“Isn’t this how people go blind?” Morgan asked as she looked into her cup dubiously.

The measuring cup she used to drink out of was filled halfway with a reddish brown liquid. There were bits of what she hoped was fruit coagulating at the bottom.

Timberly grinned at her. “Donuts has been self-experimenting the last few days. It’s fine.”

“He’s a stoner. His body is already used to toxins.”

“Oh my God, just drink up, you nerd.” Timberly pushed the cup to her lips, and Morgan had to grab it quick to regain control. It occurred to her that Timberly was already a little tipsy.

Going by the shouts and laughter in the camp, so was most everyone else.

Donuts had finally opened up his home brew still for business, and Colton had taken two of the fish Morgan had caught over to him to trade for a bucketful of the stuff. Others were bartering with picked ripe fruit, hoarded tools, and whatever else they could get their hands on. Soon, Donuts would be living like a king.

Maybe he wasn’t as dumb as Morgan thought he was.

Carefully, she took a sip. After being on a planet without processed sugar for six weeks, the condensed syrupy taste was like candy on her tongue. She barely noticed the alcohol aftertaste, though she felt it burn all the way down.

Coughing, Morgan tried to hand the cup back to Timberly who shook her head and lifted her own.

“Come on!” She grabbed Morgan’s wrist and dragged her to the middle of the village. “Party by the bonfire! Whoo!”

A middle place had been cleared out from the supplies and cargo containers. Someone had torn up the grass to provide a bare spot, stacked large rocks in a ring, and then added wood.

The nightly bonfire was born.

Those who weren’t part of a larger group, or just felt like mingling, roasted their catches or fruit-kabobs over the flames.

It was Colton’s idea, and it was a good one. It brought people together.

And now, apparently, it was a place to drink by.

Donuts’ swill got better after a few swallows. Morgan’s stomach was empty except for the apple she had for breakfast. The drink hit her hard.

Soon, she felt a little dizzy, but also lighter on her feet. Her cares dropped away.

It was nice.

Lucas had a drink of his own and sat next to her on a log by the bonfire.

As the suns set and darkness closed in, an impromptu dance broke out, with half the people clapping their hands or slapping the logs in rhythm.

Lucas dragged Morgan to her feet. He was a terrible dancer, not able to keep rhythm. She was even worse.

Morgan knew she looked like every bad stereotype of a white girl who couldn’t dance, but at that moment it was hilarious, not mortifying.

“You are sooo sad,” Timberly exclaimed, taking pity on them and grabbing Morgan’s hand. “Like this!” And she moved her body in a sinuous motion that seemed too fluid to be real.

Morgan protested. “I can’t do that!”

“You have hips, don’t you?” Timberly reached out, hands on Morgan’s hips to guide her through the movement.

Soon, Morgan found some sort of a beat. It was actually fun. She glanced over her shoulder to see how Lucas was doing and found him staring, rapt.

Morgan faltered, but Timberly pulled her close. “No, keep going. You’ve got his attention. Now let his imagination run wild.” She made some sort of lithe, half-grinding motion. Morgan tried to copy her, but the creeping embarrassment was acting like a roadblock in her mind. Her limbs went jerky and robotic again. Not sexy at all. Just lame.

Smiling in apology, she retook her seat on the log and drank again as if she really had been thirsty the whole time. Someone had refilled her cup… or maybe she was actually drinking someone else's. Either way, she finished it.

She was feeling really floaty when Lucas sat next to her again. He grinned, eyes bright. “Guess we’ll never get a prom, but this is a good second best.”

It seemed like everyone had joined in on the fun. Someone threw a few boards that had been haphazardly nailed together on the fire—part of a discarded construction project—sending flames and embers sky high.

Lucas grinned and whooped with the others.

What a waste, Morgan thought. It wasn’t like they could go to the store for more seasoned timber.

Her good mood drained away like someone had pulled a plug. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Huh?” Looping an arm around her shoulders, Lucas pulled her in close. With everyone yelling and whooping around the fire, it was hard to hear.

Morgan raised her voice. “We should be preparing for the winter. We’re all wasting time.”

To her surprise, Lucas rolled his eyes. “Can you let it go for one night?”

“What?”

“We don’t even know if there will be a winter here. It’s hot as hell during the day with two suns.”

