Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 132491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
“The fuck you will. You’re staying right here.”
The last thing I see before my eyes slide closed is his amused expression and a nod.
When I wake up, I’m alone in the bed. I put my hand on the side Marcus slept on, finding it still warm.
I’m groggy, which I think means I slept for a long time. I walk into the other room, finding a filled canteen and a note on the table.
Briar,
Meet me in the Hub. I have something to show you.
x Marcus
I smile, my body deliciously sore. I’m thirsty, so I drink all the water in the canteen before getting dressed in a clean Rising Tide uniform and going to the bathroom, where I brush my teeth and secure my long, wild hair in a thick bun at the nape of my neck.
We never ate last night. Whatever food was delivered is gone now. My stomach rumbles in protest when I head for the Sub instead of the kitchen.
When I try my thumbprint on the Sub’s entrance door, it opens. A woman walking out of the Sub nods at me as I walk in.
I can’t keep the silly grin from my face as I descend into the Sub. I did a terrible job of resisting Marcus. Zero stars, honestly. But right now, I can’t even remember why I wanted to resist him. Being near him makes me happier than I’ve ever been. And since we’re dancing with death all the time here, if my ticket gets punched, I’d rather go having had incredible sex recently than being celibate.
My thumbprint also works on the entrance to the main Sub area, where I sheltered during the last storm. I find Marcus there, leaning against a counter as he talks to Niran, Adele, and Chance.
As soon as our eyes lock, he gives me a warm smile, the others turning to see what caught his attention.
“Hey,” I say in greeting.
“Great job on the op,” Adele says. “Marcus was just telling us about it.”
“Yeah, I still can’t believe we found him.” I focus on Marcus. “How’s he doing?”
He shrugs. “He’s alive. Other than that, I haven’t checked. I’m planning to keep him as isolated as possible to increase the chances he’ll break.”
Pushing away from the counter, he says, “Hey, we have to take care of something; we’ll catch you guys later.”
He puts an arm around me, pulling me close and kissing the top of my head. “How’d you sleep?”
“Amazing. What time is it?”
“Almost noon.”
“I slept for more than twelve hours?”
“Yep. I slept for eleven.”
He leads the way to a door I’ve never been through, opening it with his thumbprint. It takes us into a long hallway, where we walk to another door that he opens with his thumbprint.
He takes a flashlight that was clipped around his waist, switching it on. “We’re still on low power, so no lights in here.”
He shines the light on a computer. It’s been a very long time since I saw one—pre-virus.
When he pushes a button, the computer hums to life, the screen taking time to load.
“I know McClain, and since he said he looked for the blue flowers, that means he’ll make a stabilizer if we can find them. Since you know a lot about plants, I figured I should show you all the records we have about them. Maybe it’ll spark something that will help you narrow down where we can find them.”
I nod. “Of course.”
The screen loads, my eyes quickly scanning the icons. One of them catches my eye.
“What’s that?” I point at it.
“It’s a database. People who survived the virus and people who didn’t. It hasn’t been updated in a couple of years, though.”
I look up at him, my breath caught in my throat. “Can I look up my family? Maybe there’s something about how they died or where they were found.”
“Of course.” He puts a hand on my shoulder as I click on the icon.
It’s basic, the cursor on a blank search bar blinking at me. I type in my mom’s name first.
A photo of her loads, bringing tears to my eyes. I run my fingertips over the screen, overjoyed to even be seeing a picture of her. It’s been so long since I saw her smile.
Lucinda K. Hollis: DECEASED
That’s the only information it has on her. In my heart, I knew she was gone, but it’s still a stab in the gut to read the impersonal, all-caps declaration.
“She’s beautiful,” Marcus says, smoothing a hand over my hair. “You look like her.”
I wipe a tear from my cheek. “Thank you.”
I type in my dad’s name next.
Benjamin R. Hollis: DECEASED
There’s another stab. My dad isn’t smiling in his photo. It’s his all-business expression. That’s not what I picture when I think of him. I remember him laughing as he tried to do the TikTok dances Mae taught him. His face always softened with affection when he looked at our mom, like she was the only woman in the world.