Beneath the night sky, the lake glows with reflections of the candles each of us hold, left over from the days when scientific advantages weren't guarantees. Names of people each of us have lost decorate the candles' cream wax. Some only hold a few names, while others, like mine, are nearly full.

"Ben, Nina, Ava, Sato, Nate, Alexander, Hugh, Dr. Patel," mine reads.

Eleanor's has a few more names added: "Dad, Mom, Jacob."

Mom's includes the additions, "Henry, Rebecca, the Smiths, Drew."

Celia's candle reads, "Abuelita, Mami, Papa, Gabriela."

Winston, who has bathed for the occasion, has a candle the names Curie, Alexander, Kevin, and Gabriela on it.

Declan's candle has only one name on it. "Hugh."

But General Sato's memory is listed on nearly every other candle at camp. He is the reason there was a camp in the first place. He was the first rebel and the first Deathless. I read his name over and over again as survivors pass me toward the lake.

Dad is already at the water's edge with some of his new hunting buddies, and Declan waits nervously at the podium set up on the far edge of the lake; but those of us who are more recognizable to the whole group line up on either side of the path to welcome the Deathless as they make their way to the water's edge. Me, Mom, Eleanor, Celia, Winston, Flynn, Dr. Guzman, Jane, and the new General usher everyone in. Aside from the fact that the new General is a woman, I don't know much about her except that she appears to be Middle Eastern, strong, and no nonsense. Daniel hasn't exactly been sharing a lot with me recently, including any information about his new boss, and I haven't been focused enough lately to ask Declan or Mom. With Daniel still nowhere to be found, I can barely even focus on welcoming the Deathless to the lake. Where the hell has he been all day?

As the last Deathless passes me, I catch sight of Daniel jogging down from camp toward us. His candle is completely blank.

"I'll be right down," I tell Mom, Eleanor, and Celia as the others start toward the lake. "I just want to talk to Daniel before I head down."

Mom kisses my forehead, Eleanor touches my shoulder, and Celia smiles briefly before they leave me alone to talk to Daniel as he comes to a halt in front of me.

"Hey," I say, though it comes out as more of a question.

"Hey, sorry I'm late." His voice is light and tired, and his eyes look puffier than normal. Has he been crying? He takes a step toward the lake, but I press my palm to his chest to stop him. His heart is racing.

"Where have you been all day?" I whisper.

"What do you mean?"

"You didn't say anything to me before you left this morning, and then I didn't hear from you all day."

"Oh, yeah, sorry. I wanted to get to training early today, so I didn't really have time to talk."

I breathe away the anger building in my chest, and it cools to something more frightening: uncertainty. "What's going on with us?" I ask.

In the glow from my candle I can see his eyes moisten. "There are some things I need to work through," he says. "I spent all of my free time today studying my detectors and trying to figure out how Gunther could have manipulated them. I can't figure it out, and it's killing me."

Declan's voice echoes from the far side of the lake. "Thank you, Deathless, for coming and paying your respects to all those you've lost."

"You'll figure it out," I tell Daniel, slipping my free hand down his arm and clasping his fingers in mine. "And if not, maybe Winston can help you. Let's just focus on the funeral for now. Funerals are important," I say, echoing my dad. I tilt my lit candle to his until it catches fire. "C'mon, let's go."

As Daniel and I join our family at the lake's edge, Declan continues, "We all have names on our candles. Names that should be remembered."

The water ripples with light. Deathless stand all around the water's edge, while some even wade in the water. From across the lake, I see the children from Jane's group this morning, and my heart aches. Kids shouldn't have to know loss, but then again, aren't I still sort of a kid?

"I have only ever really lost one important person to me. The love of my life. So, for those of you whose candles are filled with names, I can't even imagine the hurt you're going through right now. But I know some of it, and I know that having this time to say goodbye is important. I hope it's important to you too. It's not going to make anything better, but I hope it will help make the pain sting a little less. So, right now, I want to take a moment of silence. To remember all those we've lost, especially General Kevin Sato. He built the first camp, he brought all of us together, and he dared to be the first to stand up to Roberts and Cooper. I hope he's with us still, giving us all a piece of his courageous spirit and binding us together. Let's take a moment now to remember him and everyone else you've lost."

I close my eyes, and think about all my ghosts. Of their blood and their screams, but then I shake the red from my brain and focus on our happy times. Hold on to their smiles, I tell myself, but at some point, I'll have to let go if I want to heal. As I exhale a deep breath, I feel lighter, as if my ghosts' glued presence inside me can finally seep through my skin and evaporate into the air.

I don't want to lose them, I think, panicking a bit, but then I remember the wind. If I let their memories go, they won't be gone forever. They can come back to me whenever I need them, instead of staying captive inside me. I breathe out again, and allow the weight of their ghosts begin to lift from me.

There goes the time Ava caught me from falling at the bottom of the drain. Then the time Alexander defended me to Phoebe and Winston.

Let go of the pain. Hold on to the smiles.

The memory of Sato opening the library door, just for me to see, slips away with a smile. Hugh unties me, trusting me without reason, and then he's released. And then the time Dr. Patel told me I was a botanist-not just a girl who gardens, but a botanist-and his words catch on the breeze.

