PART 5, SECTION 2

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I hadn't realized how much Ian wasn't telling my sister.

She didn't have a clue about what was going on. He obviously didn't trust her to keep the granary a secret. And judging by how my sister was acting now, he was absolutely right not to trust her. She wasn't ever the most easy-going of the two of us, but I'd never seen her behave this way. The stress was really getting to her, I could tell. Suddenly, it seemed, she hated me.

"Play with us, Aunt Ashley!" Haley peeked around her mother and looked at me expectantly.

Even after everything I'd been through, I felt really bad having to say no to my niece yet again.

"Next time," I told her, mussing her hair. "I've got some important things to take care of. And we have a guest," I said, nodding in the direction of the porch.

Tyler couldn't have heard what his mother had whispered into my ear, but he looked at both of us apprehensively. He was still in that awkward stage; he was probably going to be good looking when he got out of adolescence, but his nose had suddenly gotten too big for his face, and his forehead was ringed with acne from wearing his football helmet. Poor kid. He just wanted life to be normal, to play football, and to meet girls his age. He'd been helping Haley fan out the cards in her hand, and I could tell right away that he was terrified at everything that was happening, even though he was putting on a good face and trying to help his little sister get through it. I think he just wanted everyone to stick together and make it out alive.

"Let's just leave Aunt Ashley alone for a little while," he said graciously, avoiding Danielle's gaze. "She's probably starving."

He was right. I was famished. Other than the military rations that the Home Guard had delivered to the house, my parents seemed only to have an endless supply of freezer-burnt roast beef and white bread. While I made a sandwich each for Ian, Bryce, and myself, I ate at least another sandwich's worth of the cold meat with my fingers. I still had a strange, insatiable craving for a hamburger and a milkshake, but instead I poured a big glass of milk and gulped it down. I hadn't craved milk like this since I was a kid, but I couldn't get enough of it. I poured a second glass.

I brought Ian and Bryce their sandwiches. They thanked me effusively. Both of them looked guilty that they hadn't helped me while they'd sat on the porch with beers.

But completing these little tasks kept my mind occupied. It prevented me from collapsing in a heap and totally breaking down, which I was afraid I might do now that I was relatively safe at the house.

Because Shawn was only a private, he had to bunk at the Home Guard Center, and the couch was free. I put sheets on the cushions for Bryce and laid out a blanket. I made myself another sandwich and took it upstairs to my old bedroom.

When I tried to go online, the only accessible site was homeguard.gov, which automatically appeared after I opened the browser. The site had maps of each residential district, a ration distribution schedule, and an emergency hotline for "reporting individuals suspected of being infected with the TGV pathogen." In big, red letters running across the top of the screen, it warned, "IF YOU SEE SOMETHING, SAY SOMETHING."

The same thing happened when I charged my phone and tried to use the internet on it. The Home Guard website immediately appeared, and I couldn't access any other page.

I showered. I couldn't believe how much weight I'd lost. I studied myself in the mirror for the first time in days. My cheeks had hollowed out, and I could actually see the contours of my abdominal muscles. I hadn't looked like this since I was fourteen.

Good, I thought. I was looking hot, actually. All the better for tempting Jason.

I put on a pair of threadbare sweats that I'd long ago discarded. I brushed my teeth and got into bed without saying goodnight to anyone. Then I fell asleep going over all the things I could say to Jason to make him believe I actually wanted to sleep with him. 


Sometime late at night, though, Bryce came into my room. . . 



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