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“Here.” I dig around in my backpack and pull out my half sandwich. “Do you like roast beef?”

“I don’t know. I think so?” She looks at her mother questioningly.

“Yes. She does.”

“Good. This sandwich is really going to hit the spot.” I hand it to her.

“Thanks.”

Her mother jerks her chin toward the entrance, and I follow her out, my steps and heart heavy.

“This way.” She winds us through the maze of makeshift apartments until I catch a few rays of sunlight up ahead. Stopping, she turns to me. “Tell me.”

“When did you take her to the hospital?” I keep my voice low, calm.

“A week ago, when she got the shakes.”

“What did they say?”

“You know what they said.” She pins me with a hard stare, her face looking younger in the faint light. “What doyouthink?”

I cross my arms, stuffing my hands against my sides. “Her fever is 102, lungs have fluid, but her cough is dry, elevated resting heart rate, and the pustules have a granular base.”

“What does that mean?” Even as she asks the question, I see it in her eyes. She already knows.

“It means her case is likely fatal. Within three days, give or take.” I used to sugarcoat it, used to tell people that doctors were working around the clock to find a lifesaving treatment for the plague. To just hang on. To pray if they were religious. To do anything and everything to keep hope alive.

I don’t do any of those things anymore. I can’t. It’s all lies until it isn’t. Until someone actuallydoesfind a way to stop it.

She puts a hand on the concrete support beside us, her hand tanned and weathered. She leans forward, her body crumpling in on itself. Gunshots ring out on the Interstate overhead, a baby cries nearby, and distant sirens blare.

We stand in silence as the world, rotting and doomed, continues around us, cruelly oblivious to a dying child and her grieving mother.

4

3 months later

“Anews conference?” I unload my samples from the hospital as Gene hobbles around on his cane.

“That’s what Fatima said.” He sits down heavily behind the electron microscope we’d managed to wheel from the university to the basement of the Governor’s Mansion with a little help from the National Guard. No one even batted an eye at us though we were taking hundreds of thousands of dollars of equipment. I suppose being the governor’s sister has a few perks.

The lab isn’t fully workable. There isn’t enough space, and I still need quite a few smaller items from the university labs. The microscope needs weeks if not months of work. But for now, it’s enough that I can separate the virus from my blood samples and use fluorescence imaging until we get the big guy up and running.

Leaning over my journal, I scribble a few notes about the ongoing setup of my makeshift lab. My notes are all I have at the moment; the rest of the place is in shambles.

I arch a brow at the wires dangling from the ceiling over the refrigeration setup. “Are you sure I have to attend this out-of-nowhere press conference? I’ve got plenty to do here, starting with figuring out if that mess—” I point at the wires, “—is going to electrocute us.”

“That’s what she said.” He grunts as he tinkers with the wall outlet. “Speaking of electric, you sure a regular ol’ separate breaker is going to be enough for this thing?”

“Nope.” I lean against my desk. “But it’s the best we’ll be able to get. Vince is already being pissy about me using too many resources as it is.” Vince is the reason we’re down here in the first place. When I showed up to the capitol with a black eye, he and Juno lost their minds and tried to forbid me from leaving the Governor’s Mansion altogether. I let them know that not only did I intend to leave again, I had to go check on Gene first thing the next morning. That led to another meltdown by the two of them, which then led to me getting an armed escort to Maple Avenue where I found Gene lying at the bottom of his stairs with a shiner like mine and a broken leg. “Hooligans”—as he calls them—broke in and robbed him, not that he had much in the way of valuables except his poor chicken Lula. If we hadn’t found him, there’s no telling if he would’ve gotten out of his house alive.

My shifts at the hospital triage are non-negotiable, but for everyone’s peace of mind, I’ve agreed to stay within the capitol instead of returning to campus. Gene gets a new place to live, a job that pays almost steadily—though Candice has taken to calling it all ‘Monopoly money’—and food on his plate, so he’s plenty happy about the arrangement.

“I guess I’ll have to go see what it’s about.” I head for the door. “I’ll probably be back later, but if not, I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Sure thing, Doc.” Gene waves a screwdriver at me.

I loop my mask around my ears and tromp up the stairs to the main floor. The sun is already low on the horizon, painting the foyer in shades of gold.