The rooster started before dawn. Louis woke facing Gladice, the ceiling close above him. His arm was numb under her head. He eased it out carefully. She stirred and rolled over to face the wall. He blinked and sat up slowly. Gray light came through the curtained window. He climbed down carefully and reached the floor without making noise. Savannah was already sitting on the edge of her lower bunk, fastening her bra. He glanced at her cleavage for a second before he looked away. He decided it was a bad idea to stare at a woman with a gun within reach.
“Morning,” he said.
“Morning.” Savannah pulled on her T-shirt. “Willa’s awake. She’s in the bathroom.”
“Alright.” He pulled pants and a shirt from his bag and dressed. “Sleep well?”
“Never do,” she said. “Keeps you alive.”
“True.” He sat on the end of her bunk to tie his boots. “Thank you for noticing Barlow’s call. I haven’t said it properly. You saved us all. We owe you.”
She met his eyes for a moment. “I’m not doing this for you. I am doing it for myself. You are my ticket out. Don’t make it weird.”
“Got it,” he said. “But thank you anyway.”
She looked away. “You’re welcome.”
Angelique sat up slowly, running a hand through her hair. “Are we already being productive?”
“Someone has to be,” Savannah said. She pulled on a clean pair of socks.
Angelique watched her with a half smile. “We can’t all be soldiers.”
“Good thing. Otherwise you’d all be dead.” Savannah tied her boots. “I’m going to check the perimeter.”
She left the room without another word, closing the door quietly behind her. Donya sat up and rubbed her eyes, then looked at Louis.
“Is everything alright?”
“Fine,” he said. “She’s just checking the grounds.”
Donya nodded, her hands twisting in her blanket. “I had a strange dream last night.”
“About what?” Angelique asked, stretching.
“A river,” Donya said softly. “And a boat. And you were all on it. And we were safe.” She looked down. “It was a good dream.”
“It will come true.” Louis stepped forward. “We will get there.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Promise.”
She managed a small smile and nodded. “Alright.”
Louis left them to dress. He found the bathroom down the hall. He stopped outside and knocked. “Willa?”
“Come in. It’s unlocked.”
He opened the door. Willa stood in front of the mirror, combing her hair. She looked at him through the mirror.
“Sleep well?”
“Well enough. You?” He stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.
“I think I prefer the hot tub.” She leaned into him, her back pressing against his chest. “But it’s better than a ditch. And the rooster is punctual.”
Louis chuckled. “Better than an alarm.” He released her and picked up a toothbrush.
“I heard you and Gladice last night,” she said, her voice neutral.
He stopped brushing. “I thought you knew that. Didn’t you give us the towel?”
“I did.” She turned around to face him. “But I’m not talking about the sex. I’m talking about after. When you were talking about Jennifer.”
He rinsed his mouth. “What about it?”
“Who is she?” She looked at him. “You never told me. I have a feeling it’s important.”
He looked away. “She was Theodore Hargrove’s daughter. She helped us escape. And she died in Florida.”
The comb stopped in Willa’s hand. “Because of you?”
“Yes.” He met her eyes. “Because of me. I told her I would protect her. I failed.”
She reached out and touched his cheek. “I’m sorry, Louis. I didn’t know.”
“I know.” He kissed her palm. “It’s okay.”
“Not okay,” she said softly. “But I understand now. The girl in the kitchen. She looks like her.”
He nodded.
“And that’s why you were watching her,” she said.
“I couldn’t help it.”
“I know.” She leaned in and held him. “It’s alright. You don’t have to hide from me.”
He held her back, burying his face in her hair. For a moment, he let himself feel the loss again. Then he pulled back and smiled.
“Thank you,” he said.
“You’re welcome.” She squeezed his arm. “Now finish up.” She opened the door and left.
He finished in the bathroom and went to the kitchen. Rita was at the stove, turning bacon in a skillet with tongs. Cherish stood beside her, chopping vegetables with a knife.
“Morning,” Louis said.
Rita glanced at him. “Morning. Coffee is on the counter. Cups in the cabinet.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Nowak.”
Cherish looked up from the vegetables. “It’s good. The coffee. I mean, it’s good coffee.”
He smiled. “I’ll try it.”
He poured a cup and took a sip. It was hot and bitter.
“You like it?” Cherish asked, her eyes wide.
“Yes,” he said. “Very much.”
Her face brightened. “I made it. Not the grounds. Mama buys the grounds. But I measured the water and turned it on. I do it every morning.”
“You do a good job.”
She blushed and looked back at the carrots. “Thank you.”
He watched her hands. They were small and pale, her nails short and clean.
“Do you cook often?” he asked.
“Yes. Every day.” She looked up again. “I like it. It makes Mama happy when the kitchen is clean and the food is ready on time.”
“Mama likes a clean kitchen,” Rita said without turning. “And a quiet one.”
Cherish’s shoulders drew in. “Sorry, Mama.”
“It’s alright.” Louis set the cup on the counter. “I was just making conversation.”
Rita flipped a piece of bacon. “Conversation is fine. Chattering is not.”
