AARON Elena’s hand rested lightly on mine. The touch pulled me back into the room, back into now. I looked at her, really looked at her, and felt myself steady just a little. “They lined us up with the first car outside,” I said. “They had some kind of scanner. They forced the people at the front to press their hands against it. They were searching for government workers.” My throat tightened. “They shot one of us. Right in the head. No pause. No doubt.” Her eyes closed again, slow and tight, like she could see it happening and hoped that shutting them would keep the picture away. Her breathing changed, shallow and careful. “We met a member of the House of Representatives on the train,” I went on. “He organized us. Kept us from being killed like animals. He told us what to do when we got off. Then he attacked the man holding the scanner.” My voice shook. “The rest of us followed him.” Both hands lifted into my view. They were swollen and scraped, knuckles split and dark. “I don’t know how it happened,” I said. “One moment I was standing there. The next, I was on top of him. I was beating him with my fists until he stopped moving.” Tears came again. They slipped down without asking. My eyes moved from my ruined hands to Elena’s face. She reached for them at once. Her grip was firm and warm as she lowered them into her lap. Her expression changed. Steel replaced the softness. She looked straight into my eyes. “Your son needs his father,” she said. “And I need my husband. Those men made their choice. God made sure they paid for it.” Her voice never wavered. “All that matters is that you came home. Nothing else you did matters.” Arms wrapped around me again. My face pressed into the curve of her neck. The smell of her almond body wash filled my chest.A long breath followed, then another. My heart slowed. The shaking eased. Fingers moved through my hair, slow and steady. “You should see Lucas,” she said quietly. A nod followed. My eyes dropped to the ruined dress shirt clinging to me. “Should I change first?” A weak laugh slipped out before I could stop it. Humor felt wrong, but nothing felt right either. She nodded. “There’s a trash bag in the bedroom. Throw everything away. Those clothes are done. I’ll get Lucas a snack and check on him.” Standing up, my hand reached for hers. She used it to rise. “All that matters,” she said, “is that you’re a good man, Aaron.” A thin smile formed. “I love you.” A quick kiss landed on my cheek before she headed toward the pantry. She paused as I turned away. “Where’s Marianne?” “She walked north,” I said. “Toward Empire State. Said she wanted to go home.” Elena stood still for a moment, then nodded once. The pantry door opened, and she disappeared inside. The master bedroom on the main floor waited in silence. Clothes came off slowly. Every movement hurt. Bruises covered my ribs and thighs, blending with the light freckles on my skin. The shower started, and hot water poured down. Pain flared at once. Dirt and dried blood washed free. Teeth clenched as the spray hit raw flesh. Eyes fixed on the drain as pink streaks swirled away from my fingertips. The wounds had opened again. A deep ache settled into my legs as muscles finally began to loosen. The weight of exhaustion pressed down hard. Sleep tried to take me with it. A sharp shake of the head followed. The water turned off. This was not the place to fall. Drying off took time. Care mattered. The ruined clothes went into the trash bag Elena had left behind. Favorite jeans and a t-shirt replaced them. The living room came into view. Elena sat on the floor, surrounded by empty boxes and the full contents of the pantry. Food cans, packets, jars. Everything spread out. A tablet rested in her hands as she wrote without looking up. Many questions filled my head. Only one escaped. “Why?” “We need to know what we have,” she said. “We need to ration it properly.” Words rose and died before reaching my mouth. Telling her to relax would do nothing. Control mattered to her. It always had. Surviving the Great California Earthquake had taught her that this was how she coped. “I’m going to check on Lucas.” A nod followed, eyes never leaving the screen.One foot touched the first stair when red and blue light spilled through the window blinds. The house filled with color. Both of us turned toward the front door. Steps carried me forward as a knock struck the wood. “Hawthorne Ridge Sheriff’s Department,” a voice called. “Please open the door.”