The papers slapped down. Dave gripped the sides of his hair as if determined to pull it out and then dropped his fists on the table. Michael shifted in his seat, his lips shut tight as he glanced back and forth between his father and where Milo was leaning against the sink. He hadn’t said a word about where Milo went in the mornings for what felt like his entire life. And he’d done the right thing for his brother and left snacks for him to take. He took them most mornings. When he remembered. Still, his silence wasn’t enough to save his brother from the inevitable. The truth came out.

  Eleanor opened the envelope, thinking it was the same recruiting packet as all the other families received, only to find it was a letter of orders from the top of the militia endorsed by Theodore Makler, himself. After two years of success as an officer, and his quick rise in rank under mentorship, he was required to serve alongside the men he was in charge of on the outer wall. It was a short, eight-month assignment, and they granted him overnight home leave twice per week, due to his age. Eleanor could hardly form words when she’d brought the letter to Dave and ran out of the kitchen sobbing.

  “The militia, Milo?” He stared at his oldest son, gritting his teeth.

  “They’re more of a military now,” Milo muttered, staring at his feet.

  “How many people knew about this?” He tapped his finger on the letter, every muscle tense, from his reddened ears to his toes.

  “I knew,” Michael perked up.

  “I’ll deal with you later, boy.” He shot a dark glare at his youngest son and scooped up the papers. Crossing the room, he knocked them in his palm, straightening the edges. “I hope you’re proud of yourself; making your mother cry.” His jaw churned as his emerald eyes darkened with disgust. “Do you know why I keep that gun around, son? You think I like it so much I carry it even when I’m not hunting?” He jutted the letters towards the opposite wall. “One day those walls are coming down and those sticks and stones the Resistance calls weapons won’t stop them. That’s why I keep it. To defend us! And what do you do? You lie on papers and get your ass recruited into the militia!”

  “Resistance,” Milo corrected, not daring to look up.

  “The Resistance?” He threw his arms out and turned around with an exasperated groan. Cackling to himself, more from heartbreak than humor, Dave hung his head and sniffled. Rubbing his wrist across his nose, he tossed the papers aside and headed toward the living room. “You’re going to be the death of us all.”

  “He doesn’t mean that,” Michael said as he watched their father slink away, looking for his wife.

  “I know.” Milo shoved away from the sink and took a seat at the table across from his brother. He set a finger on the die-cast car and scooted it back and forth. “You remember when there were cars and mom used to drive us out for picnics up on hills at the Dalemont farm?”

  “Sort of,” he shrugged.

  “It was great. I used to stick my hand out the window, and you always pretended you were driving in the car seat. I guess you were too young to remember that.” He looked up with a half-smile. “It was a lot more fun than trying to get holiday lights down in the diner.”

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  “Those things are never coming down.” Michael’s eyes widened, and he shook his head in dismay. With the shortages, only businesses had electricity. One hot summer, the generator malfunctioned and kicked on the heating system while the diner was closed. By the time anyone showed up, it was an oven, and the plastic strings of lights twinkling along the edges of walls melted into place. What they meant as a summer gimmick, Christmas in July, became a permanent fixture no matter how hard they scraped and picked at the melted lines.

  “Probably not.” Milo stilled the car and tapped its roof in thought. “Anyway, Mike—Michael. Mom and Dad aren’t angry, they’re just worried. There’s been a lot of rumors going around about the Razen again. You know how they get when that happens. Mom starts gardening and Dad goes through the cellar inventory until two in the morning.

  “I don’t blame them for being upset. It’s scary to think about how close they are, but you have to remember we’re safe. You and me, Michael. We don’t have anything to worry about. Even when the Razen come, I can take them. And Kelsey and Lukas are on the wall, too. My unit is the strongest and most competent the Resistance has raised in Bethany since they got here. The Razen have no clue what they’re up against.”

  “What if they get through the wall?” Michael shrunk in his seat, swinging his legs.

  “Then you have to be smart.” Milo leaned forward. “You go get my backpack from the closet and get outside. The Razen burn everything down and if you hide in the house, you’re toast. Go out the south gate and head for Summit. There are a bunch of Resistance camps on the way. Tell them where you came from and what happened. They’ll understand. And I’ll be able to find you faster.”

  “Do you think that’ll happen?” Michael’s brows pressed up as he stared at his older brother.

  Milo turned his attention to the door as if expecting someone. He didn’t want to tell him the truth or make him worry. He wanted Michael to be ready and not think too much about it when the day came and he had no choice but to run. The Razen were coming. Scouting reports were closer together than ever before. A month ago, it was days before they heard anything. In the last week, it was a matter of hours. Sure, relays were getting faster with more enlisted, but the reports were coming in too close together. At the top of the walls, at the peak points, soldiers could see the billows of smoke rising over the trees.

  Animals were acting up in the worst ways. He and Lukas watched a stray dog bash its head into the wall as it dug at the ground to escape. Cleaning up the blood and scrawny body was disgusting, but they couldn’t leave it there. Nor could they leave the bodies of all the other strays who’d beaten their brains out and scratched at the wall until their paws were bloodied nubs. What made an animal so desperate to run away, it killed itself trying? And why weren’t people that desperate? Maybe they were, though. Maybe that was why so many left Bethany in the last few years. They could sense what was coming, too. And they knew to be afraid.

  Milo, though, was sure he wasn’t and he wouldn’t turn tail and run. He was a soldier, trained and prepared for the worst. And the people he commanded were loyal and skilled. Makler taught him everything he knew and gave him extra work. Milo surpassed him in almost everything, lacking only front-line experience to be worthy of sitting at the Commander-in-Chief’s right hand, primed to take his place one day. Soon, that would change. The fires of the Razen would burn through the fields outside Bethany and kiss their walls. The Razen would fight with all they had to take the town, and they would fail. He could already see it, the victory of defeating the army from hell. The thought of it made his entire chest feel as if it were glowing with excitement and pride. One day, sooner than he realized, he would face them. The Razen. War. And he was certain he was ready and he could win.