“That's because it’s probably summer!” Her throat felt thick and she wasn’t sure why. It was like all her emotions were closer to the surface than usual. Anxiety twisted her gut. “We don’t know what we’re facing, and all everyone wants to do is screw around—”

“What’s going on?” Timberly joined them, looking concerned. Then again, Morgan realized, she had gotten a little loud.

“Nothing,” Lucas said. “Her father’s got her all screwed up, seeing the apocalypse around the corner.”

“We were dropped on an alien planet!” Yup, her voice was shrill even to her own ears, but there was no help for it. The sense of panic was rising. “We’re burning our own supplies for this stupid party, and we don’t know what else is out there or why we’re here. You say it’s summer, but you don’t know that! This isn’t Earth. There might be a snowstorm tomorrow. You don’t know!”

“Okay.” Lucas took the cup from Morgan’s hands. “No more for you.”

“I’m not drunk!”

“She does have a point, about winter, I mean,” Timberly said. “I think Leah said she was tracking the stars to see if she could measure a… uh, planetary tilt. She can explain more about it. That’s probably where she is right now. I don’t see her around.”

Morgan stood, and then wobbled dangerously. She took a step to correct herself before she overbalanced. “I’m going to talk to her.”

“What? No, c’mon, Morgan. Stay for a bit,” Lucas said. “Nothing’s going to change tonight. We were having fun.”

“I wasn’t,” she lied.

“You’ve had more to drink than you realize. You’ll get hurt in the dark out there.” Standing, he put a hand on his arm to stop her.

She shook him off. “Don’t touch me!" Angry, hurtful words bubbled up before she could stop them, born of a half-buried thought. "You don't even care, do you? You don't care that we probably aren't going to go home again.”

"Morgan." She knew for a fact that Timberly had had more to drink than her, but at that moment her dark gaze was serious. "Of course he cares. We all miss home. What do you think this is about?" She looked meaningfully toward the almost frantically dancing teenagers. "People just want to forget for awhile, you know?"

"Well, good for them," she snapped. "I'm going to do something useful."

Lucas's expression had darkened. “There's nothing wrong with having a good time.”

“This isn’t a good time. It’s stupidity!”

“You know what?” Lucas said, “You’ve always talked about how crazy and paranoid your father was, but you’re just like him. Yes, we’re somewhere new, but this place is great! Why can’t you see that?”

Her mouth dropped open. For a moment, words completely failed her. “Oh… screw you!” she snapped, and would have stomped off if she hadn’t stumbled a couple times, first.

Lucas seemed to regret his words. He reached for her. “Morgan, come back!”

“Leave me alone!” she yelled.

She walked away from the campfire into the cooling night, tears leaking down her cheeks.

* * *

She was two fields away before she remembered she had originally wanted to talk to Leah. The introverted girl was probably avoiding the whole party scene.

Back toward the camp, she could hear the occasional shout and high laugh. The orange bonfire glowed through the trees, flaring up when someone threw something new onto it.

She hoped none of the embers would catch. The orchards would be less than useless if they burned.

Her shoulders sagged. I really am incapable of having a good time.

Abruptly, she didn’t want to see anyone. Not even Leah.

She walked on, sniffling. Lucas could be a real jerk sometimes, but she wasn’t sure he had it wrong.

She hated it. Why couldn’t she let loose? Why couldn’t she let down her walls? Lucas wanted her, and she wanted him. So what was the problem? They could be… together.

… Except for the gnawing feeling that she wasn’t safe, that she shouldn’t let her guard down, that they were squandering time. Time they wouldn’t get back.

Morgan glanced up at the alien sky. It wasn’t like the night sky of Earth. For one, there wasn’t any light pollution. She could see a lot more. Also, the stars were more uniform, like a carpet of diamonds. There was no band of the Milky Way. A couple of the points of light were overly large and bright. Leah said they might be other planets in the solar system, or far-off moons. Impossible to tell without a telescope.

Maybe they were hovering spaceships.

That thought had her walking with more purpose back to the field where they had landed. She had taken this walk so many times while going to the stream that she knew it by heart.

There, in the middle of the field, was the cylinder of the cake machine. The grass nearby wasn’t packed down—not many opted for the flavorless cakes when there was real food for the picking.

A soft blue electric glow came from the cylinder’s slot. The sight of electricity was comforting, in a way.

Morgan stared at it and saw only an alien device. “What do you want from us? Why are we here?”

Nothing.

Anger, sharp and painful, hit her. “I have a father and sister who need me, and I want to go back home to them! Please!”

She kicked it hard with the toe of her shoe. It was like kicking a light pole.

