The peace of mind brought from Nezumi's note was short-lived. Karan had spent a few months in greater spirits, but knowing Shion was alive out there was not enough to calm a mother's worries. In her waking hours, Karan was able to hope and look strong. But at night, her fears crept in.

Sometimes she dreamt of Shion stumbling through an abandoned wasteland: his face haggard, his clothes threadbare, his hands coated in gore as he reached for her.

Sometimes, she dreamt she and Shion were together again in Chronos, baking and smiling like their lives had never gone awry. But when she stooped to take the cherry cakes from the oven, she turned to find herself alone in the dark storeroom of her Lost Town bakery.

Other times, she dreamt that Shion was safe and warm, protected by some faceless person. She watched them from the window, smiling to herself even while she felt the aching numb spreading through her limbs. Shion was safe, Shion was happy—and he had forgotten all about her.

That was by far the best dream she had of him, but Karan woke shaking and crying from every one. Since Shion's disappearance, she hadn't had a single happy dream of their life together; it was either nightmares or nothingness.

Karan tried not to let it take a toll on her, but poor sleep is hard to hide when its compounded week after week.

"Ms. Karan, are you getting sick?"

"Oh, no, Lili. I'm just tired." Karan smiled at her.

A few strands of her hair slid into her eyes, and she reached back to tuck them away and tighten the knot of her bandana. Karan's hairdresser had cut the strands framing her face too short, and now Karan had to constantly brush hair from her face and retie her bandana to trap the wayward strands.

"Why're you so tired? Are you sleeping? Don't you have a good bedtime?" Lili twisted her mouth to the side, her large brown eyes sparkling with concern.

Karan couldn't help but laugh at seeing such a matronly expression on the young girl's face. "I do have a good bedtime, but I can't seem to stay asleep. It's an old person problem."

Lili blinked back at her with an edge of uncertainty, obviously trying to calculate how many years she had left until she was an "old person" and susceptible to such problems.

"She's right, kiddo." A tall, wiry man in a light brown jacket came around the cake display and dropped his hand on Lili's head. "When you get to our age, sleep is a privilege, not a right."

"Uncle Yo!" Lili yelped and batted his hand away. "My hair! Mama made it special. Don't mess it up."

Lili gently ran her fingers over her crown braid, trying to gauge its condition. The little girl always came in flaunting a new look. Pigtails, twin buns, braids—there was no end to Renka's imagination or Lili's enthusiasm.

Renka had always been adept at hair styling. At the sleepovers in their girlhood days, Renka constantly begged Karan to let her try out the new braid or twist she had learned. Karan brought the sweets, and Renka brought her love of dress up.

They used to joke they were born to be doting mothers.

The tall, dark-haired man chuckled at Lili's fluster, and shrugged a shoulder at Karan. "My niece has always been a fashionista, just like her mom. Nice to see you, Karan."

Karan smiled politely at him. The man was Renka's older brother, Yoming. He was a rather ordinary looking middle-aged man with a full head of hair and a mustache; both had noticeable grey streaks throughout.

Karan hadn't had much interaction with him growing up, despite being close friends with Renka. Yoming hadn't spent a lot of time at the house back then, and the man he was now was no less elusive. In recent years, Yoming had gained a reputation for eccentricity.

Yoming had been an active voice during the first stages of the wall's erection—not because he didn't want the wall built, but because a condition of the quarantine was to put the Babylon Treaty back into place, which meant the citizens must return their weapons. Citizens had been allowed weapons in the first few years of the outbreak to protect themselves from the hordes of the infected, but once the Salvation Edict was ratified, the citizens were expected to turn in their firearms. Yoming did not want to surrender his arms; he didn't trust that they would be completely safe just by building a wall. He argued that the people should be allowed to keep their guns in case the day came when they needed them again. He lobbied the government and petitioned the people over and over for a year.

Then, all of a sudden, he stopped. Karan heard rumors about the reasons, but it never boded well to chase such rumors. The matter was left to molder in shadow.

Nowadays, whenever she heard people talk of Yoming's doings, it was usually whispers about how he talked to birds, and rumors of an arms collection he had ferreted away under the Security Bureau's noses. Karan doubted Yoming had such a thing hidden away—the city was too well mapped and monitored to have secret stockpiles of illegal weapons—but she knew the bird whispering was true: She had seen Yoming in the Forest Park once or twice with a crow perched on his shoulder.

