Page 161 of Runaways

"You're welcome," she says. "Go ahead and get something to eat. We'll give you a couple of days to settle in before we get you on the schedule."

"Schedule for what?" I ask.

"To contribute. Everyone has to contribute in some way. We are almost entirely self-sufficient and off-grid. This is how it works. We still need to do shopping runs every couple of months or so for clothes and pantry items, but that's pretty much the extent of our contact with the outside world."

"Well, where does the money come from for the other stuff?"

"We do contracting work for neighboring communities and sell extra food and crops in the summer."

"Don't you miss it?" I ask. "The outside world, I mean."

"No," she says. "The rest of the world is a dumpster fire. Last I checked, they were on the verge of World War III andthe collapse of late-stage capitalism, racism and homophobia were on the rise, and a lot of them were foaming at the mouth to live in a religious dystopia. Does that all still sound accurate to you?"

I shrug. "Yeah."

"What's there to miss?"

She has a point.

"Grab a plate while you can."

Veronica walks away, leaving us in a fuller dining room than the one we left a few minutes earlier. There are even a handful of children here eating now. The food sits on large serving platters on a butcher block kitchen island where Silas stands with his back to us, filling a plate with some kind of meat and pancakes.

"Give me the clothes," Tate says. "I'll put this stuff in your bag."

"I can put it in my own bag."

He rolls his eyes and snatches them from me before walking away.

I sigh and step into the kitchen, grabbing a plate and looking over the food.

"I'll save you a seat," Silas says, nudging me with his shoulder when he walks past.

He's smiling, and I have to bite back a smile of my own. He really is happy about all this. Maybe I should try to be happy, too.

I grab a couple pieces of toast and a glass of orange juice and then sit down beside him.

"Is that all you're going to eat?" he asks, frowning.

"My stomach is still upset from…"From the pills, I don't say. "My head still hurts. I don't think I could eat anything else right now, even if I wasn't in front of all these people."

He takes my hand in his and squeezes. "I'm going to make all of this up to you. I'll make it better—I promise."

"The mystery meat is pretty good," Tate says, sitting across from us.

"It's deer," Silas says.

"How many people live here?" I ask.

"Twenty-seven," Silas says. "But that includes the kids, too."

"I don't like that she knows your name. It doesn't feel safe."

"It's mutually assured destruction," Tate says. "We're among our people."

"Wait…what? What does that mean?"

Silas lowers his voice. "Wendy and her wife are on the run, too. They're wanted for eco-terrorism in the U.S."

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