Kneeling, she brushed away soil from the base. The cylinder was sunk deep into the ground. She dug around it with her fingers until she could go no further without digging tools.

“What do you want from us?!”

No answer.

She was probably yelling at the alien equivalent to a vending machine.

Exhausted, her foot and the tips of her fingers sore, she sat, resting her back against the thing. It was warm. She brought her knees up to her chin.

In the distance, she could hear the others having fun. Let them.

* * *

“Morgan?” A hand shook her shoulder. “Morgan, wake up. Are you okay?”

She cracked open her eyes and instantly regretted it. The early dawn light seemed to drill straight through her eyes to the back of her skull. “Ugh.”

Lucas stood in front of her, looking concerned. “Did you sleep here all night?” he asked, helping her to sit up.

Then she remembered the bonfire, dancing with Lucas. What he’d said, the way she’d felt.

Yes, she had slept next to the alien cylinder, curled around it as if she had been waiting for it to spit out answers.

“So what if I slept here?” she grumped.

“You didn’t have to—”

“I thought I was ruining everyone’s good time.” Pushing his hands away, she stood to her feet. The world didn’t wobble, but her stomach was definitely not happy with her. Her head pounded, too. Was this a hangover? Perfect.

And why was Lucas looking at her with such a hangdog expression? “Look, I shouldn’t have said all that last night.”

Her stomach clenched, then roiled. Leaning against the cylinder, she took a deep breath. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does.” He shifted to come into her line of sight. “I shouldn’t have been such an asshole to you.”

“No, you were right.” God, she did not want to have this conversation, but it took her thoughts off her rebelling stomach. Morgan forced herself to straighten. “I am like my father, but you know what? He was right, too. The world did come to an end for us.” Tears pricked behind her eyes. She hurriedly brushed them away. “So, if you want to have fun, fine. There are plenty of girls like that around here. Go take your pick.”

She didn’t expect him to take her hand in his.

“I like that about you. I like that you’re serious.”

She laughed.

“Well,” Lucas admitted with a smile, “you can be a pain.” He squeezed her hand. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m here.”

“Really?” Lifting her head, she stared at him. Her voice came out a lot tinier and more fragile than she expected.

He nodded and she half-laughed again. Lucas pulled her into his arms and they stood like that for a few minutes, just hugging.

Sniffling, she pulled back. “I should wash in the stream. I’m a mess.”

“Okay. Just… just come back to the village when you’re ready, okay? Sleep it off there.”

She nodded.

* * *

When she returned after cleaning up, she suspected she might be the only one awake.

The village was dead quiet with the remains of the bonfire smoldering into cinders. Judging from the black marks, it had grown a few sizes larger than when she had left. She was half afraid to look at the timber pile and see how much had gone up in flames.

The sour smell in the air told her that someone—or maybe several someones—had thrown up. Gross.

Donuts’ still was bubbling over the fire near to his cargo container. It was half-full. No doubt Donuts would be slaving away over it again after last night’s success.

She walked over to the container where Colton’s group slept.

Lucas was there. He rolled over and smiled at her when she approached. She lay down gingerly in between Lucas and a girl lying a few feet away named Mallory.

Lucas murmured something and wrapped his arm around her waist. The weight of it was comforting.

Morgan closed her eyes and slept.

* * *

Later on, Morgan would kick herself for not dumping Donuts’ still when she had a chance.

The bonfire became a nightly event.

It wasn’t that she had a thing against drinking—though the only time there had been alcohol in her father’s house was wine for the big holidays—but there was a difference between having a glass at dinner, and chugging homemade brew every night until you passed out, threw up, or both.

And of course after partying all night, no one got up again until late in the afternoon. People made dumb decisions when they were drunk, too.

One girl named Piper almost drowned when she dived into the stream during a night swim and hit her head on the bottom. Luckily, she had only been underwater for a minute and her boyfriend had known CPR.

Every night, more of the cut wood went up in flames.

“They’re burning the only seasoned wood we have,” she said to Colton in desperation one afternoon. “You have to stop them. They’ll listen to you.”

“Do you want them to go chopping down fruit trees, instead?” Colton asked.

“They can chop down those filbert trees,” Max muttered nearby. “I’m allergic.”

Morgan spun to him. “It’s not about you.” Then she turned to Colton. “I’m serious. We had enough to build a couple houses. Now… I’m not sure what we could do.”