"Would you like a muffin?" Karan asked Yoming.

"Yes, please. A few cheese."

"Hey, no way!" Lili groused as Karan began bagging Yoming's order. "Cheese muffins are my favorite. It's not fair if you hog them all, Uncle Yo!"

Yoming shot a playful, long-suffering look at Karan, and took the bag she handed him. "Lili," he said, voice light but firm. "Who do you think I'm ordering these muffins for?"

Lili glanced between her uncle's face and the bag of muffins. A faint blush rose in her plump cheeks. Her gaze dropped to the floor and she mumbled, "Sorry, Uncle Yo…."

Yoming chuckled and laid his hand atop her head, though he took care not to muss her hair, and this time Lili didn't swat him away.

"Kids, right?" Yoming said to Karan, a rakish smile flirting at the edges of his mouth.

Karan smiled back indulgently, and suddenly the expression on Yoming's face shifted. It was slight, a minute downward pitch in his mirth, a hardening in the depths of his dark eyes. Karan felt certain in that brief moment their gazes locked that there was something Yoming wanted to say to her.

But then Lili snatched at the bag in Yoming's hand and piped, "Let's bring this to Mama," and the moment was gone.

"Anything for you, my loveable niece," Yoming called drolly as Lili headed for the door. He dug out the amount for the muffins and slipped it over the counter.

Karan thanked him automatically, but her mind was still reeling from their odd wordless exchange.

"I'll see you, Karan. Try to get some sleep, huh?" Yoming rapped his knuckles twice on the counter, curled his mouth into the briefest of smiles, and followed Lili out.

What was that about?

Karan tucked her hands into her apron. The encounter left a charged note in the air. She felt restless. Yoming seemed so friendly, but there was something…off about him, too. He could just be an eccentric like everyone said, but she couldn't rule out more nefarious possibilities.

Friend or foe?

"What a nice young man," said the old woman sipping her coffee in the corner.

"Yes. His niece is just adorable."

The old woman stared back at her, face kindly neutral. Karan cleared her throat and swiped Yoming's payment into her apron.

Cheep.

Karan just barely controlled her flinch. She glanced down. A brown mouse. The tightness in her chest evaporated; brown meant safety.

The mouse twitched its nose and spat a capsule on the floor. Her heart rejoiced—only for Karan's nerves to tighten once again.

Why did it put it right here in the bakery?! It should have waited until I was in the back! But then, it was a mouse; she couldn't really blame it for not understanding the imperatives of time and place.

Karan checked if the old woman was watching her still, but the widow had returned to sipping her lukewarm coffee and staring out the window. Satisfied, Karan negotiated dropping a copper coin onto the floor by "accident," murmured loudly about it, and crouched down.

She unrolled the note and the world went still.

Mom, I'm sorry. Alive and well.

Karan clapped a hand over her mouth to keep her breath from shuddering. Shion.

There was no mistaking the slanted, cramped handwriting. And the message… She could perfectly imagine Shion agonizing over it, wondering what to write, how to say the most he could in such a brief note. He was like her in that way. Careful. Purposeful.

Shion. Karan cradled the note to her chest. She wanted to see him. She wanted to hold him in her arms.

Karan had never felt the injustice of No. 6 more in her entire life.

"Madam?"

Karan folded the note and took a few breaths to try to wipe her emotion away, to prepare the face her customers expected. She stood again, tucking the note and the copper into her apron.

The widow had finished her coffee and was gathering her things. "There you are," the old lady crooned. "I thought for a second that you ran off!" She laughed lightly, and Karan tried to smile.

The woman made her farewell, and Karan bowed her head and uttered a banal response.

A young woman trying to enter the bakery met the elderly woman at the door and stepped back to hold it open.

"Safu?"

Karan's brow furrowed even as she said it. She could have sworn Shion's childhood friend had left on her exchange program to No. 5 months ago, but the girl before her was undeniably Safu: chin-length hair, fashionably cut, and large, dark eyes warm with feeling.

She wore a long cream winter coat and a knitted baby pink scarf, which she unwound from her neck as she stepped into the bakery. Safu's grandmother was always knitting her clothing and accessories, which Safu modeled and talked up with pride.

"Ms. Karan," Safu murmured, inclining her head and adjusting the shoulder bag she carried. "It's been a while."

