“Holy shit,” he said, and sat up so quickly that he got dizzy and promptly ended up on his back again. Jesus Christ. He was delicate.

  “Nice to meet you too,” Dr. Franco Lopez said with a hint of amusement.

  “Is this a reaction to that stuff we injected him with?” Maisie asked. She was sitting in a chair across the room, one black boot propped up, an arm slung across her knee. He could see her tattoos more clearly now—a black butterfly on her arm, one wing detailed, the other destroyed, a wispy mess of lines. She had her left hand, the one that she’d used to punch his captor, tucked into her body like she didn’t want anyone to see it.

  “Could be,” Dr. Lopez said. A younger man appeared beside him. He was probably in his early twenties, but with the same olive skin and black hair as Dr. Lopez. He regarded Lennon suspiciously.

  Dr. Lopez looked down at Lennon. “They didn’t give you anything, did they? Those boys who grabbed you?”

  He shook his head, which felt foggy. “But I haven’t eaten in, like…What day is it? I haven’t eaten since Georgia.”

  “Who is Georgia?” Maisie asked.

  “He means the state,” Dr. Lopez said. “They grabbed him in Georgia, two days ago.”

  “Two days does make you weak,” Maisie said, like she’d gone two days without food before. The younger guy nodded in agreement.

  “Beto, go make him a sandwich. There’s some meat and cheese in the fridge. Maisie, get him some water.”

  They both immediately obeyed the order, leaving him alone with the doctor.

  “Listen,” Dr. Lopez said, pulling over a chair and sitting down in it. “I know that you’ve had a hell of a time. But you’re safe here, okay?”

  He was having trouble thinking straight through the brain fog, but safe seemed like the entirely wrong word to use in these circumstances.

  “Maisie said…” He sat up very slowly, blinking. “She said that she gave me temporary immunity from the virus.”

  Dr. Lopez nodded.

  “That’s not possible, is it?” Lennon asked. “There isn’t a vaccine. If there was, you’d all be out of here.”

  Dr. Lopez laughed. Lennon wasn’t sure which part was funny.

  “There is no vaccine that provides long-term protection from the virus, no,” Dr. Lopez said. “The virus mutates quickly, so that has been a challenge. But you’ve heard of passive immunity?”

  “Yes? Uh, something about antibodies?” His head still felt too fuzzy to put thoughts together.

  “Right. I have had some success using antibodies to provide immediate, short-term protection from the virus. I’ve actually been talking to the CDC about letting some volunteers from beyond the wall visit us in here, using what I just gave you as protection.”

  He blinked. “Seriously?”

  “Still early talks. But now you’re here, so we’re giving it a go after all.”

  “Are you sure it actually works?”

  “I’m sure. It would have been better if you’d been given it before arriving in the Q, but we got it to you very quickly. You can thank Maisie for that.”

  She had just walked back into the room with a glass of water, and Dr. Lopez smiled at her. She handed it to Lennon.

  “Thank you.” He took several long gulps. It tasted off, but he knew for a fact that the water in the quarantine zone was safe to drink. They’d all have died years ago otherwise.

  He wiped water from his chin as he lowered the glass. “And thank you for…” He gestured at his arm.

  “Sticking a needle in your arm against your will?” she guessed.

  “Yes. Sorry I was difficult, it’s just that you’re very…scary.” The last word slipped out before he could stop it. Shit. He still couldn’t think.

  But the expression that crossed her face was absolute delight. She grinned, lightly swatting Dr. Lopez’s shoulder.

  “Did you hear that? He thinks I’m scary!”

  Beto walked in, holding a plate with a sandwich on it. “Maisie, he’s from the other side of the wall. He’s probably terrified of all of us.” He handed the plate to Lennon.

  “Well, he only said that I was scary,” Maisie countered.

  Lennon took the plate and inhaled the sandwich in only a few bites. The bread was fresh, and the sandwich was made with a thick slab of chicken and cheese.

