The bleach was cheap as hell. It stung my eyes, and even after I rubbed myself down in citrus-based lotion—designed for swimmers pre-Rising, back when they were the only people bleaching themselves on a regular basis—my skin kept itching. “Isn’t this going to be an absolutely awesome night?” I muttered, yanking on a clean pair of khakis.

Better than tomorrow, said George.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.” I hesitated. This seemed to be my night for heart-to-heart talks, maybe because I wasn’t entirely sure I’d still be alive in twenty-four hours. “George—”

Yes?

I swallowed. “How long is it going to be like this? I mean, how long am I going to be your haunted house, or are you going to be my imaginary friend, or whatever the fuck the cool kids are calling it these days? Is this forever?”

George’s answer, when it came, was thoughtful and slow. Are you asking because you’re scared of losing me, or because you’re hoping I’m going to go away one day?

“Yes. No. I mean… I mean I don’t know, George, and I sure as shit need you right now, but I have to wonder sometimes if this is my life. If this is the rest of my life.”

I think I’m here as long as you keep me here, Shaun. I think one day you’re going to look at a mountain and say “I should climb that,” or hell, look at a pretty girl and say the same thing. I think when that happens, I’ll go. She laughed a little, and added, But what do I know? I’m just the dead girl in your head.

“You know everything, George. You always did.” I put my hand flat against the steamed-up mirror. If I squinted a little, and didn’t let myself really look, I could pretend it was her looking back at me and not my own blurred reflection. “I miss you.”

I know. But that won’t keep me here forever.

The others were waiting for me in the girls’ room. Mahir was in the process of towel drying his hair, and Kelly was back in street clothes. The CDC costume was for tomorrow, when we’d storm the gates or die trying. The hair extensions were gone, and she had a baseball cap pulled low over her eyes to hide her features from any bored bloggers taking pictures for background color. Becks had put her rifle away. She was leaning against the wall next to the door, expression one of bland detachment.

“Hey,” I said, stepping inside. “Who feels up for pizza?”

“What took you so long?” asked ecks.

I shrugged, smiling a little. “I had to talk something out with myself before I could come over here. That’s all.”