“Just because the prime minister shed doubt on the findings doesn’t make them any less true.” Wayne picked them back up before Pan could rile them further. Though Jo didn’t miss the way the woman-child’s smirk morphed into a rather uncomfortable looking grin as the conversation resumed. “The populace, and more importantly the scientists, still have their proof. Can’t just brush that under the rug, right? The news pundits are already picking up on the fact, calling out the PM for what he’s doing.”
“In essence, we’re not dealing with scientific findings anymore,” Jo chimed in, following his train of thought and trying desperately to ignore the way Pan settled herself elegantly into her seat, watching them all with an intrigue bordering on sly amusement. “We’re dealing with public knowledge?”
“We already tried convincing the country,” Samson added, voice small and unsure, but trying. Everyone was trying. “But that didn’t work out so well. . . Plus, they’re on our side, right? Because of that proof?” He seemed to need to talk himself in a circle in order to spiral towards a conclusion. “So, so, maybe we don’t need to convince them anymore. Maybe we only need to focus on one person now.”
“Samson’s right.” Eslar nodded in agreement. “This isn’t about the populace at all anymore; it’s about the prime minister. No matter the proof, no matter the number of citizens who believe, if he continues to deny scientific claims, we have no evacuation.”
“I can convince him.” Nico punctuated the claim by instantly rising to his feet. He looked around the room, even locking eyes momentarily with Pan, but his gaze eventually settled on Snow. His expression was determined, a confidence in his eyes that Jo had never seen before, though she found she wasn’t surprised by it.
While the two men had their mental discussion, the rest of the table focused on Nico.
“Are you sure?” Eslar asked hesitantly.
“I am,” Nico answered with more strength to his voice than Jo had ever heard.
“You’re nuts. . .” Wayne trailed off in disbelief with a shake of his head. “You’ll have, what? Fifteen hours to finish with enough time to get it to him?”
“I’d recommend no more than twelve,” Pan said, lazily investigating her nails.
“I can do it.” Nico continued to speak right to Snow, as though he had been the one asking the question.
Snow returned the Italian’s gaze for a long moment before motioning towards the doors with his chin. “Then go.”
Just as quickly as the claim had been made, Nico nodded and left. “Will twelve hours really be enough?” Jo murmured to no one in particular. And yet her focus drifted from the doors to their leader. She caught a glimpse of sadness, of something like worry etching Snow’s face. But when he caught her staring, he didn’t look away—simply held her gaze, face open and the makings of a tired smile forming before his mask fell back into place once more.
“If anyone can do it, it’s Nico,” Snow said in a surprisingly overt display of confidence.
“He’s got to,” Takako said. As confident as her statement should have been, the lingering quiver beneath gave away the woman’s nervousness.
As if picking up on a cue, Pan chose those words to hop back to her feet, dusting nonexistent wrinkles out of her dress. “Well, we most certainly have faith in our Italian romantic, don’t we?” she said, this time not bothering to look at anyone but Snow. With a twirl of one of her golden pigtails, she cocked her head. This time, there was no way to describe her grin other than “devious.” Maybe even twisted. “Let’s just hope that faith is well-founded. For all your sakes.”
With that, Pan spun on her heel and sauntered out the door. When Jo looked at Snow, hoping desperately for an answer, all she got was his usual blank expression.
“Dismissed,” he said, a simple if not painful demand.
But without question or complaint, they listened, mutually ignoring all things left lingering and unspoken.
Chapter 26
Together
JO HAD NEVER experienced a more agonizing hour of her life than the first hour in the common room following Nico’s announcement.
That was, until she experienced the second hour.
And the third.
She sat, white-knuckled and buzzing with an inexplicable energy that eventually gave way to bouncing knees and tapping fingers. Jo tried to keep her eyes on the television, or focus on the sturdiness of Wayne’s very welcome touch on her knee after the first hour. But it was impossible to do anything other than obsess.
The room wasn’t quiet, but her mind was, and it put her in a dangerous place. All sound stayed in the realm of the physical: the television, the forced friendly chatter of Wayne and Eslar at the couch where she sat, Takako bumbling around the kitchen with Samson. It all blurred into white noise. Her mind had withdrawn to where none of it could reach.
It’s my fault, a tiny voice betrayed once again.
She’d wasted so much time on her own arrogance, her own confidence that this wish would be so easy to maneuver around with a few lines of code. It had been her actions that had set them on this path; she’d rolled the dice of their fate from the onset. She had tried to thwart a natural disaster with man-made technologies; Jo could practically hear the cackle of Mother Nature grating against the back of her mind.
“Jo,” Wayne’s voice soothed. Firm but gentle, fingers closed around her wrist and pulled lightly.
The room returned to her as Jo lifted her head from her hands. She straightened her back, curling away from where she’d sunken in on herself. Jo didn’t even remember her cheeks meeting her palms. How long had she been like that?
