Thirty-One
That evening after dinner, all of the zone’s citizens, close to fifteen thousand according to Henna, met in the stone amphitheater to talk. In order to build trust, Henna had recommended that Grace, Heron, and the military keep their distance for now.
Let it begin as a community meeting, she’d said. Then you can answer the questions. I’ve no doubt they’ll have plenty.
Yet it wasn’t easy for Grace to be left out of the conversation. She paced their hot tent, wearing a path in the dirt floor.
Finally, Heron said, “No point in us wasting the last bit of daylight in here. Come on.”
He led her out of the tent and up the row, only disappearing for a minute when he ducked his head into the tent at the end.
When he reappeared, he was holding a rifle, one that looked similar to wha
