I am soaking wet, and that’s okay.

After hours spent lying in the blistering heat it finally occurred to us that, you know, we are adrift. In the middle of an ocean. That is made of water.

So we all went swimming, Boy, did that feel good.

Schroeder hit upon the idea first. He was just lying out there in the sun with his shirt off, draped over his head like a tarp. A funny look came over his face, like he’d forgotten his keys somewhere and he was trying to remember where he’d put them. Then he just stood up and walked off the arm of the sofa, splash!

I think Simon and I both thought that he was trying to kill himself, because we flew out of the sofa fort and began to panic. We’re a pair of real cool heads sometimes. Schroeder resurfaced a short distance away, spat out a long stream of water, and said, “What?” in this pissed off voice, like it was totally unreasonable that we would flip out upon seeing our sunstroked companion leap overboard.

Once everybody calmed down we all took turns jumping off the back of the couch into that cool, beautiful blue water. Ahhh. It felt amazing. So refreshing. I dove under the surface and tried to grab Simon’s legs, and Schroeder tried to dunk my head under the water. I think it was just high spirits and not a genuine attempt to drown me, but you never know with him.

The sofa just kept paddling along the entire time. We swam beside it and grabbed its skirt and let it tow us through the waves. That was kind of fun.

Now we’re all flopped out on the cushions, wet and tired and… well, if not happy then at least less miserable than before. Until we get hungry again. Don’t think about food, Morgan. Or water. Think about the look on Simon’s face when you tossed him off the sofa. That was priceless.

Hmm. I’m dripping wet, but this seems like a good time to do some writing. In a much better mood now, yay.

All righty. Let’s see here.

I barely remember walking back to the Widerwhatever hideout with Schroeder and Noelle. By then I was so exhausted that my brain had pretty much cashed out. Everything was a blur.

Someone must have steered me to bed though, because at some point during the night I woke up and found myself smothered in the mildewy end of a smelly sleeping bag. That was worth about five minutes of groggy bewilderment as I tried to turn myself around.

I was in a dark bedroom. The curtains were drawn, the bed was unmade, and dirty clothing was scattered all over the floor. None of that interested me. I grabbed a sweater, punched it into the rough shape of a pillow, and went back to sleep.

A little daylight peeked through the gauzy curtains the next time I woke, only to discover that strange hands were shaking me. I snarled and took a huge swipe at the offender, then burrowed back into the sleeping bag.

The next thing I knew someone had grabbed the foot end of it and jerked it upwards. I tumbled out onto the floor.

As I crawled upright I said, “Well, somebody needs a good stern killing this morning.”

“This morning?” said a boy’s icy voice. “Try afternoon, moron. Get up! Nobody under my roof just lounges around until after lunch.”

I knew that voice.

“Shut up!” said Schroeder before I could say a word. He loomed over me, glaring. “Get up and get washed! I’m calling a group meeting in fifteen minutes. Attendance is mandatory. Get a move on!”

A couple of strange kids loitered in the doorway. “What are you staring at?” I snarled, and they scattered back into the hall.

I snorted. Ugh. Felt like crap. Gummy eyes, horrid taste in my mouth. And my head still ached.

And I stank. Running around in the rain last night had not done me any favours. I reeked.

My backpack had been thrown down beside me. I rummaged through it and dug up some of the clean clothes I had packed for the trip to the farmhouse. The stuff I was wearing was pretty crispy from the fire. Muttering curses, I changed quickly, with my back to the door in case someone else barged in.

Afterwards, I crept out into the hall. It was dirty and crowded with junk. More discarded clothes littered the floor, as did broken dishes, broken appliances – I had to step over a busted vacuum cleaner just to get out of the bedroom. The wallpaper was ripped and stained with blotches the colour of orange juice. Everything was dark. And smelly. Like, old sock smelly.

Voices yelled in another bedroom. I scampered into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind me. Safe.

The bathroom was a mess too. I stared around myself in disgust. Damp towels lay all over the floor. A single lit candle guttered in a dish beside the sink, which was crusted over with globs of toothpaste. The candle illuminated an old fashioned bathtub, one of those stumpy looking things with claw legs. Grimy bars of soap perched around its edges. Ew!

But it was a bathtub at least, with real brass faucets and an extendable shower head. I rushed to it eagerly.

It was full of water. A scummy layer of old soap suds floated on the surface. Bits of dirt and tree bark bobbed within the gunk.

