“Way you’re looking at me. I’ve gotten a lot of that.”
“How am I looking at you?”
“Like you just found out you’re sharing a cave with Osama bin Laden.”
She opened her mouth to protest and then closed it, tilted her head, and stared at him for so long he started to itch. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Understandable.”
“No. I’m getting there. Recalibrating. Adjusting.”
He wasn’t convinced.
“What about Turner? Was he innocent?”
“Depends on what you mean by innocent.”
“Okay.” Her eyes on him were calculating, intelligent. He didn’t see any fear there, but that could’ve been a trick of the light. “Let’s see. Chronos Corporation was running clinical trials for the U.S. government? And, what? Turner went and stole the virus?”
“Something like that.”
“No?” She squinted at him. “How did it really go down, then?”
Wishing he hadn’t said a word, he applied the bandage, his fingers too big and awkward for such a delicate job.
“I’m trying to understand. You were a college football star, right? Turned U.S. marshal? How’d you go from arresting agent to so-called mass murderer? How’d you get embroiled in all this, Elias? How did Chronos get to you?” She watched him. “They did, didn’t they? Chronos Corporation and whatever government entities are involved in this whole thing. I’ve seen the kinds of things they’re willing to do. Did they kill those people to set you up?”
He stilled, hands hovering above her head like a crown or a halo, then smoothed the tape to her shorn hair, one careful finger at a time. Finally, he pulled away and stood. “Hungry?”
“That’s it? You’re seriously cutting off all discussion? Just like that?” When he didn’t react, she shook her head, clearly unhappy. “No. Thanks.”
The air in the cave managed to be both chilly and close. A not very pleasant sensation.
“Here.” He handed her water, returned to his pack, and came back with his own, then hovered, too agitated to sit. “You want to know my story? Who is EliasfuckingThorne?”
“Yeah. Who are you?”
“Then?” He sank to the ground, not sure what he was feeling. “Or now?”
“Now. Who are you now?”
“Now?” An empty husk? A shadow in the woods? A guy who’d become more animal than man in order to survive? He shut his eyes for a sec, working through it in his head. “You got any bad habits?”
She threw him a quick side-eye. “We talking nose picking or, like, mainlining heroin?”
“Shouldn’t have said ‘bad.’ You have any habits—just things you do that are a part of your life? Who you are?”
She half shrugged and wiped a few drops of water from her mouth. “Sure.”
He waited.
“This the part where we share personal stuff?”
He put a hand up, started to turn away. “No. It was stu—”
“I’m addicted to potato chips. That work? I really love those light, kettle-cooked ones. So thin they’re see-through, like lace. But I’ll take whatever I can get. I eat ’em constantly. That’s a habit, right? A bad one.”
He grimaced. “Nothing else?”
