General Kazemi stands in front of a new prototype Julian and Flynn co-created using both of their specialties. It's a large interactive map displaying holographic representations of all the mountains, valleys, and rivers within a ten mile radius of the Immortal, as well as any heat signatures the Immortal picks up through its radar equipment. As General Kazemi, my mom, Declan, Daniel, and I examine it, our hunting group is out using a smaller prototype of the technology to find food for tonight's party and find whoever was watching me and Daniel from the factory.

A few red dots pop up here and there on the virtual map, but they appear to only be deer or smaller rodents. Still, my heart lurches every time I see one. They remind me of blood drops falling from above us, and every time, I'm scared to look up at the canvas tent. The hunting party, Dad included, appears on the map as a cluster of blood droplets, running down the virtual plane.

General Kazemi looks up from the table, her hands on her hips. "I don't see any other human figures in the vicinity."

"What if it was a mutant?" Declan asks from across the map, and we all stop to stare at him. "You know, like in old comic books, the heroes or the villains would sometimes be transformed through nuclear radiation?" No one responds, but Mom smiles at him. "What? It could happen."

"Don't you think we would have seen a mutant by now or at least heard of their existences if they were real?" Mom asks.

Declan shrugs. "A nerd can dream."

General Kazemi get back to business. "Are you sure there was someone following you?" she asks Daniel.

"No," Daniel says, "but there was something. MacArthur sensed it too. He even followed it up to one of the second floor windows."

"Something like a mutant," Declan whispers to himself, and Mom nudges his arm. "Okay, I'll stop."

"But like I said," I say, trying not to smile at Declan. "I saw the Beast hit a trap yesterday too. I think there are people around us and who knows what they want."

"They could help us," Daniel says. "As we've seen, Nomads aren't evil. They can be our allies with the right approach."

Kazemi looks back over the map. "I'm not sure there is even anyone out there, but you're right. We have to approach anyone we meet carefully. I will alert my soldiers, let them know to be on the lookout for suspicious movement and to stand down should they encounter anyone." She looks to Mom and Declan, who are standing across from her around the holographic map. "Our three leaders should address the rest of the crowd. Make sure that each of you speaks, so that our dissenting groups hear from their preferred leader."

"Groups?" I ask. "As in plural?"

Kazemi nods. "The Originals are ready to defend themselves against your army," she tells me.

"My army?"

"That's what they call themselves, 'Isla's army.' That's the name they used in the estate, yes?"

I breathe deeply to quell the burning in my cheeks. "Yes."

"What about the party tonight?" Declan asks. "Should we still have it, or would that be dumb at this point?"

"No, we have the party," Mom says, uncrossing her arms. "We have to address these groups once and for all."

"Unless we use them to our advantage," Daniel suggests. He moves his hands over the map to guide the focus eastward, away from St. Louis and over to where the bunker remains are, just outside of DC. He reaches back into his bag and pulls out a case for his glasses. He slips them on and leans over the map.

"So we essentially have three factions of Deathless here. We have the Originals, who are loyal to General Kazemi and now Beatrice; we have the Deathless scientists and refugees who trust Declan; and we have the people from the estate, Isla's army, who are obviously most loyal to Isla. Overall, our numbers are much smaller than Gunther's, especially now that he has the entire Roberts and Cooper organization mindlessly following him. There's no way we will stand a chance against his army if we face them head on, especially if we are already tearing ourselves apart from the inside. But... if we use our alliances to our advantage, we could split our army into three units and surround Gunther. Then we may have a chance."

Kazemi examines the map. "Show me what you're thinking."

***

All day long Dr. Guzman has been flushing the implants from Deathless minds, but I told him to save me for last. When I said it, Daniel gave me a look, as if to say I told you not to be a martyr. But this isn't me being selfless, it's me being a good leader. My people come first. I've at least learned this about leadership by now. Besides, Gunther's been quiet since I snuck in his head. Maybe now he is scared of me. His old messages-"I will always find you my worthless little monster"-still play, but I've learned to tune them out. I replace them with, "I am a beloved daughter, friend, and leader, and I save lives."

Since I still have to wear my headband for protection, Celia insists she does my hair around it. I sit very still on my dormitory bed as Celia dances around me. One moment she's in front of me, the next she's standing on the bed behind me, the next she's at my side, trimming the hair that was once all burned away so it's neatly at my scalp again. Then it's onto my makeup and I become one of Celia's canvases. I see now that makeup is more than armor for her, it's a passion, like her painting.

"Thank you for stopping me the other night," she says as she twirls her fingers through my hair to style it.

"No problem," I say. "We all lose ourselves every now and then."

"I'm glad you were there to help me find myself."

"Me too."

