behind me, Tray's hand dropped to her side and the gun fell from her fingers, bouncing off of the ground.

* * * *

The boy was standing no more than twenty feet away from me—holding some type of homemade spear. I couldn't see his face because he was wearing a football helmet. He was about five or six inches taller than me, and he wore protection pads that covered his shoulders.

Slowly, he came closer to me—one step at a time.

Twenty feet away...fifteen feet, ten feet...five feet.

He stopped there—facing me.

And then the boy spoke—his voice filled with shock and amazement.

" _Kaylee_ _?!"_

My heart skipped a beat and my knees went weak—because I knew that voice.

I knew exactly who was standing in front of me!

Jacob Riker— _the boy I loved, the boy I would always love_.

Ripping off his helmet and throwing it to one side, Jacob moved even closer. There was blood on his face—dripping down from the side of his mouth—but he wiped it away as he smiled at me, his light blue eyes blazing fiercely into mine.

"I knew you were still alive, Kaylee!" he whispered. _"I just knew it!"_

* * * *

And then— _they_ _appeared_.

One boy after another—popping up all along the football field.

A few feet away, a bald Brandon Keretsky materialized out of thin air. He looked disoriented and wobbly—dropping the giant sword he was carrying onto the ground beside him.

Jacob's eyes reluctantly left mine. He took one long look at Brandon, then turned sadly back to me.

And this boy I loved so dearly—this boy with the beautiful ice-blue eyes—he took my hand in his and he said the one thing that I least expected.

"RUN, KAYLEE...RUN!!!

END

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Nancy Isaak is a Gemini-nominated, award-winning writer of television, films, and books. She currently resides in Southern California with her son and three cats.

AND THE SAGA CONTINUES IN:

(The following excerpt is from "365 Days Hunted",

the second installment in "The 365 Days Quadrilogy".)

HOW IT ALL BEGAN

It began like a wild adventure.

Like something straight out of the movies.

Suddenly, it was just us guys and we were free to do whatever we wanted, however we wanted, whenever we wanted.

Because they were all gone— _adults, little kids_ — _girls_.

In some ways it was like a dream.

Except—it wasn't.

But I guess I should start at the beginning.

So, here's what I put in my journal, starting on that very first day—the day that would forever change all of our lives.

### JOURNAL ENTRY #1

Let's start with the basics—and basically—I'm a pretty normal guy.

Brown hair, blue eyes, 5'9", 142 lbs.

Average student, great family, good amount of friends.

Totally normal—that's me.

* * * *

My name is Jacob Gordon Riker and I am 16-years old.

I live in Agoura Hills, which is a suburban community just outside of Los Angeles in California. I am in the 10th Grade at Agoura High, where I'm a fair-to-middling student.

Most of my spare time is spent hiking, biking, and surfing. I'm getting pretty good on the board, actually—and have placed in a couple of the smaller surfing contests around the state.

Guess that won't be happening any more.

* * * *

I'm not exactly sure why I feel compelled to write this all down.

Let's face it—there's a good chance no one will ever be reading this.

Most likely, I will eventually die and these pages will wither and crumble—adding to the dust and decay of what I'm beginning to suspect will be a hell of a crazy new world.

_Still, one of the things my mom is always drumming into my head is—and I can hear her voice saying it right now—_ _'those who can must always bear witness for those who can't'_ _._

You'd have to know my mom to understand what she means.

See, before she had me and my two brothers, my mom was a reporter. She kind of specialized in traveling to poorer countries and investigating the horrible things that were happening there to women and children.

In fact, one of her stories actually got her nominated for a Pulitzer Prize.

It was about this fake adoption ring in Bangladesh. Children there were actually being sold to men in Denmark for disgusting reasons I'd rather not write down here. But I just wanted to mention it because I'm so extraordinarily proud of my mom.