  He already felt steadier. He could sort of think again, though the exhaustion was still making things hazy.

  He swallowed the last bite, a thought suddenly occurring to him.

  “The antibodies…” He glanced from Maisie to Dr. Lopez. “The antibodies that people get, they’re not, uh, what’s the word? Protective. They don’t protect people from getting the virus again. Or from, uh…”

  “Reactivating,” Dr. Lopez finished for him.

  “Right. Reactivating.” The scariest part of the TARV virus was the fact that it didn’t leave the body once someone recovered from it. It lay dormant, only to reactivate when the immune system was weakened by another illness. A simple cold—or even stress—could bring the virus back. It was why no one inside the quarantine zone could leave.

  “It’s true that for most people, the antibodies they produce do not protect them from getting the virus again.”

  Lennon’s eyebrows shot up. “For most people?”

  Dr. Lopez just smiled, and then stood, clapping his hands together. “All right. My guys are sweeping the area, and once they’re done, we’ll head over to the comms tower to call my contacts at the CDC.”

  Lennon glanced around. Were there no phones here?

  “You need a satellite phone to call outside the Q, and they’re only in the comms tower,” Maisie explained, clearly noticing his confusion.

  “Right.”

  “Do you want to shower while we wait?” Dr. Lopez asked.

  “God, I really do.”

  He pointed at the hallway behind Lennon. “Down there, to the right. There should be towels in there already. Beto, grab him some clothes, would you? Go next door, they should have something that fits him.”

  Beto nodded and strode out of the room. Lennon got slowly to his feet. He felt much better with food in his stomach.

  “How long does this work for?” Lennon asked, putting a hand on his arm.

  “We’ve gotten up to four days, but the CDC will probably want to play it safe and get you out right away.”

  He tried not to look too relieved. Maybe he wouldn’t even have to spend a full day in the quarantine zone. He’d definitely have to spend some time in isolation once he got out, but he could probably arrange some remote interviews. A story about how nice and welcoming everyone was inside would do wonders for the senator’s campaign.

  He’d leave out the part about the cannibals.

  “Five minutes max in the shower,” Dr. Lopez said. “Our water supply isn’t what you’re used to.”

  “Got it,” he said. Even a five-minute shower sounded amazing at this point. He smelled like hot garbage. Probably looked it, too.

  He paused at the edge of the hallway. “Thank you. For all of this.”

  Dr. Lopez glanced up at him with one raised eyebrow. “I’m not doing this out of the kindness of my heart, son.”

  Lennon hesitated, but couldn’t help but ask. “What do you want in return?”

  Dr. Lopez just chuckled.

  * * *

  —

  Beto brought him pants that were a little too baggy and a soft gray shirt. He even brought him a pair of boxer briefs, which looked clean and Lennon sincerely hoped were brand-new. They were better than the ones he’d been wearing the past two days, anyway.

  The shirt, oddly, had a mask sewn into the inside, just below the collar. It covered his face from the nose down and hooked behind the ears.

  He tucked it back inside. Maybe all their shirts had those attached. Not a bad idea.

  He finger-combed his hair and leaned forward to examine his face in the mirror. Could be worse. He’d expected worse, actually. He had a bruise on one cheekbone, but otherwise his face was the same as always. He ran his hand over the stubble across his jaw. He’d been clean-shaven every day for weeks on the campaign trail.

  Maisie and Beto were gone when he walked back out into the lab, but Dr. Lopez sat at his desk.

  Lennon gestured to the dirty clothes he held in his arm. “I didn’t know what to do with these.”

  “Just put them in there,” the doctor said, pointing to a basket in the corner. “You won’t get those back, though.”

  “I am totally fine with that.” He dropped the clothes in the basket, watching as the bright blue tie disappeared beneath his grimy white shirt. His dad had picked out that tie. He’d say “Nice tie” to Lennon every time he wore it, and then chuckle. It was annoying, and sort of endearing.

