Her mother sighed. “The study can go on without Glen.”

Agnes felt a wave of shame for saying his name. He had been gone a short time, but it felt like years. And yet she also felt that he wasn’t really gone at all. He was just off somewhere in seclusion, trying not to disturb people’s sleep with his cough. She was toggling between grief about his absence and anticipation of his return. It was a hopeful place she did not want to be removed from. Agnes and her mother fell silent again. Glen was something they shared. Agnes thought that perhaps they resented that in some way, and would prefer to each keep him for themselves.

She watched a dragonfly patrol where the water met the shore, tracking small bugs. Agnes was sure she could hear the swift quiver of its tissue wings because she was sure she could hear everything. She had thought she could hear a heartbeat in her stomach and had made Jake listen. “That’s just your guts,” he’d said. “No,” she said. “There’s something else.” But not long after that, she bled, heavily. She was disappointed, but more, she was embarrassed to have her body fail her. She reported the apparent miscarriage to Jake curtly and answered his questions evasively until he stopped asking them. He wanted to understand how she felt. But she didn’t know how she felt. She didn’t understand why she wept for a sac of blood that had not yet, in the end, had a heart. She had slipped her fingers through the slick mass looking for it. It was not there. She had wanted to tell her mother, but she felt ashamed. Her mother had lost Madeline, whose heartbeat Agnes had heard. Her mother had put Agnes’s ear to her stomach and said, “Now, shhhh.” And there it had been. Just like a frightened jackrabbit. Madeline had been a whole, real baby, just not all the way grown. Agnes had birthed heartless blood. So like she did with the pregnancy itself, she kept its loss from her mother.

The strange thing she found herself wanting to ask her mother, though, was not about having and losing an unfinished baby, but about the feelings of worry she had begun to have, before she bled, and even after. That her baby would suffer, or had suffered, somehow. It was a vague but overwhelming feeling that draped itself upon her at different moments. When she lay down to sleep. When she felt an electric surge and knew it was her body and the baby communicating. Even when she was no longer pregnant, that feeling of ants in her stomach would tickle her with busy worry. Things felt different now. Because Glen was gone. But it was more than that. She felt it, but she had no words for it. What if there was an end written for them already? But she couldn’t ask her mother about all this. It felt overly human. Rationalizing and worrying and preparing. It felt unlike herself. As though she’d already been changed by the child, even though they would never meet.

In the shallows, the children and teens played an ancient game of Marco Polo. The adults were swimming over to join. Their shrieks and calls echoed off the rocks, and it sounded as though new explorers were calling from beyond the trees, all around the summit.

“Is it true what Adam said?” Agnes asked. “That people are flooding into the Wilderness State?”

“I’m guessing it’s greatly exaggerated but perhaps not untrue.”

“Does that mean we’ll have to leave?”

“Agnes, why are you so fixated on leaving?”

“Because I don’t want to go back to the City.”

“But why do you worry we will?”

Agnes shrugged. “Everything is different now.”

Her mother didn’t ask her to explain. “Try not to worry. Besides, leaving here doesn’t have to be the end of the world.” Her mother paused and smoothed her matted hair, as though deciding to say what she said next. “We’ve got the Private Lands.”

“This again!” Agnes sat up. A rage was bubbling. “I suppose this is the big plan you’ve been working on. And I suppose you’ve got it all figured out.”

Her mother sniffed. “As a matter of fact, I have.”

“Okay, and how are you going to get us there?”

“I know a guy,” her mother said.

“And the money?”

Bea looked surprised. “What do you know about it?”

“I know you need money. The Newcomers told me.”

“Well.” She squinted. “We have the money.”

“For everyone?”

Bea shrugged. “We’d have to see. But we definitely have enough for us.”

Agnes knew that meant no. And that at some point in the future her mother had a plan to leave the others behind. That wasn’t shocking to Agnes. It was life in the Wilderness. And it was not shocking that her mother seemed to think nothing of making that decision. More shocking to Agnes was that her mother would embark on something like this on faith alone.

“Who is this guy?”

“He’s a guy I know.”

“How long have you known him?”

“Awhile.”

“When did you meet him?”

Her mother thought. “Around the time we left the City.”

“Is the guy you know trustworthy?”

“Agnes,” her mother said sharply. “Of course he is. Do you think I would work with someone I couldn’t trust?”

But all Agnes could think of was that there was a guy willing to take her mother somewhere that didn’t exist if she gave him all her money. And that didn’t seem trustworthy.

“What’s his name?”

“Sweetheart, don’t worry,” her mother said.

“Mom.”

“I’m not going to tell you that.”

“Did Glen know?”

Her mother winced. “He knew enough.”

Agnes felt betrayed. Her mother was planning to take her away from here without even asking what she wanted. “But I like it here.”

“But we can’t stay here forever.”

“Why not?”

“Oh, Agnes, we just can’t.” Her mother said it as if it was the most obvious of thoughts.

“Well, no one told me that,” she snapped, to hide the unevenness of her voice. She choked back what she was feeling, rubbed her face roughly to push back tears and her own fear.

Her mother relented and tried to soften the conversation. “Look, we probably won’t have to leave. I just don’t want you to be haunted by worry. Whatever happens, I have a plan for us. Try to trust me on this one. The Private Lands are a real option for us. I promise I can get us there. It would be a good life.”

“I like this life.”

“Well, so do I,” her mother said. “This is only a backup plan.” But Agnes didn’t believe her.

*

Two days after they summited the Caldera, set up camp, spent hours swimming, and ate their fill of fish, they heard the faraway crunch of footsteps echoing off the Caldera walls during breakfast cleanup. It sounded like an army of people, a large and heavy-footed horde, but they had learned that sound grew larger in the Caldera. So they were alarmed, but not terrified. As the footsteps became louder and closer, the Community grabbed sticks and knives, the bows and arrows, big stones, anything they could. Together they moved toward the sound, holding their weapons ready.

Several Rangers moved single file out of the forest. And from behind the Community came the beep beep of a horn. They all startled and turned to see a van driving in from behind the Lodge. Ranger Bob hopped out and saluted cheerily.

Her mother laughed. “How did you get that up here?” she called to him as he and other Rangers from the van approached.

“We drove,” Ranger Bob said. “There’s a service road on the other side,” he said. And Agnes saw a few of the Rangers smirk at this rev elation, and was reminded that to some of them, this was a game. She watched Ranger Bob, curious how he fit into that. He just smiled his Ranger Bob smile.

They converged on the beach, and it had the feeling of a reunion between estranged family members. Ranger Bob shook hands with members of the Community, who seemed confused by the gesture. He patted Agnes on the head and said, “And last but not least,” looking around for one more. And not finding him, he frowned and put his arm around Agnes’s shoulder. He was Glen’s height. A little stockier, but older like Glen. He squeezed. It felt nice.

“I thought you said this place was getting renovated,” said Bea.

“It is. You should have seen it before.”

“But it’s all boarded up,” said Juan.

“We just do that so people don’t mess with it.”

“Who would mess with it?”

The Rangers exchanged looks. “Why don’t we go in and sit down and have a talk. Just the leaders.” Carl and Bea stepped forward.

“Why just the leaders?” said Debra.

“Because some decisions need to get made.”

Agnes stepped forward too. “I’m a leader.”

“Just because you lead us places doesn’t make you an actual leader,” said Carl.

“To me it does,” said Debra. And Val said, “To me too.”

“If decisions are getting made, I want Agnes there,” said Celeste. “I want one of us there.”

“What do you mean, one of us?”

Celeste said, “A kid.”

Carl said, “I thought you weren’t kids.”