Book busied himself with helping organizing the distribution of supplies. He had always been a practical man, and experience had taught him that when it came to consoling people in grief practical help was often the best consolation one could offer. And while handing out blankets and bars of protein to the people now making themselves a home in the caves, he discreetly observed Torsten Norby, who was nearby doing the same thing. He saw how people seemed to flock around the man now, they looked to him for guidance and assurance, and Book wasn't surprised. After all it had been Torsten who had talked them all into evacuating the town and thus saved their lives, and the mayor – Wong – was gone now, buried under millions of gallons of water, together with his followers.

Book was only saddened by that thought. Despite all the harsh words he'd endured, it gave him no satisfaction whatsoever to be proven right, and he had prayed for them, for all those lost souls. They hadn't been evil, only misguided, and out here on the rim you couldn't really blame people for not trusting strangers. And now they were all dead; men, women, children…

And Wash… God rest his soul.

Zoë was still sitting on the crate by the entrance. Book had tried talking to her on a few occasions, but even though she hadn't exactly yelled at him she'd made it pretty clear that these attempts weren't welcome. He cast her another long glance and sighed heavily.

"The pilot was her husband?" Torsten was suddenly beside him and he spoke in a soft whisper.

"Yeah."

"I'm so sorry. She didn't deserve this."

"No." Book looked at him. "None of you did."

They turned and walked further inside the cave to take a little breather by one of the fires that had been lit there. "I've been thinking a lot about it," Torsten said as he poured them both a cup of coffee. "About how you just happened to show up the day before the dam broke. Never t