  He considered grabbing the tie and stuffing it in his pocket. But he’d never actually liked it that much. He only wore it on the campaign trail.

  He turned and walked back to Dr. Lopez, who was getting up from his desk. “I’ve been wondering…”

  Dr. Lopez looked at him expectantly.

  Lennon took a breath, wondering if he was making a mistake by bringing this up. But it seemed wrong not to.

  “There are rumors that you guys have some access to American news in here?”

  “No.”

  “I mean, a select few of you have access to news, when you want it.” He didn’t expect a reply to that, and didn’t get one. He didn’t think Dr. Lopez was going to cop to the quarantine zone’s draconian media laws. “I’m just wondering if you understand what people are saying about the quarantine zone out there. If you’re aware of…certain solutions that have been proposed for dealing with the zone.”

  Lennon couldn’t actually bring himself to say, Are you aware that a significant portion of the population wants to blow you all up?

  “I am aware that there are plenty of people out there who would prefer that the Q be gone entirely. They’ve been advocating for that for years.”

  “But do you understand that the idea has become more mainstream lately? And that my being dropped in here has probably caused a significant uproar with that group now?”

  Dr. Lopez nodded once, curtly. “I understand. It’s one of the reasons I think it’s best that we get you out of here as soon as possible.”

  “Right. Yes.” He blew out a breath, relieved. “Maybe you could let me communicate with some outside journalists? And let them record the call? It could really help if people knew that I was okay in—”

  “No,” Dr. Lopez cut in. “They’ll know you’re fine when you leave.” He picked up his phone from his desk and slipped it into his pocket. “I need you to keep this to yourself. No one in here needs to know how they talk about the people in the Q.”

  Lennon hesitated, because he didn’t agree. He thought the residents of the quarantine zone had every right to know that a growing, vocal portion of Americans wanted to destroy the zone, along with everyone inside. They deserved access to information about the rest of the world, if they wanted it.

  “It would cause chaos,” the doctor continued. “And there’s nothing they can do about it. Keeping people calm has always been the best course of action, in my opinion.” He clapped Lennon on the shoulder. “Can I count on you?”

  Lennon smiled. “Of course.” He may have been lying. But Dr. Lopez wasn’t exactly being straightforward with him, so he was happy to return the favor.

  He followed the doctor outside to a waiting van. It was old and dented, with a large solar panel attached to the roof. It was also windowless in back, and Lennon’s stomach clenched as he climbed inside. He was avoiding vans after this. Nothing good came from getting in a van.

  Curiosity had begun to poke through a bit of his panic, and he leaned over to try to look out the front windshield as the van lurched forward. But there was a plastic partition between the front seats and back, and it was dirty and covered in scratches. Everything past it was just a smudgy blur.

  “Do you…use this van often?” he asked carefully. Dr. Lopez sat beside him.

  “Occasionally.”

  “It’s solar and electric, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “I was just wondering. I’d heard that not many vehicles operated in the southern portion of the quarantine zone, except for…” Except for public transport and the ones used by the gangs. It seemed impolite to say.

  Dr. Lopez didn’t appear interested in what he’d been about to say. He stared straight ahead.

  “How long can they operate, when fully charged?” Lennon asked.

  “Three to four hours.”

  “That’s pretty good.”

  “It’s enough for the area we travel.”

  Lennon nodded, trying not to let his face betray his emotions. He’d gotten good at that the past few months. He didn’t need Dr. Lopez to know that he was horrified at the prospect of living a life contained to such a tiny area.

  They came to a stop outside a tall building. Lennon craned his neck to try to see past Dr. Lopez and onto the street as he climbed out of the van, but the doctor clapped a firm hand on his shoulder and steered him inside. Lennon got the feeling that they were making an effort to keep him from seeing much.

  They took an old elevator up to the tenth floor. A song from the late twentieth century played over the speakers.

