I hear a shotgun being fired, and I hope whoever shot it didn't hit any of the soldiers. Someone screams in terror, and then I see one of the motorcycle soldiers carrying out a furious woman from the house. Behind her comes a young boy, maybe thirteen, with his hands on his head, followed by another soldier. This one has a sawed-off shotgun in one hand and a pistol in the other. Two other children, much younger and both girls, rush out of the house and run to the woman, calling out "Mommy, Mommy." Two additional soldiers escort what must be Kenneth's family towards us.

"Stella," Kenneth groans. "For Christ's sake. Let me go to her. Don't you see she's scared? Stella!"

"This ‘scared’ woman tried to stab me with a chef's knife, and the kid had a sawed-off shotgun that he fired—thankfully without hitting anyone. The others are doing a quick search of the house while we wait here." One of the soldiers places the weapons a safe distance from the captured people.

"Excellent," Miranda says, looking around. "We have now apprehended six adults and three minors. Find a way to secure them without scaring the children more than absolutely necessary."

"Understood," Tom says and raises his weapon at an angle away from the wide-eyed, trembling girls. The four men I first encountered, and the boy cast hateful glances at us before following Tom and two other soldiers towards a smaller enclosure where there are some rabbit hutches and a small seating area. I try to ignore the image that is created in my mind of these children playing with their rabbits while their parents had coffee nearby, while other children and young people were forced to work as slaves out in the fields. It's not the farmer's children's fault, I understand that, but I hate the whole concept anyway.

"I think they're keep the workers the barns," I say as I lead Kenneth towards the same place, all the time with my pistol against his lower back. "I suggest we hook this one to the fence and keep a close eye on him. I don't know if he's the ultimate boss here, but it's not unlikely. We can't risk him escaping." I don't want to say what I think this man is capable of. Something tells me he could very well take one of the three children hostage and force us to let him go. He's probably not stupid enough to think that we are not quite as unscrupulous as he and his people.

One of the soldiers has tied the horses to a fence a farther away. Now he comes with handcuffs and deftly fastens both Kenneth's hands and feet and secures him to the fence. The woman, Stella, stands up as if to go to him, but I point my pistol at her as a warning.

"Sit down and stay there. Take care of the little girls. He'll be fine."

She hesitates, looks at the girls who are trembling and pressing themselves against the barn wall, right next to a cage with four black and white rabbits. "Vera? Amanda? Take out a rabbit each and come sit with Mommy. These people will be gone soon."

"What do they want?" The teenage boy tries to sound tough, but his cracking voice trembles. He is tall, but lanky and so thin that I understand he has grown a lot in a short time. I wonder how much the workers get to eat. Probably enough to be able to work. What are their days like? They don't get to pet rabbits and live an idyllic life in the countryside with doting parents, I’m pretty sure.

"I don't know, Kevin. I have no idea." Stella glares at me. "Probably steal everything we own. Some people have no morals. They don't understand that we’re feeding people around here while building a normal society again."

Her words wash over me, but young Kevin, who probably was born shortly after the birds came, looks at us with contempt. I know that I’m probably talking to deaf ears but can't keep quiet. "A society built on exploitation, made up from people like you, who live the good life while others work themselves to death – and you call us immoral?" I shake my head. "Kevin, ask your mother about it. She probably has a good explanation why you have it so good, while those who work for you are out in the fields all day, because that’s the truth, isn’t it?"

Kevin blinks and looks confused at Stella. She reaches out her hand towards him. "Don't pay attention to her. You understand that what she's saying is untrue and stems from envy. Come here."

Kevin goes slowly to her, and the look he gives me shows he’s been indoctrinated his entire life. “Those people in the fields are fed,” he says. “They’re inferior beings who benefits from discipline and my parent’s good graces.”

I could try and reason with this kid until I’m blue in the face, but I don’t have time for that. “Dream on, Kevin. Keep repeating lies long enough doesn’t make them true—just more lies.” I turn to Miranda. “I need to start looking around.”

