Cary turns red. “It’s not about that.”

“Well, the gun stays with me. You think I’ll just give it to you if you convince us to go to Rayford?” Trace leans forward. “Not going to work, Chen. Nice try, though.”

“It’s not about that either,” Cary says. “I don’t give a fuck if you keep the gun and I don’t give a fuck if you go, Trace. I’m going. If I’m the only one, so be it.”

For once, Trace is speechless. He looks at Grace.

“Okay,” Rhys says. “We all want to know what’s going on, we all want the protection but this isn’t crossing the street. You said it yourself. We don’t know if we can get a car—”

“We’ll find a car.”

“No,” Harrison says. “No—we agreed to wait here—”

“Did we?” Cary turns to him. “Why?”

“Because it’s safe.”

“So you figured out how Baxter got in,” Cary says. Harrison opens his mouth and then closes it. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“You can’t blame him for not wanting to go out there,” Grace says.

“I said I don’t care if he goes out there. I’m leaving. If you want to come with me, fine. I don’t give a fuck if you stay here. I’m just telling you I’m going.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Rhys says. “You want to get eaten alive? Sit down and—”

“I’m not an idiot,” Cary replies. “Outside, I could get eaten alive. Inside, I could just as easily get shot in the face by a gun-happy asshole. I’m willing to take my chances.”

“So it is about me.” Trace grins broadly. “Well, you know the way out, douchebag. Far be it for me to stop you.”

“This isn’t a joke!” Cary pounds his fist on the table. “It’s a way out. Don’t you see that? I say I want to talk about Rayford—a survivor’s camp—and you guys have to wait until you rub the fucking sleep out of your eyes to do it? Are you kidding me? We heard that message on the radio and the last thing we want to do is leave? Is that seriously how brain-dead staying here has made us? This place isn’t safe. We’re going to forget how to survive, so when we do have to leave, we’ll die. We’ll get ourselves killed.”

“So dramatic,” Trace says, and at first I think Trace is right, that Cary is being dramatic, but that makes me realize Cary is right. There’s nothing dramatic about this.

There is a door in this school somewhere, any second the dead could come pouring in, and we move around like it’s nothing. We sent Baxter out to die and Harrison, Grace, and Trace spent the next morning in the gym playing basketball. Only three of us have looked for Baxter’s way in since he was sent out. I glance at Grace and wonder if she would be sharp enough to run, to make life-saving split-second decisions. We are one degree removed from our fear now.