IAN FOCUSED ON THE SCRIPT.
With his lips practically kissing the mic’s black windscreen, he fought the nerves threatening to buckle his knees and forced words to form. There was no need for eloquence. He wasn’t here to make an announcement, not a speech. To tie his own noose, bankrupt his family’s only source of income, and slay the golden goose he’d spent his career caring for.
His eyes stayed on Bridget, who looked absolutely terrified. Why was he doing this to her? He needed to do what needed to be done, but why was he forcing her into a front-row seat? Was it really needed for appearances? Was it really necessary as an I’m-playing-ball gesture to get them into the building? Maybe he could have arrived as a dissident rather than a two-faced liar. Maybe he could have come to the Family Picnic without his brood and still achieved all that he needed to, taking the mic as a loner who didn’t play by the rules.
He told himself there was no other way. It had to unfold on a public stage — and that by taking Alice out of circulation, Hemisphere had thrust that duty upon him. And on Bridget to be here and watch.
He wasn’t harming his family. He was saving them.
He wasn’t betraying a friend, in Hemisphere. He was exposing the devil.
He tried not to look up, focusing on the script he’d written for himself, that August had approved.
BioFuse was modified after it was approved by the FDA, and he gave a date.
The new version was used in trials without approval, and he gave another date.
Here’s what worked with the new drug, and he used some of August’s terms.
But here’s what went wrong.
Thirty seconds. He’d timed it. Enough time to rile everyone from Hemisphere behind him, including the man who’d quietly threatened Ian’s family. Enough time to make a case and tell the cameras where they could find the Internet dump August would make, which proved it all.
“Hemisphere saved you from Sherman Pope,” he said, feeling the press of angry bodies from behind, the rising of angry bodies from the lawn, “but they gave it to you first.”
Ian turned to find himself facing Archibald Burgess, who grabbed his arm. Ian tried to yank away, but the man’s grip was too strong. Only when someone began yelling from the lawn did Ian finally pull away. With shock, he realized the runner was Alice, waving and screaming, gesturing toward dark figures encroaching from the lawn’s edges.
Ian headed for Bridget, who wasn’t running at all. She was waving Ian forward, into the circle on the lawn. Toward Bobby and the others, who still hadn’t broken rank enough to raise their weapons.
“They’re going to release ferals!” Alice shouted. “They’ve got ferals and they’re—”
There was new movement as a man emerged from behind a tree and seemed to release something, same as yesterday in the mall.
The deadhead came forward exactly one step, toward the crowd’s uninfected.
Then it turned around and bit the man who’d let it go.
Ian saw an arc of blood as the thing hit an artery.
Then the handler turned and attacked someone new.