"Yes," Karan agreed with feeling. She smiled and came around the counter to give the girl a hug.

Karan couldn't help it; Safu was as close as she could get to Shion, so she poured all her worry and love into the embrace vicariously. Safu seemed surprised by the affection, but returned the hug after a moment.

"It seems like it's been years!" Karan said, pulling back and admiring Safu's slim face. "You've grown so beautiful. How have you been? I thought you were on exchange?"

Safu's smile was tame in comparison to her own, and Karan remembered the girl had always been a little shy of her, though she shone so brightly when Shion was near. Karan had always attributed her reserve to Safu losing her mother and father at a very young age.

"My grandmother passed away," Safu said. "I came back to attend the funeral."

"Oh." A pang shot through Karan's chest. "Safu… I'm so sorry."

Her last living relative. Safu is all alone now. Karan couldn't help but feel an awful sort of kinship with her. Though Shion was not gone, he was beyond her reach.

"Thank you," Safu murmured at the floor.

Karan brushed a hand over Safu's shoulder. "If there's anything I can do to help, just let me know."

"There is." Safu's gaze snapped up, blazing bright. "Can you tell me where Shion is?"

The question felt like a punch. Karan stepped back, breathless for a moment.

Of course. Safu had been on exchange until recently, perhaps she hadn't heard.

But…

Safu's shoulders were tight, her expression grim. This was not the look of someone who had come here blindly looking for a reunion with her childhood friend.

"I heard," Safu said, voice low. "I heard what they said he did. Murder." Safu laughed once. The sharp, bright sound shivered in the air of the empty bakery. She shook her head. "Ridiculous. Shion would never hurt someone; he isn't capable of it. Couldn't they think of a more believable lie?"

Karan's heart clenched. Without a word, she grabbed Safu's wrist and pulled her around the counter and into the gloomy storeroom.

"You have to be careful, Safu. You can't say such things out loud; you don't know who might be listening. I think it's safe back here, though."

Safu's eyes looked black in the low light. "They're watching you, aren't they?"

Karan wrung her hands. Safu was Shion's closest friend and confidante—Karan wanted to trust her and pour her heart out. But No. 6 was good at planting the seeds of fear and doubt deeply in its citizens' minds, and she was afraid of trusting too much.

Safu suddenly returned from No. 5 and came straight from her grandmother's funeral to ask about Shion. What did that say about her? That she was a concerned friend, anxious to know the truth? Or that she was a spy sent by the Bureau to trick Karan into giving up Shion's location?

"If the Bureau is keeping an eye on you, then I must be right," Safu said. "Shion isn't incarcerated in the Correctional Facility—he's somewhere else. He's safe, isn't he. Isn't he?" Safu took hold of Karan's hands. "Please, Ms. Karan. If you know where he is, you have to tell me."

Karan swallowed. Her throat was so tight it hurt a little.

No, she didn't think Safu was a spy for the Security Bureau. Hers was genuine grief and desperation. Safu looked the way Karan had felt inside every day since Shion's disappearance.

"He's outside the quarantine zone," Karan said, her voice scarcely a whisper. "In West Block."

She expected Safu to flinch back, or at least show some shock, but the girl's expression only sharpened.

"Yes, of course," she murmured, releasing Karan's hands. "I had wondered why the Bureau hadn't announced anything more about Shion's case. But if they don't have him… If he's outside the quarantine zone… Then it's no wonder. They have no intention of going after him; it's not worth the risk. To them, he's as good as dead."

"You think so?"

Safu nodded. "No. 6 has satellites so powerful that they could take a picture of us here with perfect clarity. If they wanted Shion, they could have found him and brought him back months ago."

That's true, Karan thought, hope kindling in her chest. They must not care to go after him in West Block. It's the only thing that makes sense.

Unless he looked completely different from the recorded data.

Karan's breath caught, but she forced it to regulate. Don't be silly, she chastised herself. Nezumi said he was safe. Shion said he was alive and well in his note this morning. He isn't one of those things and he never will be.

Karan slipped a hand into her apron and closed it around Shion's note.

"As long as Shion stays out of the quarantine zone, he's safe." Safu pressed her lips together. "West Block. So close and yet… Is Shion alone?"

Karan blinked at the sudden question. "Why do you ask?"

