Compound B

Havermouth, A few days after the storm

“I’ll take her,” the man washing the dishes volunteered, turning with his hands still covered in soap suds. “I need to go to Compound B anyway. Feeding time.”

“Thank you, Toby,” Father Isaiah nodded. “Fortuitous timing.”

Toby dried his hands off on a tea towel and crossed to take Lyric by the elbow.

“Be careful with her,” the passenger said to him. “She’s feisty.”

“She’ll behave,” Toby said firmly. “Come on, Susan.”

He encouraged her out of the cottage and across the vegetable garden. “You are lucky,” he said under his breath. “I thought for a moment that he was going to have Sparrow interrogate you, from the way he was talking.”

“I doubt that I would have enjoyed that,” she replied. They approached yet another black 4WD. “You guys sure went with variety, didn’t you?” She commented sarcastically. He opened the front passenger door and lifted her in before rounding the car to the driver’s side. “How do you know which car is yours when they all loo