Page 5 of Ember Rising

“Tell us about your life before the virus, Amira,” Narelle says.

“Why is that important?”

“It helps us get a picture of who you are and what skills you might have.”

“I’m an archer.”

Narelle arches her brows and smiles warmly. “That’s lovely. For hunting, or just target practice?”

“Both.”

Neil picks up his notebook, writing something on it and leaving the back facing me so I can’t see what he wrote.

“What was it like growing up in Egypt?” Narelle asks. “I’ve never been, but I would have loved to visit.”

“Hot. Lots of tea. Tons of jasmine. It was home.”

Neil flicks his gaze from his notepad to my face, looking annoyed.

“Do you want to be here, Miss Khalil?”

I fight a smile. “That’s a loaded question. Do you mean like here, in this room? Here, at your fortress? Here, in this world?”

“I’d take a straight answer to any of those.”

“Okay. No, no, and undecided.”

He’s unflinching, his eyes still locked onto mine. “We can escort you outside our perimeter if you’d prefer. You can fend for yourself out there.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

After a few seconds of tense silence, Narelle says, “I think we rushed things a bit. Let’s get you some food and water. This isn’t meant to feel like an inquisition.”

She side-eyes Neil, whose smile is unnerving.

“Sure. We can wait,” he says. “This is standard operating procedure, Miss Khalil. I’m not as friendly as Narelle—I’m more of a get-right-to-the-point person.”

My suspicion that the mirror is actually a window other people are watching us through is confirmed when the door opens and a small cart is rolled into the room.

There’s a plastic pitcher full of ice water, a cup beside it. A plate with a sandwich and what looks like a bowl of soup makes my stomach growl with hunger.

I can’t help myself—I grab the pitcher of water and pour myself a cup. The cold liquid is so different from the sun-warmed spring water and tepid well water on the island that it takes me aback. It feels good on my throat, sparking a memory of the ice machine at my archery training facility in California.

Ice is one of the many things I used to take for granted. This is the first time I’ve had it in more than six years. I guzzle the entire glass of water, then pour another one.

Narelle stands up. “We’ll leave you to eat. Take your time.”

I shake my head. “I’d rather just finish so I can get back to my friends. What else do you want to know?”

As it turns out, a lot. Neil and Narelle question me for hours. They want to know about my family, which is easy since it was so small. My father was a business owner and my mother ... I leave out that she was an Olympic archer, just telling them she raised me. They don’t need to know how little she actually had to do with that.

“And where were you when the virus came?” Narelle asks.

“San Diego. My parents had an apartment there.”

The apartment there was mine, though they paid for it. I was training for the next Olympics when the virus came. My entire life fell apart in a matter of a few days. Like so many things, the Olympics are gone forever. I never thought shooting at targets from the time I could hold a bow would prepare me to defend myself against people and mutated animals who wanted to kill me.

“Were you working?” Neil prods. “Going to school?”