"It's a feeling I have. And my first hunch was right, so…" Safu's mouth curved into a small smile. "He isn't, right? Someone's by his side?"

"I'm not sure who it is, but… It seems like someone named Nezumi has been watching over him. I think Shion's been waiting to see that person for a long time, so he's probably happy, even being in that terrible place."

Karan hoped this would bring Safu some comfort, but the only change she could perceive was a slight tightening around her eyes and the edges of her smile.

"Thank you, Ms. Karan. I…" Safu paused. "It was so good to see you."

Safu hugged her—tight, tighter than the girl had ever held her before. Karan could not remember that last time Safu—erudite, polite, no-nonsense—had ever initiated a hug. A heaviness settled in her mind, like a fat, dark cloud slipping over the sun.

"I'm going now," Safu said, flashing Karan a sweet smile as she pulled back. "Goodbye, Ms. Karan."

"Wait. Where are you going?" Karan caught Safu by the hand as she made for the storeroom door. "Home? Why does it feel like you're saying goodbye forever?"

She laughed a little as she asked the question, because it sounded too serious otherwise.

Safu's dark, warm eyes stared back at Karan, the corners of her mouth curled up in a sorry sort of impertinence. She was just a slip of a thing, but everything about her look radiated purpose, defiance, and recklessness.

The heaviness in Karan's mind seeped into her chest.

"I'm going, Ms. Karan," Safu said gently. Her tone was forbearing, as if she were the older one, and Karan a silly child, worrying about things that were not hers to worry over. "I'm going to Shion."

Karan's grip tightened around the girl's cold, slender fingers. "To West Block? Safu, you can't! The place is crawling with infected! It's dangerous, and if you leave the quarantine zone, you may never be able to get back in."

"I know. I don't care. There's nothing for me here anyway."

"Nothing for you? What are talking you about? You have your exchange to finish. You have your whole life ahead of you!"

"The only life I want is one with Shion in it; I can't have that here. There is nothing No. 6 can give me now. My grandmother is gone, I canceled the paperwork for the exchange this morning. The only thing I have now is Shion. The only thing I want is to be by Shion's side."

Safu gripped Karan's hand. Her eyes were hard and desperate, and they glistened with stubbornly unshed tears.

"I love him," she choked. "I want to be with him. Even if it's in the Deadlands, even if I can only exist in his shadow. I don't care if I can't be first in his heart, I just… I just need…"

Safu trembled. Karan could feel her whole body shaking.

She's so young. Karan remembered when she was that young. When love was the only thing that mattered, and she didn't care to think more than two minutes ahead of the present moment. But a love like that was all-consuming, and it was not made for lasting. The brighter and more passionate the attachment, the quicker it burned away, and the sooner you were left spent and bereft.

Karan had thought she would be with the man she loved forever. She thought she would do anything to stay by his side. But in the end, she was left standing on the doorstep with a newborn baby in her arms as she watched her love disappear over the horizon.

A single tear rolled down Safu's cheek, and Karan lifted her free hand to brush it away.

"Thank you," Karan murmured. "Thank you for loving him so much. I've been missing him alone all these months… It makes me so happy to know there's someone else who loves and misses Shion as much as I do."

Safu sniffed and rubbed at her face with the back of her hand. "You understand, don't you?"

"I understand why you want to go to him." Karan soothed Safu's hair, gently, like a mother does for her young child. "But, Safu… You don't need him to be whole. You can't build your life around a man; it only leads to heartache."

Karan hoped that her feelings and experience would get through to the girl, but Safu was only sixteen, and though highly intellectual, there were few things at that age that could overcome the heart.

A pang shot through Karan's chest as Safu pulled her hand back and took a step toward the door.

"Thank you, Ms. Karan. I have to go now."

"Safu, please," Karan cried, desperation finally coaxing her voice above a sedate whisper. "You're Shion's best friend; you mean the world to him. He wouldn't want you to put yourself in danger by going after him. If you love Shion, then wait. Wait for him to come home."

"He may never come home."

"We can't know that. Perhaps the government will finally find a cure, and the quarantine will end. He will be able to come back then." Karan brightened. "You could enter the medical labs and help them research! You're so smart, Safu; if you were on the team, I'm sure we'd have a cure in no time. Why not dedicate your time to that?"

Safu smiled. "That's a great idea. I'll look into it." She inclined her head and said her goodbyes again.

