“We have to get fluids in him.” Chatterjee nosed through the organ-donor bag. “Since we don’t have a central line, we’re limited in what we can give him. It’s good you grabbed the bags with ten-percent dextrose, because anything much higher than this will wreck his veins.” He gestured at the needle jammed into Patrick’s arm. “This is the access port for the peripheral IV. Give me a minute to get him online here. With the oxygen adjusted, once we push some nutrients, he’ll come around.”

I wasn’t used to seeing Patrick vulnerable like that. I backed away, then headed out to retrieve the tanks. Though running to and from the gurney in the night would be scary, it felt less scary than seeing Patrick so feeble.

Besides, I had to get those tanks moved before daybreak.

As I passed Ben at the lookout post, I said, “Real courageous, Ben. The way you helped Alex and JoJo.”

He shook his head at me. “Courage is overrated,” he said. “In that moment I had to make a tough choice. And I realized: I had one job. Get the gate closed. Protect the others. The only thing that matters anymore is staying alive.”

“If that’s true,” I said, “then what’s the point of staying alive?”

I walked past him down the corridor. I’d almost reached the front doors when I heard footsteps behind me. Eve ran up, keys jangling in her hand.

“I’ll watch the gate for you,” she said.

I appreciated it more than I could say.

As I ran back and forth across the teachers’ parking lot, bringing the tanks in one at a time, Eve waited by the padlock for me, signaling when to wait, when to go.

By the time I lugged the last one to the gym, daylight streamed through the windows and I was worn out and ready to sleep. I set the final tank down with the others. Still woozy, Patrick now lay propped up in his cot, needles and tubes threading into him. He looked like someone dying in a hospital.

I thanked Eve, and she nodded and drifted over to her post at the supply station. I didn’t want to leave Patrick’s side, but it was also hard to look at him like this. I sat next to him and studied my boots. After a few minutes, Chatterjee called me over to the bleachers. Relieved, I went.

“How are the particulate readings?” I asked.

“No better.” He rested a hand on my shoulder, and his expression of concern shot a tremor of fear through me. “Chance, you’re an amazing and resourceful kid.…”

“What’s wrong?”

“I just don’t want you to think that this is a long-term solution for your brother.”

“Why not? We can refill the tanks. You can make more IV food or whatever you call it.” My voice was rising.