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don’t know about the Church health care initiative?” At my blank look, Frankie groans. “Lucky you. In the last month, the corporation bought most of the major health insurance companies. The premiums are higher than ever, and really, it’s just another way to keep Believers in line. You know—no abortions, no birth control, no assisted suicide. It’s a pretty genius way to convince your faithful following that their bodies don’t belong to them. Anyway, all hospitals do surveillance for the Church now—I imagine they got your picture even before it went up on the feed. There’s no way you could have gotten in and out without getting recognized.”
    Once Frankie has tightly swaddled my hand, she closes the first-aid kit and walks around the bar to the center of the room, joining the circle that gathers around Diego. Harp and I move to follow, but when Diego spots us, he shoots Winnie a look and she comes rushing toward us, a tablet balanced on her forearm. She beckons us to follow her and, a little dazed, we do. She leads us down a staircase and into the sleeping area. Winnie gestures to two empty beds and explains, “Diego has to brief everyone, and we need updates on a few individual projects. Why don’t you take this time to get some rest?”
    She beams at us and races back up the steps before I can object. I can hear Diego’s voice above us, but from this distance I can’t make out a word he’s saying. Harp sprawls on her stomach on one of the beds, snatching up an old issue of a Church of America magazine someone’s left lying around. I recognize the cover—we devoured it months ago back in Pittsburgh, laughing over lists like “100 Reasons Demure Girls Have More Fun!” and “How to Tell If Your Best Friend Is Doomed to Eternal Torments in the Pits of Hell!” Now, staring at the shyly smiling ingénue on the cover, I feel a surge of rage. I reach out and yank the magazine from Harp’s hands.
    â€œUh . . .” Harp watches in bemusement as I throw the magazine across the room. “I
was
about to take a ‘Which Biblical Female Are You?’ quiz, but that’s cool, Viv, you know. Gotta practice your fastball.”
    â€œWhen I think of how many issues we bought
ironically
, that every penny of it went into the corporation’s pockets—that they used that money to . . .” I can’t finish. I close my eyes, try to make my breaths come out slow and even. “I’m glad we found these people. I hope so hard that when we go back to the compound, the Three Angels are waiting for us. I want to see their faces when they see us coming. I want to watch Diego mow them down. I want to help.”
    I open my eyes and see Harp staring at me with an inscrutable expression. “He can’t mow them down,” she says. “Not tonight, anyway. We have to go public. We have to make them tell the world what they did.”
    â€œWho cares, as long as we get rid of them?”
    â€œI care, Viv.” Harp frowns now. “And you should too. Look, I get that you’re angry. We’re all angry. But I’ll be honest—I don’t like this side of you. Seriously, you should have heard yourself out there: ‘Swear to me’! ‘Why the fuck are you smiling’! It was like an action movie. Not a good one.” She pauses. “The goal is not to hold on to this secret. Just because we’re the ones who found it out doesn’t mean it belongs to us. The only way to take down the corporation is to get the truth into as many heads as we can reach.”
    â€œPeople won’t believe us.”
    â€œDiego and Winnie just did. And people have believed weirder things.”
    I know that what Harp’s saying makes sense, but still I feel this bloodthirsty itch—new and strangely satisfying. “Since when,” I say, “are you about
not
taking action? I