Avery pulled Peyton’s sleeve up and began to press the jet injector to her arm, but Desmond stopped her and took the device. He wanted to administer the cure to Peyton himself. He realized then how much it meant to him, and why. Twenty years ago, they had spent the most important years of his life together. Perhaps of hers too. He had discovered who he was. Before he met her, he had never known the true extent of the wounds from his childhood. He was broken. He had given up on waiting for his wounds to heal. He had left her because he thought that by leaving, he was saving her. He thought he was giving her the life she deserved. He knew now that he had been wrong.

He held the injector at her shoulder and pressed the button.

The pop of air and the pinch snapped Peyton to attention. She looked from Avery to Desmond, then at the jet injector in his hand.

“Hi,” he said.

She smiled.

“Hi.”

Chapter 106

Chapter 106

Everywhere Elliott looked, he saw death. The dead and dying lay on cots and blankets in rows on the infield of the Georgia Dome. The stench was overpowering. He gagged twice before he got used to it. He marched, his sign held high, searching for his wife’s face or voice. His fear grew with each step. He tried in vain not to think about what he would do if he found her dead.

Elliott had spent decades of his career working in field hospitals. He had treated the victims of outbreaks, just like the living and dead lying all around him. But none of it had prepared him for being on the other side: being a family member of someone infected, whose life would be claimed by the pathogen. It was a feeling of complete helplessness. Tears ran down his face. Very soon, he would know whether X1-Mandera had claimed the love of his life. He dreaded that knowledge, and at the same time, he desperately wanted to know. Not knowing if she was alive and suffering, or gone and at peace, was tearing him apart.

A voice he knew well called out. “Dad!”

Elliott turned to see his son weaving through the crowd.

When the thirty-year-old physician reached Elliott, the older man pulled him in, hugging him hard.

“Your mom?”

Ryan nodded. “She’s alive.”

Elliott saw in his son’s face the words he didn’t say: But just barely.

“Are Sam and Adam with you?”

“They’re back at the RV. They’re safe.”

“Thank God. Are they…?”

“Sam’s asymptomatic. Adam’s infected, but it’s still early stage. I’m so sorry, son—”

Ryan squeezed his dad’s shoulders. “It’s not your fault. We’ll deal with it. Come on, let’s get Mom and get out of here.”