Because of her story, the fake adoption ring was broken up, over thirty men were arrested in five countries and—most importantly, the thing that truly mattered to my mom—dozens and dozens of children were saved.

* * * *

Sometimes, I think of those children.

I imagine them remembering my mom and loving her for the courage she showed—for traveling to dangerous countries, for going head-to-head with the worst of the worst. And even though most of them have never met her, I like to imagine those children thinking of my mom as their hero.

_Because of what she wrote—because of her_ _words_ _._

One time, I asked my mom why she had stopped investigative reporting when she married my dad. I mean, she had been a runner-up for the Pulitzer Prize and my mom gave it all up to get married and have kids!

_It just seemed so_ _wrong_ _to me._

But that day when I asked, my mom told me that—sometimes—when you live your life 'in the midst of chaos and inhumanity', there finally comes a moment when you just want everything to be normal again.

_When_ _you_ _just want to be normal again._

I think I'm maybe starting to get it now.

* * * *

Dear Mom,

_Wherever you are, please be safe and take care of dad. You know that you're stronger than him and that he'll need you to get him through whatever_ _this_ _is._

Kieran and Rhys are with me. We're taking care of each other.

I love you Mom...and I love Dad.

And I miss both of you guys.

We all miss you.

Love, Jacob.

### DEAD LIKE BETSY

The world changed on November 1st—the day after Halloween.

7:28 a.m.—the exact moment my Honda Element died.

With my two brothers— _Kieran and Rhys_ —I was driving back from an early morning surf session at Zuma Beach in Malibu. We had camped the previous night at Leo Carrillo State Park—Rhys in the back of the Honda, Kieran and I in our sleeping bags on the ground outside.

Now we were tired, smelling of surf and sand—and looking forward to a shower, Dad's waffles, and a couple of hours of shut-eye.

It wasn't to be.

Coming through the westernmost canyon tunnel along Kanan-Dume Road, my Honda didn't just cough and sputter— _it simply stopped_.

Dead—immediately.

_Although it did continue to roll_ —straight down the hill!

* * * *

Kieran and Rhys started yelling; meanwhile, I frantically _clicked_ the ignition key back and forth.

" _Dude, put it in neutral!"_

"Kieran, it doesn't work that way," I barked, flipping the sun visor up, so that I could see better as the car gathered speed, heading into the downward curve.

" _We're going to crash!"_ screeched Rhys, from the back seat.

"We're not going to crash," I said. "Just chill, you guys. We'll slow down when the road starts curving up."

"Pull over now!" ordered Kieran, from beside me. He was fourteen and always thought he knew better than anyone else.

"I can't," I said. "I'm going too fast. If I hit the gravel at this angle we might flip over. Just give Betsy _(yes, that was my car's name)_ a moment."

Sure enough, we curved into the upgrade and the Honda immediately began slowing down. When I was certain that we wouldn't flip, I maneuvered the car onto the gravel at the side of the road.

"Are you far enough over?" asked Rhys, worried. "I mean, it looks like the tail end is still in the road. You're gonna' get us hit."

"We're fine," I said, placing the Honda in park and setting the emergency brake.

"You probably need a new battery," Kieran told me.

"What I need," I sighed, "is a car that isn't Mom's old tank."

"It never died on Mom like this," Rhys said. "And she drove it just fine for ten years. I'll bet you did something wrong."

I turned around and gave Rhys a dirty look. He was sitting in the back seat of the Honda, our surfboards jammed up near his head.

"Just saying," said Rhys, holding up his hands.

Kieran leaned over to check the gas gauge. "You're probably out of gas."

"I filled up yesterday. The tank's three-quarters full." Reaching across the dashboard, I pulled my phone out of the charging outlet.

"Who are you going to call? Reception is bad in the canyon," warned Rhys. "You know you probably won't be able to get anyone."

Sighing, I turned around to face my youngest brother. At 11-years old, he was at that irritating stage where he truly enjoyed being a thorn in my backside. "You got anything good to say, bud?" I asked. "Because you're kind of becoming a bit of a Debbie Downer back there."

