Following their morning routine, Humphrey was dressed and at his desk, a specially constructed workstation. While Cassie busied herself with the breakfast dishes, Humphrey used the joystick controls for his computer, which allowed him to search, type, and code with almost the same ease as an able-bodied person. Prior to Lou, Humphrey had used this time each morning to enlarge on his bacteriophage theories and computer models. Now that his lab was about to be functioning, he was instead preparing for the first round of serious, confirmatory experiments—studies that would rapidly lead to the cure for the deadly germ, and the sort of fame that would transcend his disabilities.

Cassie emerged from the kitchen with her denim jacket over her arm, a signal that their time together this morning had come to an end. She was rushing because if Humphrey did not make it to the curb on time, the van would simply leave without him.

“You’ve been extra happy these past few mornings, Humphrey,” she said, her lilting Jamaican accent like a birdsong. She paused at the door, contemplating. Then, with the trace of a smile, she asked, “Mr. Miller, have you got a girlfriend you’re keeping secret from me?”

Humphrey’s smile was ebullient.

“Never compared to you,” he said.

Cassie’s hands went to her hips. She gave him an appraising look, but not because she had any difficulty understanding his speech.

“She better not, mister, or I might get jealous.”

She opened the door and Humphrey, who had glanced away for one last, longing look at the other love of his life, his computer, heard two strange popping sounds. He turned to see Cassie fly backward, feet off the ground, arms beating the air. She landed on her back with crimson welling through two holes punched through her white blouse and into her chest.

With blood beginning to flow onto the floor beside her, a man entered the apartment and softly closed the door behind him. It was only then that Humphrey cried out—a weak, strangled scream. The man was tall and thin, with blond hair and pale eyes as cold as ice. Humphrey, staring down in utter disbelief at the inert body of the woman who loved him more than any other he knew, began to hyperventilate. The tall man gingerly stepped over Cassie, careful to avoid the expanding pool.

“Hello, Miller,” he said. “Sorry if I seem surprised. Nobody told me anything about you being a fucking cripple. My name is Burke, Alexander Burke, and I’m going to take you out of this shithole … now.”

Humphrey’s fear spiked, triggering a chain reaction in his body. His CP symptoms were often affected by his emotions and he had already lost most of what control he maintained over his limbs. His arms and legs jerked chaotically. His facial muscles tensed, distorting his features. His thoughts became a blur.

“Oh, my God,” he finally managed. “Why did you do that?”