“You’re doing good work,” I said, glancing back at the cots where several teenagers were sitting and reading or chatting. God, how many people had been stranded alone in all this? How many children and teens, and heck, women like me? What if Tuck and Charlie had died in that plane crash along with Russell and I’d found myself out in the middle of a cold field with no idea what to do or where to go? I wrapped my arms around myself to ward off the growing chill, even though it was warm enough inside because of all the body heat, and I had a full belly.

“Thanks,” Hosea said. “It feels good to be useful.” He smiled. “And you wanna know something funny? It feels good to be one of the good guys. Never thought I’d say that. Never thought I’d be given an opportunity to say that.”

Tuck squeezed Hosea’s shoulder. “They’re lucky to have you.”

“Do you have intel about what’s going on? What caused all this?” Charlie asked. “Everything we’ve heard so far is just speculation.”

Hosea took a swig from the water bottle he’d set down on the table next to him. “The military, at least what’s left of it, is saying it was a massive solar flare that took out our grid.” He looked from Charlie to Tuck. “Apparently, it wasn’t only one. Several hit, and over the span of about a day.”

“A solar flare,” I murmured. I remembered that Sheriff Goodfellow had said a professor in town had guessed that too. “So, we’re not at war.” Which was a relief and one I’d take. Because while this had obviously created a colossal disaster, it was one that could be fixed soon. Right?

“We are at war,” Hosea said, dashing my hopes. “In some ways anyway. But not from an outside army, at least not yet.”

“Are there repairs being made?” Charlie asked, and I detected that note of shrill panic in his tone that made me worry he was about to have another meltdown.

But the truth was, I felt a little shrill as well. “Can the grid be repaired?” I asked, thinking of the college kid who’d said an electronic system ran most of society, even dams. “It can be, right?”

Tuck was staring off behind me, his brows knitted. Hosea’s steady gaze hung on me as he answered, “Eventually, yes.”

Eventually. The word rang in my head, an ominous echo.

“Some of the parts needed aren’t even made in America anymore,” he continued.

“That seems like a recipe for disaster,” Tuck said.