“Why?”
“Because he was technically dead and I didn’t have time.” I take another deep breath. I can practically feel the pressure of Annie’s gaze onthe side of my face and her silentDon’t do it, donotdo itis screaming in my brain. “I initiated the BioVIVE protocol.”
Annie’s head falls forward and the room erupts in chaos. Leonard has to shout above the noise to get everyone under control.
I mean, how bad can prison really be? I’ll finally have some spare time. Maybe I can even pick up a hobby. I hear crocheting can be very relaxing.
“Emery,” Leonard says evenly, “I’m sure everyone here is interested in knowing how you had Compound Y readily available to you at that moment, but first I want to make sure I understand. You initiated an unproven, experimental, and largely untested procedure on a live human subject?”
“He wasn’t a subject, he was my husband, and he was fuckingdead,” I say, and regret it immediately, owing to the way the room falls silent in a shocked hush. I take another deep breath. “As you can imagine, I was desperate and not thinking objectively.”
He stares at me, disappointment turning his features down at the corners.
“Leonard,” I say quietly. “It fuckingworked. Luca was clinically dead, but Compound Y kept his body stable enough for the BioVIVE protocol to repair the damage. His heart started again on its own and he’salive. And not just alive but thriving. We brought him back. You’ve seen the data,” I remind him. “You know I’m telling the truth.”
Even I can see the flicker of interest—and dollar signs—in Leonard’s eyes. It’s mirrored around the table.
“How do you know he’s thriving?”
At the sound of his voice, my eyes swing to Vince at the far end of the table. Anger floods my bloodstream. I hadn’t even realized he was here. “There is absolutely no way of knowing what will happen to him now,” Vince continues, without waiting for my answer, “or what hidden problems might be lurking below the surface. This is the most irresponsible,possibly criminal, and blatant disregard for scientific and medical ethics I have ever been witness to.”
I want to argue, though if I’m honest, he isn’t wrong. But I don’t have to say anything, because Annie speaks up first.
“Was this unorthodox?” she asks. “Yes. Was it bordering on manic? Also yes. But Luca is not a zombie, Vincent, and frankly, I will tolerate those kinds of accusations from anyone else here, but not you. Do not talk to me about ethics. You don’t want me to open that can of worms.”
Vince seethes at this as Annie addresses the rest of the room. “And let’s not kid ourselves. The sign outside saysSURGOPTIX, but we all go into a secret elevator and work for a company none of our families have ever heard of called BioNEX.Nothinghere is on the up-and-up. Every one of you is here to make money, and with Emery’s technology proven, you stand to make a lot of it. But not without her bravery and innovation.”
There’s more murmuring, and Lorraine, a stern woman with a severe gray bob, speaks up. “You say Luca Martín suffered no negative effects from the procedure?”
I tilt my head from side to side. “There were some memory issues, but they’re resolving. His thigh injury healed within a matter of days. The BioVIVE treated the rest of his injuries. Physically, all his systems appear to be functioning normally.”
“And you’ve documented all of this, as well as the procedure itself?” she asks. “Do you have proof?”
“Yes, all of it,” I say. “And proof? I haveLuca. You can see for yourself. He’s a miracle.”
“Have him here in three hours,” Leonard says, leaving zero room for argument. “You were unable to attend the meeting this weekend, but we received notice that the US military is interested in discussing your project. They would like us to move forward.”
“Themilitary?” I ask, my heart sinking.
“Three hours, Dr. Martín,” Lorraine says. “And I hope you’re right. The stakes have just been raised, and if you’re wrong and he begins to deteriorate after this reckless and unapproved use of a largely untested BioVIVE protocol, it would be catastrophic. For all of us.”
41EMERY
My three-hour window is whittled down to two when Annie and I spend an hour crushed in traffic on the 5 freeway. It’s only a few miles to my exit, but the speedometer never makes it to double digits, and it’s objectively the longest hour of my life. I can’t even go on side streets because there’s an entire bay in the way. If the steering wheel were corporeal, I would be strangling it to death.
My stress isn’t helped when I’m only able to reach Luca’s voicemail.Again.
“Oh my God, will he answer the damn phone!” I’d turned on my own phone to find a slew of missed calls and voice messages asking me to call him. That he’s not answering now is driving me insane. This entire situation is nauseatingly familiar.
Beside me, Annie is furiously typing who-knows-what into her phone.
I carefully peek over, trying to decipher what she’s writing in her Notes app. “What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to write down everything I remember from the conversation. Who was there, who said what, you know.”
“Good. Good.” I suck in a deep breath, switching lanes to the one that seems to be moving.
Annie looks up. “Why would the military be interested in Compound Y?”
