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know?” Rhys asks.
    “Why don’t you go out there and ask them?”
    “Go to hell, Trace.”
    “What if it’s help?” Harrison asks in a small voice.
    No one says anything because we all know it’s not help. If it was anyone we wanted inside, they’d use their voice. They’d tell us to open the door. Cary’s hand covers his mouth as he thinks. We watch him think. After a while, he starts walking, gesturing us out of the gym. We follow him down the halls until he gets to the very back of the school, to the doors Rhys secured. We stand there and stare at them. Wait.
    Thud.
    Harrison moans and I wonder what it’s like to be him, to feel each bad development like it’s the first bad development, that it’s still worth resisting enough to cry over.
    “Don’t start,” Cary tells him. “We’re not done…”
    He leads us to the front of the school.
    Thud.
    The sound of more bodies forcing themselves against the doors, trying to get to us.
    We go to home base, the auditorium.
    It’s started there, too.
    Thud.
    We finish in the library. We stand there for twenty minutes, none of us speaking, but nothing happens. Here, nothing is outside the door.
    “I wonder if they just have to know that we could be in here,” Cary says.
    Trace snorts. “Bullshit. They saw us break in.”
    “But why didn’t we hear them trying to get in before now? Remember that house on Rushmore? We were quiet as hell and they stormed the place.”
    I remember the house on Rushmore Avenue. It wasn’t fortified, not like this, but we were quiet and got inside without being noticed and we stayed quiet. It was only minutes before we were discovered and then we were running again, climbing out a bedroom window while the door holding them back turned to nothing before our eyes. I remember the way it sounded, the wood splintering as easily as a twig …
    “So you think they want in here because they can be in here? Because the school is here and they are too? That makes no sense, Einstein,” Trace says to Cary. “Try again.”
    “We’re practically surrounded,” Cary snaps. “If there are no other survivors around this area, what else have they got to do? They’re at every fucking door because they’re looking for food. If anything makes sense to them, it’s that buildings like these are just fucking food containers.”
    “They’re not at this door, though,” Grace says.
    “Why would they be at this door?” Cary asks. “It’s practically invisible.”
    “Don’t talk to Grace like that,” Trace says.
    “I wasn’t talking to her like anything—”
    “Stop,” Rhys tells them.
    I contemplate the door. The exit in the library opens up into a narrow path that leads around the front of the school and to the athletic field out back. A chain-link fence lines the path, separating the school’s property from a dense but small cluster of trees that lead to the road. The front of the path is gated, but the back, leading to the field, is wide open.
    “So that’s our way out,” I say. “If we have to leave.”
    “That’s the door,” Cary agrees. “Unless they end up finding it too. In which case, we’d have to fight our way out of here.”
    Rhys nods. “So we should be ready, one way or the other.”

 
    How we are ready:
    Two bags packed with the essentials: water, food, clothes, and medical stuff we raided from the nurse’s office. Cary and Rhys volunteer to carry them. Trace demands we get a bag each, but changes his mind when he remembers how the dead outside can and will reach for anything they can hold on to. We get aluminum baseball bats from the gym. Our weapons.
    The supplies rest on the table next to the door and then we start fine-tuning our plan, as if plans make a difference when you’re being chased from one moment to the next. We had a lot of plans before we got here and I’m not sure we saw any of them through.
    The plan: if the doors are breached, Cary is counting on the noise of our barricades falling to