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dying woodland creature. An old grizzly, maybe, that came out of hibernation too soon.
    Normandy is built in the ruins of an old automobile factory dating to the pre-hovercar era. Most of the base is located in the old utility tunnels, similar to Thermopylae, which was dug into the hollowed shell of Chicago. There’s some storage above ground, from what I remember of the Director’s brief lectures, but most of Normandy is in the tunnels. The main entrance is a manhole that’s been well hidden in a copse of trees grown over the old industrial site. Even with four of us looking, it takes about twenty minutes before Bear finally shouts excitedly that he’s found the door.
    “Praise the harvest, and all the gods invented by man,” Miah says, collapsing onto his back as the rest of us dig around to uncover the entrance to the base. “I thought I was going to die out here.”
    A wave of relief that we made it this far safe and sound, despite our hunger, washes over me now. And hope, too.  Will my father be there? Rhinehouse? Kenzie’s parents? The Director?
    Eli and Soren scrounge around for the hidden lever and then pry the cover off. Eli climbs down the ladder into the tunnel. Once we’re all at the bottom, we type the passcode into the digital scanner set into the metal door blocking the tunnel. A tiny camera in the corner of the doorframe fixes its lens on each of us and captures an image to process through the facial recognition software in the comm center. It will only allow those who have registered with the Resistance to enter, so the two foreign faces—Bear and Miah—prompt the intercom system.
    “State your names and declare your guests.”
    Eli speaks into the screen: “Elijah Tawfiq, Remy Alexander, and Soren Skaarsgard from base Thermopylae with Bear, a renegade Farm worker, and Jeremiah Sayyid, formerly of the Okarian Sector. We’re survivors of the attack. Jeremiah is sick and requires immediate medical care.”
    Three sizable, but ancient looking metal locks unlatch in sequence and the door swings open to reveal a narrow, dirty passageway to a second door. The door opens almost as soon as we close off the outside, and a tall, thin man with a thick shock of grey hair beckons us inside. A wiry grey mustache sticks out beneath a small nose and I immediately think  mouse .
    “I’m Hodges, the medic here. What going on?” He looks at Miah.
    “He’s feverish. Diarrhea. Might have an infection. Exhausted. Still recovering from MealPak withdrawal,” Eli rattles off.
    “Nothing a warm bed and some good food won’t solve,” he says as we stop at the door to the infirmary. He takes Miah by the arm. I peer into a room with a row of beds lined up along the wall. They look awfully inviting, and I know I’m not the only one who would appreciate a little time in the infirmary with a kindly medic fussing over me. “I’ll take care of him. The rest of you head into the kitchen, down this hallway and take the first right. Adrienne, Normandy's captain, is heading there now.”
    My heart seems to settle into an iron cage.
    “Hodges … has anyone else come from Thermopylae yet?” The words come out in a rush of desperation, of hope ready to die.
    He shakes his head.
    “Not yet. We’ve word that there might be a group heading here soon, though. It’s your father you’re after….”
    I nod mutely.
    “Time will tell. For now, go eat. Adrienne will want to talk to you.”
    “Thank you,” I respond, biting my lip, disappointed, but what he said sounds promising.  A group might be heading here soon.
    Meanwhile, I’m experiencing a more pressing physical sensation. My stomach feels like an empty, bottomless pit. The mere idea of a kitchen is overpowering.  Food. Water. Chairs . Hodges waves us out of the infirmary.
    As we walk, Soren grabs my hand and squeezes. “We made it,” he whispers, his breath warm and tickling my skin. It sends shivers up and down my spine. I half think he’s going to kiss me,