When she's finished, she hands me a mirror and I hold it up to see how she's decorated me for the party. A thick bun rests off-centered at the base of my skull, and the rest is slicked back in a simple side part. It's professional and classic. With the make-up, my face looks a lot like it did at the estate, except that my burns from the bunker have all but vanished. For a moment, I forget I'm not back at the estate, and my stomach clenches. But the bland Immortal walls and light blue sheets beneath me remind me that I'm safe.

"Like it?" Celia asks.

"Of course. You're a miracle worker," I joke.

She smiles. "Well, I don't know about that. That pink dye is looking pretty weak now. Soon you'll have your red hair completely back."

I let myself think about red: the blood, the fire, the anger. I've seen it all and I've survived it all. Red is a part of me. It's the color of my blood, my fire, and my anger. It's what saved my mom. Maybe what haunts me doesn't have to scare me.

"The city looks pretty destroyed, but maybe we can still find more jam somewhere," Celia suggests.

"No, it's okay," I say. "When I see Gunther again, I want to look like myself."

She smiles. "Good. Welcome back, Isla Blume."

***

They've turned on all the lights in the Immortal, so that the windows glow, illuminating the grassy area where Eleanor has set up a campfire, a few folding tables, extra candles from the funeral, and a couple of posters that read, "Congratulations Isla and Daniel!"

People who have already picked up their stew from the cafeteria eat as close to the fire as they can, while others hover over the candles at the tables. Daniel and I are last to get our food, since Eleanor wants us to make an entrance for all the see. We emerge from the Immortal exit to applause, cheers, and a chilly winter breeze. Declan told me that before the blast, it rarely got this cold by early November, but now winter comes sooner. The end of the world even changed the weather.

I wear a white wool sweater with an old flight jacket over it to shield me from the cold. Daniel wears a matching white sweater and an old peacoat. Eleanor insisted on the white sweaters. "White, like the bride wears on her wedding day," she said.

The crowd of Deathless, Originals, and people from the estate parts to lead me and Daniel toward the campfire, where two chairs from the Captain's dining room have been placed like thrones. They are decorated with garlands of pink phlox flowers, and our parents, Declan, Celia, Julian, Flynn, Winston, and Phoebe all stand around them. Even Joe has somehow made it down for the party, and sits in his wheelchair beside Eleanor.

As Daniel and I walk through the crowd, I notice the skull and tiger lily badges on nearly every person there. Even if we can't be united in spirit, we are in uniform. Jane is at the end of the line, nearly beside our chairs. When we reach her and the others from the estate, they all salute us in some strange way. Their pointer and middle fingers are crossed while the other three fingers are curled into a fist. With their fingers in position, they move their hand from the center of the eyebrows up into the air.

I must show my confusion, because Jane reaches out to touch my arm. "It means respect in sign language," she explains. I look around to all the girls who salute me, and thank them before taking a seat in one of the chairs ahead of us.

Eleanor steps out toward Jane and speaks first. "Thank you all for coming. For Beatrice, Todd, Daniel's late father, and I, this has been a long time coming. Bea and I were pregnant around the same time, so we made a plan: If one of us had a son and the other had a daughter, we would push them together." The crowd chuckles. "We laughed about it then, of course, but when that actually happened, we crossed our fingers."

Eleanor turns back to smile at my parents before continuing, "Luckily, Daniel and Isla needed very little pushing from us. Even as babies, they were always together, playing and learning. As they grew up, they went off on their own more and more, and we hoped that in that time their friendship would blossom. We had our feelings, but it wasn't until Daniel proposed to Isla that we knew for sure. The day we found out was the day the collector droids took us. Our lives were put on hold as we struggled to continue living. My husband Ben lost that struggle, but I know that now, as we start to pick up where our lives left off, he is with us, congratulating Daniel and Isla tonight too."

She takes a beat, then lifts her bowl of stew toward the sky. "To Daniel and Isla. May you live a long and happy life together, my loves. Cheers."

On Eleanor's cue, the crowd drinks their stew to us and Daniel and I do the same.

Eleanor turns around looking past us, "Flynn?"

"Right," he says and he swings Nina's guitar across his chest. "Let's get the party started," he announces, about to strum his first chord when Celia steps out and interrupts him with a squeaky, "wait."

We all turn to her and she apologizes softly. "I just wanted to say something about Isla and Daniel. If that's okay." Eleanor nods. Celia sets her bowl of stew down on a chair and clears her throat. She pulls a folded piece of paper from his jeans' pocket, and begins to read, "To those of you who don't know me, my name is Celia Rivera, and I'm Isla's sister. Clearly not her biological sister, but blood doesn't make family, love does." My heart warms, knowing that Celia wrote a speech for us. "Tonight we are celebrating the love of Isla and Daniel. It is not a greedy love, which I've seen too much, where the couple only loves each other. No, Isla and Daniel's love is generous. They don't love selfishly, they share their hearts and their stories with whoever needs a home. When Daniel found me, I was broken. I hated myself, because...."

