Chapter 15: The Count

Reese's POV

I did not shout at Jonas in the drill hall.

I waited until the woman with the clipboard had handed us two cots and a ration card.

Then I walked him into the stairwell and shut the door.

The stairs were concrete and smelled of cold paint.

"You heard it," I said.

"At two this morning." He did not try to look away. "The Anchor's dispatcher read out a list on the fire channel. Your name was on it."

"And you let me walk to the gate."

"I thought, if I tell her, she turns the truck around."

"Yes," I said. "That was the point of telling me."

"I know."

"On the cot, four days ago, you said you don't hide things from your people."

"I did."

"Then what am I?"

His jaw worked.

He had a bruise on his cheek from the guard who had grabbed him at the gate.

I wanted to put my thumb on it, and I was angry that I wanted to.

"What else did you hear?" I asked.

"The count." He said it quietly. "The dispatcher gave it. Two hundred and twelve people inside the walls."

I felt the stairwell tilt a little.

Two hundred.

It was the crowd I had looked up at from the supply table, one face at a time.

"I should have told you," Jonas said. "You asked me for the truth and I gave you a gate."

"I can stand being lied to by people who want something from me," I said. "I've had practice. You were the one place I didn't have to check."

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