Page 78 of The Gods Will Sing Our Song

“He’s not here! Leave us alone. There’s only sick people, and you’re disturbing them,” Nurse Rose says. Another pause. The rattling begins again, this time much more forceful. There’s too many of them. They’re going to break the door down.

“Let them in,” Dr. Suzuki says, voice as placid as if he’s giving directions to mop the floor. We stare at him. “Show them he’s not here.”

We turn to look at Mr. Nomura’s bed, our attention strung between it and the mob. Something splinters in the door. It won’t hold much longer. They’re going to bust in. We won’t be able to stop them. I hold the chair, ready. Nurse Rose unlatches the door. Several men stampede across the threshold, reminding me of silvery fish dumped on the pier, flopping and wriggling about, unsure where to go. Some of them have bandannas tied over their noses and mouths, revealing only slivers of their faces. Others are dressed in work coveralls, like they don’t want to get their clothes dirty.

“He’s not here,” Nurse Rose repeats. The men stop and peer around, lowering their weapons.

“It’s true,” Dr. Suzuki says. “They took Joe Nomura to the hospital in Independence. Look.”

Methodically, he pulls back the few curtain partitions. He gets to Mr. Nomura’s curtain. I swear he wavers, but he yanks it back. We stare at the cot. Only a few layers of wool separate Mr. Nomura from his attackers. I think about how he must be holding his breath, trying desperately to be still. To me, his form is undeniable. My eyes seek out the unnatural humps and depressions of the blankets and trace them like hills on a map. Dr. Suzuki drops the curtain and keeps going.

Movement to my left makes me swivel. Someone is flanking me. One of the rebels meets my gaze. I only see his eyes above the taut bandanna, but he’s young, about my age. He glances at the chair I hold and tenses in response, as though I’m the aggressor, not him. A man calls, “They got him out. Took him to Independence. Who’s next on the list?”

They traipse out the door. When the last one is gone, I drop the chair with a thud. My shoulder and hand, which don’t hurt much anymore, throb. I’ve been taken back in time, my old aches returning.

“They’re going,” Nurse Rose breathes as she watches from the broken window. Icy air streams in. She fetches a broom and dustpan to sweep up the shattered glass. The shards shine against the uneven floorboards. Cold air swishes across us.

“I gotta go,” I say to Dr. Suzuki. “I’ll find Kai.”

As far as I’m concerned, Dr. Suzuki is only capable of one facial expression. The guy always looks stern—so much so that you’d think his face was stuck that way. But when I speak, the sternness cracks and reveals a depth of fear I’m not prepared to see. I glance away. All Dr. Suzuki says, though, is “Arigato, Ren.”

Warily, I leave the hospital. One or two men mill around, but most of them have moved on, searching for their next victim. I walk as fast as I can.

Violet. Cosette. Mama. Kai. Their names repeat in my head. Somehow, even Emi’s name flashes through my mind, as though she’s alive and I need to keep her safe with everyone else. Everyone I love is in danger. You’d think the realization would fill me with rage, but it does the opposite. Drains me of everything. My mind clears. My hands don’t shake. My senses calm. I’m empty. But it’s an eerie emptiness, a precursor, a quiet so gentle it feels deadly.

Mess hall bells ring. More glass shatters. Guards run by. The searchlight doesn’t skim the camp. It jolts and jerks. I cross a few firebreaks.

I go to Violet’s barrack first. The barracks in this area are silent, families hiding inside. No lights shine. Everyone inside wants the danger to pass them over. I can almost hear the desperate prayers, the panicked breaths, the shushing as parents try to get their kids to be quiet. I briskly walk up and down the firebreak, making sure no one is around. Violet and Mrs. Aratani will be safe. Now I need to go check on Mama and then find Kai.

I make it to my barrack. Mama jumps up from her cot as I enter.

“Mr. Wozumi says a riot’s broken out. I didn’t know where you were,” she says, sitting down on the bed she’s just risen from. “I thought maybe you’d run off and joined the fight like the other bakatare.”

“No. I was trying to get back here.”

“I can take care of myself.” Her back is ramrod straight and her foot taps impatiently against the bed frame, making it vibrate. Doesn’t matter if there’s an uprising raging outside. Here she sits, a mix of will and annoyance. I smile, just a little.

“I know you can,” I say. “In fact, if we let you out into the rebellion, you’d make quick work of it.”

“Bah, stupid boy,” Mama says, but her tone isn’t angry. It’s worried. I make my way over to the partition and knock quietly on it.

“Mr. Wozumi?”

“Hai?” He steps into our portion of the barrack. I almost don’t recognize him. His face is hard and firm, like a man set unrelentingly to a task, one he won’t allow himself to fail at.

“I have to go find my friend. You’ll guard the barrack?”

“Of course.” He lifts a baseball bat. I hear the Wozumi children whispering together and Mrs. Wozumi shushing them. He has a lot to protect. “I’ll make sure your mother is safe, too.”

“Thank you.”

Outside our barrack, I hear shouting, followed by scuffling. The violence is like the winter desert wind. It howls. Makes our walls shake and our windows rattle. Mr. Wozumi returns to his family. I head for the door.

“No.” Mama jumps up, steps in front of me. She pushes me hard in the chest. “You’re not going out there.”

I move around her.

She catches my wrist and clings to it with both hands. I twist it free, making my skin burn in the process. I keep moving. She grabs my shirt. The fabric stretches. Tears. Mama is silent now. She doesn’t say no anymore but, before I can touch the handle, she gets between me and the door. Her hand flashes at me and I think she’s going to slap my face, but she stops at the last moment. Vaguely, I know we’re doing it again. The awful struggle we’ve always done, the same one we did in the living room of our old apartment when she wanted to destroy my fox.