“Water,” they cried and scrambled down.

Once reunited, Glen’s hugs were tense, and after several unsatisfactory ones she led him off, away from the Community, to a spot behind a large eruption of grasses, laid him down and fondled him. He started off sullen, swatting her away. But he kept his legs loose so she would have no trouble reaching between them when he wasn’t defending himself, and soon there were long stretches between his defenses. He squeezed his eyes shut as though indifferent to what her hand was doing, would scowl to stifle a rising moan, and then swat again. It was a game and it was his reward, and she kept reaching as a kind of penance for something they would never discuss, until finally he was hard and smiling and pulling her onto him. And then she rocked astride him until he was relaxed and she was too.

“You must have a guilty conscience,” he said, but he was happy and she heard no edge or accusation.

“I don’t, actually,” she said. “But you have a tender one.”

She did feel guilty, but not toward Glen. Nothing had happened. It was just survival. It was Agnes she felt unsettled by. She would have thought Agnes understood survival more. Would Agnes be so full of disgust if the situation had been different? What if they’d been hungry, cold, without any bedding, and happened to come upon Carl? What if Carl hadn’t been feeling very generous? Though he’d never acted on his lecherous air, there was nothing Bea would put past him. What if she had to do something she didn’t want to do in order to care for her daughter, for herself? She was doing that right now, under the empty sky in a far-flung land, wasn’t she?

They decided to camp by the pond that night. Carl, Glen, and Juan went back toward the ridge hoping to scare up some meat. Bea watched the men go, saw Glen keep his distance from Carl, speak with Juan, who would then speak to Carl. But when they came back with three jackrabbits, each man swinging one of the animals easily as they walked, Glen and Carl were laughing boisterously, and Bea couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen them laugh together. Out here she often forgot that Glen had been Carl’s mentor once upon a time. He so often seemed to resent people’s appreciation of Glen. But not now, she thought as she watched Carl clap Glen on the back, laughing maniacally at something Glen had said. Glen beamed back at him, almost as though he were the student looking for assurance and so pleased to have found it. They sat and laid their rabbits at Carl’s feet. Bea felt a tingle along her spine, and her eyes narrowed to slits, just as Carl looked up and found her eyes. Still chuckling, he gave her a wink, pulled a blade from somewhere behind his back, and sliced his rabbit shallow and long.

They dressed the rabbits while Debra and Val built a fire, and they spit-roasted the meat. It wasn’t a lot, but it felt good to eat fresh, hot rabbit, and they ate jerky to fill their stomachs the rest of the way.

They searched the spot where the dust storm had hit them and found the Cast Iron and other kitchen items. People had managed to hold on to their personal belongings, their beds and skins, the things that had remained on their backs. A few minutes of hunting and the Book Bag was discovered and dug out. The Manual too. The trash bags they’d been filling since Middle Post were gone.

“If those dunes ever clear, we’re going to get a big fine for that garbage,” said Debra. She tsked, as though someone were to blame.

“Maybe the sand will bury it forever,” said Dr. Harold.

“In a hundred years some scientist is going to be exploring these dunes and he’ll wonder, What amazing civilization was here?” Val’s eyes widened crazily, as though imagining herself there to see it.

“As if this will be here in a hundred years,” said Bea, and then clamped her mouth. She hadn’t meant to sound so bitter. Across the loose circle, Agnes squatted, always wanting to be a part of the discussion. Her little mouth dropped open in surprise and Bea felt bad. Don’t ruin this place for her, she scolded herself.

“Bea,” Val said, her face empty and confused. “What do you mean by that?”

Stupid Val. Her ignorance made Bea feel as cynical as she’d ever felt, and she quickly forgot about Agnes’s presence. “This is a Wilderness State now,” Bea said. “Before this, it was a collection of small towns and farms that grew alfalfa. Before that, it was ranch land. And before that—you want me to keep going? It’s going to be something else. Just wait.” It wasn’t something she’d thought much about. But suddenly, the notion of this place existing well past their own deaths, she knew in her gut it would not happen. She thought this place lasting until her own death was an absurd idea. Assuming her death was not imminent.

“That’s ridiculous. This is the last wilderness. There are serious laws about this land,” said Val.

“Don’t you think there were laws about those other wildernesses? How do you think this got to be the last one?”

“There are laws, but they can get rewritten,” said Glen.

“Oh, shut up, Glen,” said Carl. “There are laws,” he whined, trying to mimic Glen.

Glen looked pained. “I was just stating a fact that there have been laws—”

“There are serious laws and yet they let us in.” Bea shrugged. “And now look, we just dumped our garbage everywhere. Do you think there’s a law about that?”

“There’s certainly a fucking rule about it,” grumbled Carl.

Val looked a bit stricken. “Well,” she yelped, but had no follow-through. No doubt the conversation had gone too fast for her, Bea thought. This moment had devolved quickly. They must all be tense from the storm, from being separated. They might not always like one another, but they generally worked well together.

“Oh, stop,” interrupted Debra. “The point is, someday some scientist—or maybe it’ll be some construction worker, Bea—is going to dig up a bunch of our trash.”

“And when he sorts through them, he’s gonna find Val’s used tampons,” said Juan. They laughed, glad to have stepped away from an argument.

Val scowled. “I told you I can’t use anything else.”

“I can’t believe you still get your period,” Debra said.

“I’m young,” Val shrieked.

Debra raised her eyebrows.

“I vote we make Val pay the fine if they ever find our garbage,” Carl said.

Everyone waited for him to laugh, capping the joke, but he didn’t. His gaze was angry and fixed on the fire.

“Carl,” Val whined quietly, as if trying to keep the rift private.

“What?” Carl snapped. “If you can’t adapt, there should be consequences.”

Val’s jaw dropped. Bea winced for Val. This was a definite betrayal.

Val roused herself up and walked away from the fire, haughty, angry, and expecting to be followed by Carl. But he remained seated. Bea watched Val disappear beyond the circle of firelight. Her shape shifted from color to shade to gray dots, and then she was gone in the darkness. Bea looked back to Carl and saw that he was watching her. He smirked at Bea over the fire as though sharing the joke with her. When his smirk dissolved, he stared at her until Bea had to look away. She reached for Glen’s hand in the dark, and though they were near the fire his hand felt cold in her grip. She looked for Agnes, but the girl was no longer there. She’d snuck off. Again, Bea felt bad for her cynicism. She hoped she hadn’t alarmed Agnes. She deserved to think of this place as protected. Though Bea thought of it, she realized then, as more of a theme park. That would probably eventually become a landfill or some other necessary thing.

No one went after Val. They gathered warmth by the fire and then, one by one, family by family, went to their beds. Eventually Val stormed back as the fire was being doused by Dr. Harold’s piss. He was usually the last one up because he had no one to bed down with.