She pauses, and glances at Julian by her side. Celia takes a deep breath. She's going to tell him the truth. "I was the first Comforter. I was a Comforter since I was ten years old, after George Cooper killed my family." She pauses again, but she doesn't dare look at Julian, who appears to be shocked with sadness. "Because of that, I didn't understand what love was supposed to look like or feel like. Daniel showed me how to love by loving me fully—as a sister—even with all my flaws and my weaknesses. Slowly, I fell in love with myself too. But I was missing something until Isla made me her family too. She shared her stories with me, and accepted me as her friend and sister." She takes a breath, and my vision clouds with tears. "Someday," Celia continues, "I'd like to love generously like they do. Isla and Daniel: You are examples of who I'd like to be."

She holds her stew into the air.

"Thank you," she finishes.

The crowd sips their stew again, and Jane calls out, "Here, here."

Flynn starts again, "Lovely speech, Celia."

He begins strumming Nina's guitar. First a slow, pleasant melody, and then a quick series of chords. He plays an upbeat tune, singing along, as some people finish their meals and others begin dancing. I take another sip of stew, and Daniel leans over to me. "I love you," he says, his words creating misty clouds at his lips. I break through the mist to kiss him.

As my parents come around and Eleanor wheels Joe in front of us, I hear something odd in the distance. At first it just sounds like a rhythm to Flynn's song, but as it gets louder, I vaguely recognize the sound from back when we lived in Pennsylvania. One of the other crop traders who came through Mountville always rode on horseback, so when we were there, we could always tell when he was approaching by the sound of his horse's gallop.

I hear that gallop again now, only multiplied. It echoes off the Immortal, and the party comes to a sudden halt. Our entire army is silent except for the crackling fire and the sound of spoons resting in bowls. Mom runs to the Immortal entrance, opening it as quietly as she can, and gesturing for everyone to hurry inside.

Eleanor begins wheeling Joe toward the entrance. "Go," Joe insists. "Leave me. I can handle myself."

"No," Eleanor says, but Daniel concedes.

"He's right, Mom," he says. "You're pregnant, you have to get inside."

Daniel hurries toward the cramped entrance as the galloping intensifies, but I don't move from Joe's side. He yanks on my jacket. "Go, Isla," he scolds me. Dad starts pulling me away, when I see Phoebe and Winston stand in place behind Joe.

"He'll be okay," Phoebe tells me, charging the electromagnetic gun she holds at her side.

"Fine," I say and sprint back toward the entrance. Daniel and Eleanor have already gone through, but Mom still holds the door open. Dad and I are the last ones to board, like we were the last time a large group of people tried to hurry into one of these tanks, and as we reach the door, I see Mom's eye widen. She pulls her gun from its holster, and the pounding gallops stop. I'm scared to turn around, but I will myself to do it anyway.

Behind us is a group of masked riders on horses, all wearing black that camouflages into the night. They look like old world cartoon ninjas, and a sinking feeling nearly pins me to the ground. Are these the people who have been following us?

The rider in the center of the group dismounts, and Mom and Phoebe raise their weapons. The rider holds their hands into the air, though one arm is higher than the other. "Put your hands up," the rider, a girl, demands of her group. Her voice is so familiar.

"Who are you?" Mom asks.

The rider keeps her arms raised, but slowly reaches for the top of her head covering. Guns click above me, and I look up to see the patio balcony swarmed with the women from my army, Jane at the center of the group.

"Calm it down," the rider calls up to them. She lifts her head covering, and I recognize the rider's wild, golden mane of hair first as it falls over her shoulders. She throws her head covering back over the saddle of her horse; Mom doesn't know her and Phoebe doesn't realize she knows her, so they keep their weapons aimed at the lioness in front of us.

"Oh my God," Joe whispers under his breath.

I can barely speak. I've suddenly burst into tears.

"Isla," the lioness purrs, "are you going to tell these ladies who I am?"

Mom turns to me, and I catch my breath long enough to say, "This is Ava Ward. She's alive. I thought she died, but she's alive."

Then wild cheers sound from the balcony above. "It's Ava! Ava!" the girls yell as she waves up to them.

"They can try to stop me, but no one kills Ava Ward," she calls up to them, smiling the same crooked grin Nate used to when he was feeling particularly cocky.

Phoebe and my mom lower their weapons, and the other riders unveil their faces. I don't recognize anyone else but her. Ava's group dismounts their horses and wait at their animals' sides. Ava introduces us. "Isla, Joe, Winston, other people who wanted to kill me just now: These are the rubble sweepers. We are a group of reconstructionists. I was a rubble sweeper too... before I was captured. When one of our scouts said they saw a huge tank, I knew it had to be the one Isla told us about. So here we are. We want to help do whatever is left to do in order to stop Cooper and Gunther. Rubble sweepers at your service," she says.

