Honor was taken to the infirmary bathroom. Nurse Applebee gave Honor a bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo and a white towel and a fresh new uniform. Then she left Honor to wash herself.
When Honor emerged from the bathroom, she was pink and clean. Her fingers were wrinkled because she had enjoyed soaking so much. She had to sit on a low chair while Nurse Applebee combed the tangles out of her hair and searched for nits. The nurse was afraid that Honor was infested with lice.
There were no lice in Honor’s hair, and so Nurse Applebee did not cut it off. She took Honor instead to rest in a clean infirmary bed and answer questions for an accident report.
“Did you leave the shelter during the storm?” the nurse asked.
“I don’t know,” Honor said.
“What happened to you?”
“I don’t know,” Honor said.
“Did you leave school grounds?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you try to run away?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you telling me the truth?”
“I think so,” Honor murmured. The warm bath had made her so sleepy she could barely keep her eyes open. She wanted to say she was too tired to lie properly, but she knew better.
When she woke up, she had no idea how much time had passed. Nurse Applebee and Miss Blessing were sitting by her side.
“Welcome home,” said Miss Blessing in her soft sweet voice. “We are thankful you are back with us.”
Dazed and sleepy, Honor stared at Miss Blessing.
“What do you say?” Miss Blessing asked.
Honor wasn’t sure. “I’m thankful,” she said.
This seemed satisfactory, because Miss Blessing said, “We have a visitor for you.”
Then Nurse Applebee opened the door and Quintilian rushed in and threw himself onto Honor’s bed.
Honor dared not say anything in front of Nurse Applebee and Miss Blessing, but she smiled.
“Do you recognize this boy?” asked Nurse Applebee.
“Yes,” said Honor.
“What is his name?”
“Quintilian,” Honor said dutifully.
“And where are we now?”
“The infirmary,” said Honor.
“And where have you been for the past four nights?”
“I don’t know,” said Honor.
“Where were you on the night of the storm?” Miss Blessing asked.
“What storm?” Honor asked, and she glanced at Quintilian.
“Would you like to tell about the storm?” Miss Blessing asked Quintilian.
“We had some rain,” said Quintilian.
“Is that all?”
“Wind.”
“Could you elaborate?”
“There was no power,” Quintilian said. “No power whatsoever.” He grinned. “It was a pretty good storm.”
Miss Blessing’s smile faded. “Tell Honor what happened to you.”
“I got lost in the forest,” Quintilian said.
“Did you get lost, or did you attempt to run away?”
“Actually,” said Quintilian, “I got lost and then me and Helix both got lost, but searchers found us.”
“That is Accurate,” said Miss Blessing.
Honor lay still, afraid to react to what Quintilian said.
“Tell us why,” Miss Blessing said gently.
“To find Mommy and Daddy,” said Quintilian.
“And did you find them?” asked Miss Blessing.
“No,” said Quintilian.
“And why is that?”
“Because they are no more,” Quintilian said sweetly, and he bowed his head.
Only Honor, lying in bed, could see the little smile on Quintilian’s downcast face. She knew he didn’t believe for a second that his mommy and daddy were really gone.
“Now.” Miss Blessing turned to Honor. “Surely you remember the storm?”
Honor shook her head. “I was asleep,” she said. “There was no storm. I was asleep and I was dreaming.”
“What did you dream, dear?” asked Nurse Applebee.
Honor pretended to search her memory. “I dreamed that I traveled to a new country,” she said. “With an Emerald City and—”
She sensed Quintilian about to laugh, and so she stopped.
“This is no joke,” said Miss Blessing. “This is nothing to joke about.” Her voice was cold enough to make Honor shiver. The sweetness in her voice drained away. She lifted her silver whistle to her lips and blew. “Take her,” she told the two orderlies who appeared.
Then Honor knew this was the end. She knew she was gone, and it was so strange—just as her mother said, she could see herself disappearing. She could hear Quintilian’s screams. She shut her eyes and allowed her body to relax. She drooped like a rag doll as the orderlies carried her aloft. She knew soon she would be packed into a sack. A truck would take her away. She’d feel cold tranquilizers in her veins.
