sleep on, just the hard cement floor, but we’re close enough to Albuquerque now that no one thinks we should sleep in the open.
Strange, and nice, to be sleeping with a baby in the room. Listening to the little noises he makes, even when he’s asleep. I haven’t told Hollis my news yet, wanting to be sure. Part of me thinks he already knows. How could he not know? I’m sure it’s written all over my face. Whenever I think about it, I can’t stop smiling. I caught Maus staring at me tonight when we were moving the fuel and I said, What? What are you staring at? And she said, Nothing. Just, you know, anything you want to tell me, Sara? I did my best to look innocent, which wasn’t easy, and told her no and what are you talking about and she said, laughing, Well, okay. That’s certainly okay with me.
I don’t know why I’m thinking this but if it’s a boy, I want to name it Joe, and if it’s a girl, Kate. After my parents. It’s strange how being happy about one thing can make you just as sad about another.
We are all wondering about the others, hoping they’re okay.
Day 270
Tracks all around the Humvee this morning. It looks like there were three of them. Why they didn’t try to break into the bunker is a mystery—I’m sure they could smell us. Hoping to make Socorro in plenty of time to lock down for the night.
Day 270 (again)
Socorro. Hollis is pretty sure the bunkers are part of an old gas pipeline system. We are bolted down for the night. Now we wait [illegible]
Day 271
They came again. More than three, a lot more. We could hear them scratching at the walls of the bunker all night long. Tracks everywhere this morning, too many to count. The windshield of the Humvee was shattered, and most of the windows. Anything we’d left inside was scattered over the ground, smashed and torn to pieces. I’m afraid it’s just a matter of time before they try to break into one of the bunkers. Will the bolts hold? Caleb cries half the night no matter what Maus does, so it’s no secret where we are. What’s stopping them?
It’s a race now. Everybody knows it. Today we are crossing the White Sands Missile Range to the bunker at Carrizozo. I want to tell Hollis but I don’t. I just can’t, not like this. I will wait until the garrison, for luck.
I wonder if the baby knows how afraid I am.
Day 272
No sign tonight. Everyone is relieved, hoping we lost them.
Day 273
The last bunker before Roswell. A place called Hondo. I fear this will be my last entry. All day long they were following us, tracking us in the trees. We can hear them moving around outside and it’s barely dusk. Caleb won’t be still. Maus just holds him to her chest, crying and crying. It’s Caleb they want, she keeps saying. They want Caleb.
Oh, Hollis. I’m sorry we ever left the farmstead. I wish we could have had it, that life. I love you I love you I love you.
Day 275
When I look at the words in my last entry, I can’t believe we’re alive, that we somehow got through that terrible night.
The virals never attacked. When we opened the door in the morning, the Humvee was lying on its side in a puddle of fluid, looking like some great broken-winged bird fallen to earth, its engine smashed beyond repair. The hood was lying a hundred meters away. They’d ripped off the tires and torn them to shreds. We knew we were lucky to have made it through the night, but now we had no vehicle. The map said fifty more kilometers to the garrison. Possible, but Theo could never make it. Maus wanted to stay with him but of course he said no, and none of us were going to allow it anyway. If they didn’t kill us last night, Theo said, I’m sure I can make it through another if I have to. Just get moving and use all the light you can and send back a vehicle when you get there. Hollis rigged a sling out of some rope and a piece of one of the seats for Maus to carry Caleb and then Theo kissed the two of them goodbye and drew down the door and sealed the bolts and we left, carrying nothing but water and our rifles.
As