Cherish finished the carrots and put them in a bowl. “Do you... do you want some eggs? I can fry some. If you’re hungry.”
“I wouldn’t say no to some eggs,” he said.
“Alright.” She opened the refrigerator and took out a carton. “How do you like them? Scrambled? Fried? I can do both.”
“Scrambled is good.”
She nodded and cracked two eggs into a bowl. “I can add cheese too. If you want. We have cheddar.”
“Cheese would be great,” he said.
She smiled a little. “Okay.”
She whisked the eggs and added a handful of shredded cheese. Then she poured them into a hot pan. The eggs sizzled. She stirred them with a wooden spoon.
Rita watched her without speaking. Louis watched too.
“Do you have siblings?” Cherish asked suddenly.
“Yes,” he said. “I have two sisters.”
“What are their names?”
“Serana and Victoria.”
“Those are pretty names.” She glanced at him. “My brother’s name was Evan.”
Louis’s chest tightened. “Evan is a good name.”
“Yes.” Her voice went softer. “I never really knew him. I was two when he died. So I don’t remember him much. I just have pictures.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“It’s alright.” She scraped the eggs onto a plate and added a slice of bread. “Here you go. I hope they’re good.”
He took the plate. “I’m sure they are.” The others came in as he sat down at the table. Gladice took the coffee pot and poured a cup. Angelique sat beside him, eyeing the eggs.
“Special treatment?” she asked, her tone light.
“I helped with the dishes last night,” he said.
Cherish blushed and turned back to the stove. “Do you want some too?”
“Yes, please,” Angelique said.
Savannah came to the table last, her eyes scanning the room. She took the chair across from Louis. Nicholas came in after her, went to the counter, and poured a cup of coffee. He looked over Cherish’s shoulder as she worked.
“Make enough for everyone,” he said. “We have a long day ahead of us.”
“Yes, Papa.”
Nicholas took a sip of coffee. “You slept well, George?”
“Fine, thank you,” Louis said.
“Good. You’ll need it.”
“Can I ask a question, Mr. Nowak?” Louis asked.
“You can ask.”
“You were from Florida, correct?” he said.
Nicholas paused with the cup at his lips. “That’s right.”
“It’s a long way to come here.”
“God provides where He wills,” Nicholas said.
“And your name sounds like Polish,” Louis said. “Are you from Poland originally?”
“My father was,” Nicholas said. “His family came to America in the seventies. They settled in Jacksonville.”
“It is a complicated history,” Angelique said, picking up a piece of bacon.
“Most histories are,” Nicholas said.
“I’ve been to Warsaw once,” Louis said. “A beautiful city.”
“Never been,” Nicholas said. “Never wanted to. The old country is the old country. America was where God placed us. Then America died.”
“Yes,” Louis said. “It did.”
Nicholas kept the cup in his hand and looked at him. “You don’t sound like you’re from the South. Or the Midwest. You sound like California.”
“I get that a lot,” Louis said. “Traveled a lot.”
“California…” Nicholas said. “I used to watch Hollywood movies before the war. A world of pretty people with no problems.”
“Things change,” Louis said. “What kind of movies did you like, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Cherish set plates in front of Willa and Donya before hurrying back to the stove.
Nicholas leaned back. “Comedies. The ones where nobody died at the end.”
Louis nodded. “Smart choice.”
“Do you have a favorite?” Angelique asked.
Nicholas took a bite of bread. “The Rising Sun of the Lakers. 2007. The last good year. The Lakers win the championship. The world is still alive.” He looked at Louis. “You remind me of the star of that movie. The one who became the president.”
Louis kept his face still.
“Constantine Collins,” Nicholas said. “He was a pretty boy too. And he turned out to be something else.”
Louis felt his heart beat faster.
Gladice set her cup down with a click. “He’s a strong leader. People like that are needed when the world falls apart.”
“Yes. Strong.” Nicholas watched him. “Are you strong, George?”
“I try to be,” Louis said.
“Trying doesn’t count when the wolves are at the door.” Nicholas stood up. “Finish your food. Time to work.”
He left the room. Cherish cleaned her station in silence. Rita set a large pot of oatmeal on the table.
“Eat.” she turned to Angelique and Gladice. “You two are with me today. The horses need brushing. And the stalls need cleaning.”
“Great,” Gladice muttered. “I hope there are no snakes.”
Rita looked at her. “If the Lord sends one, He sends it for a reason.”
“Lucky me,” Gladice said.
Angelique shot her a look. “We’ll be fine. Thank you, Mrs. Nowak.”
Donya stood. “I will help with the dishes.” She turned to Cherish. “If you’ll show me where everything goes.”
Cherish nodded. “Of course. I’m sorry. I should have offered.”
“It’s alright,” Donya said. “We’ll do it together.”
Savannah finished her eggs and pushed her plate away. “The pigs are waiting.”
“Let me help you,” Willa said. “I need to check the tools anyway.”
Savannah nodded once. She looked at Cherish, then at Louis, then left. Willa followed her.
