“Yeah, that’s fine.”

She strode past him, leading him down the hallway, through the lobby, and outside. The sun had just gone down, streetlights clicking on as darkness fell.

He glanced at her. She was peering at her phone, her eyebrows drawn together. She noticed his gaze as she slipped it back into her pocket.

“A lot of people haven’t checked in yet,” she explained.

“Do you know who did this?”

She shook her head. “Nothing for sure.”

He wanted to ask about the plan to get him out of here, but it seemed callous under the circumstances. Besides, there was still plenty of time. Last time he’d checked a clock it was just after eight p.m., meaning he still had sixty hours to meet the CDC deadline. He could spare a few hours for sleep.

And thank god for that. His steps were heavy, exhaustion starting to creep into his body. He’d nodded off a couple times in the van with the Georgia kidnappers, but other than that, he’d barely slept the past two nights. He didn’t even care if he had to sleep on the floor—he just wanted somewhere to collapse for a few hours.

He looked over at Maisie to see her watching him.

“What do people think of us out there?” she asked.

“In the US?”

“And everywhere.”

He hesitated. He’d told Dr. Lopez he wouldn’t tell anyone the truth of what a lot of Americans thought of them, but he still wasn’t sure that lying was the right choice. In his opinion, the people of the quarantine zone should have access to the same internet as every other free nation. They should be able to watch the news themselves.

On the other hand, Dr. Lopez was right about the panic. And maybe his dad was about to win the election, and it didn’t matter what a bunch of very loud idiots thought. His dad would never bomb the quarantine zone. He’d made that promise publicly, and Lennon knew him well enough to be sure that it wasn’t just politician talk.

Besides, now that he was actually faced with having to explain what people thought of the inhabitants of the quarantine zone, the prospect was uncomfortable.

“We can’t just keep hoping this problem will go away,” a congressman had argued once, on cable news. “When a group of lawless thugs have taken over a part of our country, drastic action is necessary.”

He was not going to repeat the term lawless thugs to her.

Also, he thought that most people in the quarantine zone would take issue with the phrase “taken over a part of our country,” considering that every single one of them was trapped in the zone against their will.

“It’s a mix of emotions,” he said carefully. “Some people are sympathetic. Some are scared. Mostly, people are fascinated and want to know how you guys are doing in here.”

Her lips twitched, and she looked away from him. “You’re a good liar, Lennon.”