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“What—” I look over her shoulder toward the back door which I could swear has gotten even more shadowy.

She presses her forehead to mine. “Wait a full minute before you leave here, and stay away from the White House. Don’t visit. Don’t even get close. I love you, little sis.” Then she brushes past me and hurries to the front door. Without another word, she disappears onto the street. I follow and stop at the front window, searching for her in the gloom. But I don’t see her. Only a shadow that seems to ooze along the dark wall opposite me, moving toward Pennsylvania Avenue, toward the White House, toward the only family I have left.

10

“You’re back.” Wyatt looks up from his desk as I walk into the lab.

“You look like shit.” Aang wrinkles his nose.

I didn’t sleep well, and it wasn’t simply because I was in a new place. All the troubles from yesterday were like a constant drip of caffeine in my veins, waking me before I could ever fully claim the darkness of sleep. I kept hearing Juno’s quavering voice, her whispered warnings. God, I need to speak to her again.

“Is the coffee for everyone?” I throw a glance at the wall beside the doors where a small table is set up with a coffeemaker.

“Yeah.” Gretchen lifts her cup that says ‘Smart Bitch, Big Tits’ on the side to me in salute. “I sure hope so.”

The doors open behind me, and Gene limps in, a tray in his hands.

“Is that …” Evie abandons her microscope and rushes over, her blonde hair flying out behind her. “Croissant?”

“No, sorry.” Gene puts the tray beside the coffee machine. “I grabbed a few things from down the street. Danishes and?—”

By ‘down the street’ I assume he means the White House. Where I’m not supposed to go. My stomach churns at the thought, at Juno saying we wouldn’t be seeing each other again. That can’t be right. A headache sets up in my skull as I go back through our conversation, trying to pick apart meaning from every single word. It didn’t work in the wee hours of last night, and it isn’t working now.

“Oh my god, they never give us breakfast.” Evie takes a Danish. “Just those gross packaged lunches and dinners that are only a step above MREs.”

“Thanks, Gene.” I take a long sniff of the coffee and slap a forced smile on my face. “Amazing.”

“I prefer tea,” Aang says, despite already mid-pour on the coffee. “But this will do.”

Gene pats my arm. “Don’t worry about the food. I can do more than clean up around here. I’ll make sure you get fed, and something better than what they’ve been delivering to y’all.”

“How?” Gretchen grabs what looks like an orange scone. “They have all these rules to keep us isolated from the virus in here. We have to stay in the safe zone or whatever it’s called.”

“I have my ways, Miss. Don’t you worry about that.” Gene frowns at the coffee service. “We need a fridge for cream and such.”

“I can get that for you.” Wyatt points to the back wall. “They gave us more refrigeration units than we could ever need. Several of them haven’t even been used, so they’re suitable for food.”

I sip my coffee and bite back a moan. It’s wonderful. Even if the world is growing darker by the day, coffee always gives it a spark.

“We need to talk about the blood sample,” Wyatt says around a mouthful of scone. He’s eating with one hand and digging through his record collection with the other.

“Sorry I didn’t make it back yesterday. I had to see my sister.” I take a bite of Danish. It’s cold and maybe a tad stale, but to me, it’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten.

“It’s fine. It took me a while to get the sample prepped in the HCL. I only just got it back out this morning. It’s clear of virus, but that’s the least interesting thing about it.”

I follow him to his desk toward the back of the room. It’s neat, everything set out in an organized sort of grid with sticky note reminders on top of some items. “Re-check centrifuge balance” and “subvert immune mediator via replicon process?” are written in big black Sharpie.

“Guys,” he calls. “Group huddle.”

Everyone comes over, and the room seems a little warmer now from the coffee and food. The other scientists still keep their distance from me a little. I’m a new cog in their machine, so I suppose it’ll take some getting used to for all of us. After all, I’ve only ever been on my own when it comes to plague research. Most of the faculty left early on in the crisis, returning to their hometowns or countries. Only the ones with local ties—like Sledge—remained to keep the doors open. Now, I wonder if anyone at all returns to campus or if it’s already turned into something else in the short time I’ve been gone.

“First off, the blood wasn’t a fresh collection.” Wyatt clears his throat. “Was it, Dr. Clark?”

“Georgia,” I remind him. “And no, it wasn’t.”

“Why not?” Aang asks.

“This is what I received, and it’s all I was given.”