Joshua asked. “You were having a nightmare.” Something registered in his eyes and he looked away, embarrassed. “I was dreaming about my time in the bunker … and about my family.” I moistened my lips with my tongue. “Where’s your family?” Joshua ran the blade of the knife over his palm. Then he looked up, and the expression in his eyes felt like a stab in the heart. “They died.” His tone was flat, but his eyes showed so much pain. “I’m sorry.” Joshua nodded. “You … you mentioned Zoe.” Joshua turned and slumped against the wall. “Zoe is …” He paused. “Zoe was my sister.” He swallowed and closed his eyes. He looked lost again. I crawled over and sat beside him, clasped his hand in mine and squeezed. He let his head drop back until it rested against the wall. “Was your family killed by … them?” He let out a long breath and peered at me through half-closed eyes. “My sister was … My mother …” He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut as if he was trying to force an image out of his head.
