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  I suddenly felt a little claustrophobic. I lifted my ponytail to fan the back of my neck with my hand. Mom and lots of other ladies were waving paper in front of their faces.

  Finally, one of the DRI reps took the podium. She tapped the microphone and it gave a high-pitched screech that made everyone flinch.

  “Citizens of Lincoln County, I thank you for coming out tonight. I will try to keep this brief so you can travel home before it’s too dark.” Gee, that was kind of her since tons of people had to walk now that they were out of gas. I don’t know why I felt irrationally angry toward her all of a sudden, but I did. Maybe it was because as I looked around at all of the hungry, dirty, tired faces, she had the nerve to stand up there with a non-wrinkled blazer, pencil skirt, and flawless hair and makeup. For once I’d like to see a DRI in unclean jeans with their hair messy like the rest of us.

  “I’m sure you all have many inquiries and concerns. I will get straight to the point, and hopefully your questions will be answered along the way.” She lifted her chin, speaking from memory with no notes. “A threat was made to the local power companies. They received message that if they attempted to restore power, they would be bombed. The bombing of our power companies would set the city back, and we do not want that. So, we’ve taken the precaution to stop power restorations until those who threaten them are found and captured.”

  A loud murmur of voices raised in the room. She spoke over the din of unrest.

  “We have little information about the perpetrators, but I will tell you what we know.” She paused until there was complete quiet again. “Government intel has found that the enemy is neither a particular race nor religion. There is no particular label we can apply to them. They could be your neighbor. Your coworker. Your family member.” She stopped and peered around. The room was silent with shock.

  “And this is why our predicament is more difficult than any we’ve faced before. There is something that bonds these people. They are a union of sorts. It seems they want to break down our society, and many of the larger societies of the world, for purposes unstated. It is clear that their goal is to force change. Perhaps they wish to stop Global warming or radically reduce the population. Or bring western civilizations back to their roots of a simpler time. Whatever their purpose, they know no bounds. Their ways are extreme, and their organization seems to have unlimited funds.”

  My stomach was tied up in an intricate series of knots as she continued.

  “It is due to this vagueness that we must be more vigilant than ever. As you read in your flyers, our intelligence has traced persons of interest here to Lincoln County.”

  She looked out gravely over our townspeople as another murmur rose.

  “We do not wish to cause alarm, only caution. Meetings such as this one are taking place all across the United States in towns where the enemy are believed to be in hiding. Senator Bradford Navis has sent a message to you, and all of these towns.”

  She stepped aside and the room seemed to hold its breath as a film reel flickered to life across the wide screen. Moments later the senator’s handsome, albeit weary, face appeared. His white dress shirt collar was unbuttoned. His brown waves looked pushed back, as if a nervous hand had run through them over and over. I felt for him.

  He sat at a desk with a window behind him, but only blue sky showed. I wondered where he was.

  “Good evening. As I’m sure you’ve been told, we’re making great strides toward rooting out our adversaries, but we are to the point where your help and your compliance is essential.” He inhaled and rubbed a hand over his mouth, circling his chin before exhaling. “If you have followed my career at all, you know I am a proponent of Constitutional rights. I have fought to uphold them at every turn. I have been an advocate of equal rights for all, and the pursuit of justice and happiness. That will never change. Please know that my heart is in the same place it always has been, but we are facing a situation unlike any in history. These are extremely desperate times, and they are going to require us to make some temporary changes.”

  His face took on a fierceness as the camera panned in that made my breath catch. His voice was utterly passionate, his tone beseeching. His tanned hands made fists so tightly that his knuckles whitened.

  “Work with me to find these infiltrators. Work with your local law enforcement and the DRI to help them distinguish between who is causing this terror and destruction, and who is innocent. Because right now, as much as it pains me to say it . . . both look the same. At this point, it is our actions, and only our actions, that will make it clear what side we are on. We stand together on unprecedented ground. Let us work together to swiftly overtake those who would destroy our way of life.” He brought one of his fists down on the desk and the entire room erupted in a cheer that surprised me.

