Page 49 of Silas

“What?” I ask, grinning at him as I slip one over my shoulder. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“This is the most fun I’ve had in a long time, shopping with you. Watching you discover all this normal, basic shit like it’s brand new and amazing.”

“It is new to me. I lived my whole life in a bubble. I knew there was a world beyond the compound, and I always longed to know what it was like. Sometimes Papa would bring back a magazine for me from one of his work trips, and I’d devour it, and I’d memorize everything. I’d read them over and over until they came apart, and then I’d tape them back together again.”

I move the strap from my shoulder to across my torso, fiddle with the clasp, imagining all the amazing, normal things I could put inside it. A wallet, maybe a phone, or even car keys, someday. Things that belong tome, of my very own.

My nose stings. I fight it back, but a sniffle escapes me.

“Hey now, what’s this?” He’s there, immediately. Holding me. “What’s wrong?”

I shrug. “I just…” I hunt for words. “I’ve never owned anything before. Nothing that’s been mine. Mama’s guitar, maybe, but that’s gone now.”

“Gone?”

“I left it back in the compound.”

“I’ll get it for you.”

“Silas, don’t be ridiculous.”

He smirks at me. “Well, now you’ve challenged me. Now I’m really gonna go get that guitar for you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I will.”

“Why?”

“Because it means something to you.” He shakes his head—I get the impression that he’s shaking it at himself rather than at me.

As if he can’t quite believe the things he’s saying any more than I can.

He pushes the cart into motion. “Come on. Toiletries.”

On the way, he makes me choose a wallet. And then another, better hairbrush, deodorant, a box of pads and a box of tampons, a toothbrush and toothpaste, and a small package of hair ties. And a duffle bag to put my new clothes in—it’s purple with flowers on it, and it’s so cute and pretty I can’t believe it’s mine.

We’re heading toward the checkout, finally, when he stops in the aisle. “Shit. You need a cell phone.” He turns us in place and heads toward the electronics. This, he picks.

“I’ll get you your own account and a real phone later, after we’ve established your identity. For now, this will do.” He tosses a device into the cart. “It’s a prepaid phone. We call it a burner phone—it can’t be traced to you.”

“What do you mean, once we’ve established your identity?” I ask as we finally reach the checkout lane and wait our turn.

“Well, you don’t have a legal identity, I’m assuming. You were born on that compound, right? I’m guessing you don’t have a social security card, an ID, a birth certificate, none of that?”

I shrug. “I…I don’t know. I guess not.”

“Well, when we get to Vegas, Inez will hook you up with a legal identity so you can live your own life.”

“Oh.” I frown at him. “Who is Inez?”

“She’s my direct superior, the go-between for us and the big boss. She’s the only one who interacts with him. She’s cool, but I wouldn’t want her pissed off at me—she scares the shit outta me, I don’t mind admitting.”

“If she scares you, she must be truly terrifying,” I say.

He laughs. “Only if you’re on the wrong side of her temper. Don’t worry, she’s cool. You’ll get along with her.”

“I’m going to meet her?”