“Long day?”
She sighs softly. “Those laundry bikes are no joke. Also, I carried wood from the collapsed housing block that was too heavy for me, but no way was I admitting that to the men.”
We depleted our supplies of gauze and bandages for burns, so Ellison is using strips of cloth now, and we’ve stepped up shifts on the bikes we use for laundry. Pedaling powers them, but it’s so hot during the day that we’re running shifts all night long to keep up with the need for clean bandages and clothes.
I did a two-hour bike shift last night, and my quads are feeling it today.
At least half a dozen times today, I wondered what Marcus would say when he gets back. More times than that, I wonderedwhy he’s been gone for so long. I don’t trust anything the Whitman regime says or does. They could be torturing him for information. If I had a way to do it, I’d go after him.
But I’m stuck here, completely in the dark about him.
I asked Wyatt to spar with me for thirty minutes today, just to get out some nervous energy. He’s good with blades, so it was challenging.
“Who’s that bitch staring at you?” Amira asks.
I turn to look. “Oh, that’s Marcelle.”
I return to my food, and Amira gives me a puzzled look. “And? Why is she always staring?”
“She tried to kill me when I first got to Rising Tide. She and some of her friends. They called me a baby killer.”
“I mean, one nice thing about these tats is that they’re a quick vibe check on everyone we meet.” She holds a hand out, looking at the blackXinked on her brown skin. “She’s giving puritanical meth addict.”
I smile. “Her teeth were fine before. I think malnutrition ruined them.”
“Did you hear what Olin’s up to with the kids?”
Glad for a subject change, I say, “No.”
“He gave them all X-Men names.”
“What?”
“Nah, I made that up. It would be funny, though. He taught the Tider kids to sing ‘Baby Shark.’ Adele said it’s wild to see them doing the hand motions and goofy lyrics when they’re not even smiling.”
I laugh at the image. Olin hasn’t left the seventeen surviving Tider kids since they got here. None of their usual caregivers survived the volcano, so he and three women who teach and help care for our kids are trying to provide them comfort and stability.
As I’m about to eat my last bite of dinner, an alarm sounds.
“Code Red,” Amira says, reaching back to grab an arrow from her quiver. “See what I mean?”
I tell her she doesn’t need to have her bow and arrows on her every second of the day, but she says she feels naked without them.
“You were right.”
I take the handgun from my holster and point the muzzle at the ground, then tap the magazine firmly to make sure it’s seated and rack the slide just enough to confirm there’s a round in the chamber.
The Tiders in the Hub eating dinner are standing up, giving each other scared and confused looks.
“Is the volcano erupting again?” a woman asks. “Should we run?”
“Just stay here,” I tell them. “There are many things it could be.”
No one listens. The Hub’s doorway is immediately clogged with people trying to run out.
“Let us through, we have weapons!” I yell.
A man I don’t recognize makes a swipe for my gun. I elbow him in the face and he howls in pain.
