It’s a matter of some work, drinking some of the water and shoving the pills down into the packet with my tongue. It takes longer than it should if I were just swallowing the pills.
Vera appears at the end of the corridor, watching me with a perplexed expression before turning back toward the common room. Walkingthroughthe wall instead of using the doorway.
Water and air collide at the back of my throat, and I have to work not to cough and spray pills everywhere. She’s one of them.
My eyes water, but I keep going.
Max says nothing, until I pull the packet away from my lips and show off the lack of pills in my mouth. The metallic sides keep the pills from being visible and the sealed opening with the straw means someone would have to cut into the packet to find them.
“Good girl,” he says heartily, patting me on the shoulder.
The words and gesture grate. I’m not an eleven-year-old child anymore. But I manage a tight smile, if only to avoid generating suspicion.
As Max pushes me down the corridor, I fold and tuck the remains of the water packet into the gap between the padded seat of the wheelchair and its side, where it hopefully will not be discovered for a while. I glance behind me and catch Reed watching me with narrowed eyes.
I wait, heart hammering, for him to call me out, to shout for Max to stop. But he says nothing, just meets my gaze with a smirk, and follows us onto the elevator.
He knows exactly what I’m up to. And he’s going to let me run with it for now. Because he wants this to fail, he wants me to fail. Or perhaps it’s more complicated than that and he wants Max to fail. The tension between them—Reed making suggestions and comments, with Max ignoring him—is impossible to miss. For somebody as ambitious as Reed Darrow, that must be a crushing blow. And an infuriating one.
Fine. I suppose we’ll see. One of us—Reed or I—will be right.
In the lobby, lights flash and shadows swarm against the frosted glass main doors as soon as we approach.
I steel myself against reacting.So many…
Max sighs. “Damnit. Someone leaked to the media.”
Then I realize that some or all of the people-shaped forms are alive. Reporters, it seems.
“Transpo is right outside,” Reed points out.
“Keep your head down and say nothing,” Max says to me with reluctance. “It’ll just be a minute.”
Why wouldn’t they have arranged a more private pickup? This is the front of the Peace and Harmony Tower.Anyoneleaving here is going to be a story, but my role in theAuroradiscovery and the ensuing headlines guarantees more-than-average attention. Surely there’s a back entrance somewhere.
But Max pushes the wheelchair through the automatic doors, and it’s an explosion of light and sound.
“—have a comment on the lawsuit from the families?”
“Did you kill them, Claire?” a man shouts.
“—suggest that the amount of wealth on board is substantially more than reported at the time. Can you confirm—”
“—tell us about the condition of the passengers. Will the families be able to identify—”
“How were you able to survive?”
That last question—quiet in comparison to the others—draws my attention up, but I can’t tell who said it. The portable lights for the cameras are dazzlingly bright.
I lift my hand to shield my eyes, but I still can’t see enough to make out faces. Except Lourdes’s.
I don’t understand.She trails her bloodied fingers down her cheeks.
I look away.
Max hustles me out of the wheelchair and into the third car in the mag-lev transport. It’s a solo compartment, and for a moment, I’m alone. For the first time in weeks. The relief is instantaneous, like cool water on a burn.
But then the reporters surround the compartment, pressing against the glass with their words and their cameras on both sides.