"Well, I do need to take a piss," he grinned.

"Dude, there were crappers on the beach! You said you didn't have to go."

"I didn't then," he shrugged. "I do now."

" _Go for it."_ I motioned to the semi-wilderness all around the car.

Rhys looked horrified. He said just one word— _"Bugs!"_

Kieran broke out in laughter. "You're such a wuss!"

"They're disgusting!" Rhys said, angrily. "They poke and they bite and, if you're not careful, they can climb up that little hole straight into your dick."

"That's ridiculous," Kieran scoffed.

"It's not!" Rhys insisted. "I read it on the net."

While they continued to argue, I turned the ignition key back and forth.

Click, click.

"Sorry, Rhys," I sighed, giving up. "But you've got no choice. It's outside or hold it until Triple-A gets here and gives us a jump."

"You think it might be the battery?" Kieran asked me.

"That would be my guess."

My wallet was in the side pocket of the Honda's door. I pulled it out and turned to the sleeve that held my AAA card.

In the back seat, meanwhile, Rhys groaned, _"Kieran, come with me!"_

"We're not girls," said Kieran. "You can take a piss by yourself."

" _But you can watch for bugs."_

"Hitching a ride on your dick?! I don't think so." Kieran wadded up a piece of paper and threw it back at Rhys, hitting him in the face. "Just go behind those bushes there. You'll be fine."

Reluctantly, Rhys got out and walked slowly toward the chaparral just in front of the car. As he passed around the other side of the bushes, Kieran waited for exactly the right moment. Then, he leaned out of the door and yelled at his younger brother. "Don't forget about the ticks! You know those blood suckers can jump from a bush to your dick in about half a second, right?"

Rhys practically fell over in his rush to finish and zip up his pants.

Meanwhile, Kieran burst into hysterical laughter, turning towards me. "Man, that was too easy."

I wasn't laughing, though.

Seeing the look on my face, Kieran turned serious. "What is it?" he asked, concerned.

I held up my phone, so he could see the empty screen. _"It's dead."_

"Like Betsy?"

"Exactly like Betsy."

"Is that even possible?" Kieran asked, frowning. "Could Betsy have maybe drained it when she died? They were both, like connected through the charger."

"Sure hope so," I said.

Because the alternative was terrifying.

* * * *

"Man, this is weird," said Kieran. "We haven't seen one car coming either way. Not even the Beach Bus and that should have passed us by now."

"Maybe they've stopped the traffic at both ends of the canyon," I suggested. "They do that sometimes when there's been a bad accident."

The three of us were walking up Kanan-Dume Road toward Agoura Hills. On either side of us were semi-arid slopes covered with chaparral and spindly trees. In the distance, we could see houses—the mini-mansions of actors and entertainment industry executives that dotted these canyons.

"I hope our boards are okay," fretted Rhys.

"They'll be fine," I said. "They're locked in the car."

Behind us, Kanan-Dume curved and angled, downward toward Point Dume and the Pacific Ocean. In front of us, the road meandered through the Santa Monica Mountains— _up this hill, down that one_ —before it finally coiled down into the Conejo Valley and our home in Agoura Hills.

Kanan-Dume Road— _from ocean to valley, a distance of approximately twelve miles_.

And we still had almost eight miles to go—2 ½ hours walking, tops.

* * * *

"It's really quiet," added Kieran. "Have you noticed that? Like creepy-quiet. I don't hear any traffic noises anywhere."

"It's deceptive in the canyons," I told him. "Sometimes things sound like they're miles away, sometimes they're right next to you."

"Yeah, but I don't hear anything...nothing at all."

"I hear birds chirping," said Rhys. _"Lots of birds."_

Kieran reached over and whacked him on the head. "I'm talking about cars, dumbass."

