The Forsaken

agreement. “I can bring you something to eat. The drones trashed our stew and ruined dinner, but we’ve still got fruit. Strawberries and coconuts.”
    I feel too sick to eat. Up until the feeler attack, I thought I was doing okay, given the circumstances. Now I’m not so sure.
    “Listen, there’s no way I can sleep or eat,” I say. “Not after what I saw. So let me help. Give me something useful to do.”
    Gadya looks surprised. “Sure. You can help gather wood for the fire. But stay inside the camp’s perimeter. Rika will go with you. I gotta go talk to Veidman about something.”
    Rika nods. As we start walking, I wonder if I have what it takes to survive on the wheel. If not, I wonder if I can learn the skills I need and find the heart to keep going.
    I think about David, stuck out there with zebra-face and the other drones. I’m scared for him. And I think about Liam. He was the boy I saw on the museum screen, out of all the kids on the entire wheel. I’m not hugely superstitious, but I still think there’s something significant about that. I wonder what his first night on the wheel was like, if it was anything like mine. Today he rushed off so bravely to fight the drones. Was he always like that, or did the wheel help shape him?
    Rika and I start bending down, picking up branches, gathering the firewood. I make an effort to calm down and focus on the task. I try not to think about what fresh horrors the wheel might have in store for me tomorrow.

THE INTERLOPER
    LATER THAT NIGHT, AFTER gathering firewood and eating some berries with a group of other villagers, I finally lie down in one of the surviving hammocks. My body instantly succumbs to exhaustion and battle fatigue. The rest of the night passes in what feels like one second.
    When I wake up early in the morning, I lie there for a moment in the heat before I sit up. It must be ninety degrees already, even in the shade. My hair is matted with sweat, and my muscles are cramped and knotted. I see slices of cloudless blue sky between the palm fronds above me. All around, I hear the noises of the village.
    I was dreaming that I was home. Not at the orphanage, but back with my mom and dad when I was a little girl. Running around with other kids, when we would go on vacations to Old Florida. Back when books and computers and everything else were still allowed. Back before the UNA became something larger than the people it was meant to represent. Before Minister Harka took total control.
    I wish I could crawl back into the world of my dream and turn it into reality. I want to relive those lazy days with my parents: eating good food, watching TV, reading books, and playing games with neighborhood kids. I didn’t think those things would ever come to an end.
    But those days are gone , I tell myself bluntly. They were all just a pleasant dream—so get over it. My mom and dad are never coming back home because they probably died long ago. And I’m never going back home either. Home has been obliterated. I’m probably fated to spend the rest of my days on this island, fighting to stay alive. So the sooner I get used to it, the better for everyone. At least I have girls like Gadya and Rika on my side.
    I swing myself out of the hammock and pull back my hair, wishing I had a rubber band to keep it out of my face. I walk into the sunlight. It’s even hotter here. The odor of grilling bacon hangs in the air.
    A figure steps into view. It’s Veidman.
    “Sleep well?” he asks.
    I immediately feel self-conscious. I don’t need a mirror to know how bad I look. But I try to play it off. “Better than I thought I would.”
    “Listen, I’m sorry about the whole truth serum thing yesterday.” He almost sounds sheepish.
    “It’s okay.”
    “Good, ’cause I need to talk to you about last night.”
    We start walking together along one edge of the clearing.
    “Have they got you pulling chores yet?” he asks as we stroll past some other kids. Most of them are already awake, starting their workday repairing damage from the drone attack.
    “Who do you mean by ‘they’? I thought you were in charge. You and Meira.”
    He laughs softly. “In some ways. Not all.” He pauses for a second. I try to smooth down my tangled hair. “You drink coffee?”
    I stop walking. “Wait— You have coffee here?”
    “We roast our own. Come with me.” Veidman and I walk along a narrow path at the edge of the camp. “So, I didn’t see the incident last night,” he