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Xave rolls the chair forward. As we exit into the long corridor—the wheelchair making a rhythmic click as it rolls—Kristen’s words ring in my ears.
How long do you think you can lie to him?
I bite my tongue. I already want to tell Xave that I’m all better, that he doesn’t have to worry about me or be afraid of hurting me, that he can kiss me, crush me against his body and never let me go. I wish I could tell him everything.
“I think Blare’s jealous,” Xave says, as we pass closed doors on either side of the corridor. His words pull me back to the moment.
He’s picking up the thread of our earlier conversation. I ponder for an instant, then catch his meaning. Blare must be jealous of Kristen, but I can hardly act like I know that. I’m not supposed to really know Kristen or the way she and James look at each other with such longing.
How Blare feels about James, on the other hand, is no secret to anyone. She’s an open book to all. Well, except to James, apparently.
“Jealous of what?” I ask, playing my part.
“Not what. Who.”
I pretend not to understand. “Huh?”
“Of Dr. Albright,” he explains.
“You mean the doctor and James ... ?” This mock Q and A is actually kind of fun.
“Oh, I don’t know, but Blare seems to think so.”
“Funny,” I say.
“Anything but. Blare’s in rare form, demanding answers about this place and why we didn’t know about it.”
“Yeah, why didn’t we know about it?” I’m curious to hear how James explained The Tank’s existence.
“Well, James just procured the place and with the hit on Riverbend there was no time to bring it up,” Xave explains, sounding as if he totally believes this explanation. James exudes nothing but trustworthiness, but still—“just procured the place”? With all that lab and computer equipment conveniently in one place? Hardly. And how about Kristen? How do they explain her away?
As soon as we exit the hospital wing, I get an answer to my first question. Jaw practically hitting my chest, I stare at The Tank, barely recognizing the place. The space where the pods used to be is empty. There’s nothing in the middle of the vast open area, just polished wood floor and stark white walls. Even the oil paintings are gone. Cubicle walls are pushed against the wall and huge tarps cover lumpy objects, giving a just-moved-in appearance. Only James with his faster-than-light speed could have done this.
“It’s big, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” I say in a drawn-out breath.
“They call it The Tank because of those glass walls up there.” He points upward, toward the elevator. “It’s like a huge aquarium, I guess.”
“So what is this? Why did James get a place like this?”
“He says it’ll be our headquarters.”
I nod. “Cool.”
“Think of the kind of money the man has. Apparently he owns this building. Oh, you probably didn’t notice when they brought you in, but we’re smack in the middle of downtown, right under some fancy office building.”
“Really?”
“Yep.”
“Wow.” The whole affair with James and his millions is still amazing to me, so I don’t have to pretend to be surprised. “So where’s everybody?”
“In the kitchen, getting lunch ready. Let’s go. I’m starving.”
Xave rolls the chair to the right, where the bedrooms, conference rooms and kitchen are.
“So how does Kristen fit in? Does she know about IgNiTe and Eklyptors?” I ask, trying to learn all I can about James’s false version.
“Yes. From what I gather, she’s not only a doctor, but also a biologist. Apparently, she’s doing all kinds of research to figure out a cure.”
“A cure,” I say dreamily. “Do you think that’s possible?”
“I don’t know. I guess. If the infection is like a virus or something like that, it has to be possible.”
“What if it’s not?” I ask, watching the polished floor pass under my feet.
“I don’t like to even think about that.” Xave veers toward the kitchen.
“What time is it?” I ask, finally a question that makes sense.
“Um, twelve thirty. Are you hungry?”
“Not really.” The thought of food makes my stomach queasy.
As we enter the kitchen, I rest an elbow on the armchair and prop my head on my hand. I think a bit of acting is in order.
“Hey!” Oso exclaims. “There’s our girl. How you feeling?” He approaches me, wearing an apron over a wifebeater t-shirt and a pair of jeans. A gold watch squeezes his thick, hairy wrist. His eyes grow sad as if he’s regarding an injured puppy. My acting is paying off. I take a quick look around the room and spot Kristen giving me an approving nod.
Oso pats my shoulder as Xave pushes me deeper into the large kitchen. The smell of grilled meat churns my stomach. I should be hungry. I haven’t eaten since yesterday and I’m feeling better by the minute. The thought of food is unpleasant, though. Maybe it’s nerves due to having a boyfriend for the first time, and under these circumstances.
Kristen stands by the long center island, slicing tomatoes. James is next to her, pouring wine into a row of glasses. He nods and smiles at me. I wonder if Kristen told him about Xave, if he disapproves. But, as he turns and passes Kristen a bowl full of lettuce, it seems I’m the last thing on his mind. They hold a quiet conversation, smiling easily at each other.
