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Lisette liked to spell words. “L-E-I-G-H.”
    Sandy stopped, removed a thick folder from her shoulder bag, and flipped through a few pages. Her eyes lit up. “I can see the resemblance. Abby calls you Toucan.”
    Lisette’s heart thudded in her chest, and she was trembling all over. “You know Abby?”
    “Abby’s in Biltmore Company. All the children in Colony East are assigned to one of four companies. Would you rather I call you Lisette or Toucan?” Sandy winked. “I can always call you 944 if you’d like.”
    Lisette wrinkled her nose at that. “Is Abby alive?”
    “Your sister is fine,” Sandy replied with a frown. “Why would you ask that?”
    “In the spirit drill, a woman said my brother and sister are dead.”
    Sandy mumbled to herself. Then, she took Lisette’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Many things here don’t make sense. I don’t know about your brother, but Abby is doing great.”
    Lisette threw her arms around Sandy and gave her a big hug.
    They continued across the campus, hand in hand, until Medical Clinic 3 loomed before them. Lisette stopped. Sandy tugged her hand, but she held her ground.
    “Where are we going?” Lisette asked.
    Sandy gestured to the clinic. “The examination room is on the second floor.”
    The muscles below her cheekbones and on each side of her neck cramped, and Lisette couldn’t make herself go in there.
    Sandy went down on one knee and gently placed her hands on her shoulders. “You’re shaking. Do you like butterscotch candy? I have a bowl of candy in my office. C’mon, let’s go.”
    Lisette turned and ran as fast as she could.
    “Toucan, come back!”

1.08
COLONY EAST
    Admiral Samuels’s voice crackled over Dawson’s two-way radio. “I want you to demolish the ferry terminal.”
    “Sir?” Dawson exclaimed.
    “The storm damaged it. It’s ready to come down. When the survivors overrun the colony, I don’t want the building collapsing on anyone.”
    The admiral sounded tired, almost defeated, and Dawson wondered about his mental state. An epidemic was on the verge of killing hundreds of thousands of kids outside the colonies, yet the admiral was concerned that a building might collapse.
    “Will do, sir.”
    Do or die, never question why. Old habits were hard to break.
    Fifteen minutes later, he skirted a portable generator chugging away outside Trinity Church. He pulled the handle on the massive ornate door and stepped into the high-domed cathedral — one of three supply depots at the colony.
    He spotted Chief Petty Officer Thomas near the altar, on her hands and knees, with her head bowed.
    Thomas had played goalie for the University of Minnesota the year the women’s hockey team made it to the Frozen Four championship round, but what impressed Dawson more than her net-minding skills was her photographic memory. She always knew the location and quantity of every possible repair part stored in the colony.
    As he approached her, he realized she was snoozing, not praying. He cleared his throat.
    Thomas groggily rose to her feet. “No rest for the weary,” she said. “Looks like you could use some shuteye too, Lieutenant.”
    He grinned. “No rest for the weary.”
    He told her what he needed, and she procured the items. Navy engineers had retrofitted the church; bins replaced pews, and tall shelving units lined the walls.
    Delivering the first part of the order, she dropped the carton of waxy blocks onto the counter with little regard. The fifteen pounds of C4 had the explosive power to turn the granite church into tiny pebbles.
    “My best seller today,” she said with a yawn and went to fetch the wireless fuses.
    He marveled at the amazing properties of C4. The plastic explosive was safe and versatile. You could slam, bang, and mold it, though you needed to handle it more gingerly once you inserted a fuse. An all-purpose explosive, you could use a little to punch free a rusty subway turnstile, and use a lot to twist steel girders and bring