She heard a tiny bell, and double doors opened before her into a cavernous space. The orderlies dropped her in a heap on the floor. The air was cool, the room big and dark. Honor saw bookcases and drawers, shadowy cabinets and storage containers. Miss Tuttle stood before her in the back room of the library.
“Yes,” said Miss Tuttle. “Fighters go in here.”
“I’m not a fighter,” Honor blurted out.
“I beg to differ,” said Miss Tuttle and she gazed at Honor with her golden eyes.
“What am I here for?” Honor asked.
“You know what you’re here for,” Miss Tuttle said. “You’re here for Persuasive Reasoning and Positive Reinforcement.”
Honor’s heart was pounding. She remembered Mr. Pratt telling her parents to take care of their overdue notices or face Positive Reinforcement. She remembered how he’d opened his mouth and said, Ever notice my false teeth? “Please don’t hurt me,” she begged.
Miss Tuttle smiled, but said nothing.
The silence in the room grew and grew until Honor could bear it no longer. “What do you want? What do you want me to do?”
“Sit in the chair,” said Miss Tuttle, pointing to an old wooden chair with a desk attached to the arm.
Honor scrambled to her feet and sat in the chair.
“Now,” said Miss Tuttle. “What would you like to say?”
“Nothing,” said Honor.
“Nothing?” Miss Tuttle looked amused. “Nothing comes of nothing. Try again.”
Honor ducked her head.
“Look at me,” said Miss Tuttle. “What would you like to say?”
“I don’t know,” Honor whispered.
“The truth will set you free,” said Miss Tuttle. “Why did you leave school?”
“I got lost,” said Honor.
Miss Tuttle took a silver dart from the pocket of her cardigan sweater. She uncapped the dart and held it close to Honor’s face. The tip was needle sharp. “I could numb you,” she said, “but I’d rather not.”
Honor took a breath. She knew she could not escape. She had no weapon. What could she do? Her parents were sailing for Island 364, and if Miss Tuttle heard about it first, she’d sound the alarm. She’d stop them.
“Tell me why you went into the woods,” said Miss Tuttle in her odd way. “Tell me where you went and why you lived there.”
“I don’t know why I went,” Honor protested.
“You know exactly why you went,” said Miss Tuttle. “And so do I.”
“If you know, then why are you asking me?” said Honor.
“I want to hear it in your own words,” said the librarian. “Would you like to write it down? Take this pen.” Honor flinched. Miss Tuttle threw a black pen just as she would throw a dart. In that moment the memory returned to her. The memory of Retrievers standing on a pebbled beach. The water cold in the Northern Islands. Her mother’s scream. A silver dart sticking in Honor’s bare thigh. She caught her breath.
“Here is paper.” Miss Tuttle placed a small white piece of paper on the desk attached t
o Honor’s chair. “Go on,” she said, when she saw Honor hesitate.
“But this is a—”
“Turn it over and write on the back,” said Miss Tuttle. “Reduce, recycle, and reuse.”
Honor could not stop staring at the printed words before her.
1. Cultivate your own fruit trees and eat fresh fruit each day.
2. Find dark places and study the night sky.
3. Try to remember something new each day . . .
“This is a leaflet,” Honor said.
“True,” said Miss Tuttle.
“How do you have a leaflet in the library? How do you collect leaflets when they’re Not Allowed?”
“I don’t collect them,” said Miss Tuttle. “I write them.”
Honor was shivering. Miss Tuttle had frightened her before, but now Honor felt as though the world were coming to an end.
“Yes,” said Miss Tuttle. “I am the Forecaster you may have heard about.”
“You are not,” whispered Honor. “You can’t be.”
“Why?” asked Miss Tuttle. “Because you’ve heard the Forecaster is a madman? Because you think the Forecaster is a man who runs through the City at night scattering leaflets on the streets? Because you think the Forecaster works for the Corporation to entrap Partisans? Is that it? Do you think I am in fact a committee in an office? Flattering, but no. I am the Forecaster. I am she.”
