She didn’t offer it to Poppy and Rivera. She scooped the remains into her bowl and pushed the empty back at me. “Waste not, want not. You ought to eat better.”

“I eat.”

“Not like a normal person.”

“Eh.” I leaned in. “Why don’t you want to move?”

“Because here, we know what the problems are. Up there . . . ?” She shuddered.

Poppy mopped her brow. “Bet it’ll be cooler. Certainly be more space.”

We were filling the air, but even nattering was more soothing than silence. Our heads turned as a runner trotted across the main hall and up the stairs toward the office. Nothing urgent, by the pace of her step. Four shrugs of disappointment. Better if Daniel had left me his phone rather than the key to his boat. But there’d be no number to call.

“I’m heading upstairs.” Jenn stood to stack our empty bowls. Her wrist bangles chimed a merrier sound than any of us felt. “See if the com is up, now we have power.”

“I’m game.” Poppy rose to help. She had her rough edges, but was always ready to lend a hand, sort of like a nice version of Gracie. “No point moping around all night.”

I nudged Rivera’s elbow. “Weather check, at least? I heard rumors of a cold front.”

“I’ll check on the children first.”

The rest of us trouped after Jenn, sheep following the clink of her bells. But in the loft, the big screen was dark, showing only a ‘no signal’ message.

“Nothing?” Jenn flattened both palms against her jaw.

A clump of Wizzers crowded around the favorite workstation, batting ideas back and forth like ping-pong balls.

Jenn waded in among them. “There was sun all day. We should have power by now.”

“Power we got. But maybe they don’t. Mainland’s gone dark.”

“All of it? Did you try . . .”

“Loss of signal. Like it’s been shut down,” someone replied.

“Or someone’s jamming it,” muttered another voice.

Poppy and I stood back. This was Jenn’s turf.

“We’re getting weather warnings on the CB,” said a boy. “Relayed from down the coast. So there’s power down there. But no signal.”

“Wait! Check this out!” A dreadlocked girl at a nearby laptop flapped her arms as if trying to fly. She snatched up the device and lifted it over her head to show the screen: a glare of flame against a darkening sky.

Jenn tapped the thin shoulder in front of her. “Get that up on Main.”

The big wall screen flared with color. Brilliant, pulsing light wrapped in a shroud of smoke. The image swayed and jerked, ducked and swooped. A camera in motion. No sense of scale. Could be a close-up of a match flame, until I spotted the bright voids of blown-out windows.

“That’s a burning high-rise.”

“Drone vid,” the dreadlocked girl declared.

“Is it real?” Poppy asked.

“It’s on Captain’s Blog.”