"Cooper is dead," Mom tells her, though she sounds as confused as I feel.

"Even easier, then," Ava says. "Alright, c'mon now, girl," she says to me. "Give me a hug already." She opens her arms to me, but I can't seem to move. "You're not going to hug me? Fine. Where's Ian and Nina and Celia? How about Eleanor? They'll hug the dead."

My knees buckle and I almost fall to the ground before catching myself. Ava's smile drops. "What?" she asks, but then it's like a light has turned on behind her eyes. "What happened to them? Where are they?"

Mom holsters her gun. "Come on into the Immortal," she offers. "All of you. We have some stew leftover still. It's the least we can do in exchange for your help. We'll need it."

No one moves. "Are they dead?" Ava asks.

Mom opens the Immortal entrance. "Let's talk inside," she suggests.

"No, screw that," Ava yells. "I want to know now."

I find my voice. "Nina is dead," I say. "Celia and Eleanor are both here, alive and well. We don't know about Ian. We lost track of him, and now... he's probably gone."

Ava's face turns to stone. "Gone," she whispers, trying to keep herself together.

"Ava, we have good news for you. There's someone on board you should meet," Mom says, though her words carry a hint of sadness. Tempest.

Ava brushes a stray tear from her cheek and tells the riders to tie their horses up to the back of the Immortal where the pods were once secured. As she approaches the entrance, Ava yanks me toward her, forcing me into a well-needed hug. "I'm going to hug you anyway. It's good to see you again," she whispers solemnly.

It's a miracle to see you again, I think, but her presence only fills me with more dread. Ian, please come back, I say in my head. But no one receives the message.

***

Ava sits on my bed, holding Tempest in her arms. She seems mesmerized by her baby's eyes. Mom left me and Celia alone with Ava and Tempest, and as Celia rubs Ava's back she asks, "How did you survive? I mean... we thought we lost you."

"Collins shot me in the shoulder," Ava says, her eyes locked on Tempest. "I held my breath and swam toward a part of the lake that was full of reeds. I lifted my mouth above the water to breathe there, and I waited for the soldiers to leave. I was lucky, but I wish I could have said something to Ian to let him know I was okay. God, this baby is beautiful, look at her."

"She is," I agree.

"Very... But how did you find the rubble sweepers?" Celia asks.

"I knew where to look for them. I was one of them once, remember? They are based in small tribes around interstate 70. It took me a couple of weeks, but I found a tribe. They had horses, so we rode here, into St. Louis. One of the big rubble sweeper hubs is here. I told them about everything that happened, they patched me up, and we voted on what to do next. They decided to help me find you all and to fight against Cooper—well, I guess now just Gunther—so now you have a slightly larger army."

She leans down to sniff Tempest's head. "Is it crazy if I say she smells like Ian?"

"No," Celia says.

"Good, because she does. I still can't believe she's even real. What did you name her?"

"Tempest," I say. "You can change it if you don't like it."

"Tempest. Tempest. Tempest," Ava whispers as she stares into the baby's eyes, varying her tone each time as if to test its sound. "No, I like it."

"I'm glad," I say, and finally allowing the shock to subside, I continue. "Ava, I can't tell you how sorry I am to have let Ian go into enemy territory. I feel completely responsible for what happened to him. For his possible death."

Ava looks up at me. "Don't feel sorry. You both thought I was dead. I always did crazy things, even when he and I were together. He probably raced into the opportunity, wanting to help. Am I right?"

I nod.

"Yeah, so you can't blame yourself. He and I are the same like that: We both will do whatever idiotic thing we can to help. Which is why I brought the rubble sweepers to your door instead of hiding safely away until the war was over. We are going to fight and we are going to win, and if Ian is dead, I'll be devastated. I'll take time to grieve, but then I'll pick myself up and I'll do him proud by raising our baby. I miss him, but right now, I miss Nina more, because I know for a fact she's gone. That girl was my first friend at the estate, and actually, maybe ever except for Nate."

Which reminds me: "Nate left a message for me. Mitchell found it in his files. Part of it was for you."

She shakes her head. "I don't want to talk about him right now."

"Okay," I say, a little taken aback. "Do you have more horses?" I ask to change the subject. "The Immortal is so big, and we are trying to be more inconspicuous."

"Not enough for your entire army, no," she says. "What do you need to do with the Immortal?"

"Hide it somewhere Gunther can't find. A lot of people have to stay behind when we go to DC to fight, and I want to make sure they will be safe from him."

Ava bites her lip in thought. "I got it," she says. "Tell whoever is driving this thing that we will be making a stop before we get to Virginia."

"Where?" I ask.

She raises her brows to me and Celia, and smiles sneakily. "We're going to Hellhole."