Winter World (The Long Winter #1)(77)

“What did the doctor say today?

“That I’m progressing well.” That much is actually true. Not technically a lie.

I can tell he’s conflicted, and I can see the moment he gives in.

“Okay.” He turns to the kitchen where Oscar is washing dishes in the sink. “Oscar, go with her.”

“Yes, sir,” Oscar says mildly.

“No. I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not.”

“James—”

“No. Emma, your bones are still brittle, and thin, and weak. If a gust of wind catches you and throws you over, you could break half a dozen bones and be out there in the dark, all night. It’s not worth the risk.”

I can’t argue with that. And I don’t.





Oscar doesn’t ask where we’re going. He also doesn’t seem to mind the cold. Or my lumbering pace.

The camp is pretty at night. The domed white habitats glow white in the dark expanse, like luminescent caterpillars buried in the sand. Along the walking path, LED streetlights glow, illuminating the snow flurries that seem to come and go every few hours, without warning, never enough to pile up, just a constant reminder that the Long Winter is still here, unending, waiting to engulf us.

At Fowler’s habitat, I brush the last snow flurries off my coat and knock. He answers quickly. He looks as haggard as James.

“Emma,” he says, surprised. “Come in, come in.”

Oscar follows me inside. He silently takes my coat and scarf and hangs them up while Fowler escorts me deeper into the habitat, which is only slightly larger than ours. A woman about his age rises from the dinner table where she’s sitting with two boys, both of whom look to be about college age.

“Lawrence, you didn’t tell me we were having company.”

Fowler opens his mouth, but I save him.

“No, ma’am, this is sort of a surprise visit.”

“A good surprise,” Fowler says. “Emma, this is my wife, Marianne.”

“Nice to meet you, Marianne.”

“Have you eaten?”

“We have. Actually, I’ve just come to ask Lawrence something. It will only take a moment.”

He looks at me curiously and holds a hand toward an office off the shared living area. It’s as crowded as James’s office but much more neat. Oscar joins us, and I can’t think of a reason to have him wait outside. I’ll just have to swear him to secrecy along with Fowler.

“What’s on your mind, Emma?” Fowler says as he sits in the chair beside me.

“James. His family. They’re here, living in one of the barracks.”

“I know.”

“You do?”

“Their safety was James’s only request when he was recruited for the first contact mission. Similar to you, he asked that his only sibling be transported to any safe haven that was established.”

“What do you know of their relationship? James and his brother.”

“Not much. James went to visit him before he left on the Pax. His brother wasn’t home. And I got the impression that his sister-in-law didn’t want to see him. She wouldn’t let him in the house.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’d like to ask you a favor.”

“Anything. If I can do it I will.”

“I know that James wants to have contact with his brother. I’m going to try to make that happen. I’ve noticed that movers toured the habitat next to us today.”

Fowler studies me a moment. “Yes, the general who was living there was reassigned after our presentation, just in case… a certain decision was made. Anyway, the habitat will come available soon.”

“Can you arrange for James’s brother and his family to move there?”

Fowler thinks for a moment. “Yes. I believe so.”

“How long would it take?”

“To get an answer? Not long. I’ll know first thing in the morning.”





I’m halfway finished with my morning exercises when the messenger arrives. The note from Fowler is to the point, and I’m relieved when I read it.

Housing transfer approved.





On the way home from Fowler’s habitat, I made Oscar swear not to disclose what he heard. He agreed and asked no questions. I feel on some level that I’m betraying James by not telling him what I’m doing. But I also believe that I have to—for his own good. My rehabilitation here in Camp Seven has been physical. His great injury is the relationship with his brother. James saved my life. And brought me back to health—or probably as close as I’m going to get. I have to do this for him. And I need it to be a secret.

There’s one last piece I need to put in place.

When I first logged on to the AtlanticNet in the hospital, I assumed it was simply the start of a growing web of information, that the government would expand the breadth of data available as they had time. I was wrong. It remains a very rudimentary tool used mostly to direct life in the camp. It contains work schedules, job responsibilities, and news the government deems important. And of course mandatory notices. Thankfully, it also includes a resident directory, which is essential for helping relocated families find each other.