Honor shook her head. If Miss Tuttle was the Forecaster, then there was no hope. If she wrote the leaflets, then there would be no revolution, only scraps of paper in the recycling plant. Poetry and pieces of books. “Not you,” she said.
Miss Tuttle’s eyes flashed with anger. “Who else might I be?”
“You aren’t a prophet. You work for the Corporation like everybody else.”
“The revolution starts within,” said Miss Tuttle.
“You cut up books. . . .”
“I do my job,” Miss Tuttle said.
“You hide maps.”
“Lend them when they’re needed,” Miss Tuttle said. “How do you think your friend got his?”
“Helix stole it,” Honor said.
“Yes, and how did he find that map? I left it on my desk for him.”
For a moment, Honor couldn’t speak. “You’re Unpredictable,” she said at last.
“Extremely,” Miss Tuttle said.
“Why do you work here cutting everything sad out of the books? Why do you take out everything about the seasons?” pressed Honor. “Why are you holding a tranquilizing dart if you are the Forecaster?”
“Even prophets need a day job,” Miss Tuttle said drily. “I’ll continue to do mine until the revolution starts or I get taken. Whichever comes first. Tell me where your mother is now.”
Honor shook her head.
“Tell me your parents have gone to take the Weather Station.”
Again, Honor refused to speak.
“I was the one who instructed them to take it,” Miss Tuttle said. “I was the one who told them to send you back to school. I was the one who promised to protect you.”
“You saw them?” Honor asked. “You spoke to them?”
“No. I sent a letter with a messenger named Michael Pratt. I think you know him.”
“Yes,” said Honor.
“I think you know the Partisan song as well?”
Honor shook her head.
Again, Miss Tuttle smiled her small tight smile. “You knew it but you didn’t know you knew it.” She began to sing in a light, dry voice: “Over the river and through the wood to grandmother’s house we go . . . I think you sang that with your parents once.”
“It’s just an old song,” Honor said.
“Oh, there are no old songs anymore,” said Miss Tuttle. “The old ones are long gone, except for those that we reuse.”
“How do you reuse a song?”
“You understand it in a new way,” said Miss Tuttle. “That old song is about the revolution. We sing it to remember that we’ll travel through the forest and cross the river to Earth Mother’s house and take Her.”
“When will that happen?” Honor asked.
“It’s beginning to happen now,” Miss Tuttle said. “It will be a long battle, and we may well lose, but we’ve begun. Now, write your confession on that little piece of paper and I’ll send you off to bed. Then we’ll see what the world looks like in the morning.”
Honor was shocked. “I’m not going to confess anything,” she told Miss Tuttle. “How can you say that you’ll protect me and then ask me to write my own confession?”
“Oh, I’ll need to turn in my paperwork,” said Miss Tuttle. “I’ll need a confession for your file. Copy this paragraph here.” She handed Honor a leaf ripped from an ancient book. “This section is about going into the forest. Where I Lived, and What I Lived For. Paragraph fifteen, please. Start here. ‘We must learn to reawaken and keep ourselves awake, not by mechanical aids, but by infinite expectation of the dawn . . .’”
Half an hour later, two orderlies brought Honor back to the infirmary. She kept her eyes closed as they tossed her onto her bed.
She tried to rest quietly that night as Miss Tuttle had instructed her. She tried to breathe deeply and pretend she was asleep, but her heart raced within her. All night she watched the gap between the infirmary’s window shade and the window. She was waiting for the dawn.
She heard a scuffling, whispering noise outside the infirmary door.
“Is she here?”
“Shh. I told you to be quiet.”
Honor sat up in bed. She could not open the door to her room because it was locked from the outside. She heard the key turn in the lock and for a moment she was frightened. She pulled the covers up to her chin.
“Who is it?” she whispered into the darkness.
“It’s me.” Quintilian ran toward her and scrambled up onto the bed. “Helix stole the key.”