In disgust I swirled a finger through it. The water was tepid. My skin crawled.

“Why is your bathtub full of gunk?!” I said when I stomped into the kitchen like two minutes later.

A mob of boys looked around at me.

“Didn’t anyone fill her in on the washing situation?” said Schroeder. He stood next to the sink with a power drill in one hand. “Doris?”

“No, Schroeder,” said Doris. He sat at the table next to Noelle. He rolled his eyes. “I didn’t think of that while we were running to your rescue last night.”

Schroeder snorted. “It’s a bathtub. It’s got water in it. You figure out the rest.”

“You people wash in that crap?” I said.

“Yes. We don’t waste water here. Just pretend you’re camping.”

“I hate camping!”

“Amen,” said Doris.

Schroeder sat down at the head of the table next to a tall black kid in a red bandana, and banged the drill like a gavel.

“All right everybody, sit down and clam up!” he said. “Let’s get this meeting underway. That means you too, Red. Park your ass down.”

There weren’t many places left to sit. Boys sat on chairs, on the counters, and on the stove. So I sat on a garbage bin. Boy, they were a raggedy looking bunch. All dirty faces and torn clothing and bruises and bandaids and scruffy home-cut hair. I think I spotted a girl among them, a scraggly thing with stringy black hair and big bug-eyed glasses.

Schroeder gave the drill one last whack on the table.

“All right, bad news first,” he said. “Some of you have already heard this, but let me just make it official: Roger is dead. Shut it! He’s gone. He was killed by a patrol out on the fringes. He was alone at the time, and the Triumph caught him. Cyril may or may not have been involved, but I’m sure we all know who to blame in the end.”

Angry muttering ran around the room.

“That’s right, the evil hag herself. Roger was one of the first of us, and now he’s dead. He should never have been that far out of town on his own. It was stupid and dangerous. He was a good guy, but he’s paid for his mistake. Which is why I’m putting a new rule into effect, starting immediately. From now on nobody leaves the house unless they’ve got a buddy with them. Nobody goes out alone. Period. Either you go with a friend or you don’t go at all. Any and all complaints can be directed to my middle finger.”

Stunned silence greeted that. Boys stared with open mouths. All at once a howling storm of protest broke out.

Schroeder weathered it sternly, his arms crossed and his mouth bent into a scowl. Boys shouted, stomped their feet, and banged on things. Dishes rattled, salt and pepper shakers jumped around the table. The longer the ruckus dragged out, the harder Schroeder scowled.

“Tough!” he barked. “You don’t have to like it – you just have to live with it! I’m sick and tired of people getting mulched because they’re caught in an ambush! If you won’t watch out for one of your brothers in arms, then who do you expect will watch out for you?”

That shut up them up. In the silence that followed I heard the guilty crinkle of chip bag somewhere in the crowd.

“Right,” said Schroeder, looking harassed. “Well then. That takes care of that. Any questions about the new rule?”

Throats cleared and bums shuffled. A lone hand crept into the air.

“Yes, Small Matt?”

“What about Noelle?” said a young boy sitting next to the microwave.

“Yes, the new rule applies to Noelle too. Sorry, Noelle.”

Noelle, who was eating a spotty banana, just gave Schroeder a thumbs-up.

Another hand shot up. “What about Doris?”

“Oh, the new rule especially applies to Doris.”

Doris sat upright. “Wait, what?”

“You heard me! No more skulking around alone for you. You go out with a partner, or you don’t eat.”

“Are you crazy?” Doris threw up his hands. “How am I supposed to get any work done with some kid tagging along? My job isn’t about chucking a rock through a window and grabbing whatever I can, you know. It requires a degree of finesse!”

“I’m sure you’ll finesse something out,” said Schroeder. “End of discussion.”

Doris laid his fists on the table and glared. Then he narrowed one eye and said, “Wait a minute. You haven’t mentioned whether or not this new rule applies to you as well.”

“Yes, of course it does.”

“I see. I know you volunteer yourself for all of the most dangerous missions. But if you’re cool with being obliged to drag some other poor chump into danger with you just to keep the new rule enforced, then I’m sure the rest of us are too.”

Ooh. I looked over at Schroeder to see how he was taking that. So did every other kid in the room.

Schroeder just sat there with a blank look on his face. Noelle mutely picked a stringy bit off her banana and flicked it away, while the tall black kid shook his head and dragged his bandana down over his eyes.

