The next day the doctor visits me.

"Well, well, well," he says as he sits on my bed. "Look at you. Been asleep for three days, started hallucinating, and now you're sitting up and looking as bright-eyed and angry as ever."

"Thanks," I mutter bitterly. I still haven't gotten over the fight.

The doctor ignores this. "Well, as Constance may have told you, you hit a high fever, and we put you in a cold bath."

"Weren't you worried about the water supply?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "Water pipes are still functioning perfectly, and so is the power, but we can't use heat any more."

I nod and frown. "But the levels below-"

The doctor shrugs. "I don't know much about plumbing. I'm not the guy to ask. You wet the bed a couple times-we couldn't move you much-"

He falters at my bright red face (at least I now know what the "other things" Constance mentioned yesterday), then continues. "But your fever broke earlier yesterday, which was good."

"Did anyone else get sick?" I ask.

The doctor purses his lips and nods grimly. "Two others. It's spreading through the building like wildfire."

"And Elf?"

"Is back on her feet. She wanted to visit you, but we couldn't risk her getting sick. So she just followed me around, trying to help me figure out exactly the disease was. She's got quite the medical mindset. I wouldn't mind having a helper."

"I bet you wouldn't," I mutter. I had spent enough time with Elf to know her tendencies to blabber on and on about random facts and figures. She knew a lot about a lot, could figure out math in a heartbeat (as proven when she was introduced to the rations) and having more than one medical person in the building would be good.

The doctor looks up at the ceiling as it rumbles. "Yeah, we need some more help. The people are getting restless. I'm surprised they lasted this long."

"What's that suppose to mean?" I ask, sitting up all the way.

"They've been fighting. Over rations. Over non-dirty rooms. Over the stupidest little things. They're stir crazy, and they're ready to leave-even if it means being eaten alive."

I shudder. Disease, the building crumbling, people fighting-how much worse could it get? "I think life in here just got as dangerous as life out there."

The doctor nods and buries his face in his hands. Then he stands up. "Well, you're fine, but I wouldn't risk any heavy work. Now if you'll excuse me, I have many-" he takes a deep breath- "many other patients to take care of."

"I wonder why," I mutter to myself as he leaves. I could get up and go visit Elf, but I can't motivate myself to leave the room. I pull a blanket down from the closet and curl up on the couch. Constance comes in and hands me a half-eaten can of soup. I thank her and swallow about a quarter of it down. Then I hand it to her and say, "You can have the rest."

She shakes her head. "I'm not hungry."

"Yes, you are," I push the can to her. "I saw the way you watched me eat."

Constance sighs and drinks the rest of the soup. "This doesn't make up for yesterday," she says.

"I totally forgot," I say honestly, "that your father-"

"Well, that's quite a thing to forget, isn't it?" she snaps.

"Constance, this isn't like you," I say. "Please don't be like the others and get mad over a stupid mistake."

She hesitates and locks eyes with me. There's desperation in her hazel eyes. Desperation and fear. She reaches over and gently brushes hair back from my face with one hand and holds mine with the other. "It's terrifying," she murmurs, "watching how we've changed. We've all got the same look of fear, now. We all have the appearance of being starved and like we'd have to fight for our meals. How did we survive so long?"

"I don't know," I say. "But I think people are already fighting for their meals."

Constance gives a shaky laugh. "It's even more terrifying out there. They'll kick you out of here any moment. They did for me."

"They can have the bed," I say, gesturing to it. "Stinks of sweat of urine, but it's free of dirt."

"We're moving you out today," Constance says, "once we find a room."

"Why can't people just double up?" I suggest. "Or are they already?"

"I don't think that's occurred to them," Constance says.

"Oh, good," I say. "I just realized how much worse the fighting would be."

Constance chuckles. "I feel like you're suggesting something."

"Yeah, that people double up."

She glances at the door as people begin banging on it. She gets up, peers out, then locks the door. "It's the people," she says. "Gotta lock them out."

"I love how we talk about them as a us v.s. them," I say as the building shakes.

"Oh, yeah," Constance says. "We're divided now. Those who want out now and those who are trying to hold the peace until we're rescued."

"Which side are you?" I ask.

"The side that wants peace. Who knew that the danger was in the building as well?"

"Is it that time of the month for so many woman?"

"Hilarious," Constance says, rolling her eyes. Her hand has stopped stroking my hair and is now slightly curled on my cheek. I lean against it. I feel like there's something I'm missing, but I don't know what.

There's a slight scuffle outside the door, and someone bangs on it. "Constance? Nate? Open up!"

"Mike," she mutters. "The doctor," she explains at my questioning look. She opens the door enough for him to squeeze through and for me to see the angry mob outside.

"Damn people," he mutters. "Well, Nate, we have some good news."

"Excellent," I say. "God knows we need some."

"We found a room for you," he says. "But it's a couple floors below, and it needs a bit of cleaning."

"That's better than no room," I say. "When will I move out of this stink hole?"

"In one or two days," he answers. His eyes dart between me and Constance. "I have to go help some others. Two just got into a fight and it's nasty," he says and awkwardly leaves the room.

Constance looks at the door. "You can sleep in my room tonight, if you want to get out of here."

"Sounds like a good idea," I say. "I need to leave this room."

Constance smiles and closes her eyes. She takes a deep breath. "I want out."

"You and everyone else," I say, sitting up.

She nods. "I know," she says. "But we can't. Not yet."

She sits cross-legged next to me on the floor. I lie back down so my head is level with hers. I reach out and awkwardly stroke her hair as her composure breaks and she begins to cry. I lower myself to the floor and wrap both arms around her as she sobs her heart out on my shoulder.