Peter ascended first. Near the top he peeked out, lifting his eyes over the final step. The angle was wrong, he was too low, but he could hear the muffled sound of the two men’s voices; they were facing away. He turned back to Alicia, signaling his intentions, then quickly rose and moved furtively across the room and down the hall to the ward.

The girl was awake and sitting up. That was the first thing he saw. Her bloody clothing was gone, replaced by a thin gown that revealed the white swath of her dressing. Sara, positioned on the edge of the narrow cot, was facing away; the girl’s wrist was in her hand.

The girl’s eyes flicked up then, meeting his own. A burst of panicked movement: she yanked her hand away and scrambled to the head of the cot, as Sara, sensing his presence behind her, vaulted to her feet and spun to face him.

“Flyers, Peter.” Her whole body seemed clenched; she spoke in a hoarse whisper. “How the hell did you get in here?”

“Through the basement.” The voice came from behind him: Alicia. The girl had pulled herself into a ball, her knees defensively compressed to her chest to form a barricade, the loose fabric of her gown drawn down over her legs, which she was gripping with her hands.

“What happened?” Alicia said. “That shoulder was torn to shreds a few hours ago.”

Only then did Sara’s posture relax. She huffed a weary sigh and dropped onto one of the adjacent cots.

“I might as well tell you. As far as I can see, she’s perfectly okay. The wound is practically healed.”

“How can that be?”

Sara shook her head. “I can’t explain it. I don’t think she wants anyone to know, though. Sanjay was just in here with Jimmy. Anybody comes in here, she pretends to be asleep.” She shrugged. “Maybe she’ll talk to you. I can’t get a word out of her.”

Peter heard this exchange only distantly; it seemed to be occurring in another room of the building. He had moved forward, toward the cot. The girl was peering at him warily over the tops of her knees, her eyes hooded by a tangle of her hair; he had the sense of moving into the presence of a skittish animal. He sat on the edge of the bed, facing her.

“Peter.” This was Sara. “What are you … doing?”

“You followed me. Didn’t you?”

A tiny nod, almost imperceptible. Yes. I followed you.

He lifted his face. Sara was standing at the foot of the bed, staring at him.

“She saved me,” Peter explained. “At the mall, when the virals attacked. She protected me.” He gave his eyes to the girl again. “That’s right, isn’t it? You protected me. You sent them away.”

Yes. I sent them away.

“You know her?” Sara said.