“I want to go with you.” Miranda assigns two more soldiers, five in all, to guard the prisoners before we head towards the entrance of the first barn. My heart is now beating so hard that it hurts, and every heartbeat echoes in my ears. My mouth is dry, and I swallow painfully. What will we find? Old images from World War II concentration camps flash through my memory from history lessons. Thin, emaciated, sick people – walking skeletons. I am so scared that I must bite my cheek to pull myself together. Never have I been so terrified – at least not since Mom died and I went out alone in Gothenburg. For some reason, I remember the man who died in the basement of the house Theo's father lived in. How he had been attacked by a madman when he and I were searching for my little brother and his sister. Instead, he died there, which was totally ironic as he was one of us who was immune to the virus. I took his car keys and drove his fancy BMW through the empty streets—home to Emma, whom I had met the same day. In her apartment, death came and took her mother. I suddenly had a new little sibling. How many times had I risked my life after that? Despite promising Emma to take care of myself, I exposed her to the fear of losing me. And now I stand here, and I’m tormented by a terror that has no name. Not yet. Am I only afraid of what we will find? Or is it a fear of what we will not find?

"Andy?" Miranda takes my arm, and I flinch. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. Absolutely." I lie and suspect that she guesses it, but she nods anyway and then I feel the back of her hand brush against mine. We reach the door, and I see a heavy bolt barring it from the outside. It is fastened with padlocks at each end. Miranda gives a signal to one of the soldiers. He has a large bolt cutter that easily cuts the upper loop of the locks. Without hesitation, Miranda goes forward and pulls the bolt away. With her weapon drawn, she slowly opens one of the large, black double doors. Inside it is dark. The air is dense and damp, and the stench is almost unbearable. The stench is unbearable. 

We have flashlights, something that is a luxury and that we rarely use. At home in The Hudskills, oil lamps are most common to save the batteries that still work. Now I tremblingly raise my flashlight, and the sight that meets me makes me groan loudly.

Row after row, beds are lined up and people stir in some of them as we’re moving closer to them. 

"Hell," I hear a soldier, I think it's Martin, say with a hoarse voice. "How – how the hell can they let people live like this?"

Miranda stands silently for a second, but then something moves in one of the beds, and she raises her weapon along with the flashlight. "You there, in the first bed. Get up slowly and tell me your name."

A thin figure sits up and turns towards us. "Tatiana," she says, because it is a young girl, in a thin voice.

I exchange a look with Miranda. The girl looks impossibly young. “Tatiana? I’m Andy. This is my friend Miranda. We’re here to try and help you—and all of those who work in the fields and farms around here.

The girl sits up on what looks more of a narrow cot than a bed. Further movements in the corner of my eye make me direct the flashlight in different directions continuously. Some cots are empty, but there are people in at least half of them. And there are a lot.

"Do you have a surname?" Miranda asks. She approaches the girl slowly.

"A what, ma'am?" The girl speaks in a subservient, cordial way. Who has insisted on that? My vote is on Stella. “I don’t know what that is! I’m so, so sorry—”

“Calm down," I say and wave for her to come closer. The girl obediently approaches us. She is thin, but wiry and doesn't seem malnourished. My thoughts that they are smart enough to give their slaves enough food to be able to work seem to be confirmed. I try to assess her age. Somewhere between fourteen and sixteen. About how old I was when it all started. "But you know for sure your name is Tatiana?" I ask.

The girl looks confused. "Yes, of course, ma’am. It’s always been my name." She stands straight and in something resembling attention. She is dressed in coveralls that are worn, of indeterminate color and dirty.

"How long have you lived on the farm?" Miranda asks, her voice harsh.

Tatiana blinks and furrows her brow. "I work here and sometimes on other farms. It's always been like this. All my life."

"She may have been born here, or they took her as very small," Miranda murmurs to me. "Okay," she continues then and raises her voice. "I want everyone who is in here to climb down and go out into the yard. Nice and slow. Don't crowd each other."

The latter is superfluous. Like small soldiers, the young people, all female, climb down, and I estimate that Tatiana is among the youngest, while the older ones are of an undeterminable age. They move in straight lines and quickly line up in front of us in the yard.

“Get the fuck back inside!” Kenneth roars, and a unison jerk goes through the large mass of women. Some of the ones in the back stagger toward the barn door, but two of Miranda’s soldiers have already closed them. 

"Don't worry about the man over there. He can't hurt you." Miranda speaks clearly as she walks along the first row of women. "We understand that you are kept here to work for a roof over your head, a bed to sleep in, and food. You may not know yet that you have the right to live under much better circumstances. The work itself, being farmhands, is fine. But nobody should be taken advantage of and kept like slaves in a barn. That man over there, Kenneth, has no right to force you."

The older women look cautiously at each other but say nothing.

"Are there boys here too?" Miranda asks es.

"Yes, ma'am. All the boys live in that barn." She points to the barn opposite the one we just emptied.

"Then we'll open that one too," Miranda says and signals to two soldiers.

