It takes Zach hours to realize he has a roommate.

“Vode?” croaks the little voice behind the curtain. He can hear a clicking call button, but nothing’s happening. “Vode, molim.”

Zach gets up and shuffles over, feet curling on cold tile. “Hi?” he says. “You need something?”

A grumpy little girl looks up, big eyes dark and hollow, a wide bandage across her torso. “Vode,” she mutters, and gestures to a carafe.

“Oh!” He pours her a glass of water; she drinks with both hands. Then she smiles.

“Listen,” says Zach. “I hope it’s clear I shot you completely on accident.”