“Right,” said Schroeder slowly. “Yeah. So. Anyway. That was only part of the reason why I called this meeting. Now for the rest of it. I want you all packed up and ready to move by midnight. Tomorrow morning at dawn we’re bugging out to a new hideout.”

Oh wow. If the previous outburst had just been a rumble of discontent, then this was the real eruption. I grabbed the lid of the garbage bin as the boys around me went crazy all at once.

“What?!”

“But we’ve only been here a week!”

“Why do we have to move now?”

“Where will we go?”

“Why so soon?”

“I don’t want to go!”

“Shut up!” said Schroeder. He pounded the drill on the table again. A big vein stood out on his forehead. “Bitch, bitch, bitch, is that all you do? It’s no wonder Miller is painting boats with our blood. Shut up!”

The black kid looked like he wanted to put his head in his hands. I sort of felt for him. Schroeder waited for all of the screaming to die out. Then he said, “As I was saying, we move out tomorrow morning! That’s before breakfast, in case you need something else to complain about. Don’t look at me like that. I happen to like this house. But you know the rules. If something leads Jack or Noelle or I to suspect that Miller has been alerted to our presence here, then out we go.”

Uh oh. I sat up a little straighter.

“Whoa, man,” said another boy. He was an older kid with hideous hair, all shaved at the temples with a rat-tail at the back. “Why do you guys think Miller knows we’re here?”

“Oh yes. That is a very good question, Graham. Hm! Why do we suspect that? Just who might have been careless enough to drop a big hint to Miller where we’re living? Who indeed? Doris, would you like to field this question?”

Doris froze.

“Huh?” he said. “Me?”

“Yes, you. Just why is it that Jack and Noelle and I suspect that Miller, or some sort of Miller-related individual, might have an idea where we live? What could possibly have put that crazy notion into our heads?”

Uh oh.

It occurred to me that I had seen neither hide nor hair of Simon since Doris and I split up with him last night. Evidently Doris was thinking the same thing, because he went pale.

“Hey, whoa,” he said. “Whoa, hold on. I didn’t lead Simon Miller anywhere near this house.”

“Bull!” thundered Schroeder. “You practically waltzed the little spawn within three blocks of here! Joe told me all about it this morning! So what do you have to say about that?”

“Oh, come on!” Doris held his hands to the ceiling in exasperation. “Have you ever even met the kid face to face? Simon Miller is about as dangerous as dry toast.”

“This is true,” I said.

Schroeder looked back and forth between us. “What are you two, a duet? I don’t care how harmless he looks! Miller always keeps a sharp eye out for her wayward son. If she knows where he went last night then she now has a pretty good idea of where we are too. God, you two! I bet they stoned people in the Middle Ages for these kinds of screw-ups!”

Ouch.

Doris and I weren’t getting any friendly looks now. Boys glowered at us from all around the kitchen. I didn’t know why I was getting the stink-eye. It wasn’t like I had a clue what was going on.

The black kid finally cleared his throat. He didn’t have to bang on the table or shout to get attention, because every eye in the room zoomed straight to him.

“Schroeder is right,” he said. He was an older guy, maybe eighteen, with this really calm voice. He frowned. “I don’t want to move either, but we can’t risk the possibility that Miller knows we live somewhere in the area. She’ll send the Henchmen swarming in and that will be the end of us. So we’re gonna send two kids out tonight to clear out the new hideout, and by breakfast tomorrow we’ll all be moved in.”

Skeptical muttering rippled around the kitchen. Then someone said, “What do you think, Noelle?”

“I’m ready to leave,” said Noelle. She threw the banana peel over her shoulder and brushed off her hands. “I’ll help you pack whatever needs packing, Jack.”

“Thanks, Noelle.”

“Don’t worry about finding volunteers to clear out the new place,” said Schroeder. He gave Doris an ugly look. “I’ve already got two candidates lined up for the job.”

Didn’t like the sound of that either.

Judging by the look on his face, neither did Doris. But he still rapped his knuckles on the table, real politely.

“Excuse me,” he said. “Regarding the new house…”

“What about it?” growled Schroeder.

Doris spread his hands in an apologetic gesture.

“Look, I’ll admit I made a mistake,” he said. “I wasn’t thinking. If I put everyone here in danger, then I’m sorry.”

