“I don’t miss anyone. Not a single goddamned person,” Tanq says. “Though I wouldn’t be sad to see the boys again. I don’t miss them exactly, but I never wanted anything bad to happen to them.”

“The boys?” Wyatt says.

“My mom and I shared an apartment with another family. They had three boys, all younger than me. We bickered all the time. I hated it. But not them. I didn’t hate them.”

“Did you ever play football? Your dad being a coach and all?” Trey asks Wyatt. Looking for common ground, no doubt.

“Naw,” Wyatt says, and his gaze gets shifty. “Dad tried to get me into it, but I guess I had different interests.”

“Like what?” I ask.

“Orienteering. Hunting.” Wyatt’s bag hits mine, shoving it into the hole. His teeters on the edge, but doesn’t go in.

“Sandusky rules!” I say. We agreed during the first game that if an opponent’s bag pushes yours in, you get the score.

“I could never kill a living creature,” Tanq says.

“Not even to survive?” Wyatt says.

She shrugs. “Maybe?”

“What about the aliens?” Wyatt asks.

Tanq blinks. “Huh. I’m not sure. I wouldn’t like it, but . . .” Her voice trails off.

“Orienteering,” I say. “Isn’t that where you find your way around the wilderness with a compass or something?”

“Yeah,” Wyatt says. “I’m really good at it. One time, just to prove I could do it, I had my dad drop me off in the middle of the woods with a knife, a topo map, and a compass. I built a shelter, found food and water, and stayed there for five days. Then I found my way out.”

“Wow, your dad let you do that?” I say.

“He believed in me. I had emergency flares in case something went wrong. But nothing did.”

“All of us were really good at something before the virus hit,” Trey says. “But I think you and Tanq might be the only ones who’ll get to keep doing your thing. I admit, I’m a little envious.”

I know the feeling.

“What are you good at, Tanq?” Wyatt asks.

Tanq freezes, like it’s some kind of attack.

“She’s good at art,” I say.

“And vandalism,” Trey says.

“And eating,” Tanq says. “You forgot eating.”

“Art and vandalism and eating,” I amend.

A few turns later, Tanq and Wyatt are leading. I miss the next toss on purpose. Trey gives me a knowing look, but he doesn’t say anything.

“So what do you all think of Manny’s options?” Trey says.

I remember Tanq, rocking back and forth in mindless terror after the drone took out Paul’s RAV4. I say, “We’re still not over last time we were attacked. I don’t know that we’re ready to do anything.”

“Maybe that’s something you never get over,” Trey says.