Now there is obvious unrest in the ranks. The girls look towards Kenneth where he is tugging at the handcuffs and yelling something I can't decipher before Tom gets him under control.

"What is it?" I ask Tatiana. "We have to let them out too." I want to get all guys out. I want to see them all in the face and see if I recognize Theo's dark, brown eyes with flecks of green around the irises. The birthmark in the shape of a horseshoe just below the corner of his left eye. Maybe he just goes by Theo now and doesn’t remember Sachs as his last name, but in that case, I'll remind him.

"We are not allowed to be in the farmyard at the same time as the male workers," Tatiana says, sounding stressed again. "It’s forbidden." She’s pale now.

I want to say that all prohibitions are lifted, that she can talk to whomever she wants—or not. But I understand that the rules have been beaten into these women, perhaps literally. "Colonel," I say and call for Miranda's attention. "How about moving the women further away next to that barn over there?" I point towards a barn where the doors are open appears to only hold tools and hay.

"Good idea." Miranda indicates where she wants the girls, and they immediately line up further away with the same effective precision. The youngest girls hold onto the older ones' coveralls, and it pleases me, as much as it hurts, to see how the older ones pull them close.

Then the double doors to the barn where the male workers live are opened. The same scenario plays out. The oldest of them, a blond young man in his mid-twenties, is called Nathan. He speaks for them, and I suspect that he was not as young as most of them when he came to the farm. He sounds too assertive.

"Do you remember your surname?" I wonder quietly so that the group by the rabbit hutches doesn't hear.

"Yes, ma'am." Nathan glances towards Kenneth, but I stand in the way and try to smile encouragingly. "My name was Nathan Sloan before I came here." He almost whispers his name.

"Good, Nathan," says Miranda. "Can you tell me if these are all the boys who work on this farm?"

"No, ma'am," says Nathan and looks surprised. "The other shift is out in the fields. Their twelve-hour shift is over when the clock strikes three times."

"How many are there in the other shift?" Miranda asks, and I see that she suspects something is wrong. She is stiff now, and even though she tries to sound friendly, her eyes flash with anger.

"As many as are standing here in the yard." Nathan gestures towards all the boys and girls. "The boys are in one of the southern fields, the girls in one of the northern ones."

"Are you locked in the barn when you are not working?" I shudder at the thought.

"We have one hour of outdoor activity every day. Free time," says Nathan mechanically. "When the clock strikes two times, it is mealtime. When the clock strikes once, sleep. Four times, wake up." He hesitates. "Many, many times, great danger." Nathan looks back and forth between me and Miranda. "Why are we standing out here now? The clock hasn't rung for anything. Is there danger anyway?"

"On the contrary," says Miranda. "We are here to liberate those who are here against their will. We are also looking for a young man your age named Theo."

Nathan blinks again. “Theo?” He shakes his head emphatically. “I don’t know anyone by that name.” His eyes are huge in his narrow face. “Some names are just forbidden.”

My cheeks grow cold, and I can tell from Miranda’s quick glance in my direction that I’m growing pale. “We’re looking for a young man,” I say, and it’s as if my vocal cords are as rigid and cold as my cheeks. “His full name is Theodor Sachs.”

Lowering his voice further, Nathan narrows his eyes. “You cannot keep saying that name. It is a forbidden name. A shunned name.”

Miranda steps closer, effectively helping me to keep Kenneth and his family out of Nathan’s sight. “As we told you, we’re here to liberate the ones who don’t want to stay. The old rules are null and void. If you or any of your friends want to keep running this far, it will be done as a collective—a democracy. My soldiers will form and outpost to help keep you safe.”

Nathan rubs the back of his head. “I don’t think I understood half of that.”

“We will offer the women the same thing. You will have to learn to work together.” Miranda nudges my hand. “Theodor Sachs. It’s important we learn of this name, and particularly why it carries such a stigma.”

“I can tell you about Theo,” a light voice says, and I jump when I notice that Tatiana has joined us. I’ve been so focused on getting answers from Nathan that I’ve forgotten all about my training. Digging my teeth into the tip of my tongue, I scold myself.

“Great. Let’s hear it.” Miranda motions for Tatiana to come closer.

“Not here. Out of sight, and out of earshot, of anyone else.” Tatiana nods at Nathan. “We’re not supposed to talk to the men, but Nathan has been good to us. He’s smuggled extra food for the youngest in my barn. You can trust him.”

“Then we’ll go into the house and—” Miranda stops talking when both Nathan and Tatiana take a step back, their eyes widening. “What did I say now?”

