Abby blew her nose and gathered herself. “No. Not long. But she was…a friend.”

I thanked the man, and we ended the connection.

“Creighton, everyone in my life is dying. Why are they all dying?”

She lay against the couch, head in a pillow. I sat next to her, held her soft hand, and listened to her sobs.

24

I sat on the stairs early the next morning and watched Abby sleep. She was on the couch, an afghan over her legs, her Bible lying next to her. I rose after a few minutes and tried to slip past her into the kitchen. She stirred.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning, Creighton.”

I sat on the other end of the couch. “I thought you slept in your room last night.” I could see dark circles under her eyes.

“I did. But I woke up and came down here to read and pray. I guess…” She sat up, pulling her knees to her chest and the afghan around herself. “I fell asleep.”

“If you’re cold, I can turn up the temperature.”

She nodded.

I instructed Alistair to increase the room temperature two degrees. I turned back to her. “How are you feeling—after last night, I mean?”

“Okay,” she answered without much emotion. “Drained. Creighton, what do you think happened to Kate? Do you think she was infected with the same thing my village died of?”

“Nanites aren’t contagious. Someone would have had to infect your village and then infect Kate at a later date.”

“But that would mean she was murdered too.”

We looked at each other in silence. Abby seemed so vulnerable. I wanted to reach out and smooth back her hair but simply spoke. “We don’t have any way of knowing at this point. Maybe if we contacted them again, her hospital could give us more information.” I thought for a moment. “Didn’t you say Kate had a sample of the infectious agent that she sent for analysis?”

“Yes.”

“Where did she send it? Do you know?”

She shook her head, furrowing her brow. “A company in the States. Something went wrong with it, though, Kate said. She was going to send another sample.”

“Maybe the hospital could track down that information.” I glanced at the antique clock on the mantel above my fireplace. “We’ll tap them again tonight.”

Abby pulled the afghan away from her, leaned forward toward me, held the index finger of her right hand out, and intertwined it with my own. She looked into my eyes. “Thank you, Creighton. For everything.”

We ate breakfast in comfortable silence, then I cleared our dishes. I wanted to distract Abby from the weight of her thoughts. “Would you like to do some sightseeing in VR together—maybe at the Grand Canyon?”

“No. Thanks, though. I think maybe I’ll spend some time alone.” She picked her Bible off the couch and headed toward the stairs.