“There’s nothing new here,” he said to the screen.

“But you don’t know who I’m looking for.”

“There’s been no contact with anyone since yesterday and no new arrivals have registered. You’ll have to wait for a few days.”

“But many days have passed since the last time I was here. Where is the woman who’s usually here, Jeanette? She knows my case.”

“She left,” he said. “Replaced.”

“Why is that?”

He didn’t reply, taking a cookie from a can under the desk instead.

“Sorry,” he said as he crunched away. “Need something to keep me going. Half rations for us as well.”

I walked outside again. By the entrance there was an overflowing garbage can. It stunk in the heat. I turned around. A wire supporting the tent in front of me had come loose and the canvas was hanging crookedly. And a little farther down along the row someone had painted slogans on a barracks wall. Portuguese? Spanish? I didn’t understand the language, but the letters spoke to me anyway, the way they were painted—jagged, brash, hot-tempered.

The lack of toilet paper. The first-aid clinic that was closed. Jeanette’s disappearance. I had seen the changes, but hadn’t really paid any attention before now. I continued walking aimlessly between the barracks. I had to get back to Lou, but couldn’t manage it, saw only how many things were not as they should be. People were dirtier, thinner, there was garbage everywhere.

As I wandered around, my heart pounded harder and harder. Lou was well, I had managed that. But we were still half a family. I was still bloody well alone. And now the camp was falling apart.

It makes no difference what I do, I thought suddenly. Nothing makes any difference. I can fight for my life. I can fight for her. But it makes no difference when there’s no longer anywhere to live.

All of a sudden, hearing loud, angry voices, I changed directions, drawn toward them. Around the corner of Hall 2. There, in the blistering heat, stood the man from the line, Thick-Neck, almost on top of another man. It was Martin. Both were shouting, screaming, red in the face like cartoon characters. But there was nothing to laugh about here.

At that moment Caleb and Christian came walking by. They stopped for a moment when they spotted Thick-Neck, before they flew at him.

Then everything happened very quickly. A wave passed through the camp. Everyone who’d been sitting so quietly, moving so slowly, afflicted by this heated lethargy for so long, now all at once was a fury of movement, flying at each other’s throats.

I stayed out of it, watched Caleb and Christian pounding their fists into Thick-Neck. Men poured in from all sides to join the brawl, taking opposing sides, as if on cue. As if they’d been waiting for this.