“Dr. Wilson, are you okay?”

Holding Carlos, Grace was standing above her. Sara touched her tears away. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s a baby—he doesn’t know anything.”

Sara made a place beside her; Grace lowered herself to the floor.

“Are we going to be safe here?” Grace asked.

“Sure.”

A silence; then Grace shrugged. “You’re lying, but that’s okay. I just wanted to hear you say it.” She turned her face toward Sara. “You were the one who transferred your birthright to my parents, weren’t you?”

“I guess they told you.”

“Just that it was the doctor. I don’t see any other women doctors around the place, though, so I figured it had to be you. Why did you do it?”

There was probably an answer, but Sara couldn’t think of it. “It just felt like the thing to do.”

“My folks were good to me. Things weren’t easy, but they loved me as well as anyone could. We always said a prayer for you at supper. I thought you should know.”

From baby Carlos, a yawn; sleep was near. For a minute or so, Sara and Grace watched the game together. Suddenly Grace looked up.

“What’s that noise?”

—

“Station six. We have movement.”

Peter grabbed the radio. “Say again.”

“Not sure.” A pause. “Looks like it’s gone now.”

Station 6 was at the south end of the dam.

“Everyone, maintain readiness!” Apgar yelled. “Hold your positions!”

Peter barked into the mike: “What are you seeing?”

A crackle, and then the voice said, “Forget it, I was wrong.”

Peter looked at Chase. “What’s below station six?”

“Just scrub.”

“Enough for cover?”

“Some.”

Peter took up the radio again. “Station six, report. What did you see?”

“I’m telling you, it’s nothing,” the voice repeated. “Looks like just another sinkhole opening up.”

—

From his post on the roof of the orphanage, Caleb Jaxon did not hear the sound so much as feel it: a disturbance lacking a discernible source, as if the air were bristling with a swarm of invisible bees. He scanned the city with his binoculars. All seemed ordinary, unchanged, yet as his mind stilled, he became aware of other sounds, coming from several directions. The crack of wood splintering. The crash and tinkle of fracturing glass. A rumble, lasting perhaps five seconds, of an unknown type. Around him, and on the ground below, some of his men had begun to sense these things as well; their conversations halted, one man or the other saying, Do you hear that? What is that? Eyes burning from lack of sleep, Caleb peered into the darkness. From the roof, he had a clear view of the capitol building and the city’s central square. The hospital was four blocks east.

He unhitched his radio from his belt. “Hollis, are you there?” His father-in-law was stationed at the entrance to the hospital.

“Yeah.”

Another crash. It came from deep within the streets of the city. “Are you hearing this?”

A gap, then Hollis said: “Roger that.”

“What are you seeing? Any movement?”

“Negative.”

Caleb brought his binoculars to bear on the capitol. A pair of trucks and a long table remained in the square, left behind when the inductions were complete. He took up the radio again. “Sister, can you hear me?”

Sister Peg was waiting by the hatch. “Yes, Lieutenant.”

“I’m not sure, but I think something’s going on out here.”

A pause. “Thank you for telling me, Lieutenant Jaxon.”

He clipped the radio to his belt. His grip on his rifle tightened reflexively. Though he knew a round was seated in the chamber, he gently drew back the charging handle to double-check. Through the tiny window, the brass casing gleamed.

The radio crackled: Hollis. “Caleb, come back.”

“What have you got?”

“Something’s out there.”

Caleb’s heart accelerated. “Where?”

“Headed for the square, northwest corner.”

Caleb pressed the binoculars to his brow again. With vexing slowness, the square came into focus. “I’m not seeing anything.”

“It was there a second ago.”

Still scanning, Caleb lifted the radio to his mouth to call the command platform.

“Station one, this is station nine…”