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That was our sick zone. We agreed that if any of us started to feel sick, we’d quarantine in the training area, where there were gym mats to lie on, medicine, and bottled water.

I’ll never forget the smells. When I staggered out of that door, I was still weak and unsteady, but I got down on my hands and knees and worked a towel into the crack beneath the door, hoping to keep the smells from taking over.

When I met the people whose bodies are in that room, none of us had any idea we’d be trying to care for ourselves and each other while a deadly virus held us in its sharp, merciless claws.

Tears drop to my cheeks when I blink.

Compartmentalize. Make a checklist.

I need to take at least two bows, and lots of arrows. I should probably hide some, too, in case I need to come back and resupply, just in case the facility gets looted.

If there’s even anyone left to loot it.

I’ve been through every scenario in my head, dozens of times. Best case, everything is fine now. I can go back to my apartment, take a shower, and call my parents to tell them I survived.

That one’s not happening. If everything was fine, people would have come here in the last few months. The families of the people who died would send the police to look for them.

Everything is not fine. So either I’m the only person left—which I can’t even let myself fully consider—or it’s a total shit show out there.

I’ll take three bows.

I have to be able to carry everything, and I need to bring water bottles and first-aid supplies. My survival experience is limited to reading Robinson Crusoe and the story of Sir Ernest Shackleton.

My chest tightens with panic. My time here has been, by far, the worst of my life, but I don’t want to leave.

Cell service disappeared soon after the virus hit, and electricity and water followed shortly. I’m not expecting to make friends out there. When people can get away with anything, things get ugly fast.

I’m starving, though. And the only water left in the facility is in the pool and hot tubs, so it’s undrinkable.

It’s stay here and definitely die, or go out and maybe die. My mother’s face is clear in my mind, her dark eyes calm as she gives me a single nod, telling me it’s time.

I hid away for as long as I could, and while I know I’m not likely to find anything good when I walk out of here, I have to do it anyway.

At least now I’ll know what the virus left in its wake.

9

“I was making progress with my contact. Reassigning me now means that lead is dead. I’ll report where I’m supposed to, but I’m stating for the record that this makes no sense. This new mission better be good.” - Decoded message from ILF undercover operative Nightingale to ILF handler Hiro Tanaka

Amira

I’ve always thought I was a strong person. Beside someone I love, I’ll stand up to anyone or anything.

Alone, though, I’m nothing. Every minute I spend by myself in my room reminds me of the times I went without human contact after the virus. First, for seven months in the basement of my archery training facility. Then, when I walked out of there and into something even worse.

I even had myself fooled for a while. I convinced myself I just don’t trust the ILF and I’m wary of everyone I don’t know. Both things are true, but the reason I can hardly function is because I’m losing the people I trust most in the world. Again.

Some people are made for solitude. They find time alone peaceful—energizing, even. Not me. I’d be ashamed for people to know my biggest weakness is being completely alone.

When I’m with Briar, I feel like we can do anything as long as we’re together. She’s tougher than me in every way.

I get out of bed, where I’ve been lingering since I woke up, and go brush my teeth. Being able to stay in bed and read a book in the air-conditioning should be heaven on Earth, but I can’t focus. I’m an asshole.

Marcus and Briar are leaving today, and I’m too wrapped up in my selfishness and anxiety to put on a brave face and say goodbye to them. My inner voice is a hot-mess mashup of shit I desperately want to overcome, but can’t.

They’ll find you. You’re dead. Maybe you’ll get lucky and a stranger will kill you quicker than they will, and without the torture.

I didn’t kill anyone. I tried to help. I won’t be alone—I’ll have Evander.