“Are you all right?” Helix asked Honor. “They said you went to see Miss Tuttle.”
“Who’s they?”
“Mrs. Edwards. What did Tuttle do to you?” He was straining to see her in the dark.
“I’m all right,” said Honor. “She didn’t hurt me.”
“Where’s Mommy and Daddy?” demanded Quintilian.
“I found them,” said Honor. She turned to Helix. “And your parents too.”
“How did you? What happened? Did you get to the Barracks?” Helix couldn’t ask the questions fast enough.
“Shh. Listen, and I’ll tell you,” said Honor.
Helix and Quintilian sat at the foot of the bed while she told the story.
“You could have shot all four watchtowers at once,” said Helix, “if you’d each had a bow and arrows.”
“But we didn’t,” Honor said. “We only had mine.”
“You could have set smoke bombs or thrown explosives to confuse the orderlies,” Helix said. “A smoke bomb in each Barracks to make them run outside.”
“We’d have been trampled,” Honor said. “You don’t know how many there were.”
“I wish I’d been there with you,” Helix whispered so only Honor could hear.
“You have to be brave,” said Quintilian. “You have to be strong.”
Honor smiled at this. She realized this was what Helix had told him while she was gone.
A screaming siren pierced the darkness. Terrified, Quintilian buried his head in Honor’s lap. Helix jumped off the bed and opened the shade. Outside, security orderlies were racing to all the buildings. Was this a new storm? The deep colors of the night were gone. The overlay of moon and stars had vanished, but the pale clear colors of day had not replaced them. The sky was striped in a grid pattern with bars of color. Watch the sky. Honor’s parents were sending their message.
“They got the Weather Station!” Honor shouted to Helix.
The emergency broadcast system announced, “We are experiencing technical difficulties. Please stand by.” Over and over the fuzzy voice announced, “We are e
xperiencing technical difficulties. Please stand by.”
Honor and Helix laughed and laughed. Quintilian bounced on the bed, up and down.
Honor heard children shrieking. From the infirmary window she could see teachers rounding up students to take them to shelters. The others didn’t know. They didn’t yet know. And now Nurse Applebee burst through the door. “What are the . . . How did you . . . ?” she asked Helix and Quintilian. “Visiting the infirmary is not . . .”
Miss Blessing ran through the door with Honor’s written statement in her hand.
“Heloise,” Miss Blessing said, “what is the meaning of this? I have opened your file . . . I am . . . Helix? Quintilian? What are you doing here?” Miss Blessing’s hair was mussed. She’d misbuttoned her cardigan sweater.
“Draw the shade! Draw the shade!” Nurse Applebee cried. For the stripes in the sky had faded, overwhelmed by an unfiltered dawn. The sun was fiery orange. Apricot. Clouds flamed gold all the way to the ground. Orderlies and children raced for shelter. They shielded their eyes with their hands.
Miss Blessing yanked down the shade, but the canvas glowed orange, lit from behind.
“You are part of this,” Miss Blessing told Honor. “And you will take responsibility for what you have done.”
“Come to the shelter,” Nurse Applebee urged them in her breathy voice. “It’s not safe; the light will blind us.” She was already halfway out the door.
“You’ll come with me,” Miss Blessing told Honor, Helix, and Quintilian. Nurse Applebee was running away, but Miss Blessing ignored her and blew her whistle. No orderlies arrived. The emergency sirens drowned out every other sound. Miss Blessing blew her whistle again. Nothing happened. “Come, Heloise,” she said.
But Honor didn’t move.
“Come along, Heloise.”
“Who’s Heloise?” Honor asked.
“You are Heloise,” said Miss Blessing.
“I don’t know anyone named Heloise,” said Honor.
“You are Heloise,” Miss Blessing repeated.
“I don’t think so,” said Honor.
“I know so,” said Miss Blessing, and she took Honor by the arm. “Come to the shelter.”
“No,” said Honor.
“We don’t have time for this. Come, Heloise.” Miss Blessing’s voice was tense.
“She’s Honor,” Quintilian said.