"It's still early," I suggested. "And it's the day after Halloween. Maybe it's just a slow day."

But I didn't believe it.

Frankly, I was just as creeped out as Kieran.

* * * *

"My feet hurt," Rhys whined.

We had just crested a hill, beginning our descent to where Mulholland Highway eventually crosses over Kanan-Dume. I could see Rocky Oak Park on one side of the intersection, across from one of the area's many vineyards.

"If you need the bathroom," I suggested, "there's a john in the park."

"A little late for that," Rhys said. "But maybe if there's a ranger there, we can use their phone to call Triple-A."

"We'd have a better chance just knocking on someone's door," said Kieran. "There's hardly ever a ranger in that park."

Suddenly—we heard a loud CRASH!!

It was followed by a _tinkling_ noise—as if glass was being shattered.

"What is that?" asked Rhys—his head whipping around, searching.

"I think it came from down the hillside, on the left," said Kieran.

There were boulders spaced all along the edge of the road. We shimmied through them to peer down at a large gabled house in the valley below.

_A flash of_ _orange_ _immediately caught our attention._

"Oh-oh," murmured Rhys. "That doesn't look good."

"Get down!" I grabbed my brothers—one by each arm—and pulled them toward the ground. We knelt there, hidden among the rocks, watching.

"Are those guys who I think they are?" asked Kieran—keeping his voice low.

"It looks like it," I nodded.

Down below, a big Hispanic guy in his late teens, picked up a rock and chucked it through one of the gabled house's enormous front windows.

CRASH!

Two other guys—one white, one African-American, also in their late teens—stood nearby, laughing and cheering him on.

"How come they're wearing orange, Jacob?" asked Rhys. "Like even their pants are orange."

"They're criminals, doofus," hissed Kieran. "Don't you know anything?"

" _Criminals?!"_ Rhys looked terrified.

"They're from that juvie camp, the one over where Mulholland turns into Encinal Canyon," I explained. "They must have escaped or something."

"If they're juvenile delinquents," asked Rhys, "shouldn't we call the cops, then?"

"Sure, moron," said Kieran. "With what phone?"

"Oh," said Rhys, in a small voice.

" _Crap!"_ I couldn't believe what I was seeing. _"Look_ —over there. You can see them through the trees. There are more guys coming up from Mulholland."

* * * *

A group of seven or eight teenage boys emerged from a strand of alders— _all dressed in orange_ —walking toward the first three. They were laughing and pushing each other, their excited voices echoing off the canyon's walls.

As we watched, one of the biggest guys suddenly turned and cold-cocked a smaller kid beside him. The boy went down, staggering under the attack. Moments later, the other guys in the group surrounded the smaller boy— _kicking and punching_.

"What the hell?!" cried Kieran, horrified.

The same boy who threw the first punch suddenly pulled out a large knife. He slashed downward, again and again. From our angle and distance, we couldn't see exactly what he was connecting with, but each time his knife rose up— _it was redder and redder_.

Beside me, Rhys began to whimper.

"We have to do something," he sobbed. "They're killing him, Jacob!"

"There are too many," I whispered. "They'll kill us, too, if we try to interfere."

"Then, what are we going to do?!"

"We need to get help. Find a phone somewhere and call the police."

" _Uh, Jacob..."_ Kieran's voice had become small and shaky. His hand snaked out and squeezed my arm. "Look down," he said, urgently. _"Look down now!"_

* * * *

_They_ _were coming for us!_

While our attention had been focused on the second group and the horror they were perpetrating, the first three juvies must have caught sight of us up on the road above them.

Now the three of them were scrambling up the hillside—pulling themselves up through the chaparral, their faces grim and determined.

As I peered down, the largest of them— _the Hispanic_ —looked up at me and grinned. He was just close enough for me to see the thin scar that ran from his right ear across his cheek to just underneath his chin.

There was a large knife in his right hand and he held it up.

