Ian reached into his pocket and took out a white plastic applicator, just like the ones the Home Guard used to test for infection.

"I know what that is," I said. "I watched Jason using one."

"Unfortunately, this was our only one," Ian explained. "They're hard to come by. They work by taking a urine sample."

He pressed a button, and a three-inch needle extended from the applicator with a click.

"They're Insta-Reads," he said. "Which means they're designed to take a quick sample from the bladder by piercing the abdomen, in cases when someone refuses to give urine. But they work just as well by peeing on the needle. You don't actualy have to stab anyone."

He clicked the button again, and the needle withdrew.

"This one is Morgan's."

Ian handed me the applicator. He and Chris both waited silently for me to read it.

Just like a pregnancy test, there were simple instructions. One blue line meant "Stage 1 TGV." Two blues lines meant "Stage 2 TGV." Three blue lines meant "Stage 3 TGV."

Morgan's test had two blue lines. Stage 2 TGV.

I had to have known, on some level, listening to Chris's explanation about how the pathogen worked, that Morgan was infected. She'd been sleeping with Mr. Hershel for weeks even before he'd forced himself on her. She'd gotten sick, and I'd watched her stop breathing and lie still without a heartbeat for at least fifteen minutes before waking back up. But I hadn't really let myself accept it until now, seeing the brute fact of two blue lines on the applicator. And I hadn't expected her to have reached the second stage so soon.

"Sometimes it progresses pretty quickly," Chris said, condoling me.

I looked back and the granary door. "She's here, isn't she? Somewhere?"

"I'll take you to her now," Ian said.

I followed Ian and Chris outside.

Bryce was sitting beside the granary, his back against the corrugated tin wall. He stood. I handed him the applicator.

"It's Morgan's."

He read it. He nodded slowly.

Chris lit a cigarette as he led us all toward the second of the six round silos. He offered the cigarette to me, and after a moment I accepted it, taking a long, trembling drag before handing it back over.

Ian took a few cautious steps toward the long row of silos, soberly motioning for us to follow him. . .