* * *

We step out of the car. “This way,” Ian says. We walk down the alley in the direction he points. Shane is nervous. Good. This is definitely not in his comfort zone. I hope he shakes himself into oblivion. He doubled back and followed Raine when she changed her mind. He had an unexpected change of heart too. Only morbid curiosity, he clarified.

Raine didn’t speak the whole way. She just stared through the window like everything out there was suddenly so interesting. But I watched her eyes. She didn’t see a thing—at least nothing the rest of us could see. Now she walks between Cece and Vina, still not speaking, in spite of Vina asking a hundred questions. What will we say if we run into someone? Do we interview them? Find out what their income is? Ask if they’re hungry?

“Let’s just start with hello,” Ian suggests.

Before we piled into the car, I pretended I had a call from my mother and stepped away from the others. I tried to reach Xavier but he didn’t answer, so I left a message warning him that I might be showing up in his neighborhood with the A Group and that no one should recognize me. I’m hoping he got the message because that’s exactly where we are now—walking down the alley to Xavier’s courtyard. Ian had already scouted out neighborhoods, not knowing the Secretary had nixed this project. Population and distance made this the best choice in his opinion, in spite of me trying to sway him elsewhere.

Cece’s bodyguard walks with us—seven feet of black metal and menace. She tried to persuade him to stay behind when she saw Ian frown, but unlike Raine with Hap, she couldn’t override his orders. We turn at the dead end of the alley and I hold my breath, but the courtyard is empty.

Everyone takes in the grim surroundings, the boarded-up windows, the couches and chairs scavenged from Citizens’ trash, piles of broken shutters, doors, and other wood foraged from crumbling buildings for fuel, the cold embers of the fire ring at the center of it all used for light and warmth in the night. It’s dismal and bleak. Even with my memories of a few nights ago, a bright crackling fire, music, laughter, I’m overwhelmed by what I see. Now there are no dancing evening shadows to disguise the stark truth. This is the day-to-day harsh reality for Xavier and people like him. People like me.

We pause on the perimeter, only the occasional scuff of grit beneath our feet making any noise at all in the deserted courtyard. I look at Raine. Her eyes have focused on a child’s toy, a soiled baby doll lying on the ground, perhaps left in haste.

“Are you sure that we’re in the right place?” Cece asks. “This does not look like a neighborhood to me. Just some old abandoned buildings.”

I’m wondering myself where everyone is. Hiding? Looking out at us from behind dark windows? And then the silence is broken. A child runs out, oblivious to our presence, and grabs the baby doll from the ground.

Vina gasps.

The Menace steps forward.

I put my arm out to stop him. “It’s just a kid.”

“Thieves, same as the rest,” Shane says.

A young woman runs out the door after the child. “Alessa! Come back!” She spots us across the courtyard and stops.

“Hello,” Ian calls.

The little girl looks up and smiles. “Mommy, they’re here!”

The woman glances nervously at me and then back to her daughter. I hold my breath hoping the entire exchange goes unnoticed. It seems to, only because this whole environment is so foreign to everyone else that it’s all strange. It’s a lot to take in at once. Ian approaches the woman and we follow and soon others come outside to see these odd strangers who have entered their neighborhood. By now, they can see we’re not part of the Security Force. Several mothers with small children on their hips and clinging to their clothing talk with us. One of them is Xavier’s wife. She must have gotten my message and spread the word. Until the child ran out, they probably planned to avoid us entirely. She purposely dodges my gaze. But the conversations are easy, smoother than expected and lasting five, ten, fifteen minutes, both sides appearing to be intrigued by the other.

Raine hangs back, avoiding any conversation at all. She only watches as more people emerge from the dilapidated buildings. She watches Vina and Cece from a distance as they talk with two women and an older man, watches as the children play games around their feet. She’s silent, examining their faces, and then seems to breathe again when no one looks anything like her. She stares at one thin woman who chats with Ian, tired lines fanning out from the corners of the woman’s eyes and her hair graying prematurely. A sleepy toddler rests on her shoulder, patting her mother’s back with tiny dimpled fingers.

I step closer to Raine, away from the others. “Not what you expected, is it?” I whisper.

“We should go,” she says.

“What are you afraid of, Raine?”

She shakes her head, refusing to answer. I know what she’s afraid of and right now it isn’t her father. “They aren’t animals, Raine. They never were.”

We hear Ian thanking them for their time and the others saying their good-byes and they all turn to leave. A small girl runs a few steps toward us and waves at Raine. The girl stands there waiting with a shy expectant smile. Raine hesitantly lifts her hand and waves back. The girl giggles and then looks straight at me saying, “Bye, Locke!” before she runs away.

Raine turns to me, confused. “I didn’t hear you tell her your name.”

“Yes, I did,” I answer, with a reply that comes a beat too fast. “When we first got here.”