I think of Nina, and there she goes with her guitar, singing her song for Terran, who is with her now. Nate's stolen kiss feels fresh on my lips as I ache with fading memory.

Finally, I open my fingers, and imagine pulling them from the soil beneath a plant Ben helped me ground, and as I pull the memory from myself, I realize... that's my core.

The girl who wouldn't hunt, but planted a garden instead.

The girl who couldn't destroy, but could only give life.

"Thank you," Declan says, ending the camp's moment of silence, and I open my eyes.

Mom stands to my left, and I loop my arm through hers. "I know what I have to do," I whisper to her. "I have to plant a garden."

Her eyes sparkle in the light, and as she smiles, a bit of the sparkle escapes from the corners of her eye and down her cheek. "Okay," she says. "We could all use a garden."

"Now if you'll get the bioluminescent paper from your pockets. I hope you all wrote any messages you might have as I suggested. Whenever you're ready, place your messages on the water's surface and watch the lake glow."

This was the part Declan planned. One of the biologists created bioluminescent paper a few years ago, but no one in the bunker ever thought it would be useful. The biologist died in the bunker attack, so it's fitting that his creation would be his memorial.

Within seconds, the lake lights with lime greens, electric blues and purples, hot pinks, and neon yellows, but the messages remain black with ink.

Each of us were given three pieces of paper, which was all we could ration. I chose to write to Ben, Nate, and Nina. To Nina, I write I hope you and Terran are happy, which nearly takes up the entire slip of paper.

I write a shorter message to Nate: You saved us.

For Ben's message, I couldn't think of anything short enough to encompass all he did for me over the years. So I watch the yellow glowing paper float away before it disintegrates with the words "I miss you" at its heart.

Crouched over the lake's surface, I try to catch glimpses of the messages Mom, Dad, Eleanor, and Daniel have written. I see something from Dad's about home, something from Mom about her brother Henry, and something from Eleanor about forever. When I turn to spy on Daniel's, I see they are all blank, like his candle.

I stand up. "Why didn't you write anything?" I ask.

"My dad already knows everything I would say to him. So does Nina. They're the only people I would talk to again if I could."

"Is there anything you want to say out loud? Get out of your system? That's really what these notes are about, you know. Last words."

He shakes his head, though I know he's lying. He has to be. This is the boy who risked his life to try to save his parents and to send me a message across the airwaves. There's no way he is speechless now, but I don't push it. His fear of having his science used for evil has come to life. I know what it's like to meet your worst fear.

As the slips of lit paper begin to curl and decay, the bodies around the lake begin to curl into each other as well, holding one another for support. I bury my head in Daniel's chest and peer across the lake. The two kids from this morning still stand there with no one to hold them. Are they parentless? I wonder.

Paper rustles near the mic, and I look back to where Declan stands. He pulls the folded poem from his pocket. General Sato's favorite poem, the one he used to read for the dead, and at the sight of it, the sad tension hanging over the lake softens.

Declan begins to read, clunking through the poem and pausing at the end of each line.

"Walking now toward death,

With many paths to choose.

I stop now for my last breath,

I've nothing left to lose.

Shall I return to my brothers,

Who've marked the path of sudden glory?

I continue down the path of others,

For this, too, must be my story.

I see my brothers now in sun,

In sweet laughter and in rain,

In wheat fields through which we had to run,

And yet, I feel no pain.

No tears for having lost,

No screams against white light.

Ready now to pay the cost.

Against death, I will not fight.

Heartbeat slows to the turn of earth,

Lungs become breathless.

My brothers welcome my rebirth,

For now I am deathless."

When he reaches the end, he takes his longest pause yet, interrupted only by the sporadic sniffles from the people around me.

He continues, "That was General Sato's favorite poem. I think we're all missing the point, though. That wasn't his favorite poem, because it meant he would never die. I think that it was his favorite poem, because it reminded him that with every death comes rebirth. We used to be a culture of throw aways. If something's broken, you throw it away, and get a new one instead of fixing the old. And it didn't matter either where you threw your trash away, as long as it was out of sight. That's what Roberts and Cooper did to this world, to all of us. The world was too full, and Roberts and Cooper didn't like who had filled it. We had too many illnesses, too many flaws. We loved the wrong people, worshipped the wrong Gods, existed in the wrong bodies, so they threw us away.

"I don't want to throw away what General Sato gave us, or what anyone else whose name is listed on your candle gave you. With their deaths comes rebirth. We are a new Deathless now, and we will be stronger for what we've survived to be here tonight. We will be a Deathless that isn't focused on fixing the world-we can't, there are too many variables. Instead, let's be a Deathless that is focused on living, on not throwing our lives away, and in doing that, I think we will at least make our part of the world better. I don't want my life to be focused on the end-on being thrown away or on a contingency plan for what if-but on doing things that are memorable now, while I can still enjoy life."

"What about the war?" someone shouts from the crowd.

