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I felt as if I’d been struck by lightning. As if my lungs might collapse from the weight of his stare.

Suddenly I realized what an awful mistake I’d made. No wonder he looked so shocked.

I sank to my knees, throwing myself at his feet. “Forgive me, sir,” I begged, my hands clasped together and my eyes on his shoes. “Please do not tell my father that I spoke out of turn.”

Why was the Devil tempting me into sin so often? What was wrong with me? Was I naturally defective, or was I simply not trying hard enough to remain devout?

Mason slid a hand down to my jaw and brought my chin up so that I was forced to gaze upon his handsome face again. His expression was mired in confusion. “Get up, Jolie,” he said. “I won’t tell anyone you spoke to me.”

He yanked on my left arm, and I did as he commanded. “You remember my name?” I said softly.

He smiled. My legs instantly felt wobbly. Just like they had the first time I ever saw him, when I was nothing more than a child. “Of course I do. I remember everything about you,” he said.

I fixed him with a surprised look. “Really?”

“A girl like you is impossible for any man to forget.” Eyes twinkling, he began to check off a list with his fingers. “Smart. Beautiful. Funny. You’re the whole package.”

A heavy blush roared to life in my cheeks, leaving me hot and flustered. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “I am very honored that you would say such kind things about me,” I murmured, suddenly filled with a great yearning to return to 1999, before all the terror started.

He shrugged. “It’s just the truth,” he said. “This is an amazing coincidence, though. I was hoping to run into you, and here you are.”

His smile widened into a grin. I felt as if I were melting right into the floor. He wanted to see me?

“It is nice to see you again too,” I said softly. “But I am not permitted to speak with outsiders. Even if I knew them… before.”

“Oh, come on. Who’s gonna find out?” he asked, amusement glimmering in his gaze.

I pointed to the ceiling. “He will know.”

“I’m sure your God wouldn’t mind if you were simply polite to an old friend,” Mason said. “But if you insist, I’ll leave you alone.”

When he said that, I realized just how desperate I was to speak with him. I needed to know where he’d been. How he survived. How he made it here after all this time.

“Wait.” I looked around to make sure no one else was watching, and then I picked up my cleaning materials. “There is a place we could speak for a few moments.”

He held out a hand. “Lead the way.”

His fingertips brushed against my back as I turned and led him down the hall. I felt as if I had been shocked, and I darted forward so that he wouldn’t touch me again. He seemed to have electricity in his fingers, and I wasn’t allowed to deal with anything like that. All forms of electricity and technology that still functioned after the Great Reckoning were gifts from God for the men. Such things interfered with female organs, so it wasn’t safe for any of the girls or women to use them.

As we rounded another corner, I caught a glimpse of Martha Chase, one of the other women at New Eden. Her fiery red hair made her stand out at any distance. I drew in a sharp breath and took a few steps backward, motioning for Mason to do the same.

“We must go another way,” I said in a hushed voice.

Martha was the same age as me, but far more pious. I was often envious of her ability to serve Him so utterly and completely. She spent most of her spare time praying and asking for His guidance, and she observed punishments meted out to other girls with fervent, shining eyes, as if seeing their pain pleased her just as it pleased our God.

If she saw me sneaking around with an outsider, she would no doubt tell the Elders immediately. In fact, the only two people in this entire place who wouldn’t tell on me at all were my closest friends, Elena and Lauren, and they were nowhere to be seen.

Fortunately, there was another way to the room I wanted to take Mason into, so we could avoid Martha. I led him down another hallway which looped around, and then I ushered him into the Museum of the Damned.

It was a large room with dark gray stone walls and small flaming lamps which always remained burning. The walls were covered with photos taken when the bombs dropped on the world outside, along with all the other awful events which occurred in 1999.

We didn’t take the photos ourselves, of course. Some of the brave men who went out into the Wastelands to find food and other survivors had found cameras buried in the rubble of cities, and they managed to develop the photos for us so that we could witness the sinners’ last moments, which had been captured on film.

The horrors portrayed in the pictures reminded us how lucky we were to have been spared from the fate of the damned, and it also reminded us to be grateful for every day we spent down here in the shelter. Life wasn’t always easy here—sometimes it was downright bleak—but whenever I visited the Museum, I was left with a renewed sense of hope and gratification.

The women were expected to visit the Museum at least once a week, so it was usually quite busy, but no one would be around at this time. Everyone was busy with their evening tasks, either child-minding, helping to prepare dinner, or cleaning the shelter.

“We can talk in here for a few minutes,” I said to Mason, looking up at him. I set my broom, feather duster, and dustpan by the arched entrance.

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