Edison nodded, and from the draw of his brow, she could tell he was nervous, or maybe embarrassed. His eyes flitted quickly along the walls, and his hands shook as he and Rosalyn helped each other over tumbles of ruined and scattered furniture. They traveled deeper, through doors lodged open by thick blue growth. The mottled light glittered down on them through an unbroken web of thin turquoise threads, adding to the sense that they were wandering through a fish tank.

Holding her hand, he squeezed it often, too hard, but Rosalyn refused to show him how much it hurt. She imagined each squeeze was an attempt the Foxfire made to sway him, and if he needed to pulp her fingers to stay with her, then so be it.

“I hope that money was worth all of this, Piero,” she whispered, gazing around at the utter destruction. “That vaccination tab in the manifest? A rebreather?”

“I know,” Edison replied, strained. “I don’t want to think about it. Let’s keep moving.”

Rosalyn could think of nothing else. That someone had willingly taken a payment to unleash Foxfire on unsuspecting crewmates made her heart wither. How could anyone be so selfish? So shortsighted. It didn’t give her satisfaction that Piero had succumbed to the Foxfire first and hardest, but it did seem like a sort of dark, cosmic justice.

“Are we getting closer to Misato?”

“Yeah,” Edison said. “She’s not far.”

At the sound of her name, the living blue vines and mushroom clusters surrounding them shivered. Rosalyn went silent, hardly breathing as they stepped carefully through the office suite, stopping when they reached a split corridor. One way led in the same direction, another door, open, waited to their left. Rosalyn watched the Foxfire shudder as she wiped her hand across the wall near the doorway, searching for a label.

“It isn’t storage,” she said. “It’s a rented lab.”

The shivering of the walls intensified, a rattling sound chasing around the room. The two of them huddled close as the shaking took form, creating words and then a beat, a song. Glowing with each hum and word, the office lit up around them.

Busy the bee goes, “Buzz, buzz, buzz!” Dizzy the dog goes, “Woof, woof, woof!”

“I know that story,” Rosalyn murmured, easing through the doorway and away from the sudden buzzing song. “Angela told it to her kids. I saw it in your bunker.”

“Mother recites it all the time,” Edison replied, blinking rapidly. “Candace would tell it to Joey . . . or maybe not. I’m . . . it’s hard to remember now.”

“Stay with me,” Rosalyn pleaded, keeping him close. “Keep moving. I don’t think we should give it a chance to make a plan.”

Busy the bee goes, “Buzz, buzz, buzz!” Ollie the owl goes, “Hoot, hoot, hoot!” and Mother goes: “I love you” . . .