MARGO WAS EXHAUSTED. She collapsed on the packing blankets without even bothering to take off her dress. Seconds later, she was asleep. Lamont was tired too—but his mind was also buzzing with worries. He was relieved to have everybody together. They were safe here for the moment. But he knew the moment wouldn’t last. Nobody was truly safe anywhere. Not as long as Khan was in power. Not with whatever plan he was hatching.
Lamont leaned against the wall and gazed out the small window in the sleeping area. The window looked out over the front of the warehouse, with the ever-expanding river a short way off. The moon was full, and through the yellowed window glass, the bleak empty lot below almost glowed. Lamont closed his eyes. His mind reeled back to that same empty lot on another moonlit night—many, many moons ago.
He stumbled through the warehouse door, holding Margo in his arms. White foam dribbled from their mouths and stained their elegant evening clothes. Fletcher, the white-coated scientist, stepped aside to make room for them. His eyes were baggy, his frizzy hair wild and uncombed.
“Please!” he said to Lamont. “Let me take you to a hospital!”
Lamont could barely speak, but he forced the words out.
“No hospital has the antidote,” he croaked. “Activate the plan! That’s why we’re here! That’s why you’re here!”
Fletcher rolled out two metal gurneys. He took Margo from Lamont’s arms and laid her down gently on the first one, straightening her dress to cover her pale legs. He helped Lamont onto the second gurney. Lamont craned his head toward Margo.
“Do not die,” he whispered. “Do not die!”
His body was stiffening and every movement brought burning pain. He pressed his shaky right hand against his side and felt the small round shape of the ring in his pocket. His secret.
Lamont opened his eyes and exhaled slowly, his heart pounding from the memory. He walked over to the thin metal pipe where his tuxedo was hanging. He reached into the pocket and pulled out the ring. He held it up to the window. The facets of the diamond reflected the moonlight in small bright splinters.
He looked down at Margo’s face on the bunched-up blanket she used as a pillow. She was so beautiful, and he loved her more than ever. But a proposal? Marriage? Did those concepts even make sense anymore? Marriage meant a home and comfort and security, and none of those things seemed possible right now. And children. Marriage meant children. Why would anybody want to bring a child into this filthy, miserable world? Lamont put the ring back. He lay down beside Margo and wrapped his arms around her.