“My friend is lining up for rations today, but they need a rations card. No one will give us anything otherwise.”

“So you thought you’d sneak into a plague house and steal a card for yourself?” Contrary to her angry words, the woman lowers the knife farther. “What an absurd idea.”

“I know,” I admit. I didn’t even let myself think about it too hard. “But I don’t know if I could find a card anywhere else, and I’d hoped, since your sign is still so recent…” I stop when I realize how that must sound.

She has no such qualms. “You hoped I’d be dead but our food and our bodies not yet looted.”

I don’t—I can’t deny it. “Yes.”

She doesn’t shout at me. She doesn’t tell me to get out. She doesn’t have to. I’m here already, aren’t I? “You weren’t given any food?”

“No food. No care. No way to contact our families.” I keep my voice as steady as I can.

“And you didn’t get sick?”

In the back of my mind, a small voice is shouting at me. Telling me to leave the house, get away from the woman, run while I still can. But instead, I sag down on the nearest chair—one of those old, leather armchairs—and I tell her. I tell her everything from the first night until now, like a waterfall of words and stories that needs to make its way out of my brain.

The old woman walks to a chair opposite mine with considerable difficulty and sits down. “And so you thought it would be better to die trying to find a solution than go back empty-handed.”

Yes. I promised Casey that too, though I didn’t say it out loud. “I may be lucky.”

“You may be.” She doesn’t sound convinced. She wavers back and forth on her chair. She opens the drawer of a coffee table and pulls out two cards. “One of these belonged to my children. My Marcus went to get it when they—” She swallows. “The other one is ours. You should take both, for as long as they’ll work. I’ll have no use for them soon.”

My breath catches. I feel faint. “Are you sure?”

The woman smiles, and it makes the coldness in her eyes thaw a little. But then she coughs again, and when she holds up a handkerchief to her lips, I can see the blood spatters. “I’m certain.”

She hesitates then pulls out a cell phone with the charger still plugged in. “Take this as well. Some of you should be able to call home. Some of you should be able to contact your families before this is all over.”

I’m too tired and relieved to be emotional, but I reach out to her regardless. I cover her hand with mine before I can think better of it. “Thank you. Thank you.”

She looks at my hand over hers and shakes her head. “I’m sorry.”

* * *

I’m blocks away from the house before I realize I don’t even know her name. I cling to the cards and the phone like they’re made from solid gold. They’re as valuable.