Tatum straightened up and crossed his arms over his chest, the sleeves of his shirt tightening on his biceps. By his stern expression, I knew he didn’t believe me, but I didn’t know what he made of it. He stared at me for a moment, and I swallowed hard. I knew that if I wanted to see my brother, I had to have Tatum on my side.

“Is he infected?” Tatum asked finally.

“No,” I shook my head but didn’t say more.

“You better not lie to me about this,” he warned me. Even though he was probably only a year or so older than me, he was tall, broad, and rather imposing. “I don’t want any of these people in here getting sick because of some kid.”

“No, he’s not… he can’t get anybody sick,” I said as carefully as I could. “I’m just trying to protect him, and I can’t do that if I can’t even see him.”

“I can look into it more.”

“Look into it more?” I scoffed. “I made it all the way here, and you’re gonna try to look into it? I’ve gone all the way across the country, rescued a lion, escaped a cult, killed marauders, and fought dozens of zombies with my bare fricking hands! And you’re gonna look into it?”

Immediately after saying it, I felt guilty for sounding so ungrateful. It wasn’t that I didn’t value all Tatum’s help, both as a solider and searching for Max. It just was so frustrating to know that I was so close, and still so far away.

Tatum smiled at my outburst, and maybe that was a good thing.

“I like a girl who’s not afraid to punch a zombie,” he smirked. I cocked my head at him, unsure of what he was getting at, and that just made him smile more. “Calm down.” He leaned in closer to me, his voice barely above a whisper. “I will get you to see your brother. Just give me time.”

“Okay,” I said, a little taken back by his assurance.

“Now, if it’s okay with you, I’m gonna go eat my lunch.” Tatum raised an eyebrow at me, as if really checking for my approval about eating, so I smiled sheepishly and nodded at him.

He backed away, going into the tent, but I stood outside, my mind racing. I looked up at the concrete building looming behind the mess hall.

Knowing that Max was in there was the most maddening thing in the world. He was so close, but he was locked up too tightly for me to see him. I wasn’t even supposed to know he was alive.

Lazlo and Harlow hurried out a minute later to find out what happened with Tatum, but I was vague on the details since I didn’t want to get him in trouble. Max was alive, and really, that was all that mattered. I felt a small weight lift off my shoulders, but not completely. I still had to figure out how to see him and what to do if I didn’t like what I saw.

When we got back to the trailer, Harlow found a deck of cards in one of the kitchen drawers, and Lazlo insisted on teaching us how to play poker. Eager to learn, Harlow sat at the table across from him.

I would’ve done just fine without ever knowing the difference between a full house and a royal flush, but I had nothing better to do. Until Tatum came back with more information, I had time to kill.

Harlow eventually grew bored with the game and went to the smaller bedroom to try on her clothes and take measurements. The next day she had plans to meet with Bishop and start at the little sweat shop they had here.

Lazlo shuffled the cards with unnecessary flair, and I leaned back on the couch, my feet propped on the cushions.

“This feels so weird,” I said.

“What does?” Lazlo asked.

“Just relaxing, hanging out. In a home-like area. We have curtains and carpet and electricity. And cards.” I looked around and exhaled. “It’s just so… unnatural.”

“Yeah, I guess it is,” he laughed. “But it’s kinda nice, though, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I shrugged. “It’d be nicer if Max were here. Then I could feel like I could really relax.”

“You’ll see him soon. I mean, he’s right here. It can’t be that hard to see him.”

“You would think so,” I sighed, picking at a spot on my shirt.

“Until then, we have this really nice place.” His voice changed, taking on an exaggerated nonchalance, so I looked up at him. He wouldn’t meet my eyes, staring intently at the deck cards, and his smile looked forced. “A nice little home, with… a nice bedroom in back.”

“Oh.” I rolled my eyes. That’s what he was getting at.

“I’m just saying that there are two bedrooms, and that master bed is pretty big,” Lazlo continued, peeking up at me to see how I was responding. “It’s plenty big for two people.”

“It’s not that big.”

“It’s not the biggest ever, but…” He trailed off and sighed heavily. Looking up at me, his dark eyes were a mixture of wounded and confused. “What’s so bad about sleeping with me?” The instant he said it, his expression faltered. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant… you know. Same bed. Sleeping, with actual sleeping.”

“I know what you meant.” I picked up a Joker that had slipped out of the deck of cards and twirled it around the table. I needed to occupy myself with something.

With a sudden flourish, he splayed the cards out on the table. He flipped them all face down, and then sliding his hand across, he flipped them all face up. He had a showman’s hand, and he smiled at me, sad and hopeful all at once.