  Lennon spotted her right away when they stepped into the hallway—standing in a doorway, arms crossed over her chest, hair up in a ponytail, and a flower tattoo peeking out from the back collar of her shirt. Maisie looked over her shoulder as they approached, and then moved away from the door.

  “Watch him for me, will ya, Maisie?” Dr. Lopez said pleasantly.

  She smiled. “ ’Course.”

  He was vaguely insulted that he had to be watched, but on the growing list of his kidnappers, these were certainly the nicest ones.

  Dr. Lopez disappeared into a room across the hall.

  Maisie gave him a quick once-over. “You look less disgusting.”

  “Thank you.”

  A girl appeared from inside the room where Maisie had been hovering, a delighted expression on her face.

  “It’s you! In the flesh!” Her black hair was pulled into an alarmingly large bun on top of her head, and it wobbled when she spoke. Large headphones, like the old kind that covered the entire ear, hung around her neck. She wore bright red lipstick and thick black eyeliner that made her eyes look huge.

  “Uh, yeah. It’s me.”

  “I’m Hadley. Hadley Lopez.”

  “Oh, shit,” he said, before he could stop himself.

  She let out a loud cackle. Maisie gave him an amused look.

  Hadley Lopez was not what he had pictured. He’d known that she was a couple of years younger than him, but he realized he’d always pictured her as older. He’d only heard snatches of her radio programs—the ones they could get their hands on after they were declassified—and she’d always sounded so confident. The voice of the Q, his dad had called her.

  Also, an actual member of the Lopez family. Everyone in the gang called themselves family (from what he’d heard), but she was actually the niece of Dr. Lopez.

  “I take it you’ve heard of me,” she said.

  “Sorry. Yes. It’s nice to meet you.” He extended his hand.

  She stared at it. “You guys still do that out there?”

  He quickly pulled it back. “Sorry. Yes. We do.” He’d heard that they didn’t shake hands in the quarantine zone.

  “Gross.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Oh crap, hold on a sec.”

  She darted back inside the room. Lennon edged in a few steps as well, glancing over to see if Maisie was going to stop him. She just followed him inside.

  It was a radio studio. Hadley dropped into the chair, pulling her headphones over her ears. She leaned into the mic.

  “And next up, folks, we have what was once considered by many to be one of the worst songs ever recorded, and a personal favorite of mine, ‘We Built This City’ by Starship. You’re welcome.”

  The music began playing, and she pulled her headphones down, swiveling around in her chair to face them. Maisie leaned against the doorframe. Blocking his exit, he noted.

  “My parents like twentieth-century music too,” he said to Hadley.

  “I’d never have guessed.”

  “I think there are a lot of songs worse than this.”

  Her lips twitched into a smile.

  “Oh, wow, it really is you.”

  He turned at the sound of the new voice to see a young woman standing in the doorway. Leaning, really. She was thin and pale, and looked like she might topple over at the smallest breeze. She had breathing tubes in her nostrils, and an oxygen tank at her feet.

  “Lennon, Elise,” Maisie said. “Elise, Lennon.”

  “Hi,” he said.

  She studied him for a moment before turning to Maisie. “So he’s not going to get the virus?”

  “Apparently not. Lopez gave me this temporary vaccine,” Maisie disclosed. “It’s not like a real vaccine. They’re not sure exactly how long it will last.”

  “Right. I heard something about that once. Lucky you.” She pulled her mask up and took a breath.

  “So you met the border patrol, huh?” Hadley asked, propping her boots up on her desk.

  Lennon looked questioningly at Maisie.

  “They’re not actually the border patrol,” she said. “They’re just a bunch of inbred idiots.”

  “I mean, they’re inbred idiots who have volunteered to patrol the border, so.” Hadley lifted her arms.

  “Did someone tell them they could eat runners from the north?” Maisie asked.

  Hadley made a so-so motion with her hand. “I think maybe it was implied that no one would be that upset about it if they did.”