Hunger (Gone 2)

It made her sick.

“Okay, guys, we have thirty-two pieces,” Quinn said. “How do you want to do this?”

Francis glanced at Mary, but she could not respond. It was as if she were frozen in place.

“Everyone starts with half a piece,” Francis decided. Then he warned, “And anyone who gets grabby gets nothing.”

“Mary, there’s enough for you and your workers to have some, too,” Quinn said.

Mary nodded. She couldn’t. Not for herself. For the others, yes. Of course.

“You okay?” Quinn asked her.

Mary gritted her teeth and forced a shaky smile. “Of course. Thanks for bringing this. The children haven’t had…they need the protein…they…”

“Okay,” Quinn said, obviously nonplussed.

“Save some for the babies,” Mary urged Francis. “We’ll purée it in the blender.”

The sounds of gobbling filled the room. Many of these kids probably hated fish. Back in the old days. Even two weeks ago they would have turned up their noses. But now? No one would turn away protein. They felt the need way down inside. Their bodies were ordering them to eat.

But Mary’s body was ordering her not to.

It would be a sin, she told herself. A sin to consume the fish only to vomit it back up later. She couldn’t do that to the littles.

Mary knew there was something wrong with the way she was behaving. She was surrounded by hunger that kids couldn’t avoid, and she alone was the cause of her own hunger. A warning sounded, but distant, barely audible. Like someone shouting to her from two blocks away.

“Come on, Mary, you have to try this,” Francis urged. “It’s amazing.”

Unable to manage a reply, Mary turned away, silent, and headed for the bathroom pursued by the slavering sounds of hungry children.

THIRTEEN

45 HOURS, 36 MINUTES

SAM KNOCKED AT the front door. He didn’t usually do that. Astrid had told him many times he could just walk in.

But he knocked, anyway.

It took her a while to answer.

She must have just come from the shower. Astrid worked out after dinner, when Little Pete usually liked to watch DVDs. Her blond hair was plastered down her neck, strands of it swooping down across one eye to give her a vaguely piratical look. She was wearing a bathrobe and carrying a towel.

“So. You came crawling back, eh?” Astrid said.

“Would it help if I were on hands and knees?” Sam asked.

Astrid considered that for a moment. “No, the abject look is enough.”

“I didn’t see you all day.”

“It would have been surprising if you had. I wasn’t interested in being seen.”

“Can I come in?”

“Are you asking if you may come in? ‘Can’ is meant to suggest ability. ‘May’ is proper when the question is one of permission.”

Sam smiled. “You know you just get me hot when you do that.”