Karan watched from the bakery window as Safu's cream coat disappeared around the corner. She twisted her hands in her apron. This isn't good. I feel like I will never see her again.

The feeling grew darker and heavier until she could bear it no longer. I'll go stay with her, she decided. She's all alone in her grandmother's house now. I'll fix her some dinner and keep an eye on her.

Karan turned toward the back of the room to fetch her coat, and something on the counter caught her attention: Safu's pink scarf. She must have placed it there when Karan dragged her into the back room.

"Perfect," she said, smiling to herself. She could use returning the scarf as an excuse to go to Safu's.

She took it from the counter, pulled on her coat, and bustled out into the cool evening air. She walked a little faster than usual, but not much. Safu couldn't have gotten that far, and besides, Karan knew the way to her grandmother's house well enough.

The sun had just slipped out of sight, and the lip of the wall sparkled like thousands of tiny rhinestones. Karan had heard the younger kids refer to the handful of minutes where the sun hits the wall just so as "twinkle time." They liked to stop and watch until the glimmer faded and the wall returned to its dull, bone-white existence.

The streetlights flicked on all at once as Karan turned around the block. The light pooled in the narrow streets and glided along the edges of the sidewalks, but nearer to the buildings and homes, the walk was drowned in shadow. Karan had always wondered which city planner had made this decision, and why they thought it a good idea to only light one straight swath of street, and leave the rest to darkness.

Perhaps it was a metaphor for life in No. 6: Keep to the path we lay for you, and you will be safe.

Karan slowed. She heard voices, at least one male, and one female. As she neared the next turn, their calm tones jumped higher. The female voice sounded distressed, and the male's angry.

Karan's heart leapt. She scurried to the corner, quietly, in case it was just a couple having a fight, and peered around the edge.

The first thing she noticed was the sleek black Security Bureau cruiser. The vehicle was unmistakable; black cars were off-limits to regular citizens. The mere sight of the cruiser raised the hairs on the back of Karan's neck, but then there were the two officers who belonged to it—and Safu standing, tense, before them.

"You have been traveling abroad and need to be checked for infection," barked the closest officer.

"I was tested upon entry," Safu said, taking an instinctive step back. "I'm clean. I don't see why I need to come to the Bureau now."

"This isn't a discussion. You're coming with us."

The officer snatched Safu by the forearm and started pulling her toward the cruiser, while his partner opened the rear car door. Safu screamed for help as they dragged her.

Karan's heart lurched.

I have to go to her. I have to help!

But her body wouldn't move. If she rushed out to interfere, they might take her too. She already had a fallen son; if she was taken, too, who would miss her? Who would be left waiting for Shion?

Karan felt sick and weak and painfully ashamed.

Safu twisted in the officer's grip and slammed her baginto the side of the man's head. He grunted, and his grip loosened. Karan's pulse quickened as Safu bolted in her direction.

Yes! Karan resolved then that when Safu made it to her, she would protect her. She would face the officers bravely and hope her presence as a witness would convince them to retreat.

Safu's gaze found Karan hunched in the shadows. A myriad of emotions flared in her eyes: hope, fear, relief, regret.

Karan began to rise to meet her.

One of the officers caught Safu around the waist, and the other clapped a hand over her face. Safu's screams were muffled by the cloth pressed over her mouth and nose, and soon they died away completely. She went slack in the officers' grips, and they dragged her into the waiting cruiser, slammed the door, and sped off.

Karan remained half-crouched in the darkness. Her body shook. She stared at the spot the cruiser had been, unable to move.

The Security Bureau abducted Safu. They had drugged and dragged her away, out in the open and without an ounce of fear.

And why should they fear such boldness? Not a soul responded when Safu screamed for help, and Karan had stayed frozen and done nothing.

Once again, she had failed to protect a child she loved.

Karan fisted her hands in Safu's soft, pink scarf, tears running down her face. She swiped at them and forced her body to move. She ran as fast as she could toward the bakery.

No. 6 thought they could just take people and get away with it. They thought because Safu had no living relations that no one would miss her or care. Karan wouldn't allow it. She had failed to stop Safu's abduction, but she still had one meager hope for saving her.

Nezumi.

The name ran in a litany through her head as she rushed through the main part of the bakery and into the storage room. They had helped her once, perhaps they could help her again.

Karan snatched up a pen and paper and began to write.