All eyes were on him now. The kids looked surly, but also curious. Even Schroeder was eyeballing him. I wondered what the hell he was up to.

“It’s my fault we have to move, so I won’t complain about it,” he said. “But if it’s not too late, would anyone object to a quick suggestion?”

“I would,” said Schroeder, and grunted when Noelle stepped on his foot.

“We don’t really have time for a major change to the plan right now,” said Jack.

“I know. I understand that. But why don’t we turn this misfortune to our advantage? If we have to move, then why don’t we move to a house with electricity to compensate for the inconvenience?”

An excited buzz ran through the mob. Even Jack blinked.

“Electricity?” he said.

“Could we, Schroeder?” said Rat-Tail.

“We’ve gone without it for months,” said another kid. “It must be safe by now, right?”

Aghast, Schroeder said, “Electricity is never safe! Electricity is the traitorous beacon that will lead Miller straight down upon us!”

Doris glanced at all the eager faces around the room. He laced his hands together on the table and said, “Just think about it. The last two hideouts had no power at all. I think by now we’re all tired of washing out of buckets and stealing food from day to day, and cooking all of our meals on a barbecue. We could have working stoves again. Cold and hot food! Real lights, hot water – everything! So how about it, Jack?”

Schroeder’s eyes bulged. “How about it, Jack?”

Jack scratched his chin.

“I dunno, Doris,” he said. “Safe houses with electricity are hard to come by.”

“Yeah, I understand. But Schroeder always has a few hideouts planned ahead of every move, right? One of them must be supplied with power.”

Ooh, and now all of the heads turned to Schroeder. His eyes darted.

“Maybe,” he said.

“Electricity,” said the girl in glasses dreamily.

“Come on, Schroeder,” said another boy. “We’re not stupid, we know how to use it and not get caught.”

“No more candles!” said someone.

“No more fires!”

“Hot showers!”

“No more barbecued hot dogs for breakfast!”

The chatter grew louder by the minute. Now it was Schroeder’s turn to look hunted. Doris just sat quietly, his expression composed.

Eventually, Schroeder dropped his head into his hands.

“All right,” he said wearily. “Fine. The next house can have electricity, if that’s what everyone wants.”

Whooping and cheering. Even Noelle looked pleased. Someone blew up that crinkly chip bag and popped it, scattering chip crumbs like confetti. Schroeder winced at the sound while the crumbs fell on Doris, who smiled.

“Where is the house?” someone yelled.

Schroeder dragged his hands down his face and leaned back.

“Carmichael Street,” he said. “Four-twenty-four. Doris, you and a friend will clear it out.”

“Fine,” said Doris. “I’ll leave tonight.”

“Wrong again! You’ll leave now! I don’t want a single living object left in that place when the rest of us get there at dawn! That means the back shed too! From forks to lawnmowers, I want the squatters out. Got it?”

Doris’ smile faded.

“Fine,” he said coolly. “If I must take someone with me, I’d like it to be No-”

“Wrong! It’s gonna be her!”

Schroeder pointed straight at me. Without taking his eyes from my face he growled, “Everybody who isn’t the new girl, get lost. Go pack. New girl, we need to talk.”

The kitchen emptied as the boys wandered out. Jack and Noelle remained behind, their faces guarded.

When all of the other kids were gone Schroeder jabbed at an empty chair. “You. Big Red. Park it.”

“My name is Morgan, you know,” I said as I sat down.

“Oh, I know exactly who you are, new girl. Want to know how I know that?”

He reached down and slapped a newspaper onto the table. “Blam! I give you twenty-four hours before you’re a corpse.”

Annoyed, I snatched it up. I didn’t even have to open it up to see what he was talking about.

“Holy shit!” I said. “We’re front page news!”

“You’d better believe you are. Your fiery escapade made quite a splash.”

I was so distracted by the newspaper article that I barely heard him. Oh my god. It was amazing and horrifying all at once to sit back and read about the fire from this bizarrely detached reporter standpoint – how the farmhouse had been fully engulfed in flames before fire crews could do a thing to save it, how Mr Mumford was away at the time, but his daughter and her friend were believed to be inside the house when it went up, how no trace of our remains were found in the debris. How it was assumed that smoke inhalation had mercifully killed us both before the fire could.

I gripped the newspaper so tightly that it crumpled.

“Oh my god,” I said. “Everyone thinks I’m dead!”

