I decide to go with stark honesty. “Because Trey and I are nice people. You’re a bitch, sure. You’re angry at everything for some reason. But you’re . . .” I give Trey a sliver of a grin. “Our best friend. Whether you like it or not. Whether we like it or not.”

She doesn’t respond, just sits there staring wide-eyed, so Trey adds, “You’re not stuck with us. If you want to go your separate way, that’s fine. But Paige and I have been talking, see, about finding survivors and maybe building a community back up somehow. So we really hope you consider sticking around.”

Tanq lets her hand drift down to Emmaline’s thick ruff. Emmy shifts, guiding Tanq’s hand to the exact spot behind her ear that she likes rubbed the most. Finally, Tanq speaks. “That thing almost killed me.”

“Yes,” I say.

“It’s still out there.”

“Yep.”

“Are you going to stay here? In this house?”

Trey says, “We don’t know. Once Paige gets her strength back, we’ll figure out what to do next.”

Her gaze snaps to me. “Get your strength back? Why? What happened? Is that why you look like an anorexic cheerleader?”

This time, as my temper flares white hot in my chest, I don’t bother tamping it down. “Look, girl, I don’t know what your problem is, and I don’t know why you think you have to be insulting and combative, but I know—knew—a lot of cheerleaders and not a single one was anorexic, and maybe you—”

“Paige got sick,” Trey interrupts gently. “She wasn’t immune to the plague like I was. Like you must have been. She was in a coma for a week before she started to recover.”

Something flits across Tanq’s face that might be shame. “Oh.” Then she adds, “Sorry.” But she punches the word out like it’s a weapon.

“Whatever,” I say, rising from the couch. “I’m going to make myself a sandwich.” Emmaline jumps down from the couch to follow me.

We’re halfway to kitchen when Tanq calls out, “Wait! Paige.”

I turn around.

“I want to stay,” she says, peering over the back of the couch toward me. “I’ll go wherever you two are going. It’s just that I have some business to take care of first.”

“What kind of business?” I ask.

“That’s none of your . . . business.”

Another deep breath. “I’m not trying to be nosy,” I tell her. “But maybe we can help.”

That fleeting look of shame again. “Oh. Right. I guess it’s not safe out there, is it?”

“It’s really not,” Trey says. “We don’t even know if it’s safe here. We’re learning as we go. But in the meantime, Paige and I have agreed never to leave this house alone.”