Especially because it was quiet near the infirmary, but it’s loud here. People are shouting and arguing. Isabella sobs into the shoulders of a brown boy with long, dark hair. “My father is sick. They don’t think he’ll make it through the night. So many people are dying, Xavier.”

When we walk past them, it’s clear Xavier’s eyes are red too. His hands around her are trembling. “My brother said it’s overwhelming the hospitals. I don’t know how this could happen.”

Elias leans against the wall, fists balled. “My uncle says it’s all a hoax. He told me I shouldn’t buy into it.”

“Yeah, my mom said the same this morning. But she’s sick now.” Chloe Hughes stands across the hall from him, staring harshly into the distance. She’s always been tall and lanky, but it looks like she might fold over.

Grace tenses when she hears the conversations back and forth. “Fuck.”

I frown.

She’s better at reading me than Casey. “I’d forgotten about the phone calls.” She laughs at that and shakes her head, but her laugh is cold and full of pain. “I don’t know how I forgot. I’m trying to keep track of everything, but—”

I reach out and skim her sleeve. Not enough to touch her. Enough to let her know… I don’t know. That I understand? That I’m there? That I haven’t answered her question yet?

I make a scribbling motion with my hand.

She nods. “Thanks, Logan. And good.”

When we get to the kitchen, another person is there already. Nia Miller, with her ever-present pen and ink stains on her hands. She has some of the paper we stole from the classroom folded up in her pockets. A piece lies on the counter in front of her, scrawls all over it. The kitchen still smells faintly of toast and coffee.

She startles when we walk in. Her whole body tenses before she realizes it’s the two of us and not a guard.

“Logan will help take inventory,” Grace says, by way of introduction. “Please be careful to keep your distance from each other.”

“We will.” Nia is already moving again, between the counter and the large pantry. With the doors open, endless cans and cartons peek out, but there’s plenty of empty space too. If the plague doesn’t kill us, we’ll have to keep each other alive.

Grace frowns. “Hunter didn’t leave us much.”

Nia turns to her, a carton in hand. “I think we may be at the end of a delivery cycle, actually. Do you think we can expect anything else?”

Grace’s nostrils flare, and she grimaces. “I’ll ask Isaiah to check.”

“Good.” Nia points me toward a second door across from the pantry. “I started with the dry food,” she says. “You can make a list of what’s in the freezer. We probably need to get through the cooked meals first. We can figure out food for tonight later. Grab a piece of fruit if you haven’t eaten yet. It won’t last anyway.”