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“Smarts a bit； don’t it？ We’re trying to fix that。” He held out his hand； protected by the tail of his shirt；
and I placed the soap in it。
I didn’t answer his question because we weren’t alone； there was a line waiting silently behind him—five
people； all of them from the field turning。
Ian was first in line。
“You look better；” he told me； but I couldn’t tell from his tone if he was surprised or annoyed that I did。
He raised one arm； extending his long； pale fingers toward my neck。 I flinched away； and he dropped his
hand quickly。
“Sorry about that；” he muttered。
Did he mean for scaring me now or for marking up my neck in the first place？ I couldn’t imagine that he
was apologizing for trying to kill me。 Surely he still wanted me dead。 But I wasn’t going to ask。 I started
walking； and Jeb fell into step behind me。
“So； today wasn’t that bad；” Jeb said as we walked through the dark corridor。
“Not that bad；” I murmured。 After all； I hadn’t been murdered。 That was always a plus。
“Tomorrow will be even better；” he promised。 “I always enjoy planting—seeing the miracle of the little
dead…looking seeds having so much life in them。 Makes me feel like a withered old guy might have some
potential left in him。 Even if it’s only to be fertilizer。” Jeb laughed at his joke。
When we got to the big garden cavern； Jeb took my elbow and steered me east rather than west。
“Don’t try to tell me you’re not hungry after all that digging；” he said。 “It’s not my job to provide room
service。 You’re just going to have to eat where everyone else eats。”
I grimaced at the floor but let him lead me to the kitchen。
It was a good thing the food was exactly the same thing as always； because if； miraculously； a filet
mignon or a bag of Cheetos had materialized； I wouldn’t have been able to taste a thing。 It took all my
concentration just to make myself swallow—I hated to make even that small sound in the dead silence
that followed my appearance。 The kitchen wasn’t crowded； just ten people lounging against the counters；
eating their tough rolls and drinking their watery soup。 But I killed all conversation again。 I wondered how
long things could last like this。
The answer was exactly four days。
It also took me that long to understand what Jeb was up to； what the motivation was behind his switch
from the courteous host to the curmudgeonly taskmaster。
Ian worked with us； when it was clearly not his turn； and this bothered me。
I had to eat in the kitchen again。 Jamie was there； and he kept the room from total silence。 I knew he
was too sensitive not to notice the awkward hush； but he deliberately ignored it； seeming to pretend that
he and Jeb and I were the only people in the room。 He chattered about his day in Sharon’s class；
bragging a little about some trouble he’d gotten into for speaking out of turn； and plaining about the
chores she’d given him as punishment。 Jeb chastised him halfheartedly。 They both did a very good job of
acting normal。 I had no acting ability。 When Jamie asked me about my day； the best I could do was stare
intently at my food and mumble one…word answers。 This seemed to make him sad； but he didn’t push
me。
At night it was a different story—he wouldn’t let me stop talking until I begged to be allowed to sleep。
Jamie had reclaimed his room； taking Jared’s side of the bed and insisting that I take his。 This was very
much as Melanie remembered things； and she approved of the arrangement。
Jeb did； too。 “Saves me the trouble of finding someone to play guard。 Keep the gun close and don’t
forget it’s there；” he told Jamie。
I protested again； but both the man and the boy refused to listen to me。 So Jamie slept with the gun on
the other side of his body from me； and I fretted and had nightmares about it。
The third day of chores； I worked in the kitchen。 Jeb taught me how to knead the coarse bread dough；
how to lay it out in round lumps and let it rise； and； later on； how to feed the fire in the bottom of the big
stone oven when it was dark enough to let the smoke out。
In the middle of the afternoon； Jeb left。
“I’m gonna get some more flour；” he muttered； playing with the strap that held the gun to his waist。
The three silent women who kneaded alongside us didn’t look up。 I was up to my elbows in the sticky
dough； but I started to scrape it off so I could follow him。
Jeb grinned； flashed a look at the unobserving women； and shook his head at me。 Then he spun around
and dashed out of the room before I could free myself。
I froze there； no longer breathing。 I stared at the three women—the young blonde from the bathing
room； the salt…and…pepper braid； and the heavy…lidded mother—waiting for them to realize that they
could kill me now。 No Jeb； no gun； my hands trapped in the gluey dough—nothing to stop them。
But the women kept on kneading and shaping； not seeming to realize this glaring truth。 After a long；
breathless moment； I started kneading again； too。 My stillness would probably alert them to the situation
sooner than if I kept working。
Jeb was gone for an eternity。 Perhaps he had meant that he needed togrind more flour。 That seemed
like the only explanation for his endless absence。
just my imagination。
Jeb dropped a heavy burlap sack to the floor with a deep thud。 “That’s a lot of flour there。 You try
carryin’ it； Trudy。”
Trudy snorted。 “I imagine it took a lot of rest stops to get it this far。”
Jeb grinned at her。 “It sure did。”
My heart； which had been thrumming like a bird’s for the entire episode； settled into a less frantic
rhythm。
The next day we were cleaning mirrors in the room that housed the cornfield。 Jeb told me this was
something they had to do routinely； as the bination of humidity and dust caked the mirrors until the
light was too dim to feed the plants。 It was Ian； working with us again； who scaled the rickety wooden
ladder while Jeb and I tried to keep the base steady。 It was a difficult task； given Ian’s weight and the
homemade ladder’s poor balance。 B