“We’ve never sat foot in there. It’s absolutely forbidden. If any of the workers would be found in there, the penalty is death.” Nathan swallows. “We can go behind the barns. That’ll do fine.”

“Once we take the men responsible for the conditions here away, someone will have to turn that large house into the main building in the collective.” Miranda shrugs. “But, behind the barn will have to do.”

We start walking and just as we’re about to turn the first corner, we hear shouts among Kenneth and his men, but not only that, the soldiers are raising their weapons. 

“Damn it!” Miranda looks at Tatiana and Nathan. “Gather your friends and keep them out of harms way while we sort this out.”

They nod and start running toward their respective groups. I look at the soldiers and realize that half of them have their guns directed at the large gate, and the other toward the forest behind the closest field. 

I pull my small, but efficient binoculars and look at the dust cloud on the gravel road that I came riding up on just a little while ago. Then I turn to the forest and see people on horses and on foot approaching fast.

“What’s going on?” Miranda seems less concerned with the people at the gate as they’re contained and kept in check by eight soldiers with assault rifles. 

 “The ones coming from the forest are all quite young.” I pick up on more details as they approach. “Men and women. I count eighteen. They seem to mostly carry bows, arrows, and spears. Much like the ones on the roof of the hospital.”

“Are they part of the work force? That doesn’t make sense.” Miranda scans the approaching crowd through her own binoculars. “As you say. Young. I’d say, around twenty.”

“They’re slowing down.” I calculate that they stop around fifty yards from the main house. “Should we approach?”

Miranda raps her nails against her binoculars, and I can tell how her brilliant mind races. “Yes, but just you, Tom, and I. Keep your guns ready. And your bat.” She waves Tom over and he comes jogging up to us. 

“Colonel.” He looks over at the field where some plowing has taken place. “They don’t look like any of the farmers we’ve heard of. Too young.” 

“Exactly. Let’s go introduce ourselves.” Miranda takes a step forward and immediately, Zoya is at her side. She looks surprised and all I can do is catch up to the two of them. Tom carries his rifle directed to the ground, but I know the safety’s off.

As we pass the house, I can tell the people behind the man and woman in the front are ready to fight if they have to. Still, they keep their weapons in the same way that we do. Defensive positions, but ready to engage if necessary.

When we’re about ten yards from the group of sixteen, we stop.

“Who are you people?” the young woman, a willowy blond in her early twenties, call out.

“I’m Colonel Miranda Priestly, of what’s left of the US military.” Miranda is using a voice that’s in between her command persona and her normal voice. “We’ve apprehended the people responsible for locking up young people to be used as an illegal workforce under inhumane circumstances.”

“You’ve arrested Kenneth and Stella?” The young woman gapes. “Did you hear that?”

“And what about their best friends over by the gate?” The young man asks, his dark eyes narrow under straight, black eyebrows. 

My heart is racing, and I don’t know why. “They’re not our friends, that’s for sure. The colonel’s soldiers are keeping them in check.”

“And I have more troops arriving soon. We will accompany them to their respective farms for inspections.” Miranda hasn’t shared this with me until now, but it makes sense. I’m not looking at her, but the man and the woman on horseback. 

“I’m Olivia Rollins,” the woman says. “I used to be one of the girls here, four years ago.”

“And you?” Miranda asks the young man.

He dismounts the horse, a stunning grey mare with white mane. Stepping close to us, he stands there in the sunlight, his shoulder long dark brown hair framing his narrow face. And I see it. The straight eyebrows, just like Antonios. The horseshoe shaped birthmark by his left eyes. 

“He’s Theodor Sachs,” I say with a voice that sounds as calm as if I’m reading from one of Annemarie’s recipes. 

Theo stops and frowns. “Do I know you?”

“Yes. Or you used to.” My knees are starting to give in, but I lock them in place using sheer willpower. “Fifteen years ago, we were together every day, Theo. You. Me. Mom. And your dad, Antonio, before he and Mom broke up. We lived on the eighth floor. I walked you to school every day.” Tears flow down my cheeks, and I stagger as I try to remain on my feet.

“Theodor? What is she talking about? Who is this?” Olivia asks after joining my brother where he stands holding a sharp spear.

I feel Miranda’s arm around my waist and I’m grateful. 

“God.” Theo steps closer, sharking off Olivia’s hand when she tries to stop him. “Andy?”

When he’s only six feet away, I can see the last evidence I’ll ever need—his stunning brown eyes with green flecks. I want to pull him into my arms, but even if I know it’s him—he’s not convinced. In fact, he looks suspicious and takes a few steps back.