If they have a thing going, I don’t know how they could object to my relationship with Xave. True, I’ve never seen any real evidence to indicate they’re involved, but it seems pretty obvious. Do they hide an affair? Or do they hide their feelings from each other on principle? Either way, the sexual tension between them is palpable and—judging by the way Blare’s staring at them, her eyes shooting invisible death rays in their direction—I’m not the only one who suspects something’s going on between the boss and the doctor.
Perhaps the best thing Xave and I could do is keep things a secret. I mean, why does anyone need to know we’re together? I make a mental note to discuss it with him, hoping he doesn’t think I’m embarrassed to be his girlfriend. At that thought, I look behind me and smile.
“Girl, you look rough,” Rheema says with a wink. Thick bandages cover her forearm, and she limps as she stands to move a chair out of the way.
Oso walks up to a large, chef-style gas stove, picks up a pair of tongs from the counter, and flips a large steak. “You gave us a real scare.” His expression is stern.
“It looked worse than it really was,” Kristen says.
“Yeah, you looked like shit,” Blare says, snatching a wine glass from under James before he’s even done pouring. Like Oso, she looks to have made it out unscathed. I guess all the loose surveillance equipment is responsible for injuring those of us in the back. “I even thought you’d croak, but I guess I’m no doctor,” she adds with a nasty look at Kristen.
Xave pushes the wheelchair to a long dinner table, in the space Rheema cleared. Across from me, Clark waves and wiggles one eyebrow.
“’Bout time,” he says in a low voice, then fake-zips his lips and throws away the key.
So much for keeping things a secret. I guess Xave already spilled it. I look away mortified. Xave pretends to be having trouble taking off his now torn IgNiTe jacket.
“You hungry, little girl?” Oso asks. “I’ve got a steak with your name on it.”
Kristen looks my way. I clutch my belly and shake my head. “Thank you, Oso. But I couldn’t stomach it.” I don’t have to pretend on this one.
“How about some juice?” Xave turns to Kristen. “Dr. Albright, can she have some juice?”
Kristen tosses the salad. “Yes, juice is fine. And call me Kristen, please.”
As Xave walks to a battalion-size fridge to look for the juice, I notice Aydan sitting quietly at the end of the table. One of his eyes is bruised and bloodshot, and a strip of bandage is wrapped around his head.
Xave returns with a glass of orange juice. “Here you go.”
“Thank you,” I say, my gaze still locked with Aydan’s.
He narrows his eyes at me, then gets up from the table, pulls a beer out of the fridge and returns without giving me a second glance. I guess almost dying had no effect on him. He’s the same jerk as before.
As if this was a family and they had done this a thousand times, everyone helps set the table in a matter of minutes—except Blare and Aydan of course. There’s steak, salad, garlic bread and mashed potatoes.
The food gets passed around and everyone fills their plate. I sip orange juice, while everyone else eats with unsettling appetite. Clark teases Oso about keeping the larger steak for himself. After Oso cuts into it, he lifts the plate and offers it to Clark. The thing looks like it’s barely been cooked. Clark waves a hand at the plate, and calls him a savage. Everyone laughs and my ribs don’t hurt as much when I join in.
After a silent moment, James clears his throat. “To Marci,” he says, taking me by surprise. “Because without her this whole operation would have been an utter failure.”
“To Marci.” Glasses go up and clink against each other.
Blare joins in, even if half-heartedly. Aydan crosses his arms and stares at his plate. His face is its usual sour flavor. I don’t let it bother me for long. Not when everyone else wants to touch their glass to mine. Not when the celebratory mood is so contagious. It may be a small victory, but it’s a victory nonetheless.
The disturbing reality of what the world has become looms like a terrifying phantom over my head. I take a deep breath and push away fearful thoughts of the future. I refuse to worry about it right now. I have a lot to be grateful for at the moment: Xave, new friends, the feeling that I belong. So I choose to concentrate on these things, even though the secrets I’ve uncovered are much bigger than I’d ever imagined.
The whole world depends on cells like this one, on people like us. The responsibility to defend our humanity hangs heavy in the air, a mass so sizable it seems to obstruct the view of our species’ future. It’s too much to take in at once. There are more immediate things for me to consider and accomplish, like getting my agent under control, so I focus on that.
I smile to myself, contemplating my new life. For the first time in years, I’m happy. The shadows feel distant, a small threat with a death sentence.
All I have to do to ignite them is flip the switch on my thoughts.
Click.