ANDI

This is a nightmare.

I slowly walk inside the old clothing store, telling myself that this is all not happening. That Benny's playing the world's unfunniest prank and he'll hop up from behind a counter somewhere and laugh his fool head off. As I move forward, though, the reality of this slowly hits. There are rows and rows of people in rough pallets on the ground, little more than blankets and pillows spread out on the floor. Some of them have containers next to their beds, and there's the occasional coughing, but it's quiet.

So very quiet. And that's the scariest thing of all.

I stare at the rows of people. There have to be at least fifty lying out here in sickbeds. More, probably. The woman said they'd already lost twelve, and I can only imagine how many more are going to die. It looks like the whole fort itself is sick. The room feels hot and stuffy with no windows, and I can practically feel the sickness on my skin. I rub my arms as I step forward, looking for Benny. One blanket-covered lump looks the same as any other, though, so I lean over the closest person and check the face.

It's a woman, her eyes glassy as she stares up at me. Her face is flushed and her hair is sweaty, but she's shivering. Blood flecks her slack mouth.

"Hi," I whisper, trying to smile. I feel so guilty just looking down at her that I instantly want to help. "Can I get you anything?"

She just continues to shiver, ignoring me, and so I tuck the blanket close to her again and move on.

There's a mother and child curled in the next set of blankets, so I move on. I don't want to see their faces. I don't want to know. A man is in the next pallet, also too big to be Benny, and his arms thrash wildly as he turns back and forth, lost in his fever. I look over at the woman who's been tending to everyone, but she doesn't move over to the man to help him. She just calmly wets more towels in a bucket and moves to the closest person, pressing one to a sweating brow.

I guess she's doing the best she can.

I move past another person, and this one's about the right size for Benny, but when I pull the blankets back, it's a young girl…and her eyes are open and staring at nothing. For a moment, I think she's like the other woman, but then I notice the waxy cast of her skin and she's not breathing. Oh god. I pull the blankets over her face and mentally say a little prayer. "I'm sorry," I whisper.

There are so many people that I'm crying before I reach the end of the first row. There's another dead person, a balding man, and there's a few more that it's clear are going to be dead soon. The worst is the children, thrashing in the grip of a fever and there's nothing to give them. I want to help everyone…and I want to run away in sheer horror.

Every day is already hard enough in the After. Do we have to deal with sickness like this, too? It's so unfair. Every pharmacy out there has already been cleaned out, and there are no doctors to give flu shots. We're so vulnerable to even the most common viruses now, and I'm all too acutely aware of it.

I routinely turn another sick person over, and it takes me a moment to realize I'm looking down at my brother. Oh my god.

I drop to my knees next to him, touching his sleeping face. In the week or so that he's been gone, he looks as if he's dropped ten pounds. He's already a skinny, gangly kid so he looks positively skeletal and it breaks my heart to see his cheekbones so pronounced. His eyes are sunken and his sandy hair is dark with sweat. His entire body is shivering, and I want to burst into tears at the sight of him.

Benny opens his eyes, and for a terrifying moment, I worry he's going to stare right past me. But he gives me a crooked, tired smile. "Andi?"

"Hey," I say softly, smiling down at him. For some reason, the tears don't come. I'm calm. I'm strong, because he needs me to be.

"I'm sick."

"I know, buddy. It's okay. I'll take care of you."

"How did you find me?" He blinks slowly, sleepily, as if it's a great effort to do so.

"I'm your sister, dork," I tease gently. I stroke the sweaty hair back from his face. "You think I wouldn't come after you once I heard you flew the coop? Liam helped me find you."

His face creases in a tired smile. "Liam's here?"

I fight back the ache of jealousy that my brother should get so excited over Liam instead of me. Now's not the time. "Yup, he's here."

A big, warm hand clasps my shoulder and in the next moment, Liam's crouching next to me beside Benny's blankets. "I'm here," he says.

"Hey, Liam. How's it going?"

Liam chuckles, but his grip is firm and reassuring on my shoulder, as if telling me he's got me. "You scared the shit out of your sister."

"Sorry, Andi," he says, and his eyes fill with tears. "I just wanted…friends, you know?"

"Oh, don't apologize, Benny." I stroke his forehead. "I'll kill you later, when you're feeling better. For now, you just rest, okay? I'm sorry I didn't realize you were so miserable. I'll try to be a better sister."

"Not your fault," he mumbles, and then gives a long, violent shiver. "I'm thirsty."

"I'll get you some water." I pull out my canteen and then pause. If he's sick and I'm not, him putting his lips on my drinking vessel won't help matters. With an aching heart, I get up and approach the woman who greeted us. "Do you have any cups?"

She gestures tiredly over at a table that's set up in a corner. I see supplies there, as if people realized they were going to be violently ill soon enough and would need things nearby. I pick up a plastic cup from the stack and notice that the buckets full of water are nearly empty. There's a few old faded cartons of snack foods that someone must have been saving for special occasions, but they're out now. I can't even get excited about that. I snag a cellophane-wrapped Twinkie for my brother—he used to love them as a tiny kid—and fill up the cup with water and then return to his side.

Liam's there, holding his hand and talking softly to him. My heart squeezes at the sight and I sit down again, helping Benny upright so he can drink. He only takes a few tiny sips, little more than enough to wet his lips, and then pushes it away.

"I'm tired," he murmurs, lying back down.

"Are you hungry? They have Twinkies," I say, putting a cajoling note in my voice.

He shakes his head and closes his eyes, going to sleep almost immediately. My heart clenches again, this time with fear. I look over at Liam, whose face is grim. "What was he saying to you?" I can't help but ask.

Liam's mouth is a tight line. "He wanted me to look after you when he's gone."

"He's not going anywhere." I don't care if he meant gone as in off to another fort when he gets better, or if he means…gone. Either way, I'm not letting my brother go. I take his hand in mine and gaze down at him as he sleeps, full of determination.

He's not fucking dying. He's not.