Looking directly into my eyes, he drew it across the air, just in front of his throat.

The implication was obvious.

_My brothers and I were in_ _deadly_ _trouble!_

("365 Days Hunted" is available now for pre-order at your favorite retailer.)

Also by Nancy Isaak **:**

(The following excerpt is from "Anarchy".)

### ONE

From the bluff where she stood, the young woman could easily see the children playing down on Leo Carrillo State Beach— _50 feet below_ —throwing Frisbees, scampering along the sand, energetically leaping into the green-blue waves of the Pacific Ocean.

A few yards away from the children, a young couple walked hand-in-hand along the edge of the water, while two older women laid out towels and a picnic basket.

Just another glorious sunny day in Southern California.

Tilting her head in utter fascination at such frivolity, the young woman could _almost_ hear the children's cries of delight from where she stood; she could _almost_ feel the heat of the sun on her bare arms.

_Except that—she_ _couldn't_ _._

_Because_ —that marvelous, vibrant summer day at the beach existed now only on the faded Polaroid photograph that she was holding up—its corners tattered and fraying.

_Because_ —that glorious summer day had actually happened nineteen years ago.

One month _before_ the 'Event'.

Two months _before_ 'they' had emerged from wherever the hell they had been hiding.

Three months _before_ the world had been 'changed' forever— _at least for humanity_.

* * * *

With an irritated sigh, the young woman lowered her ragged photograph—revealing the true beach as it now existed, stretching out from the base of the bluff on which she was standing.

This Leo Carrillo State Beach was _empty_.

A barren expanse of sand running alongside a silent parking lot, dotted here and there with the rusting hulks of dead cars and overturned garbage cans.

Where thousands of families had once laid on beach towels, where they had slathered sunblock on their reddening backs, where they had eaten barbequed chicken and potato salad and sung camp songs around small fires—now there was _nobody_.

Just a lonely beach—abandoned, deserted.

Its only occupants the bits of trash that skittered here and there, propelled by the gloom and dank of an incoming marine layer.

"Okay...here we go." The young woman lifted up a small video camera, aiming it—not at the beach—but at her own face.

"Hey, guys," she spoke into the camera's lens. "So, this is _Frankie-cam—Episode 1!_ And me? Why, of course...I'm the soon-to-be famous Frankie!"

She grinned, widely—proud of herself.

_"Yay_ , my first show—here I go! So...I'm twenty-three. Pretty sure about that, but I was like four when Jellystone blew and Abby was only nine, so we could maybe of gotten our ages wrong. But I'm pretty sure I'm twenty-three."

Frankie stopped to rewind her camera, then set it on _preview_. As she watched her _intro_ wind past through the tiny viewing window, Frankie began to giggle—absolutely delighted.

"Look at me...I got a t.v. show!"

She was very pretty—a delicately-featured girl with long blond hair held back in a messy pony tail, and a pair of light-green eyes that sparkled with life and laughter. In so many ways, Frankie seemed almost childlike, ethereal— _immature, full of self-interest, light of conscience._

_Which clashed oddly with the seriousness of the_ _submachine gun_ _._

And the machete.

Frankie wore them both—the submachine gun strung across her back, the machete hanging from her belt. She was also wearing a ripped and stained black t-shirt, and blue jeans bleached almost white from the sun, threadbare and covered with a dark red splatter that could only be the remnants of dried blood.

Ironically— _once upon a time_ —Frankie's clothes might have been considered 'shabby-chic'. Now, however, Frankie's jeans and t-shirt were no more a fashion statement; they were simply _really_ old and _really_ dirty.

And the same could be said about the video camera Frankie was holding.

It was an older model—most likely from the early 2000's. About the size of a paperback, the camera was scratched and dented, with a chunk of plastic missing from its eyecup.

