“I’m trying to be nice to them,” she answered. “But something’s not right. I feel it.”

“Really?” Ethan asked. He was suddenly alert; he gulped the rest of the pouch.

“I’m a good judge of character, I think,” Darla said defensively. Ethan put his hands up and looked at her sidelong. “Okay, I’m sorry. It’s just…they don’t include me. That’s strange, right? And Spencer moved from the school—”

“What?”

“And the doctor and Joey went to his new house tonight. For dinner. They didn’t even tell me…and it feels off. Plus—” she paused, weighing her words.

“Spit it out.”

“I could be wrong.”

“I trust you.”

That made Darla smile; in the candlelight, she looked younger, less tired. Ethan frowned—he felt like his failing health had left her alone; she and Teddy were the closest thing he had to family now, and he had deserted them.

“Someone’s stealing. Why, I don’t know. We’re open with our resources, everyone has equal opportunities and access…but the MRE pile took a hit the other day and some of the canned goods.”

“Spencer?”

“It’s my only guess. Everyone else is here at the house. It’s got to be…but I’m lacking a motive.”

“That bastard.”

“Well,” Darla said, dropping her voice, her tone wary, “let’s not accuse him yet. He’s sneaky and a known opportunist, but why would he steal? The food is out in the open…it’s not like we’re keeping anything hidden from him. And he doesn’t have anyone to trade with anymore.”

“They’re conspiring against us,” Ethan said matter-of-factly and he crossed his arms over his bare chest. “Private dinners. Stealing our stuff?”

“Then why save you?” Darla shook her head. “No, something’s off…I can’t put my finger on it.” Then, after a pause, she smirked and added: “Ainsley’s pretty keen on you.”

“No one says that anymore.”

“It’s a new world. I’m bringing it back. You watch…all the hip kids will use it,” Darla said and smiled widely.

“No one says hip kids either.”

“Wrong again. My world is six people large; maybe you’re just not cool anymore, and it’s time to face the facts.”

“Ouch,” Ethan said with a smile. “A one-legged Adonis is always cool.”

“Adonis?” Darla roared. “I’ll give you credit for the Greek mythology reference and downgrade you for narcissism.”

“Why do you think Ainsley’s keen on me?” Ethan changed the subject.

Darla sat back in her chair. “Because I need her to be.”

“I see,” Ethan nodded once. But he didn’t see entirely.

“If Spencer’s vying for power, this is a competition we need to win. Joey’s a buffoon, but he’s a Spencer lackey. But if we keep the doctor and her daughter on our side, I like our chances. Otherwise, there’s no predicting what he can convince people to do. It’s scary.”

“Darla,” Ethan adjusted his legs and grimaced. She raised her eyebrows in reply. “What are we vying for? Why does power matter? What’s left to control?”

The question lingered and the house creaked; outside a gust of wind blew a tree branch against the siding and they turned to the noise, on high alert.

“I think that’s obvious,” she replied when the outside noises died away. Darla looked at him, her mouth drawn into a straight line. Then she crossed her arms and leaned back in the chair, her feet planted firmly on the ground.

“I’m lost,” Ethan said and he shrugged. “Spell it out for me.”

“You, Ethan.”

He still didn’t understand.

Darla continued, “Your dad knew about the attacks and the vaccines he left saved our lives…”

“So?”

“Are the pain killers making you dense?”

Ethan grumbled and slid down in his bed, rolling over and fluffing a pillow against his stomach.

“Stop pouting,” Darla chastised. “What will happen when Lucy gets to Nebraska? What will happen when your family knows you’re alive?”

“I hope they’ll come for me,” he answered.

“And when they do?” Darla asked. She paused, her eyes pleading. “What happens to us?”

The question caught Ethan off-guard and he dropped the pillow to the ground and looked straight at Darla—and she was looking straight back at him, her eyes raised in an expectant pause.

“I don’t know,” he answered, his voice small.

“You think they’ll just take us all?”

“Yes,” Ethan said almost in a whisper.

“But if they don’t…if it doesn’t go down like that…you think Spencer and whoever else he can gather with him will let you go without a fight?”

“I’ll make sure you and Teddy get to come with me. I’ll make sure of it. No one is leaving anyone behind. You have my word.”

“You won’t have a choice.”

“If my family wants to see me again, then they’ll let me bring you too!” Ethan was getting worked up and he could feel the tears coming. He shut his eyes tight. Displaying emotion wasn’t a norm for Ethan; he wished he could slip back into simple days and one-word retorts.

“Your dad may be the reason our family is dead—”

“Stop.” Ethan put his hands over his ears, like he used to when he was a child. He was trapped. Normally he’d storm out, make someone follow him, make someone continue the conversation, but on his own terms.

Darla stood up and walked over to the edge of the bed. She dropped down, her face inches from his. “Hey,” she said in a soft voice. She ran her hand along his forearm and tugged his hand free. He let his hand fall and he looked at her. “Hey. I’m just telling you…there might be a new war brewing. And you’re at the center of it. Who controls Ethan, controls their future.”

“I’m not important,” Ethan corrected. “I’m just an injured kid. A nothing.” He started to hate the way he sounded, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Darla patted the top of his head. “You’re my friend, idiot.”

“Thanks,” he answered. “Are you just my friend because you think you can use me for a better future?”

She winked. “Nah, kid. But now you’re catching on.”

It was Ainsley who brought him breakfast. It was one of his father’s MREs: a biscuit with sausage gravy, and it was room temperature and gelatinous. He gagged it down, under Ainsley’s faithful eye, and then handed her the debris.

She made a face at the leftover brown goop before dumping the remaining packaging into the wastebasket by his desk.

“Some future, huh?” she said nodding toward the container.

“What’d you have for breakfast?” Ethan asked incredulously.

“I haven’t had anything yet,” she answered, stepping in for her nursing rounds, which Ethan thought seemed like nothing more than making sure he didn’t have a temperature and that his heart was still beating. He certainly didn’t need Ainsley’s warm body leaning over his, touching his arms, his chest, to tell her that he didn’t have a fever and he was, in fact alive.

“When I’m up here eating that shit, I just keep imagining that it’s a big party downstairs and you’re all feasting on bacon, eggs, pancakes,” he paused and assessed her reaction. She didn’t even glance at him. “That’s ridiculous, I know.”

Ainsley shrugged. “I’ve dreamed about milkshakes for the last two nights,” she said. “Giant, cold, smooth, chocolate milkshakes. Except in one dream, the milkshake was talking. I don’t know what that was about.”

Ethan paused. Besides divulging that she was a nursing student, it was the first time Ainsley had muttered anything about herself. It wasn’t revealing or intriguing, but it was a start. Darla’s comment about Ainsley’s potential attraction played on a loop as he watched the girl take his blood pressure, her hand on his arm, clammy and soft. He debated about whether or not she was pretty.

He cleared his throat.

“I feel isolated up here,” he said. “Alone.” The truth felt nice to say, but he worried that Ainsley would shred his honesty and leave him wanting. His mind wandered to Anna. God, he missed Anna. How had they started? It was so long ago. He was a senior, and she was a sophomore. She sent him a semi-flirtatious text message and he showed it to his friends. They mocked her lack of subtlety, but the conversation shifted: should he ask her out? He did. Winter Formal first. A barrage of photos, doting parents, group dinner, a sweaty and boiling ballroom, rigid formal pictures—his hand placed on her waist by the overweight portrait studio photographer, who winked at him as Anna adjusted her corsage.