“You okay?” I asked. My voice sounded like it was pushed through cotton from a distance. Gretchen nodded but didn’t look at me. It occurred to me it was the first time she’d been in an attack.
I looked around. Most of the people in the shelter looked like Gretchen. It was the first time any of these people had been in an attack. Of all these people, I was the one who was the veteran of a hostile attack. I guess that put me in charge.
I saw a PDA on the floor; someone had dropped it. I picked it up and activated it and read what was there. Then I stood up and waved my hands back and forth and said “Excuse me!” until people started looking at me. I think enough people recognized me as the daughter of the colony leaders that they decided I might know something after all.
“The emergency information on the PDA says that the attack seems to be over,” I said when enough people were looking my way. “But until we get an ‘all clear’ signal we need to stay here in the shelter. We need to stay here and stay calm. Is anyone here injured or sick?”
“I can’t hear very well,” someone said.
“I don’t think any of us can hear well right now,” I said. “That’s why I’m yelling.” It was an attempt at a joke. I don’t think people were going for it. “Are there any injuries here besides hearing loss?” No one said anything or raised their hand. “Then let’s just sit tight here and wait for the ‘all clear.’” I held up the PDA I was using. “Whose is this?” Someone raised their hand; I asked if I could borrow it.
“Someone took ‘in charge’ lessons when I wasn’t looking,” Gretchen said when I sat back down next to her. The words were classic Gretchen, but the voice was very, very shaky.
“We were just under attack,” I said. “If someone doesn’t pretend like she knows what she’s doing, people are going to start freaking out. That would be bad.”
“Not arguing,” Gretchen said. “Just impressed.” She pointed to the PDA. “Can you send any messages? Can we find out what’s happening?”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “The emergency system overrides usual messaging, I think.” I signed out the owner on the PDA and signed in under my account. “See. Enzo said he sent that poem to me but it’s not there yet. It’s probably queued and will get sent once we have the all clear.”
“So we don’t know if everyone else is okay,” Gretchen said.
“I’m sure we’ll get an all clear signal soon,” I said. “You worried about your dad?”
“Yes. Aren’t you worried about your parents?” Gretchen asked.
“They were soldiers,” I said. “They’ve done this before. I’m worried about them, but I’m betting they’re fine. And Jane is the one running the emergency messages. As long as they’re updating, she’s fine.” The PDA switched over from my mail queue to a scrolling note; we were being given the “all clear.” “See,” I said.
I had Hickory and Dickory check the entrance of the shelter for any falling debris; it was clear. I signed out from the PDA and gave it back to its owner, and then folks started shuffling out. Gretchen and I were the last to head up.
“Watch your step,” Gretchen said as we came up, and pointed to the ground. Glass was everywhere. I looked around. All the houses and buildings were standing, but almost all the windows were blown out. We’d be picking glass out of everything for days.
“At least it’s been nice weather,” I said. No one seemed to hear me. Probably just as well.
I said good-bye to Gretchen and headed to my house with Hickory and Dickory. I found more glass in surprising places and Babar cowering in the shower stall. I managed to coax him out and gave him a big hug. He licked my face with increasing franticness. After I petted him and calmed him down, I reached for my PDA to call Mom or Dad, and then realized I had left it over at Gretchen’s. I had Hickory and Dickory stay with Babar—he needed their company more than I did at the moment—and walked over to Gretchen’s. As I walked to her house, her front door swung open and Gretchen burst through it, saw me and ran to me, her PDA in one hand and mine in the other.
“Zo?,” she said, and then her face tightened up, and whatever she had to say was lost for a minute.
“Oh, no,” I said. “Gretchen. Gretchen. What is it? Is it your dad? Is your dad okay?”