“You’re lying,” I say.
I have no idea if she is, or if she’s telling the truth. I’m just so frustrated.
Smith sneers. “You think you know everything. Well, you don’t know anything about this. If you’re smart, you’ll believe me.”
I want to hit something. We’ve worked so hard, sacrificed so much, and now everything is at risk. My fury isn’t going to fix anything, though, not when our survival is at stake. Calm plans can keep us alive—decisions driven by anger could move us closer to death.
A knock on the room’s metal door.
Smith walks to it. The handprint there—of course—has a circle-cross in the palm. She presses it and the door slides open.
O’Malley. Holding my spear.
He enters, smiling that lovely smile of his. He hands me the spear.
“Em, you look much better.”
He glances at Smith and Spingate.
“Can Em and I have a quick moment alone?”
“Sure,” Spingate says. “I have to test some of the shuttle’s food stores before the meeting anyway, make sure the mold hasn’t gotten in. Smith, come help me.”
Smith looks like she would rather go anywhere than with Spingate, but follows her out.
O’Malley waits a moment to make sure they’re too far away to overhear.
“Everyone knows about the spider, the food warehouse and the mold,” he says. “They are afraid. They need to hear from their leader that we’ll find a solution.”
I’m sure people are scared. I’ll do what I can to make them feel better.
“Thank you,” I say. “But…I don’t remember asking for a meeting. Did I?”
He shrugs. “I figured you would want to talk when you woke up, so I told everyone you called a meeting.”
That seems like odd behavior.
“Why didn’t you just say it was your idea?”
“Because people listen to you. You’re the leader. Ready?”
I’m not happy he lied. I’m also not happy that I left him in charge, and came back to chaos.
“We’ll go in a minute,” I say. “First, what happened while I was gone? How could you let Aramovsky open up the coffins?”
The question angers him.
“I didn’t let him do anything. Gaston never left the pilothouse. I had to control the kids from the Xolotl. They were getting into the food, going outside, running around. While I was busy watching them, Aramovsky slipped away.”
I notice the cut on O’Malley’s cheek is almost gone. It’s just a pink line, barely even a scar.
Smith healed him, too.
I point to the coffins. “Did Aramovsky and Smith let the new kids out while you were in one of those?”
He reactively touches his cheek. I’ve caught him in a second lie.
“Yes,” he says. “I didn’t think Aramovsky would try something while I was in there. How could I have known he would?”
It makes sense now. With me, Spingate and Bishop gone, with O’Malley unconscious, with Gaston learning about the shuttle, no one was watching Aramovsky. Someone always needs to be watching him.
“Em, I made a mistake. I’m sorry.”
He did. I’m so angry at O’Malley. He always seems to think things through, but this time he didn’t.
“Sorry won’t keep us alive. The next time I tell you to do something, do it. Do you understand what this does to us?”
That familiar, blank expression settles over him.
“I get it,” he says. His voice is thin, his words clipped. “Are you finished yelling at me?”
I can only hope I’ve made my point.
“I’m finished. Let’s go.”
Deck One’s coffin room is packed. People sit or stand on closed coffins, sit on the black floor in the aisles, lean against the red walls. Almost three hundred faces—most of which I’ve never seen before—stare back at me. White-shirted little kids whisper to each other, pointing at me as if I’m an ancient myth come to life.
Everyone my age is dressed in coveralls and boots. Okereke and Johnson, Borjigin and Beckett, Bawden and Farrar. Even Bishop, who stands by the shuttle door, red axe at his side. They all wear black. I can’t help but think of the Grownups we left back on the Xolotl.
Gaston is standing on a small stage made from empty food bins. He sees me and steps down.
As I walk toward it, people close in behind me. I’m surrounded. I step up on the stage. For once, I am taller than most of the people here.
I look out at the mass of faces. They’re waiting for me to tell them what happens next, that everything will be fine. I see everyone except Spingate. Where is she? I’d feel better if she was here.
“Uh…thank you all for coming.”
First thing out of my mouth and it’s so stupid. Where else would they be? Silence makes me nervous, so I fill it.
“Hello to you new kids. I know this is scary, but I was just like you not long ago—frightened, confused, no idea of what was happening. Try to relax, you’re with us now. See the people in black? They’ve been through far worse than this. We—”
A little hand goes up: Zubiri’s.