  My family stayed silent. Dad’s face was tight. Rylen kept his hand linked to Livia’s and thrust his other hand into the pocket of his jeans. I wondered if they felt like I did. The senator’s speech was no doubt genuine, but it sounded an awful lot like constitutional rights and laws were about to be overturned, and even if it was only temporary, it kind of freaked me out.

  “I thank you in advance for your cooperation. The sooner we work together to find our foe, the sooner we can resume our regular lives.” His voice cut through the chatter and the room quieted again. “Please listen as your local representatives discuss the details of your town’s fight. Please remember . . . we are at war. You are at war. Your own town is the unfortunate battlefield. By now we’ve all lost loved ones or know personally someone who has. If we work together and follow this simple plan, we will soon right the wrongs without further unnecessary death, and be able to begin the process of rebuilding. I commend you, sincerely, for your efforts in this. We will fix this. We will get our lives back to normal.” His eyes glistened. “I promise you.”

  The film flicked off, followed by a brief moment of silence, and then once again everyone cheered. Grandpa Tate turned in his seat several rows in front of us, and gave Dad a huge-eyed look. Dad raised a calming hand, as if to tell him to settle down. Grandpa turned back around, his spine straight with alertness.

  “I don’t like this,” Rylen said as the DRI woman took the stage again.

  “Me either,” Dad whispered. Mom tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and he patted it.

  The woman stood at the podium an uncomfortably long time before speaking. The air was thick with expectancy.

  “We are calling the enemy . . . Outliers. And as I look around this room, at our list of names of those in attendance, there are many under suspicion of being Outliers or helping Outliers.”

  My heart began to pound as I looked around, like everyone else, whispering and trying to search out villainous faces. Everyone looked so ordinary. So worn.

  “Outliers do not stand out. They work to blend in. That is what has made our search so difficult.” She raised her chin in that way that told us she was about to say something big. “It is customary in our system that persons of interest are innocent until proven guilty. That cannot be the case for this war. In order to be absolutely thorough, we must move forward under the assumption that all persons are guilty until proven innocent.”

  A collective gasp whooshed through the room, and I felt dizzy. I saw Rylen slightly shaking his head in disbelief.

  “The first order of our plan is to unarm the Outliers. This will feel unsettling to those who are innocent, and I assure you, this is a temporary measure. All guns, explosives, or weaponry outside of a normal kitchen utensil will be confiscated, labeled with the owner’s name, and stored in a nearby facility for safekeeping.”

  A burst of angry voices cut her off.

  “Holy fucking shit,” Rylen murmured.

  As Grandpa started to turn around again, a sheen of sweat on his forehead, Dad waved his lowered hand at him and whispered, “God damn it, Pop.” Grandpa turned back, and I could see him shaking.

  “For the next twenty-four hours,” th
e DRI woman shouted. “All Lincoln County residents are ordered to stay in their individual homes. I repeat, for the following twenty-four hours, there is a mandatory county-wide restriction. Do not leave your homes. DRI and police will be coming to each residence to take your weapons into safekeeping. In this way we can be sure the Outliers are unarmed.”

  The room had not quieted. One man in worn out work pants shouted, “How am I supposed to hunt for my family’s food?”

  “Each person who turns over a firearm will earn a box of nonperishables from the food bank.”

  Another uproar. Dad covered his mouth, shaking his head. “This is bullshit.”

  “I’m not giving up my guns!” another man shouted.

  “Well then, sir, you will be put under arrest.”

  That quieted the room.

  “You heard what the senator said,” the DRI spokeswoman said. “This is not what any of us want. But it is temporary. I know right now it feels as if your rights are at risk, but I assure you it is temporary, and it is for your own good. Do you want the enemy to be stopped?”

  She looked around. “Your water supply is being treated as we speak, and in the near future it will be ready for safe use again. Do you want another virus to kill off your family members?” More silence. “We must stop them, and this is how you can help! If you fight against these efforts, we will have no choice but to assume you are an outlier and to take the appropriate measures.”