Frankie turned that camera to the scenery around her now—filming a full 180 degree turn—a _close-up_ of gloomy Leo Carrillo State Beach, to a _pan_ across the dusty hillside behind where she was standing, then finally _zooming_ in on a small beach house in the distance.

"Right there, ladies and gentlemen...that's where me and Abby live!" Frankie excitedly narrated. _"Nice, huh?"_

* * * *

In actuality, the beach house was a dilapidated _mess_ —tucked in amongst a tangle of overgrown trees and out-of-control bushes. To anyone else but Frankie, it would have been obvious that the little cement block building was falling apart. It appeared decrepit, uncared-for—almost as if it had been abandoned and left to rot—the walls covered in ivy, while part of the roof seemed close to collapse.

And—if there had once been a front yard to Frankie's home—it was now completely encased in a riot of brambles; the vegetation was consuming the house—returning the land to its original _pre-human_ condition.

* * * *

"We don't get a lot of _skeeters_ here," Frankie spoke into the camera. "I mean, you still gotta be careful, but they don't seem to like being near the water much. So, as long as you're in by nightfall, it's basically safe."

Seeing _something_ out of the corner of her eye, Frankie swung the camera around, aiming it at a pod of cetaceans leaping and cavorting along the shoreline below.

_"Ooo...look! I love dolphins!"_ Then, she swung the camera back to herself, once more speaking into the lens. "Abby says that before the _Awakening_...even before the _Event_...that there weren't as many dolphins as there are now. Abby says that people...they actually _killed_ the dolphins and ate them in tuna samiches."

"Abby also says that it's about to get dark!"

With some reluctance, Frankie turned around to face her older sister.

* * * *

Like Frankie—Abby was very pretty.

But— _unlike Frankie_ —it was difficult to appreciate Abby's beauty, unless you were willing to look past her wariness, her severity... _her hardness_.

Because—where smiles danced easily over Frankie's lips—a frown was Abby's constant companion. While Frankie laughed into a camera for an audience that wasn't there, Abby's eyes flitted first this way, then that— _searching_ , always _searching_ for any possible danger that could be coming their way.

Frankie—the younger sister—always the _child_.

Abby—the older sister—always the _protector_.

With a mischievous giggle, Frankie swung her camera over toward her sister. "So, this is Abby."

SMACK!

Abby's hand shot out, slapping the camera away. "Get that fracking thing out of my face!"

"But it's my t.v. show," Frankie pouted. _"It's Frankie-cam!"_

"Like I give a crapola." Abby reached for her submachine gun that—like Frankie—she was wearing across her back. Its strap snagged on a silver cross around her neck and she struggled for a moment to unhook it. _"Dammit!"_

"Potty mouth!" Frankie lifted up her camera and aimed it at her older sister again. "Sorry, folks, but my sister's kind of a bitch."

Abby's hand lashed out, slapping the camera down again.

_"Stop it!"_ yelled Frankie.

"You know it's stupid, right?" taunted Abby, finally unhooking her submachine gun. She checked that its _safety_ was off, then her eyes flicked to the hillside above them—looking for any threats. "There isn't even anyone to see your stupid show."

Frankie aimed the camera at herself. _"Frankie-cam out!"_

Then, she turned the camera _off_ and turned her attention to her older sister. "People might want to know, Abby...like in the future."

Abby motioned with her submachine gun—a full circle, all around them. "Have you seen any people?"

"There were the Websters, Ms. Know-it-all."

"Over ten years ago...until the skeeters got them."

"You don't know that! Maybe the Websters went to Canada. They could of got there safe...they could of!"

"Without saying good-bye? Just up and left." Abby snorted in amusement. "You are such a dumbass."

Frankie's eyes narrowed. "And you're a bitch...and I told everyone on _Frankie-cam,_ so they know that you're a bitch, too."

Abby simply grinned. _"Bitch with oranges."_

An ecstatic smile lit up Frankie's face.

She immediately took off running toward the beach house.

