I have to give Haven credit for spinning this in our favor so well: as if the lack of quarantine means there’s nothing to worry about, when really, it’s simply too late to make a difference.
“Please report to Medical if you experience any unusual or worrying symptoms. If no one is there to receive you, you may use any public comm channel to call me—Haven—at any time. Seven-three-two-nine-star.”
I make a mental note to thank Haven for her quick thinking. I hadn’t considered yet that no one is permanently stationed at Medical to receive patients. It’s not like I can hang out there all day, especially now that I’ll probably be eating and sleeping in the lab for the next long while—and I certainly don’t mind that Haven’s givenhernumber out with an open invitation to contact her at any time. I’d rather not field those calls on top of everything else.
“Thank you, everyone,” she says. “In the wake of these tragedies, I urge you all to be kind and be wise.”
The speaker clicks off. I wait—wait—listening intently for the sound of silence devolving into chaos.
Of course I know better than to assume it would happen that quickly, or that loudly. I think most things begin to fracture without anyone realizing it’s even happening, a sort ofsplintered silence that gives way all at once under too much weight, and without warning.
Leo and Heath watch me, wordless, as I gather supplies for a long stint in the lab: my favorite hoodie; my pillow; the throw from my mother’s chair. I wish it were as easy to gather answers, or energy, or sanity.
“Looks like I’ve got work to do,” I say, not meeting their eyes. “Leo, have Zesi send samples to the lab immediately. If one of you could arrange for Natalin to send food a couple times throughout the day, that might be nice, because I’ll probably forget to—”
“Lindley,” Heath says. “Lindley.”
When I finally look up at him, all I can focus on are his lips. My cheeks flame with guilt: for kissing him as Kerr and Jaako lay dead, and for wanting to kiss him again.
“We’re here for you,” Leo says. “We’ve got your back, okay?”
The night my mother died, it was Leo I sought. Leo who sat with me, back-to-back like we had all those years ago, during the solar flare. Leo whose only words that entire pitch-black night wereI’m here for you.
For the first time in my life, I was without the one person I loved more than anything in the universe.
Leo stayed with me. He didn’t have to say any more, or do any more—he was just there when I needed it. He’s always been there. If I’m honest, as honest as Heath thinks I am, I’m afraid things will shift between Leo and me if I let Heath comeany closer. I’m afraid things are shifting already: there’s a new expression on Leo’s face now, one I can’t immediately place. I thought I knew all there was to know about him.
And maybe I did. Maybe something new sprouted up when I wasn’t looking.
Everything is shifting too fast, too suddenly. I want things to be like before, I want things to be safe and steady and not so sharp. I want my mother’s voice.
I want.
“What do you want to do about theNautilus?” Heath asks as I head for the door. “You still want me to go for it?”
I don’t know what I want.
“Let me get some tests started, and after they process, we’ll talk more about it,” I say. “Be ready in about an hour—let’s meet in SSL this time.” I can’t think of a place more peaceful and quiet than SSL, with its rows and rows of pillars, of life on hold. Maybe I’ll even start sleeping there. If I sleep for long enough, maybe I can freeze time, too.
28
FLOCKS OF FLIES
IT TAKES LESS than a minute before they start to swarm: a girl at the end of my hall, a pair of guys around the next turn. Heath and Leo flank me, dismiss the questions, push them away.
Over. And. Over.
It was never like this before, back when none of us had such a driving need forwhy. Everyone mostly kept to their cliques, or kept to themselves, hanging out in their cabins or the rec center, or studying in the various learning hubs scattered throughout our decks. Now, though, it’s like they’re afraid to be alone, like they crave the comfort of the herd. The learning hubs have been deserted lately; the rec center is a ghost town.
What felt so solid before—who we were, who we’dbecome—all we thought we knew—it’s all been stripped away and reconfigured by the knife of tragedy.
Nothing is certain anymore.
Everyone wants answers I can’t possibly give, and not only in regard to the deaths.
By the time we get to Portside, where I’ll run the blood tests, Heath and Leo have to physically shield me—and the sliding door—as I slip inside, alone. It is a very good thing this lab is passcode protected. It is a very good thing the doors are stronger than they look.
If only they were soundproof.
