“She’ll be back soon, I think.” I hope.

He scoffs. “She did something foolish, didn’t she?”

I shake my head. I have a decent idea of where Grace got those cards and the risks she must have taken. “She did something right,” I say. “She may have saved us.”

He winces. “That’s exactly what I’m worried about.”

Perhaps, in a way, I am too. I stack the plates we used and put them on a table between the four of us and the rest of the group. Josie collects them and brings them to the kitchen. “Don’t worry, I’ll take note of the inventory,” she says, as Logan and Nia filter out.

Logan narrows her eyes, but she nods. She isn’t as used to working with Josie as I am, but I can only imagine she will be soon enough. Josie’s mellowed—or maybe we all have.

Everyone gives us wide berth while we move to our rooms. By chance more than purpose, we’re the only four left in the east wing, so it’s easy enough to quarantine. Now that we’ve done what we needed to do, Nia is yawning, and Riley is flagging too. Logan doesn’t show fatigue, but her gaze has turned inward.

I don’t want to go back yet. With the adrenaline rush of this entire endeavor well and truly gone, my arm is screaming at me, and it’s making me restless.

“I’m going for a stroll in the garden,” I say to no one in particular before I get to my room.

Riley narrows her eyes, but nods. “Make sure you avoid the others.”

“I know.”

She waves her hand at my annoyance. “Good. Because we’re going to have to get back for more supplies in another couple of weeks.” She walks to her room with a smile and an uncharacteristic bounce in her step.

My feet drag by the time I get to the garden. I cradle my wrist to my chest, using the gap between the buttons on my shirt to support my wrist, like I’m some eighteenth-century lord instead of a tired, hurting teenage gravedigger. Definitely don’t remember seeing that on my high school career test.

I circle around the vegetable garden toward the graves, when someone coughs.

I freeze, out of habit. Out of fear. My mouth goes dry, and my palms are sweaty. “Who’s there?” The words are soft even in this silent winter night, so I clear my throat and try again.

No response but another bout of coughing.

I take a step toward the sound to see if anyone needs help. I take a step back to stay out of range. I’m torn within myself.

We’ve kept the plague out of Hope for weeks. Did any of us bring it back?

Oh.

My heart sinks.

No.

I lean forward and manage to make out a shadowy figure sitting against the fence. She’s a shadow against the star-filled, moonless sky overhead. She’s huddled up and has her shoulders pulled up to her ears. She’s breathing hard, and she’s ghostly pale.