“No,” Dr. Lopez cut in. “They’ll know you’re fine when you leave.” He picked up his phone from his desk and slipped it into his pocket. “I need you to keep this to yourself. No one in here needs to know how they talk about the people in the Q.”

Lennon hesitated, because he didn’t agree. He thought the residents of the quarantine zone had every right to know that a growing, vocal portion of Americans wanted to destroy the zone, along with everyone inside. They deserved access to information about the rest of the world, if they wanted it.

“It would cause chaos,” the doctor continued. “And there’s nothing they can do about it. Keeping people calm has always been the best course of action, in my opinion.” He clapped Lennon on the shoulder. “Can I count on you?”

Lennon smiled. “Of course.” He may have been lying. But Dr. Lopez wasn’t exactly being straightforward with him, so he was happy to return the favor.

He followed the doctor outside to a waiting van. It was old and dented, with a large solar panel attached to the roof. It was also windowless in back, and Lennon’s stomach clenched as he climbed inside. He was avoiding vans after this. Nothing good came from getting in a van.

Curiosity had begun to poke through a bit of his panic, and he leaned over to try to look out the front windshield as the van lurched forward. But there was a plastic partition between the front seats and back, and it was dirty and covered in scratches. Everything past it was just a smudgy blur.

“Do you…use this van often?” he asked carefully. Dr. Lopez sat beside him.

“Occasionally.”

“It’s solar and electric, right?”

“Yes.”

“I was just wondering. I’d heard that not many vehicles operated in the southern portion of the quarantine zone, except for…” Except for public transport and the ones used by the gangs. It seemed impolite to say.

Dr. Lopez didn’t appear interested in what he’d been about to say. He stared straight ahead.

“How long can they operate, when fully charged?” Lennon asked.

“Three to four hours.”

“That’s pretty good.”

“It’s enough for the area we travel.”

Lennon nodded, trying not to let his face betray his emotions. He’d gotten good at that the past few months. He didn’t need Dr. Lopez to know that he was horrified at the prospect of living a life contained to such a tiny area.

They came to a stop outside a tall building. Lennon craned his neck to try to see past Dr. Lopez and onto the street as he climbed out of the van, but the doctor clapped a firm hand on his shoulder and steered him inside. Lennon got the feeling that they were making an effort to keep him from seeing much.

They took an old elevator up to the tenth floor. A song from the late twentieth century played over the speakers.

Lennon spotted her right away when they stepped into the hallway—standing in a doorway, arms crossed over her chest, hair up in a ponytail, and a flower tattoo peeking out from the back collar of her shirt. Maisie looked over her shoulder as they approached, and then moved away from the door.