  The room was so silent I could hear the generators buzzing again.

  This was serious. This . . . was terrifying. On one hand, I understood, but on another hand I felt like we were making ourselves so vulnerable. I thought of handing over my late grandmother’s handgun, and I felt a jolt of desolation.

  “Trust us,” she whispered. “Senator Navis and the DRI have been working tirelessly to find a way to win this war. In the past four days alone we have increased our police ranks tenfold, so as to keep the innocent citizens safe during this time of upheaval. Trust us.”

  I couldn’t believe it had come to this. Somewhere in the crowd a woman began to cry. Some people covered their mouths or shook their heads, or stared off with blank faces as if this new reality were too much to process.

  “In a few moments you will be dismissed. For those of you who have not made it to a clinic for the mandatory vaccination, we will have them on hand when we visit your homes. Remember . . . the representatives of the state who will come to you are not your enemies. They are doing their job. I cannot urge you strongly enough—go home, comply with this decree—and we have faith that this will all be over soon. Stay inside your homes or you will be assumed armed and dangerous. Good night.”

  She was quickly ushered through a set of doors behind her, which I knew led to the locker rooms and exits in the rear of the school. I expected all hell to break loose in the gymnasium, but as police with their guns filtered in and began motioning people in lines toward the doors, it was eerily quiet, like people were afraid to talk. No one in my family spoke either, but I knew they’d have plenty to say once we got home.

  “They’re not getting my guns,” Grandpa said the moment the door to the house was closed behind us. The Fites had gone to their own house, having driven separately, and I wondered what they would decide to do.

  Dad sighed and sat heavily, pinching his nose.

  “Don’t you dare give them over, son,” Grandpa said. His jowls were trembling and he pointed a finger down at Dad.

  “Pop, they know I have three guns. I told them, remember? What do you want me to do, be arrested?”

  “They can arrest me before I’ll let them take my guns!”

  “Fine!” yelled Dad. “Be arrested! But I’ve got a wife, daughter, and mother-in-law to look after.”

  “Okay, let’s all calm down,” Mom said.

  “We have to be able to protect ourselves,” Grandpa insisted. “This whole thing . . . it doesn’t feel right. That woman is out of her damn mind if she thinks I’m going to trust them!”

  Mom wrung her hands together and paced the room. “I agree that we need to turn over our three guns since they know about them. The last thing we need is to be placed on some outlier suspicion list. But as for yours . . .” She looked at Grandpa. “Maybe they won’t find them? I mean, they are well hidden.”

  “We’d be taking a big risk,” Dad said. “If we’re caught lying—”

  “You won’t be,” Grandpa said. “They’re my guns. You could say you didn’t know.”

  “We’re family,” Dad pointed out. “I highly doubt they’ll put just one of us on the suspicion list and not all of us.”

  I’d been standing against the wall, but I felt dizzy and my stomach gave a loud growl, so I went to sit next to Abuela on the couch.

  “Tonight,” said Dad to Grandpa, “you will sleep in Tater’s room and make it seem as if you live here in the main house with us. With any luck, they won’t notice the room over the garage. I’ll hand over my guns, and we won’t say a word about yours.”

  Dad’s foot began to bounce up and down nervously as he stared up at Grandpa, who nodded. Then Dad looked toward Mom and me. “Is that okay with you two?”

  Like he said, it was risky—so risky. I didn’t want us lumped in with the bad guys just because we wanted to have a way to protect ourselves, or because we had a loco old man in our house who hoarded supplies and weapons, and would rather die a fiery death than give them up. But I had this hollow feeling inside me at the thought of being without protection, a hollow feeling that had nothing to do with hunger.

  “Yeah,” I whispered.

  Mom closed her eyes and whispered, making the sign of a cross. It was something I hadn’t seen her do in a while. Then she nodded at Dad. “Okay.”

