I quickened my steps, catching up easily with Graham, who wasn’t lagging enough to have heard us, but wasn’t hurrying either. He glanced at me as I pulled up level with him, and something in his jaw relaxed when I reached for his hand. There was a fine dusting of hair there, and I realized with dull horror that if the planet was under siege, the pharmaceutical supply chains were probably going to be disrupted for a while. His hormones were going to be scarce for a while, if they were available at all.

One more bridge for us to cross when we came to it. I tangled my fingers with his, and for a minute or so we walked in silence, just holding each other, holding onto the normalcy we represented. As long as we were together, we could find our way through anything. I couldn’t forget that. No matter what happened, I couldn’t forget that.

“I’m not okay,” I said, in a very soft voice.

“I know,” he said.

“I’m still me, I just … there’s some other stuff in my head right now. Stuff I don’t want to have there.” This time, I didn’t look at him. I kept my eyes fixed straight ahead, toward the distant line of the horizon. I’d been assuming the faint glow I saw there was the next city. Now, as the glow grew brighter, I wondered whether it was another fire, another riot. Were we fleeing toward safety, or were we walking toward some deeper danger? And did it really matter? We couldn’t stay in the middle of the desert, exposed and unable to defend ourselves. We had to keep moving.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re not the one who should be sorry.” I squeezed his hand harder. “I need you to promise me something. Do you think you can promise me something?”

“No.”

The word was a stone dropped into a still pond, kicking up ripples and frightening the frogs. I turned my head to stare at him. This time, he was the one looking resolutely ahead, a muscle in his jaw twitching, but otherwise seemingly impassive. “Graham…”