The Deathless Trilogy

3.2. Bloom with Blume

The camp is temporary. We sleep in wobbly tents that we share with our families; we hunt and fish for food when the Immortal is short on food; and we boil water in pots before drinking it. It's more like how life was back home in Pennsylvania, if only the lush forests and meadows were replaced with cactus and sandy dirt. At least Arizona is tolerable in late fall.

The biggest difference I've noticed between the camp and our home in Pennsylvania, other than the lack of permanent structures and the land, is that here, we're Nomads. We are now the people my family used to warn me about. We are scientific Nomads who occasionally board an oversized tank two miles away to eat when there's enough for all of us now that there are a thousand refugees here. Despite the inconveniences of a temporary camp, I can't help but be thankful for the tents. They show that we're all equal here. No one sleeps in a better place than anyone else, except for Declan and the night guard, who only stay on the Immortal in case of attack.

It's early, before anyone is awake, before the sun has even risen. I rub my eyes and look around the tent. It reminds me of when all of us would sleep in the safe room back home, crammed in a 10 by 10 space with hardly anything. The only person missing is Ben, but Celia occupies his physical space. No one can replace him in any other way.

Daniel finally fell asleep after hours of tossing and turning in and out of nightmares. His fingers outstretch to touch mine, but I still can't sleep. I slip my hand away, roll out from under the fur Daniel and I share for a blanket, and tiptoe to the mirror Celia left on a wooden box-more like a crate-that we've been using for a table. In the dusty, warped reflection, I check to make sure I don't look too exhausted. By the time we arrived at the camp last night, everyone had already fallen asleep. I couldn't have had more than 3 hours of sleep, though somehow my eyes don't look too puffy.

But my hair... The "unique" color that was always my dad's first. After all I've seen, I can't see orange. I can't see flowers. I can only think of the nickname Nate tried to give me, the fabric that hid Daniel in the President's quarters at the bunker, the room Daniel and I shared in the estate, fire, and blood.

Red.

The color fills me like smoke, rising from my gut into my mind. For a moment, I think I might vomit again if only to get the red out from inside me. I want it away, out of my life. I never want to see it again.

I look back at my dad, his wild hair poking out from beneath the fur. I'll never escape it completely, but... I can control some things in my life still, can't I?

An idea forms in my brain. I sneak out of the tent, and toward where we keep the pods. The soldier guarding them is half asleep, but I recognize her. "Meg?"

She yawns and straightens up when she gets a good look at me. "Isla. Look at you. I ought to touch up your hair, the shaved side is looking a little scraggly. Just promise you won't do it yourself."

I smile. "I promise. Hey, listen, I need to borrow a pod. I'm going to find a town nearby and get some supplies."

She peers at me. "I'm not supposed to let anyone use these without official permission from President Kunkle."

"My mom is the Vice President. I can wake her up, and have her come over to talk to you."

She looks around me toward my family's tent. "No, it's fine. Besides, you'll be leading this place soon enough anyway."

She moves aside for me to pass, and I laugh. "Yeah, right. Thanks, Meg, I'll be back soon."

I open the door to one of the pods, when Meg continues, "You don't know do you?"

"Know what?" I ask.

"There's a group of people who want you to lead. It's made up of a lot of us from the estate. We trust you."