The room spins. Thomas looks away from me, arms crossed over his chest. He’s shaking from fever, and his teeth are chattering.
Three times I try to speak before I can finally manage to ask, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I told you I was adopted. 8-Bit came and got me eight months ago. I’ve never met her, but some of the things he told me before this job … they make sense now.”
“No,” I say as I back away from him. “There’s some mistake. That can’t be right.”
“Look for yourself!” He tips his head forward. “See that? My roots are showing. Red hair.”
I run my hands through his hair.
“She probably dyes her hair. Maybe she’s got gray hair,” I say.
“Yeah. Maybe she dyes her hair the exact same color it used to be when she was younger. Isn’t that what women do?”
“A lot of people have red hair.”
“Angel.”
I stare at him, trying to make sense of this horrible fact, still hoping that he’s wrong.
“That woman took every single thing in my life away from me.”
“I know. I’d give anything for this to not be true. Anything.”
Thomas can barely keep his eyes open now, and he’s fallen to the side, cradling the computer, unable to push himself up again. I take him in my arms, propping his head up with the crook of my elbow.
“They were married. 8-Bit says he didn’t know about me until after I’d been adopted. By then he had problems of his own to deal with. Like fleeing the country.”
Thomas again holds the flash drive out for me.
“No.” I push it back at him.
“Take it.”
“No. Keep it, hide it. She wants it. You need something to bargain with.”
“I don’t need it to keep me alive. Nothing will keep me alive now.”
“What does that mean?”
“I told you, I read a lot. I know a lot about things. Shock, for example. And sepsis … Angel, I want you to promise me something.…”
“You’re going to take this drive and promise me that you won’t give them the data. You can get the pill another way.”
His voice is fading now.
“How? It’s impossible!”
“Not for you, Angel.” He raises his hand slowly and points toward the ceiling. “You’ve got wings.”
I don’t want to leave him, even though he’s unconscious and there’s nothing I can do to help him. Still, I’m torn.
Suddenly the choice is taken from me.
I hear an explosion from above. The soldiers are coming. It sounds like they’re blasting through the rubble in the stairwell. This gives me minutes to get out. If I’m lucky.
I think of Hodges. Then my mother. I’m blind with rage and sorrow and fear. I want to run, and I want to curl into a ball and cry. I can’t do both. I must choose.
Thomas is right.
I know what to do. There’s only one way to escape now; I have to go back out into the storm. And then I have to go up.
Thomas’s jacket is lying on the floor nearby. I take it, plus his hat and gloves. Then I sling the soldier’s backpack over my shoulder. Just as I’m about to leave, I go back for two more things. I take the headlamp, because I might need it. Then I whisper in Thomas’s ear, “I love you, too.”
Because if I’ve ever said it to anyone before, I don’t remember.