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Barnes tried to squirm away from the pistol in his lap. “Please, Ephraim. Please let’s talk—”

“Good! You start.”

“May I at least put on my seat belt?”

Eph took the corner hard and said, “No.”

Barnes saw that Ephraim had dumped something into the cup holders between them: the FBI agent’s shield. The muzzle was tight against his leg, Eph’s left hand heavy upon the steering wheel. “Please, Ephraim, be very, very careful—”

“Start talking, Everett.” Eph pressed the gun hard into Barnes’s leg. “Why the hell are you still here? Still in the city? You wanted a front-row seat, huh?”

“I don’t know what you are referring to, Ephraim. This is where the sick are.”

“The sick,” said Eph disparagingly.

“The infected.”

“Everett—you keep talking like that and this gun is going to go off.”

“You’ve been drinking.”

“And you’ve been lying. I want to know why there is no goddamned quarantined Eph’s rage filled the interior of the car. He veered hard right to avoid a broken-down and looted delivery van. “No competent attempt at containment,” he continued. “Why has this been allowed to keep burning? Answer me!”

Barnes was up against the door, whimpering like a boy. “It is completely out of my hands now!” he said.

“Let me guess. You are just following orders.”

“I… I accept my role, Ephraim. The time came where a choice had to be made, and I made it. This world, the one we thought we knew, Ephraim—it is at the brink.”

“You don’t say.”

Barnes’s voice grew colder. “The smart bet is with them. Never wager with your heart, Ephraim. Every major institution has been compromised, either directly or indirectly. By that, I mean either corrupted or subverted. This is occurring at the highest levels.”

Eph nodded hard. “Eldritch Palmer.”

“Does it really matter at this point?”

“To me it does.”

“When a patient is dying, Ephraim—when all hope for recovery is gone—what does a good physician do?”

“He keeps fighting.”

“You prolong it? Really? When the end is certain and near? When they are already beyond saving—do you offer palliative care and draw out the inevitable? Or do you let nature run its course?”

“N

ature! Jesus, Everett.”

“I don’t know what else to call it.”

“I call it euthanasia. Of the entire human race. You standing back in your Navy uniform and watching it die on the table.”

“You apparently want to make this personal, Ephraim, when I have caused none of this. Blame the disease, not the doctor. To a certain extent, I am as appalled as you are. But I am a realist, and some things simply cannot be wished away. I did what I did because there was no other choice.”

“There is always a choice, Everett. Always. Fuck—I know that. But you… you are a coward, a traitor, and—worse—a fucking fool.”

“You will lose this fight, Ephraim. In fact, if I’m not mistaken—you already have.”