“George,” Nicholas said from the doorway. “The roof.”
Louis stood. “Yes, sir.”
Louis followed him out the back door. Nicholas took his hat from a hook and put it on.
“Come on.”
The sun was still low, but the yard was already hot. Nicholas led him to the shed, took down a hammer, and handed it to him.
“Ever hold a hammer before?”
Louis tested the weight. “No.”
Nicholas grunted. “Then listen and do exactly what I say.”
“Alright.”
They carried the tools and shingles to the side porch roof. Nicholas climbed first. Louis followed, one hand tight on the rail. The ladder shifted under him. When he stepped onto the roof, his boots slipped once before he found his balance.
Nicholas removed the first damaged shingle and nailed a new one in its place. Then he handed Louis the pry bar.
“You do the next one.”
Louis crouched and lost balance as soon as he used both hands. He forced the pry bar under the shingle and tore it instead of lifting it.
“Slower,” Nicholas said.
Louis tried again. The shingle cracked. He pulled it free in pieces, slid a new one into place, and bent the first nail. The next nail sat crooked. When he struck it again, the hammer slipped and dented the shingle.
Nicholas watched him.
“Nobody ever taught you this, huh?”
“No.”
“What did they teach boys where you come from?”
Louis reached for another nail. “Manners. How to talk. How to make money.”
“Useless.”
Louis did not answer. He started again. Nicholas corrected him when he made a mistake and said nothing when he did not.
“Whoever taught you didn’t care if you could fix things,” Nicholas said. “That tells me something.”
Louis held the nail in place. “What does it tell you?”
“Rich boy. Soft hands. No idea what the world is made of.”
Louis hit the nail. It bent. He pulled it out and reached for another.
By midmorning, his shirt was wet against his back and his palm hurt. From the roof, he saw Angelique and Gladice by the horse barn and Savannah carrying buckets near the pig pen.
“Eyes on the roof.”
Louis looked down. The hammer slipped from his fingers and slid toward the edge. He reached for it.
“Leave it,” Nicholas snapped.
Louis froze. The hammer struck the gutter and dropped into the grass below.
Nicholas looked at him. “You are lucky it didn’t hit you in the head.”
Louis breathed once through his nose. Nicholas climbed down, retrieved the hammer, and came back up without comment. When the next row was done, Nicholas checked the nail heads. Louis waited beside him, his palm sore and his knees stiff.
Nicholas pointed to the next damaged section. “Next one.”
“Are you kidding? I just did a row.”
Nicholas looked at him. “And you think you’re done for the day?”
“I am not used to this kind of work.” Louis gestured at the roof. “This is not what I do.”
Nicholas stood still with the hammer in his hand.
“Boy,” Nicholas said, “you are not in charge here. You are not even a guest. You are a problem we are dealing with until you are gone. You do what you are told. You fix the roof. You work until the work is done. And you don’t complain to me about it.”
Louis held his gaze. His face grew hot.
“I can pay you for the trouble.” He kept his voice steady. “If that is the problem.”
Nicholas huffed through his nose. “You think money makes you worth more than the sweat on this roof?”
“I think money is how things get done.”
“Then you are wrong.” Nicholas pointed the hammer toward the next damaged section. “And you will learn better before you leave.”
Louis took the hammer and moved to the next row. Nicholas worked beside him. He only spoke when Louis made a mistake.
By late morning, the patch was done. Nicholas checked the roof once and climbed down. Louis followed. On the ground, Louis looked at the red mark across his palm. A blister had started near his thumb. Nicholas saw it.
“Tomorrow you will wear gloves.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me.” Nicholas put the tools back in the shed. “You will have blisters if you don’t.”
Louis wiped sweat from his forehead. “What now?”
“Fence.” Nicholas nodded toward the far side of the yard.
Louis glanced toward the house. “Now? I thought we had lunch first.”
Nicholas gave a short laugh. “Lunch is what you get when the work is done. If you want to be fed like a child, go back to wherever you came from. Here you work until you eat.”
Louis almost answered, then stopped himself. He followed Nicholas to the paddock fence. Two rails were loose, and one post leaned outward. Nicholas handed him a pair of pliers.
“Hold the rail up.”
Louis took the rail with both hands and lifted it against the post. Nicholas crouched beside him and pulled the wire tight.
“Higher.”
Louis raised it.
“Not that high.”
He lowered it.
Nicholas looked at him once. “Use your eyes.”
Louis said nothing. He adjusted his grip and held the rail while Nicholas drove the first staple in. Then the horses lifted their heads. Louis heard the engines a second later. The first military truck was already coming over the rise. He let go of the rail. A soldier in the passenger seat turned his head, and their eyes met through the windshield.
“Don’t move,” Nicholas said.
Louis stopped. The house was behind him, across open yard. If he ran for it now, everyone in the trucks would see.
A second military truck followed the first, then a third. Nicholas dropped the hammer and walked fast toward the house. Louis stayed by the fence. When the first truck rolled into the yard, Nicholas came back with a rifle in his hands.
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