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He kneels in front of her, and though I hear his voice, I can’t make out the words.

The woman with the a.s.sault rifle covers me and Amanda.

Across the street, I see firelight flickering through a window as one of our neighbors looks down on whatever is unfolding in front of my house.

The driver returns.

He says, “Look, the CDC camps are at capacity. Have been for two weeks. And it wouldn’t matter if you got her into one anyway. Once the eyes hemorrhage, the end is very close. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather pa.s.s in my own bed than a cot in a FEMA tent filled with dead and dying people.” He looks over his shoulder. “Nadia, would you grab this gentleman some auto-injectors? And a mask while you’re at it.”

She says, “Mike.”

“Just f.u.c.king do it.”

Nadia goes to the back of the Humvee and opens the cargo doors.

“So she’s going to die?”

“I’m sorry.”

“How long?”

“I’d be surprised if she makes it to the morning.”

Daniela groans in the darkness behind me.

Nadia returns, slaps five auto-injectors into my hand along with a face mask.

The driver says, “Wear the mask at all times, and I know it’s hard, but try not to touch her.”

“What is this stuff?” I ask.

“Morphine. If you give her all five at once, she’ll slip away. I wouldn’t wait. The last eight hours are ugly.”

“She has no chance?”

“No.”

“Where’s the cure?”

“There won’t be one in time to save the city.”

“They’re just letting people die in their homes?”

He studies me through his mask.

The face s.h.i.+eld is tinted.

I can’t even see his eyes.

“If you try to leave and hit the wrong roadblock, they’ll kill you. Especially after dark.”

He turns away.

I watch as they climb back into the Humvee, fire up the engine, and drive off down the block.

The sun has gone below the horizon.

The street is getting dark.

Amanda says, “We should go right now.”

“Just give me a second.”

“She’s contagious.”

“I’m aware.”

“Jason—”

“That’s my wife up there.”

“No, it’s a version of your wife, and if you catch whatever she has you’ll never see your real wife again.”

I strap on the mask and climb the steps to the front porch.

Daniela looks up as I approach.

Her ruined face breaks me.

She’s vomited blood and black bile all over herself.

“They won’t take me?” she asks.

I shake my head.

I want to hold her and comfort her.

I want to run away from her.

“It’s okay,” she says. “You don’t have to pretend it’s going to be all right. I’m ready.”