Rise An Eve Novel

animal they’d found. The first one to cross through the front door with it in her hand won. What exactly the prize was never was clear.
    Clara stood behind the front desk, lining up a row of glass bottles on the counter. “There’s ten in all,” she said. “Should we leave some in case more people pass through?”
    I went beside her, peering into the cabinets below the front desk. We’d found the supplies the rebels had left. There were bottles of water, dried fruit and nuts, and some clean towels and bandages. It couldn’t have been more than three or four weeks since they’d stopped here on their way to the City. There were little signs of them still. Fresh footprints in the dirt, trailing around to the back houses. Someone had left a comb by an old mirror in the hall, the plastic clear of all dust. There was a gold locket I’d discovered, tangled in one of the towels, a tiny piece of red paper folded inside, my love to carry scrawled across it. I kept it with me, the chain rattling in my pocket. I couldn’t stop wondering whose it was, where they were now, if they had been killed inside the City.
    “Two bottles and some of the dried food,” I said. “Now that the siege is over, I doubt anyone will use this stop. But better to leave some just in case.”
    Sarah and a few of the girls came back into the lobby, dusty blankets in their arms. They threw some down on the old couches, the cushions sunken in. Lena, a quiet girl with scratched black glasses, lay down on one, pulling the blanket over her legs. She reached for the plastic container of wrinkled pamphlets labeled HIKING IN DEATH VALLEY and WELCOME TO STOVEPIPE WELLS . She always read them before she went to sleep.
    Bette pulled Helene along in the sled, moving a little too quickly through the narrow hall. “Careful,” I called out. “Watch her leg.”
    Bette glared at me. “I am watching,” she muttered. She helped Helene up, resting her bad leg on the piles of flattened pillows at the end of the couch. The swelling had gone down, but the skin was still bright pink. The bruising made everything look worse. Purple welts covered one shoulder. The side of her face was swollen, the gash on her forehead still raw.
    “Do we have to leave tomorrow?” Helene asked, wincing as she lowered herself onto the couch.
    Beatrice set down the folded clothes and pressed her palm to Helene’s forehead. “You’ll be thankful when we’re finally in Califia. You’ll have a real bed to sleep on and can rest all you like.” She turned to me and nodded, as she had each time she’d checked Helene. These last few days she’d done it every few hours, making sure she hadn’t gotten a fever, that the leg hadn’t swelled any further, that there were no signs of infection. We were hopeful that the worst had passed.
    “She’s not ready to go,” Bette said. “Why can’t you see that?”
    “We have to,” I said. “It’s not worth arguing. Out here we’re still exposed. If anyone passes through we could be discovered. We have to keep moving.”
    Bette shook her head. As the rest of the girls spread out their blankets and pillows on the floor, curling up beside one another, she turned down one of the side halls. Clara came over to me, her hand resting on my arm as we watched her go. “If it makes you feel any better, she hasn’t spoken to me either,” she said. “She’ll be better once we get to Califia. She’ll see you were right.”
    “I hope so,” I said. I stepped away from the others, gesturing for Clara to follow. I grabbed the tattered map from my belt and spread it out, pointing to the route I’d marked in pencil. Clara studied it in the last of the day’s light. “If we go north there’s water along the way. A guaranteed supply every three days or so. Owens Lake, Fish Springs reservoir, Mesa Lake, Lake Crowley . . . see? All the way up.”
    “Lake Tahoe?” Clara asked. “Wasn’t that where the dugout was?” She traced her finger over the fork in the road, moving up, past the line I’d drawn. I’d thought about Silas and Benny after I’d left. Moss had sent messages to the dugout when I’d first arrived in the City, stating that I was alive, that Caleb and I were together. We hadn’t heard anything back, and it was impossible to confirm they’d gotten word. As much as I wanted to know if they were all right, part of me didn’t want to suffer the reality if they weren’t. What if we found the dugout abandoned? What if