Contents ( 46)
- Contents
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Epilogue
- Author’s Note
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
“Grace?”
She lifts her head to face me, and her eyes are nearly black in this light. “Emerson. No. Go away.”
I don’t. Of course I don’t. I don’t ask her what happened either, because the answer is painfully obvious. “You should come in. Casey can take care of you.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “I’m not going to be responsible for another outbreak in Hope. I just… I wanted to be close, you know? Nowhere else to go and all that.”
“I can go get him,” I say. “He can help you here. We have new medication thanks to the rations. Nothing to help with the plague, but perhaps he has something to ease your throat. Make you more comfortable. It isn’t much, but—others have survived, Grace. It’s going to be okay.” I’m rambling, I’m all too aware of it. But she looks smaller than I’ve ever seen her, and I can’t get closer to offer any comfort. She risked her life to get us those ration cards, I know she did. And now…
“Can I at least get you a blanket?” I suggest weakly. “You need to stay warm.”
She laughs, and when she breathes in, she wheezes. “I’m okay. I’m not too cold.”
“Grace…”
“You shouldn’t be here,” she says. The words obviously take effort. She swallows hard and groans. “Go away. Please.”
“Neither should you, but here we are,” I counter. I keep my voice in check as best I can. “So I’m going to find you a blanket, and I’m going to warn Case. We’ll keep our distance, I promise. But we won’t let you be alone.”
I run, don’t walk, back to the main building and whisper a prayer with a fervor I’ve never felt before. To God, if he’s out there. To the world around me. To all of us.
Please. Please. Not Grace.
Phone call between Grace and Mr. Podolsky
PODOLSKY: Hello?
GRACE: Mr. Podolsky? It’s Grace. I don’t know if you remember me but—[cough]
PODOLSKY: Grace? Of course I remember. You were a young child—young girl—when you lived with us. You were… What do they call it? A bright young thing.
PODOLSKY: Why are you calling?
GRACE: [cough]
PODOLSKY: Are you ill?
GRACE: I’m okay. I—I wanted to call to say thank you.
PODOLSKY: For what?
GRACE: …
PODOLSKY: Grace?
GRACE: Are you and Baba all right?
PODOLSKY: We’re fine. What did you want to say?
GRACE: I’m glad.
GRACE: I…
GRACE: Do you remember you taught me how to build snare traps? I didn’t think they’d ever come in handy again, but they did. [cough] It helped us survive.
PODOLSKY: You were a survivor from the moment you came to us. Elena saw it too. I only gave you tools to make it easier.
GRACE: That’s not true. And that’s not why I wanted to thank you.
GRACE: You gave me a place to belong. You gave me a place where I felt safe and cared for. You gave me a universe that felt endless and timeless. You gave me dreams of Paris. That’s what made me a survivor.