“Hey, sorry, dude. I figured Alaric would keep you posted.” One of the London magazines did a profile on Mahir after the Ryman election—he was a local boy involved in a huge American political scandal, which was sort of a big deal. The picture they ran with the article was of him standing on the wide balcony outside his apartment, looking out over the Thames River with the sort of serious “I am an intellectual artist” expression that George and I always used to make fun of. That was the scene I pictured now, listening to the traffic rushing past behind him: Mahir on the balcony, surrounded by the weight of the London night, while cars packed with paranoid commuters went whizzing past below.

“He did. So did Magdalene. But at the end of the day, Shaun, the only person I trust to tell me your condition is you.”

“I’d feel flattered if I didn’t know that you expected me to die.”

“Isn’t that your intention?”

I stopped for a moment, suddenly and sharply aware of George’s silent presence at the back of my head. Lying to Mahir would border on impossible, even if George was willing to let me, and in the end, I didn’t bother trying. “Eventually, yeah. But not until after we’ve found the people who killed George. Did you get those files I sent you?”

“I did,” Mahir admitted. “How much of them did you understand?”

“Not enough. I’m guessing you understood a little bit more.”

“Enough to make me think I’ll never sleep again.”

“That’s good—means the files are what Dr. Abbey said they were. I need you to do something for me.”

“What’s that?”

“Find a virologist with nothing left to lose and get them to check her work.”

Now it was Mahir’s turn to fall briefly silent. Finally, tone wary, he asked, “Do you understand what you’re asking me to do?”

“Yeah, I do. I feel like a total ass for doing it, but I do.”

Mahir went silent again. Honestly, I couldn’t blame him.

North America lost a lot during the Rising. Big chunks of Canada and the lower parts of Mexico have never been reclaimed from the infected. We held the line in Alaska as long as we could, but in the end, the infection was too strong and we had to let the entire state go. Almost every part of the United States has its little dead zones, places that are too damn dangerous to take back. None of that can hold a candle to what India lost. Because what India lost… was India.