Trey and I sit side by side, his arm around me, both of us with our feet up on the coffee table. It’s amazing, this feeling of caring for another person so much, knowing you’re cared for in return. I don’t know how I’d be doing right now if not for that.

“Wyatt, how many puffs do you have left on that thing?” I ask.

He pulls it from his pocket, checks the counter, and says, “Thirty-nine. I take it four times per day, unless I have an event, then I have to take more.”

“So a week’s worth, tops,” I say. “We need to get you another inhaler.”

“It should be our first priority,” Trey says.

“Really?” Wyatt says.

“Why so surprised?” I say.

Wyatt stares at the ceiling. “I thought that maybe, you two being athletes, that you’d, I dunno, want to leave me behind or something. You know, once you found out about my . . . and then I was all weird to Trey. Manny explained why that was racist on the drive to the barge, and I really didn’t mean it like that, but I wouldn’t blame you all if—”

“Wyatt,” Trey says. “I do need you to be not-racist. But I don’t need you to be not-asthmatic. Okay?”

Wyatt swallows hard, and his jaw works overtime. Then he says, “Okay. There’s a pharmacy two blocks over.”

“So maybe we head there tonight,” I suggest. “During tower-down time.”

“Wouldn’t hurt to grab some other supplies too,” Trey says. “Some antibiotics, a painkiller, stuff for emergencies.”

Tanq says nothing. She doesn’t make eye contact, hardly even moves. I have no idea if she’s paying attention to anything we’re saying.

“I appreciate you all looking out for me,” Wyatt says. “I do. But I guess what I really want to know is . . . what are we going to do next? Maybe Plan A wasn’t so bad after all. We find a place to hole up, somewhere protected. Wait everything out as long as we can.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Trey says, sounding defeated.

“Manny is dead because of what we did,” Wyatt says. “We try to pull something like that again, another one of us could die. Or all of us.”

“I don’t want to go near that lake again, much less the tower,” Trey says.

“Guys!” I practically shout. “We can’t give up. Not now.”

“Paige, we have to,” Trey says, and I’m suddenly sick with disappointment that he’s not backing me up. “We’re back to square one with ‘what we don’t know might get us killed.’ We thought we could avoid the Farmers by being still and quiet, staying under cover, but it turns out they can sense us—”

“Exactly,” I interrupt. “If they can sense us, Plan A will never work. We have to try to take them down, or we’ll never be safe.”