Ashen Winter (Ashfall)

the center of the camp.
    Alyssa and I followed him for about ten feet and then she stopped, pulling Flash to a halt as well. Ben hadn’t moved. “Ben! Come on!” she yelled.
    He didn’t hear—or wouldn’t respond—still absorbed in watching the guards.
    “Will you get him, please?” she asked me.
    I trotted back to him and reached out to touch him, pulling my hand back at the last moment. “Ben, Alyssa needs you.”
    “The Sister Unit needs me,” he replied. “The rule is that when the Sister Unit needs help, Ben helps. I will observe the guards later.” He turned to follow me.
    Flash led Alyssa toward the middle of the camp. I hung back, watching, wary of an ambush. We crossed a wide cleared area, within which three rings of tents were pitched concentrically, like layers of an onion. At the center of these tents there was an open plaza, maybe sixty or seventy feet in diameter.
    The center area was packed with girls. Some were as young as eight or nine. Some were older, women really, but none looked older than thirty. They gathered in clusters, talking through the tent flaps, some of them huddled together for warmth.
    “What is—”
    “Ask The Principal,” Flash said.
    He pointed to the back of a woman kneeling in the doorway of one of the tents. She was easily the oldest person in view—her black hair halfway to steely gray. She looked like . . . she couldn’t be. Or could she?
    “Principal,” Flash said, “the guards caught some fresh fish.”
    The woman turned, “Welc—”
    Her word died as her eyes locked on mine.
    “Alex?” she breathed.
    “Mom.”

Chapter 61
    My world lit up despite the dim light—fired into Technicolor brilliance by my joy. The last time I’d seen Mom, more than ten months ago, we’d had a terrible fight. Sometimes, in my old life, I used to hate her. Now I couldn’t imagine anything better than the elation coursing through me. She was alive! And I’d found her!
    Mom charged me, wrapping me in a hug so exuberant we were both knocked to our knees. The snow couldn’t chill me—I was alight with the joy of seeing my mother again after ten long months. I cried as we embraced. Neither of us could get out any words.
    Mom dragged her fingers across my face, like a blind woman might—trying to feel my features. Her fingertips slid easily on my teary skin. I clutched at her back, balling a fold of her coat up in my fist, holding on as if to prevent her from ever slipping away again.
    “Principal?” Flash said. “You okay?”
    Mom took a deep breath. “Yes, Lester, I’m better than okay.”
    “I told you, don’t call me Lester. The name is Flash.”
    “This is Alex.” She said my name as if it were an ineffable secret. “He’s my son.”
    “Principal?” I asked her.
    “That’s just what they call me here,” Mom hugged me even more tightly, hurting my injured shoulder. I must have let out a moan, because she said, “You okay, Alex?”
    “Fine. It’s just my shoulder.”
    She loosened her grip. “What happened?”
    “A little truck accident. It’s fine, really.”
    “Let me see.”
    I held her tightly as she tried to pull away. I never wanted to let go, despite the pain the embrace was causing me.
    “Alex, I need to know you’re all right.”
    “I’m fine,” I said, but I loosened my grip on her, anyway. Now that she was worried, I knew she wouldn’t relax until she’d seen the damage for herself. She started stripping off my jacket and shirts.
    I thought about protesting but really couldn’t summon the energy. I was still in a happy daze. And truth be told, I kind of liked the mothering attention.
    “You look different. Thinner. And stronger.”
    I shrugged. “You, too.” I realized she hadn’t said anything about Dad. I was scared to ask—afraid of what the answer might be. But I had to know. “Um, Mom. Is Dad—?”
    “Oh my gosh, I completely forgot. Lester, would you go get Doug?”
    “It’s Flash!” he yelled as he flitted away.
    By then Mom had me stripped to the waist. The icy air made goose bumps rise all over my chest and arms. My right side was a beauty. Green, yellow, and purple bruises were splashed from my waist to neck, covering my side and arm.
    “Good God . . .” Mom whispered.
    “I’m okay.”
    “Who was driving?”
    I couldn’t think of an answer that would help. I just wanted to end the inquisition and get my clothing back on—I was freezing. “Um, I was on top of the truck the first time it