  “Good,” Grandpa said. “And did you notice how they made us bring food so they could use it to bribe people? Using people’s starvation as a way to get them to hand over their weapons peacefully!” He stuck an angry pointer finger in the air and hissed. “They’re manipulating the masses.”

  “Yeah, they got us there,” Dad said wearily. He lay back in the recliner. At that moment I envisioned years of Dad’s dealings with Grandpa’s rantings etched into the lines on his forehead.

  “I’m going to make us all some tea, and then we need to get to bed,” Mom said.

  “I go to bed now,” Abuela told us. I helped her to her feet, although she was nimble as could be on her own. She patted one side of my face and kissed the other cheek before shuffling away.

  Dad jumped up to help Mom in the kitchen, leaving me with Grandpa. When my parents were out of earshot, his head swiveled to me.

  “Where is it?” he whispered. I knew he was talking about Grandma’s gun.

  “In the glove compartment of Mom’s car,” I whispered back. “I was afraid to bring it inside.”

  He nodded. “I’ll put it with all of mine. Tell your parents I went up to get a change of clothes and my other things.”

  “Okay.” I stood and went over, giving him a hug. His arms were still strong. He might have lost a few marbles, but I knew he loved us. I had an awful fear that something would happen tomorrow. “Promise me,” I said. “No matter what, that you won’t try to fight them when they come. Even if they find your guns.”

  Grandpa stepped back and left his hands on my shoulders. “Don’t you worry about this old man.” He walked out the door and all I could think was that’s not a promise.

  By now I should have been accustomed to no sleep, but my body only became angrier with each day of exhaustion. It was like my brain and subconscious were on nonstop and at war with my body’s need for sleep. No amount of coffee or ibuprofen could quale the thumping headache that spanned the base of my skull. However, the smell of pancakes definitely perked me enough to make me roll out of bed.

  Mom was working over the gas griddle. We had pancake mix, water, and a quarter bottle of syrup. My mouth watered. She handed me a flimsy paper plate and I sat. Then she scooped two peach halves from a
can and put them next to my pancakes. Without speaking, I scarfed down the entire plateful in a shamefully small number of bites. Mom laughed.

  “Please don’t choke. I’ve made it all these years without having to use the Heimlich on anyone and I’d like to keep it that way.”

  I grinned and whispered, “Sorry.” She narrowed her eyes at me.

  “Do you have a headache again?”

  I gave a soft nod. It felt like my bobble head would fissure and fall off.

  She made a cup of coffee and handed it to me with a bottle of water and two pills. “Drink all of that.” She pointed her spatula at the mug and bottle. “And then go lay back down. I’ll wake you when they get here.”

  My stomach turned at the thought of them coming, but I obeyed. To my utter shock, I actually fell back asleep. In fact, I slept so hard that Mom had to shake me.

  “They’re coming down the road, Amber.”

  It took a few seconds to realize she was talking about the Disaster Relief people. “What time is it?” I muttered.

  “Three.”

  Three in the afternoon? Holy crap! My head was groggy as I stood and quickly fixed my hair, nearly toppling over as I rushed to put my legs in my jeans.

  I joined my family in the living room. The DRI man and woman came in and declined to sit in the chairs we offered. The rest of us took our usual spots: Dad in the recliner, Grandpa in the rocker, Abuela and Mom sandwiching me in the middle on the couch. I could feel Mom shaking.

  Dad stood and pointed to the hunting rifle, handgun, bb gun, and bullets that he’d placed on the table by the door. “There’s everything,” he told them.

  “Ah.” The woman gave him a warm smile. “Thank you for your cooperation. We’ll just have a quick peek around the rest of the house and inside your vehicles, then we’ll be on our way.”

  She motioned to the man, who motioned outside. Four men in full SWAT-like gear with masks and guns came into the house and passed us. Abuela put a hand to her chest. I wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it. Overkill, much? But then I got nervous. I resisted the urge to take Mom’s hand or look at Dad and Grandpa, anything that might rouse suspicion that we were hiding something.