The Forsaken

figure as long as Liam is with me, everything will be okay. I stand up, Liam already at my side.
    “Come with me, then,” Dr. Vargas-Ruiz says.
    We follow her out of the chamber and back into the hall, wending our way through the network of tunnels. My pulse is racing faster. Liam and I hold hands.
    Dr. Vargas-Ruiz finally stops at a wide door. This one is made of burnished wood. It has a handmade sign hanging on it that reads RECONCILIATION ROOM 6 .
    Her fingers tighten around the doorknob. “Alenna, are you ready?”
    “Probably not,” I tell her honestly. “Can’t you just tell me who’s in there?”
    Liam steps in front of me. “Let me go inside first,” he says.
    “You’re worried there’s something scary in the room,” Dr. Vargas-Ruiz intuits. “A threat.”
    “Just being cautious.” He glances back at me. “Alenna saved my life in the specimen archive. We watch out for each other.”
    “Good. We need people like you and Alenna here.” Dr. Vargas-Ruiz turns the doorknob and pushes the door open. “Just take it slowly, okay?”
    Liam steps forward, and I follow him into the room.
    The room is small and has a warm yellow lightbulb jerry-built onto the ceiling. There’s a wooden table inside, with a plastic pitcher of water on it and two mugs. In one corner sits a pathetic fake rose in a homemade clay vase. Dr. Vargas-Ruiz moves into the room behind me.
    But it’s the person sitting in the chair at the table, looking up at me, who makes my heart skip a beat.
    “You . . .” I breathe, feeling my legs start to give way.
    It’s not possible. I must finally be losing my mind. That’s the only explanation.
    I’ve cracked.
    Liam grabs at me, keeping me steady.
    “Easy,” he says, but I can barely hear his voice over the rush of blood to my head. “Who is she?” he asks.
    The woman in the chair is someone I never expected to see again. Someone I haven’t seen in a very long time.
    “Alenna,” she says, still looking up at me.
    Now I know I must be going crazy, because her voice hasn’t changed in all the years since I last saw her. It’s the same voice that has played over and over in my head.
    A voice I could never forget.
    Her hair is short and graying at the temples, and she has a lot more wrinkles. Otherwise, she looks pretty much the same. I just keep staring at her.
    “C’mon, tell me who she is,” Liam is saying, sounding worried.
    I can only manage a single word before the emotions overwhelm me, and I go crashing to the floor.
    “Mom.”

HOMECOMING
    I ’ M CRYING SO HARD that my words catch not only in my throat, but also in the jumble of my mind. Thoughts crash down like waves breaking on jagged rocks. Liam has his arms around me as we crouch on the floor together.
    “Your mom?” Liam whispers into my ear. “But I thought you were an orphan.”
    I still can’t speak. Not even to him.
    My mom half-rises from her chair. “Alenna,” she says again.
    Then she rushes around the table toward me. I fall forward into her arms. She feels different from how I remember. Smaller and frailer. But she smells the same: the warm scent of home that has lingered in the corners of my dreams and tattered memories ever since she and my dad were taken.
    “It’s really you?” I whisper past the tears.
    “It’s me.”
    “But—” I’m so confused, torn between laughter and hysterical tears. “How?”
    “The thought of seeing you again is what kept me alive,” she murmurs.
    I pull back from our embrace, and I scrutinize her face. Yes, it is her. I have no doubt. Her eyes are the same shade as mine, like they always were.
    I glance back. Liam is right behind me. Dr. Vargas-Ruiz places a pale hand on his shoulder.
    “I thought you and Dad were dead,” I tell my mom, turning back to her, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. “I mean, I always secretly hoped I was wrong.”
    “I was sent to the wheel too,” she says. “It was an internment camp for UNA political dissidents, before it became the abomination it is today. Your father and I were both sent there after we were arrested, along with anyone else who the government thought was a threat and couldn’t coerce into joining them. We did nothing wrong, other than disagree with the UNA’s policies.”
    “Minister Harka told us you helped him on the wheel, before he died.” I pause, wondering if she even knows that Minister Harka is dead. This should be major news to her. But she doesn’t look surprised, so maybe