She didn’t ask me to explain. She told me her name was Jamey, with a y. She told me she had lived at Skate State, as she called the place, for over a year, though she said it was harder to keep track now, since it was cold all the time. She asked me if I had any good celebrity news.

“Celebrity news?” I repeated.

“I know it’s dumb, but I really like to hear about their lives, you know? They’re so much more exciting than us, and since we got no internet...”

“There’s no internet?”

“It went down.”

“You mean, your network went down?”

“No,” Jamey said. “There’s no internet anywhere. Jake drove into town and tried the free wireless at the Wendy’s. Nobody’s got it. That’s what they said on the radio. It’s gone.”

“The internet can’t be gone. Maybe some lines got icy, that’s all.”

“So you don’t got any news?” Jamey asked. “Where did you come from?”

“Ohio.”

“It’s cold there? Like this?”

“It’s cold everywhere,” I said.

“No internet.” Jamey shook her head, a little smile on her lips that was grim or amused; it was hard to tell. “We’re on our own, girl. It finally happened.”

If she was talking to herself, or to me, or to the baby, I didn’t know. I heard a cry then, a catlike whimper. I thought it was the baby, but Jamey didn’t look down at her or comfort her, and the child was staring up at me, silent.

The mound of blankets on the floor began to move. A rail-thin arm emerged. A blanket slipped and I saw a head of matted, black hair, a pinched face, and a woman’s eyes: rolling and white. Eyes that were sick. Eyes that were not present, not in this world. I knew eyes like that.

Jamey didn’t seem concerned. “We’re out, Kaylee.”

But the girl on the floor had motivated Jamey. She got off the mattress, balancing the child on her hip—the baby clung to her, submissive as a doll—and set the can of beans to the side. She wiped her free hand on her jeans and shook out some of the blankets, plumped the pillows. It was absurd to see her straightening up the filthy, uninhabitable shed.

The girl on the floor moaned again.

“What’s wrong with her?” I asked, though I knew.

Jamey glared at me. “What do you think? Damn it, Kaylee, I have to wash those sheets in the creek.”

“You don’t have water?”

“I ain’t gonna waste water on her.”

“Who is she?”

“Before everything went to shit,” Jamey said, “she was a stripper. Jake hired her for a party. He let her stay on if she’d dance in exchange for...” Her voice trailed off. She looked down at the girl.