Panic swells in my throat and I shake my head quickly, feeling tears fall down my cheeks. “No.”
“Sweetie, the odds of this working are slim to none. Every animal we’ve done has had some issues. Honey had to be retrained. Dodger had kidney issues. Scout—”
“I can deal with kidney issues!”
“Emery, it might be worse than that. And if we’re caught, I mean… we will be eaten alive in prison.”
She’s right, I know, somewhere deep inside where rational thought remains, I know. But I also know that if Luca is gone, I won’t ever be the same. The Emery I am today won’t survive. The only words I can think of spill out of me: “If I lose him, you loseme. Do you understand?”
After a long beat and with a resigned breath, Annie nods, then walks over with the blood. She puts it into the receptacle in the pod, and we carefully undress Luca, being mindful of his injuries. Other than the damage to his thigh, bruises are beginning to bloom across his torso and chest, a sign of probable internal bleeding. He has abrasions on his arms and legs, a laceration on the side of his jaw. His head—and hopefully his brain—seems relatively unscathed.
We lift him, gently settling him onto the BioVIVE pod platform and attaching the sensors and electrodes to his skin and scalp. Annie inserts the pod’s IV into his arm.
I take one more look at his face. His lips are pale, his golden hairfalling away from his smooth, ashen forehead. I’m not ready to say goodbye.
So I won’t.
Bending, I kiss his forehead before pushing the Initiate sequence. The observation screens light up with his vitals: Pulse: 18 bpm. Blood pressure: 70/20 mm Hg. Body temperature: 30°C. EEG: Erratic.
I hold my breath as the platform smoothly slides back and connects, the glossy black top gliding into place until Luca is completely contained in the pod. The lights go on; the machine hums to life. Everything seems to be working.
But I don’t know how I’m going to survive the next couple of hours waiting to find out if I’ve lost my husband tonight.
8HIM
The world is dark, and warm, and small.
And beeping.
Eyes open, but it’s the same as eyes closed.
Complete blackness.
Inside my chest, my… what is it called?
It’s thrashing.
Pinpricks cover my hands and feet.
Heart. It’s called a heart.
I swallow. Gravel against glass.
I don’t know what I am, or where.
It’s cold but then—not.
Warmth seeps into me, core to extremities. A flushing sensation down every limb.
As easy as sinking into a warm bath.
Other sounds rise from outside this world.
Humming.
No, that isn’t right.
The sounds crystallize and take shape: “Pulse 30 bpm.”
