“No, I want the address.”
His eyes narrow. “Why?”
“I’m not going to give it to the Emperor if that’s what you’re thinking. Not that he could do much with it if I did. He has little to no power left up here.”
Erik considers this, then tells me the address—street name, city, and all. “The freeway is that way.” He points. “But there’s nothing there for you except a long walk. And if I’m right, you’re almost out of time.”
“Thanks.” I don’t bother to elaborate. I return to the house and shut the door after me. As I pull the crumpled map from my back pocket there’s a jingle of keys and snick of a lock from behind me. Erik locking the front door. It’ll keep looters out for a time, but all they’d need to do is smash some of the larger living-room windows to get in.
Every little thing counts, I suppose.
I return to my map. I recognized the street name he mentioned. It takes me a while to locate it, but when I do I have to check it twice to make sure I’m right. We are mere miles from the high-rise. Probably the closest neighborhood we could be in.
This might actually be possible.
When I return to the kitchen, Jules is there too. “Name?” she asks the minute I sit down. “I can’t keep calling you ‘Stranna’s killer.’”
So Stranna didn’t tell them about my botched cure attempts. I try to catch her eye, but she avoids my gaze.
“I’m Cain.” I wait to see if Jules will place the name.
“Like Cain and Abel?”
I glower. “That’s the one.” Named after a murderer.
“Wouldn’t mind hearing your mom’s reasoning behind that one.”
“Well, she’s dead, so . . .” Mom named me Cain because she believed everyone was redeemable. She thought I could represent that vision. Instead, the name seemed to be prophetic for me in that I’d become a murderer in a way, not only of Stranna but of countless others who turned to me with hope for a cure.
“That’s rotten. I’m sorry.” Jules sounds like she means it, but she’s also very casual with whatever she says. “Virus?”
“Cancer.”
Stranna pauses eating. Her look tells me a lot more than words.
“It’s fine.” I shovel beans into my mouth and change the subject. “These are the best beans I’ve ever eaten.”
Jules grins for the first time. “Thanks. Homegrown last summer.” She heads into the garden.
“Don’t people ransack your garden when they see the food?” I ask Stranna through mouthfuls.
“People don’t really come this way anymore. They’ve either all fallen asleep or died. This neighborhood is mostly abandoned. The few times we’ve found people in the garden we bring them in and feed them.”
“Robin Hood, eh?”
“Except we’re not stealing.”
I’m alive. I’m eating. Adelphoi or not, Robin Hood or not, I owe these people. What would it be like for the Adelphoi and the kids to have a home, a refuge, like this place, but in the Nightmare? That’s what I want to give them. That’s what I want to give myself.
I need to get that LifeSuPod so I can be stronger and more alive in the Nightmare. And I need to rescue Luc’s dad so we can have a cure. Do Stranna and the others know that about him? Do they know they pulled the plug on the high-rise only to doom the world?
A little girl walks in with a basket full of chicken eggs. “There are two blue ones this time, Stranna!”
Stranna smiles. “How exciting. Put them in the lime, would you?”
“Okay!” The girl hauls a five-gallon bucket of some sort of liquid out from under the sink. It takes her a lot of work, but Stranna holds up a hand when I move to help her.
“Let her do it,” she says quietly. “She’s so proud to be able to do it on her own. And sometimes these kids are all we have when our sleep cycles get thrown off.”
The girl’s face practically glows as she carefully plops each egg in, taking particular care with the two blue ones. I peer over and see at least a hundred other eggs in the liquid before she puts the lid back on.
“How long will it take to get Heidi?” I ask Stranna as the girl heads back outside with the empty basket.
“The little girl you brought us?” Stranna shakes her head. “Hours. Maybe longer. I gave Erik all the information I could, but it’s hardest with the littlest kids. They never pay attention to where they live, and even if they do, sometimes their directions or information isn’t accurate. She’s four—”
“Four and a half,” I correct.
She gives a tight smile. “She did her best. We have Adelphoi scattered around the country, so once we get a state or the name of a city, we can usually start the process of getting her help. Thankfully she knew New York and had a street name for us.”
I finish my last bite and try not to stare too hard at the empty plate. I have so many questions about their way of life, who owns this house, how they prepped so much food, and how they keep all these kids fed and watered.
But I’m out of time.
I reach over and snag two blueberries from Stranna’s abandoned bowl.
“Are you going to be okay?” I ask her.
She looks up in surprise. “Are you going somewhere?”
