produced nothing more than anxious silence. Not once had he heard anyone say: We are not alone. That’s what this means. The world is not a dead place after all.
Because of Teacher, he thought. And not just the fact that Teacher was dead; it was because of what Teacher told you, the day you came out of the Sanctuary. It was common for people, looking back, to laugh this off, telling the story of their release. I can’t believe what a fuss I made! they’d all say. You should have seen how I cried! As if they were speaking not of their childhood selves, innocent creatures to be regarded with compassion and understanding, but of some other being entirely, viewed at a distance and faintly ridiculous. And it was true: once you knew that the world was a place that swarmed with death, the child you’d been no longer seemed like you at all. Seeing the pain in Mausami’s face, the day she’d come out, had been one of the worst experiences of Sanjay’s life. Some people never managed to get over it—these were the ones who let it go—but most found a way to carry on. You found a way to put hope aside, to bottle it and put it on a shelf somewhere and get on with the duties of your life. As Sanjay himself had done, and Gloria and even Mausami; all of them.
But now there was this girl. Everything about her flew straight into the face of the facts. For a person—a defenseless child—to materialize out of the dark was as fundamentally disturbing as a snowfall in midsummer. Sanjay had seen it in the eyes of the others, Old Chou and Walter Fisher and Soo and Jimmy and all the rest: everyone. It was wrong; it made no sense. Hope was a thing that gave you pain, and that’s what this girl was. A painful sort of hope.
He cleared his throat—how long had he been standing there, looking at her?—and spoke.
“Wake up.”
No response. Yet he believed he detected, behind her eyelids, an involuntary flicker of awareness. He spoke again, louder this time:
“If you can hear me, wake up now.”
His train of thought was broken by movement behind him. Sara entered through the curtain, Jimmy trailing behind.
“Please, Sanjay. Let her rest.”
“This woman is a prisoner, Sara. There are things we need to know.”
“She’s not a prisoner, she’s a patient.”
He regarded the girl again. “She doesn’t look like she’s dying.”
“I don’t know if she is or not. It’s a miracle she’s still alive, all the blood she lost. Now will you please go? It’s a wonder I can keep this place clean with all of you trooping through here.”
Sanjay could see how worn down Sara was, her hair sweaty and askew, her eyes bleary with exhaustion. It had been a long night for everyone, leading to an even longer day. And yet her face radiated authority; in here she made the rules.
“And you’ll let me know if she wakes up?”
“Yes. I told you.”
Sanjay turned to Jimmy where he stood by the curtain. “All right. Let’s go.”
But the man made no response. He was looking at the girl—staring, really.
“Jimmy?”
He broke his gaze away. “What did you say?”
“I said let’s go. Let’s let Sara do her work.”
Jimmy shook his head vaguely. “Sorry. Guess I went away for a second there.”
“You should get some sleep,” Sara said. “You too, Sanjay.”
They exited onto the porch, where Ben and Galen were standing guard, sweating in the heat. Earlier, there had been a crowd, people eager for some glimpse of the Walker, but Ben and Galen had managed to send them all away. It was past half-day; only a few people were moving about. Across the way, Sanjay saw an HD crew with masks and heavy boots and buckets headed to the Sanctuary, to wash the Big Room down again.
“I don’t know what it is,” Jimmy said. “But something about that girl.… Did you see her eyes?”
Sanjay startled. “Her eyes were closed, Jimmy.”
Jimmy was squinting down at the floor of the porch, as if he’d dropped something and couldn’t find it. “Come to think of it, I guess maybe they were closed,” he said. “So why would I think she was looking at me?”
Sanjay said nothing. The question made no sense. And yet something about Jimmy’s words hit a nerve. Watching the girl, he’d had the distinct feeling of being observed.
He looked toward the other two men. “Do either of you know what he’s