Abby followed more slowly—her eyes scanning the hillside, the bushes—any place that a _predator_ could hide.

FRANKIE

_When I was 6-years old, Abby told me of something called the '_ _Event'_ _._

It happened in this place called Jellystone Park.

There was this thing called a volcano there, and it blew up and a lot of people were killed—thousands.

Abby told me that the 'Event' was the thing that started it all.

The end of the world.

### TWO

"Even after all these years," mused Abby, "all that volcano stuff in the sky...it makes for real beautiful sunsets, don't it?

The sun was setting—lowering itself into the Pacific Ocean—a horizon of fiery orange-red glare. To the east, a line of _dark_ approached—the _shadows_ of evening making their first appearances.

Abby and Frankie sat cross-legged on a weather-beaten picnic table, overlooking the waves. They were halfway down a hill, on a small cement patio; fifty feet below was the water, fifty feet above, their beach house.

A tilting stone staircase connected all three.

There was a pile of orange peels below the table, lodged here and there in a layer of invasive ice plant that covered the ground all around them. On top of the table—within easy reach—were the girls' weapons.

Two submachine guns and three machetes.

Frankie moaned in delight, practically devouring a handful of orange slices; juice ran down her chin and she licked at it greedily. _"Love oranges!"_

Abby spit out an orange seed. "You love everything."

"Don't love skeeters," Frankie quickly corrected her sister.

FRANKIE

_When the Event happened—it brought the_ _skeeters_ _out of hiding._

This was called the "Awakening".

Abby said that most adults thought that the volcano going off in Jellystone must have opened a door to a secret world under the ground, and that was how the skeeters got out. Other people thought that maybe the skeeters had been hibernating somewhere and they simply woke up.

The old-timey newspapers—they said it was the 'Awakening of the Beasts'.

_But there were other people who said that the Event_ _and_ _the Awakening were actually this bible-thing called the 'Rapture'._

They believed that the skeeters were beasts that came from Hell, and that they were sent to earth by God to eat up all the bad people.

The real truth was, however, that nobody ever did find out where the skeeters came from. They just showed up one day and started killing...and they never stopped.

So, whether they're vampires or demons—Abby and I don't know.

_What we do know, is that they_ _stink_ _...like really bad._

Abby jokes that their smelliness is our 'skeeters early-warning system'.

Doesn't matter if you can't see them—you smell skeeters, you darn well better start running.

By the way, it was Abby who came up with the name 'skeeters'.

The old-timey newspapers always called them 'Beasts of Unknown Origins' or 'Unidentified Beings'. There was even one newspaper, it called them 'Were-vamps'.

For us, though—it's skeeters.

Although, when Abby grabbed me that first day and we started running—like before I can remember—Abby said that she was calling the beasts sh*t-kickers.

She said that it was because she overheard our daddy tell our mommy just after the Awakening that—if you come up against a beast—you get out real fast, because it ain't easy beating them. Abby said that Daddy told Mommy that the beasts are big and tough and they're scary, and that they'll sure as heck kick the sh*t out of you.

So—that's when Abby started calling them sh*t-kickers.

However, even though it was a really good name, Abby eventually felt kind of bad using it—because sh*t is a bad word...and poop-kickers just sounded kind of stupid.

That's when they became skeeters.

### THREE

It was dark inside of the musty beach house, the only light coming from the full moon, its slight rays shimmering in through the large picture window.

Inside of the _wooden box_ , it was even darker— _pitch black_.

Frankie and Abby slept there—huddled together—their machetes and submachine guns at their sides.

This was Abby's invention—the wooden box.

She had built it for Frankie and herself four years ago, carefully following the instructions she had discovered while scavenging one day—two pages of handwritten notes to _'Keep Yourself Safe From The Beasts'._

Ironically, the handwritten instructions had survived the Awakening.

Sadly, its author had not.

