“Yeah,” Harrison says. “We almost didn’t make it.”

“We thought it would be safe,” Trace says. “I guess everyone did. It was the first place we headed, right? First one gone. If we had known, we wouldn’t have even tried.”

“We made the same mistake,” Baxter says.

“We?” I ask.

He closes his eyes and then he opens them.

“You know, we could stay here for so long if we wanted to. Even if the water tank goes, there’s bottled. We could stay here as long as it takes for help to come. That’s what we could do. What we should do. Until … help comes.”

“Or the infected figure out the way you got in,” Cary says.

“They won’t.”

“Then you remember where?”

Baxter shakes his head and then he says, “I just know that where we are and what we have is better than what’s out there. We should hold on to it as long as possible.”

Everyone murmurs in agreement, but I can’t. My appetite is gone. I can’t shake the feeling something is very wrong.

I get to my feet. “I’m just going to go to the bathroom…”

“You know what?” Grace stands. “Me too.”

In the bathroom, she hovers while I splash water on my face and my neck. I try to get her to go back to the auditorium but she won’t. She asks if I’m okay.

“I’m fine. Headache. Short-circuiting. I don’t know.”

She doesn’t say anything, which is awkward. It looks like she wants to. I press my head against the mirrors. Cold. I like that.

“Can I get you anything?”

“No. I just don’t want to go back out there yet. Baxter’s freaking me out.”

“When Cary and Rhys walked him in, Trace thought it was our dad.”

“Did you?”

“No. I don’t like this, though, Sloane.” At first, I think she’s talking about Baxter being here, but she’s not. “What if they get in the school? I mean, what if—what if it’s my dad or my mom the next time? What if they come in?”

“Grace, the odds of that happening—”

“Must be as good as the odds of Baxter getting in here after all this time, right?” There’s nothing I can say to that. Tears fill her eyes. “God, when will this stop feeling so bad?”

“I don’t think it does.” I stare at my reflection. “I think it’s just going to be like this.”

She rips a swath of paper towels from the dispenser and wipes at her eyes.

“I just want to be less of a mess. I sneak in here, like, ten times a day to cry.” She laughs weakly. “I wish I was like you. Strong.”

I look away from my reflection. “What?”