“That’s right,” said Schroeder. He sat back with folded arms and scowled. “But we know better than that, don’t we? We know that Morgan Mumford is alive and well and will be dead in less than a day.”

“What are you talking about?”

Jack and Noelle exchanged glances.

“Morgan,” said Noelle softly. “Do you honestly believe my real name is Noelle?”

“Or that Doris really is called Doris?” said Jack.

“Or someone out there actually named me Schroeder?”

Jack blinked. “So that isn’t your handle. Huh.”

“No. We’ve known each other for four years now, how did you not know that?”

“Man, you don’t talk shit about yourself, how could I be sure.”

“They’re nicknames,” said Noelle. “They’re all nicknames. Nobody goes by their real name in Hinterland. It isn’t safe.”

“Safe?” I said. “Not safe? What are you talking about?”

“It’s Miller. If she gets a hold of the name of someone who is trapped here, that person just… disappears.”

“Usually at night,” said Jack. “They’re in their bed when they go to sleep, and the next morning-”

“Gone,” said Schroeder.

“Every time.”

“Usually we find the body out in the fringes,” said Noelle. She shook her head sadly. “Sometimes Miller has it, and taunts us with it.”

“That’s insane,” I said.

“Is it? Have you met her face to face yet? Did she ask for your name?”

What is your full name, pumpkin?

My head spun. Oh, shit.

I didn’t reply. It must have shown on my face however, because Jack nodded in satisfaction and said, “We call it the Red Rover. Like that game? ‘Red Rover, Red Rover, we call so-and-so over’? And then you charge at the other team’s line and try to break through and just end up clothes-lining yourself on their linked arms.”

“And now you think she’s gonna call me over next,” I said.

“That’s what happens. Every time.”

I snorted.

“Well, she can give it her best shot,” I said. “And she’d better do it fast, because I don’t plan on hanging around here for very long.”

Noelle and Jack exchanged another one of those leery glances that were starting to get on my nerves.

“Morgan,” said Noelle. “No one can leave this place.”

“Yeah, yeah. I heard it all from Sikes. And I don’t buy it. There has to be some way out. Once I find it I’m outta here.”

“Oh, well!” Schroeder sarcastically waved his hands into the air. “Everybody stand back, we’ve got a badass over here! Stuck in Hinterland less than a day and already she figures she can find a way out, never mind that some of us have been trapped here for ten years and still haven’t managed it.”

TEN YEARS? I swallowed and gave him a shaky glare. Threw the newspaper right into his face.

“See that?” I said. “Have you even read it? My dad thinks I’m dead. My dad, totally heartbroken because he thinks his daughter died in a fire! Well, to hell with that and to hell with Miller and to hell with you! I’m going to find a way out of here and get back to my dad!”

“Fine! Go fling yourself at imaginary portals all you want. Got roam the fringes looking for a way out. Have a spirit journey. Just don’t come sobbing to me when it finally sinks in that you’re stuck here. I’m not your damn therapist.”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

Schroeder jabbed the table with one finger. “In the meantime, you’re living under my roof and that means living by my rules. We can keep you alive until the Rover gets you. But if you want to leave now, the door is right over there. So what’s it gonna be?”

I almost left. Almost laughed right in his face and walked out the door. I don’t know what held me back. Wait. Maybe I do. Maybe it was Noelle. Maybe it was the way she stared right at me and subtly shook her head with such a look of dread on her pale face that it made me pause.

So I sat tight and raked my nails into the table instead.

“I’ll stay,” I grated.

“Fine! Now get your ass in gear. Your first chore will be to go help Doris clear out the new house. Try to learn something from him, please. I suggest you get yourself some heavy-duty gloves first, or else you are going to get yourself a painful education about life in Hinterland, Widerstand-style.”

Yeah. Really should have taken that warning more seriously.

—

Pause button!

Ugh. I’m looking at my hands now. Still got all the scars from that first proper Widerstand experience. Old cuts and stuff. That crazy house. Stupid Schroeder and his stupid chores.

Still, that had ended up being a pretty fun job, which I don’t think is what Schroeder had intended. Ah, Doris. You are Sikes are good chums. Sometimes.

I’m getting ahead of myself though. Stay tuned, Morgan’s Logians! I’m gonna go get me some grub. Schroeder appears to be in a good mood after all of that swimming. Maybe we can eat more than half a granola bar tonight. Or Simon and I could just lynch him. It’s all good.