“Maybe you should talk to Lucas about getting his woman in line,” Tyreese said, acting as if Morgan wasn’t even there.

“Knock it off, Tyreese,” Colton said before Morgan could.

Morgan glared at the jerk, but he wasn’t her problem right now. She glanced around, looking for Lucas, but he was out retrieving water from the stream with some of the others. The village was annoyingly far from the stream. The only reason they stayed there was because of the supplies and cargo crates.

A clean source of water is worth its weight in gold, her father had told her too many times to count. When the time comes, you find it, secure it, and defend it at all costs.

Gritting her teeth, she forced the thought of him from her mind. If her father were here, he would have already made his encampment by the stream miles away from the others, and to hell with the rest.

Well, she wasn't her father.

“There’s plenty of deadwood laying around,” Morgan said. “I don’t know why we couldn’t burn that instead of our only seasoned timber.”

“Most of the close-in stuff’s already been burned.” But Colton wasn’t arguing. He jerked his head toward the west side of the camp. “Follow me.”

“Why?”

“I want to show you something.”

Tyreese sniggered, which put Morgan on edge. Ignoring him, Colton rose, dusting off his pants.

“Fine.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she followed. “This better be good.”

Colton threw a grin over his shoulder. “You won’t be disappointed.”

By now, most of the cargo containers had been picked through. The ones with the lighter, or most useful stuff, had been emptied out and now doubled as sleeping rooms. Donuts and his gang were apparently turning one container of the village into a smokehouse.

Morgan had made a point in the first week to at least look through most of the containers for useful items. She’d added a compass and a boxcutter to her supplies as well as light-gauge wire she planned to use for fishing line.

However, she hadn’t come across a cargo container with a lock on it before.

“What’s this?” she asked wearily.

“People aren’t dogs,” Colton said. “I can’t just tell them to stop doing what they want and expect them to obey me.”

“I don’t think that works with dogs, either.”

“Okay.” He held up his hands. “You caught me. I’ve never had a dog. But still, the bonfire’s too much of a hit. I tell people to tone it down, and they’ll tell me to fuck off and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“So….” Morgan looked meaningfully at the container.

“So….” He repeated in her tone as he pulled out a small key from his pocket. He unlocked the padlock and opened the door with a flourish. “Me, Max, Tyreese and Calvin took the best of the wood.” He winked at her. “Those guys will listen to me.”

The spicy scent of seasoned lumber washed over Morgan as she peeked in. Planks were stacked neatly from floor to ceiling. The entire cargo container was full.

Drawing back, Morgan stared at him. “I’m… not sure how I feel about this,” she said honestly. “The supplies are meant for everyone.”

“That only works as long as there’s enough to go around.” Colton shrugged, closing the door. “And you said it yourself; the plebs are burning through what we have.”

She frowned, recrossing her arms. Colton wasn’t wrong, and she couldn’t honestly say this wasn’t a bad idea. It just felt… wrong.

Sometimes hard calls had to be made in a survival situation. That had been another one of her father’s lessons.

Looking back up at Colton, Morgan nodded. “Who else knows about this?”

“Just those guys, and now you.” Colton returned his key back to his pocket. “I figured you, of all people, know why I want to keep this quiet, but I didn’t want you to worry.” The corner of his lips edged up. “Do you feel better?”

Yes, but she also felt a bit dirty.

“Thanks for showing me this, Colton.”

“Any time.” He slung one arm over her shoulder as they walked back. It was a friendly gesture, and she didn’t think anything of it until he hastily dropped his arm as Nevaeh’s peel of laughter echoed back at them from their group’s campfire. She was sitting around, gossiping with her friends. No one with any sense risked getting on her bad side.

Luckily, Lucas was back, too. Morgan joined him by the fire.

“Where were you two?” Lucas asked with a sidelong glance Colton’s direction.

She debated telling him about the locked away wood, but the fewer people who knew—even Lucas—the better. “I was talking to him about the idiots at the bonfire.”

“Oh.” He rolled his eyes. The bonfire was still a little bit of a sore point between them. Thankfully, he didn’t ask further and she considered the matter dropped.

But the whole situation left a bad taste in her mouth. Seasoned wood was only the first resource the village was starting to run low on. Colton couldn’t lock everything away, and it was only a matter of time before more people found out. What would happen then?

Morgan had only gotten to know Colton since they were dumped here, but she had a feeling he had a plan for that, too.

Somehow, she didn’t think it would be a plan she liked.