Page 34 of The Midnight Hour
“Fair enough,” Daniel replies equably. “But how does this place operate?”
“I’m coming to that,” Michael assures us, with a quick smile. “So, the reason I said all that up front isn’t just because it’s what people are afraid of, but because of some of the measures we’ve had to put into place, to make this place function successfully at the current time, which I’m sure you’ll be able to understand once I’ve explained it to you.”
“Maybe just tell us what to expect,” Daniel suggests, the very slightest of edges to his voice. I think he’s tired of all the buildup, just as I realize I am.
“Of course.” Michael Duart’s voice is smooth and assured. “If you agree to our principles and decide to stay, and, of course, if you’re evaluated successfully?—”
“What does that mean?” I interject.
“We have rigorous standards,” Michael explains with only the barest hint of apology. “Medically, physically, intellectually. We have only space for about five hundred people on site. We can’t just take anyone, not if we’re rebuilding the world.”
Rebuilding the world? All right, yes, hedoessound grandiose, and I’m not sure how I feel about it.
“In any case,” Michael resumes smoothly, “assuming it’s all successful, you’ll be assigned lodgings here on the site.”
“Not underground?” Sam asks, sounding both eager and disappointed. “The NORAD Underground Complex…it seems really cool…” He trails off uncertainly.
“We are in the process of refurbishing the underground complex for human habitation,” Michael Duart informs us smoothly. “And, of course, we are monitoring radiation levels. At the current time, the atmosphere is at safe levels. But if that changes, then we will rehouse everyone in the complex.” He glances around at all of us as if asking for any questions, and then, after a second’s pause, continues. “Now, families stay together…” He glances between us all. “Are you all one family?”
“Yes,” Mattie says fiercely just as Kyle admits, sounding resigned, “No.”
Michael Duart’s eyebrows lift as he waits for an explanation.
“Kyle’s not related to ustechnically,” I explain after a moment. “But he’s been with us for months and he’s like family.” I sound like I’m pleading, and I’m annoyed with myself. Why shouldn’t we decide who we live with? Why have I already handed Michael Duart that power, just because he’s acting like he has it?
Already, I know the answer. Because it’s safe here, and we’ll have food, and a place to sleep, and security. And for that, in this world, I know I’m willing to hand over alotof power.
“I see.” Michael Duart is clearly making no promises about us all staying together. “But the rest of you are family?”
“Yes,” I say firmly. I’m not about to have Phoebe taken away from us, not after Mattie begged for her not to be.
Michael Duart’s gaze lasers into mine and I see a hint of cool appraisal there that unnerves me. “These are your four children?” he asks, and it’s like he knows. Yet how can he?
“Yes,” I say again, just as firmly. Phoebe has thesame dark hair as I do, even if her complexion is far more olive-toned than mine. There’s absolutely no way for him to figure out that Phoebe isn’t my daughter unless she tells him herself. But why should he even care?
“All right,” he replies after a moment, his tone equable, and I relax a little bit. Then he glances at Sam. “You look over eighteen,” he remarks in the tone of someone saying, “aren’t you a handsome boy.”
“I’m nineteen,” Sam replies, sounding guarded.
“Well, then, you would live with Kyle”—he gives a nod—“in the single men’s dormitory. The rest of you would be allocated housing together.” His tone is amenable and yet at the same time clearly brooks no argument. “There are a variety of houses on site, but most families are guaranteed at least two bedrooms and a bathroom. Meals are served communally two times a day; at the present time, to conserve supplies, there’s no midday meal. Everyone eats the same thing—I’m afraid we can’t cater for any special diets or allergies, not even severe ones. It’s simply not possible at this time.” He pauses, as if waiting for confirmation, and I wonder if anyone has been turned away because of a peanut allergy.
“Okay,” Daniel says after a moment.
“Everyone over the age of fourteen is assigned a work placement,” Michael continues after another pause. “Which will be decided by the governing committee based on community needs as well as individual skills and abilities. Children under fourteen will be educated according to the national curriculum.” The flash of a brief smile. “We are fortunate to have some teachers among us.”
A silence while we all absorb this, but no one objects.
“We also find,” he continues, “that it helps the camp to function more smoothly if there’s no alcohol or drug use whatsoever.”
I let out a huff of disbelieving laughter before I can help myself. “Where could we get either of those things, these days?”
He gives me a thin-lipped smile. “You’d be surprised.”
“Any other rules?” Daniel asks. He sounds like he suspects there are, quite a lot of them.
“There’s a curfew,” Michael replies, like an acknowledgement of an implied criticism. “Ninep.m., everyone is back in their lodgings. Again, it helps with the smooth functioning?—”
“Of the camp,” Daniel completes. “Understandable.”
