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He knew what it could create, too.
And then there was a trip to a tiny museum, nestled beneath a cliff of geological significance, which had revealed a truth about plagues that was rarely considered: the thing to fear most might not be a virus itself, but men’s reaction to it. Six hundred men marching in a line, flesh scored by nails…
And yet he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with any of this knowledge.
Stay or go?
Stay or go?
It was the same dilemma. Did you cling to your rock, waiting for someone else to rescue you, or did you plunge into the roiling waters and save yourself?
He grinned suddenly. Whatever he did, whatever the future held, he was not alone any more.
He filed the photographs carefully away. Security could be gained in many ways other than with food, after all.
Then he returned to Peyton’s lair, refused more chocolate, and gave the big man a new project: the history of the lighthouse on Light Island.
There were four horsemen, after all.
* * *