It had taken over two weeks for Abby to complete the box—a time-consuming and confusing build for a young woman who had never even picked up a hammer before. Slowly— _way too slowly_ —Abby had gathered her supplies, spread out her instructions—and started measuring...and sawing...and hammering.

And crying...and cursing...

But— _eventually_ —the box was finished.

It wasn't beautiful, but it was strong—having saved their lives on more than one occasion.

In some ways, it looked like a large wooden coffin—thick planks, both nailed and screwed together—the corners secured with heavy metal brackets. There were a number of round holes along the sides—big enough to allow for air flow, small enough to keep fingers _(or claws)_ from poking inside.

A long, thick chain had been wound around the box—both vertically and horizontally—securing the lid to the base. It was an ingenious design, with the ends of the chain threaded through two holes bored into the top boards, allowing the girls to securely padlock the links together from the _inside_ , where there was just enough room for two young women, their blankets and pillows, a thread-bare lion stuffie and an old doll... _and their weapons_.

* * * *

This night...there was _something_ outside of the box.

Abby awoke first to the slightest of _coughs_ , followed by a _snuffling_ —and a _scritch-scratch_ of nails testing the thickness of the wood—the _scree_ of a talon being dragged across the metal of one of the corner brackets.

A moment later, the box moved slightly— _just a nudge_.

Beside Abby, Frankie's eyes flew open in terror; her nostrils crinkling at the foul odor that was seeping in through the air holes. Before Frankie could make a sound, however, Abby shoved a hand over her younger sister's mouth.

She leaned in close, whispering into Frankie's ear. _"Skeeter!"_

The _snuffling_ continued, accompanied now by a low _rumble_ , the beginnings of a throaty _growl_ from a dangerous predator sensing prey nearby.

Cough...

Frankie _squeaked_ as the box was jostled again, and Abby squeezed her hand even tighter over Frankie's mouth—a silent urge for her sister to _shaddup...shaddup...shaddup!_

Outside of the box, meanwhile, the _growling_ grew in intensity, along with the skeeter's irritation. It began to push at the box—or perhaps it was kicking it. Whatever it was doing, it made the girls' wooden sanctuary move—little _stutters_ across the living room floor.

ARROOOOO!!!

The girls tensed as the skeeter suddenly _howled_.

Their arms and legs splayed out, bracing themselves against the wooden boards—knowing full well what would come next.

_BAM!!_...a vicious kick sent the box sliding across the floor.

_BAMBAM!!_...the heavy chain jingled as it was pulled up tight, then released as the crate went flying in the opposite direction—the padlock thankfully holding.

_BAMBAMBAM!!_...even the stalwart Abby was unable to contain the _gasp_ that escaped her lips as their box was suddenly upended—turning over—crashing its way through a full revolution.

With an _OOF!_...Frankie fell onto Abby, then almost immediately rolled off.

Meanwhile, one of the submachine guns got caught under Abby's back.

The pain was substantial, but Abby's only concern was the gun misfiring. She reached underneath her, straining toward the weapon—but the box continued to roll, the submachine gun eluding her grasp, eventually sliding down toward the bottom of the crate.

BAMBAMBAM!!

The skeeter must have been enormous, because it continued its attack—turning the box _over_ and _over_.

Tucked away inside their sanctuary—the girls had no choice.

_They simply_ _endured_ _._

**("Anarchy" is available** now **at your favorite e-book retailer.)**

Dear Reader,

I hope that you enjoyed reading _"365 Days Alone"_.

If you did—and you have the time—please feel free to leave a review at your preferred retailer or online platform.

By the way, if you've never written a review before, know that it doesn't have to be long. It can be as simple as a one-liner _—"Loved the book, can't wait for the movie"—_ that sort of thing.

Either way, no pressure. Just thank you once again for taking the time to read my story.

Sincerely,

Nancy Isaak

P.S. If you would like to follow me on Twitter, you can find me there at: @nancy_isaak