"Our fight will be rough, for sure. But it won't be the worst you've faced. We can still enjoy our lives. I mean, you all survived a nuclear holocaust. You are all the remainders of a civilization Gunther Quail is trying to throw away and replace with implants and genetically designed offspring. When we fight, it will be to prove to Gunther, to the universe, and to anyone else who we come across in this world that we are survivors, not trash. That when we were thrown away, we made ourselves new, and took on the world. But I think we should go into the world with a new leadership system."

Mumbles ripple through camp.

"I was talking with Isla Blume today," he continues, silencing the mumbles. "She is young and she is volatile at times." He smiles, and a small laugh echoes in the mic. I wonder which volatile Isla moment he's thinking of now. "And I know I said I wouldn't force her to lead, but Isla Blume should lead. Before I knew her, I was a mess of self-loathing and guilt, but she made me feel alive again. This evening, I was thinking about General Sato's poem, and about starting fresh, and I realized... Isla Blume is the rain. She's the kind of person who can make you feel fresh and new again, which is probably why so many of you have ignored her age and stood up for her legitimacy as a leader."

I feel everyone's eyes on me again, but this time my heart is so filled with pride it shields me from most of their stares.

"But she needs to feel fresh and new again too. There's something that's weighing her down. Something she almost did at the estate, and she's afraid no one will forgive her for it."

Oh no. My entire body clenches.

"She almost helped Gunther kill a group of pilots from Roberts and Cooper, but she didn't. She almost did it in order to save all of you who were at the estate. She was willing to risk her morality to save you all, and instead, she risked something even more valuable: her life. Instead, she refused to help, and created a distraction so that you all could escape. In doing that, she was captured and she had an implant installed in her brain. She sacrificed her entire self to save as many lives as she could, and to me... that's a leader. So, if any of you have any problems with what Isla almost did, please raise your candle into the air."

I don't dare look around, but all is still in my peripheral vision.

"I didn't think so," Declan says. No one hates me. "Then I'm actually going to go against what I said this morning, because for Isla, leading isn't a choice. She does it already, every day, just by being herself." He finds me in the crowd. "Isla, you're already a leader. It's nothing any different from what you've always done. It's what you've always been, even when you didn't know it."

A tear falls down my cheek. I smile at him, and he nods, turning his gaze over to Mom. "But then I was thinking, well, that's not really fair for Vice President Blume, a.k.a. Beatrice, Isla's mom. I mean, she has been the backbone of this camp ever since we learned about the bunker attack. She stopped just being Isla's mom, and became all of ours. I mean, am I right?"

Nods and mumbles of agreement. Mom crosses her arms and begins to tear up, but strangers, Eleanor, and Dad all hold their hands to her body in support. I always wondered what Mom would have been like if the blast never happened, but now I see she was always meant to live in this version of the world. She was meant to be a strong woman and role model to all of us.

"Beatrice is like the field of wheat in the poem. She sustains us." He smiles at her, and she blows him a kiss, despite her tears. "And then there's me," he laughs. "I'm more like the laughter, huh? But I like to think that I'm actually the brothers in the poem. I will be at your side throughout whatever struggles are ahead of us, and I will do my best to make you feel at ease. Like I said earlier, you are all I have. You are all of me. I will sacrifice whatever to keep you safe and to keep you happy."

He pauses to pass his glance over the crowd around the lake. "Which is why I decided that the new leadership structure has to start with me sacrificing my position. In our new world, there will be no Presidents. No McClearys, no Coopers. No all-powerful leader. I think we should have a group, like Winston Fowler established before the attack, and like the three branches of government personified. I propose to be the personification of the executive branch. I think Beatrice should be the legislative branch, making sure all her kids know the rules, and I think Isla Blume should be the judicial branch. She's all about what's right and what's wrong, and there's no one I trust more to be our moral compass."

He smiles at me, and I know what he's trying to tell me. He's trying to tell me that I can be myself now, and that the person I am is not a monster. I finally believe him.

"And since I'm not an all-powerful leader," he continues, "obviously what I say isn't what's going to happen unless we have a majority consensus. But this way, the three of us can keep each other in check, like the three branches of government were always supposed to do. And with just the three of us, it will be easy to hold us responsible. This way, everyone gets what they want. So, let's vote. Raise your candle if you agree with this new structure. Block the light with your hand if you don't."

I raise my candle into the air. I can handle being the rain alongside the birds and the wheat. It will help me start fresh too. Daniel holds his up as well, as does Eleanor, Mom, Dad, and Celia, who can't stop smiling. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Winston's candle in the air too, and I swallow my nerves to check the rest of the camp. Candles are raised all around me, making the lake look like own night sky on Earth. Only a few people stand with their hands in front of their candles, but the majority, by a landslide, wants Mom, Declan, and me in leadership.

"So it's settled," Declan says. "The new Deathless group will not be led by a President, but by a group of three: myself, Beatrice Blume, and Isla Blume." He smiles. "I, uh... I don't have a gavel, so...." He hits his fist on the podium.

The sound bounces off the lake, and before I know what I'm doing, I blow out my candle, and begin applauding. In a moment, everyone erupts with applause, and it doesn't matter who we are-Original, Deathless scientist, survivor, or estate-escapee. 

All that matters is that we're united.