Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 110809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 554(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 554(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
He knows exactly how old I am. I’m certain of it. Just as I’m certain that I’ve felt his gaze on me in one way or another for the past few years. The same way I used to look for him when I would enter a room at university functions. “You could have a whole life,” he continues. “Don’t throw it away. You can’t solve this thing. Not on your own. I mean—” He shakes his head. “Has the CDC even once responded to the data you keep sending them?”
I cross my arms. “They’re busy. They can’t respond to every scientist who sends in data. Doesn’t mean they don’t analyze it or use it. I get new data from them each week. You should, too. You may not be in epidemiology, but you could do something to help. You’re a scientist. We have to keep working.”
“That’s just a dream. You know I’m right. Come with us.”
“It’s not a dream, Sledge.” What I would’ve given to hear him ask me to go somewhere, anywhere with him four years ago. Back when I was smitten. When I thought it was love. Ugh, I could punch myself.
“Well, not a dream, I guess,” he amends. “But it’s not real, all the same. You’re just one person in a crumbling university.”
I stare him down. “It’s plenty real. It’s knowing that in here—” I tap my temple. “In this tangled mess, there’s a chance that the right neurons will fire in the correct order and create something that can save lives. This is why I went to med school, why I studied and worked and churned and did nothing else. Before the plague, before we had any idea such a thing was truly possible, I knew I could help the world in some inexplicable way. I knew there had to be a reason why I was given this gift.” A curse, my mind whispers. “I can solve this. I have the ingredients, but I haven’t figured out the recipe, and if I run away from this, I’ll never find that recipe. I’ll have burned years of my life, my youth, for nothing.”
“It’s not your cross to bear!” He clutches his hands together, his knuckles going white before he loosens his grip and lets out a wry chuckle. “I would honestly say you were delusional if I didn’t know what you’re capable of, the way your mind works. But you’re punishing yourself. That’s what this feels like.” He gestures around at my cramped, dark office. “Because you think you were given a gift?”
“It’s not punishment. It’s purpose.” I force myself to breathe, to back down, to stop rising to his bait. “I don’t know why we’re having this conversation,” I say as calmly as I can. “I’m not your responsibility. My work is none of your concern. Thank you for the offer, and please give Claire my thanks as well, but I’m not interested.”
He drops his gaze, his body sagging slightly as if he finally let a weight settle on top of him without resistance. He’s silent for a few beats, his gaze on the floor. “Do you remember that night?” he asks softly.
I pretend not to hear him. I can’t hear him. That past doesn’t exist anymore. There’s only the future. Only the plague. “If I can work on finding a vaccine, then that’s what I’m going to do. If you want to hide out in the woods at Camp Karen, then do so. Just give me the keys to your lab in case I can salvage anything for mine.”
He meets my gaze again. I look away. I don’t want to see his sadness. I don’t have room for it. He sighs and stands, the crease between his brows even deeper than before. “I have regrets. Plenty of them. But that night …” He shakes his shaggy head.
“Don’t.”
“You were too young. You thought I was something I’m not. If I’d made a move—” His eyes meet mine, and in them there is a burning, vivid surge of emotion. “If I’d done it, you would’ve hated me eventually.”
The apology in his words almost stings. “You don’t know—”
“I do.” He smiles sadly, the movement hidden from me but somehow felt. “I’m the one who’s running away to Camp Karen, after all. That’s who I am, Georgia.” He slides his lab key onto the only clean edge of desk. “I’m not brave. I’m not determined. I would’ve disappointed you the same way I’m disappointing you now.” Maneuvering to my door, he steps out, finality in every movement. “It just would’ve happened sooner.”
Words crawl up my throat and lodge against each other. There’re things I want to say, but nothing comes out. Nothing forms. There’s … nothing.
“Goodbye, Georgia.” He looks up as the generator kicks on, the building groaning and coughing itself awake. “Be careful with that space heater. It’s a fire hazard.” He closes the door.