Mason nods, understanding. Like me, he enjoys solitude.
“Well, if you really don’t mind, perhaps I’ll call James.”
Two hours later, I’m alone in an empty house on the worst day of my life.
I’m startled awake, and at first I think I slept for twenty-four hours. Then I realize it’s the same horrible day: the day that started in Seattle and ended with me alone in an empty house, forbidden to see my dying friend at the hospital.
I lie still for a minute, thinking of all that’s happened and all that’s gone wrong. I sit up and rub my eyes, growing more and more agitated. Finally, when I can sit still no longer, anger and adrenaline catapult me out of bed and down the stairs. In the middle of the open area between the kitchen and the living room, I turn around, unsure what to do.
Because I have to do something.
And then the answer hits me like a hailstorm.
I run toward the basement door. I turn on the lights and gag on the smell of rat poop as I descend. At the bottom of the stairs, I make sure that every light does its job. I want to see everything: the medical equipment; the rat cages with furry, squeaky test subjects inside; the small, locked closet where they keep the firearms.
I want to see the black case.
Mason’s voice saying In case of an emergency, runs through my head.
If this isn’t an emergency, I don’t know what is.
I reach the case but hesitate before opening it. Somewhere deep inside me, I know what I’m doing is wrong. But then I think of Audrey. I think of Matt. I think of God and the program and Nora. How God controlled Nora. And how, with rules and oaths, he’s controlling me.
I think of Megan.
I think of taking control.
And then, with no more hesitation, I punch in the first code.
At six thirty, I stand alone on the river walk, watching the people move like ants through downtown after a long day at work. Mason and the other agents call them—the normal people—Unenlightened. More like untouched.
I hear the rhythmic thud of feet running toward me but I don’t turn to look. They slow as they approach, and then stop. Raspy breath sounds next to me, but there’s nothing else.
“I want you to know that I’m not doing this for you,” I say, keeping my eyes on the skyline.
“You have your reasons,” Matt answers gruffly. “Can we just do this? I need to get back to the hospital.”
I turn to face him. Our eyes meet for the second time today. And for the second time, despite hating him, I want to hug him. But I don’t. Instead, I reach into my pocket and pull out a tiny loaded syringe with a plastic cover over the needle.
“Burn the syringe after you use it,” I say to Matt.
“Okay.”
“I’ve never actually seen this done on a human,” I continue. “But I think you just give her the whole dose.”
“Where?” he asks. An evening breeze blows his long hair into his eyes. He shakes it out like he’s mad at it.
“I don’t know,” I say. I try to think back. Once I had an IV when I woke up. Maybe twice. “Does she have an IV? You could put it in that. Or just into her arm.”
“Okay,” Matt says, sounding unsure.
“Matt, you don’t have to do it if—”
“Yes, I do,” he interrupts. “I have to. It can’t hurt her. I mean she’ll already be—”
“I know,” I jump in, not wanting him to say it. “But I want you to know how big of a deal this is,” I say, thinking of Nora’s situation.
“I’m not going to get you in trouble,” Matt snaps.