“Don’t be an idiot.” The edge on her voice was surprising. I blinked. Drawing her tattered terrycloth bathrobe around her shoulders like it was a form of armor, Maggie scowled at me. “You’ll stay right here. My security systems can bounce your signal anywhere we want it to be.”

“Maggie—”

“Don’t you dare tell me it isn’t safe, Shaun Mason. Don’t you dare.” She stalked to the nearest overstuffed armchair and sat, curling her legs under herself and eyeing me like an aggravated cat. “I’ve never been safe in my life. I’m not planning to start now.”

“You can’t tell me that,” I protested. “I’ve seen your security system.”

Maggie’s laugh was rich, bright, and surprising. “I’m going to inherit enough money to buy a small country someday. My parents don’t have anyone else to leave it to. There’s a reason I live in the middle of nowhere and surround myself with reporters. Do you have any idea how good the security on this place really is? If I scream, someone comes. They can’t fake an outbreak on us here that won’t be immediately obvious as a setup. So unless the dead decide to rise en masse again—”

“Which is thankfully not very likely.”

“Exactly. You won’t be safe when you leave here.”

I looked at her measuringly. “Nice cage you’ve got here.”

“Thanks.” She smiled thinly. “The food’s pretty good, but, man, does the company suck.”

“We do our best.” I sighed. “I’m really sorry about all this.”

“Don’t be. Just get some sleep.” Maggie pulled her almost waist-length braid over one shoulder, picking aimlessly at the trailing end. “You’ve had a long day.”

“Yeah, well. Objects in the rearview mirror don’t get smaller just because they’re getting farther away.” I held up one of the folders from Kelly’s briefcase. “I’m trying to make sense out of all this crap while nothing’s catching on fire. I figure that won’t last for long.”

“It never does,” Maggie agreed. “How bad is it?”

“On a scale of one to oh fuck, we’re all gonna die?” I flipped the folder open and read, “ ‘Considering the risk of mutation, the concept of the reservoir conditions as the next stage in Kellis-Amberlee’s evolution cannot be ignored. We would be severely remiss to ignore the opportunities, and dangers, that such an evolution may present.’ ” I closed the folder, but didn’t look up. “What the fuck does it even mean? Somebody’s killing the folks with reservoir conditions. The numbers aren’t lying, even if everybody else is. But what does it mean?”

“It means we have a job to do, I guess.”

“Yes.” I glanced toward the hall. “Everybody else asleep?”

“Yes, they are. I think a few of them may have helped themselves get that way with chemical aid, but whatever works.”

“Good.”