“I don't choose who dies. I just?—”
“You just follow orders, right.” Dustin scoffed. “Yeah. I've seen how well that works out.”
Greg flinched.
Dustin stepped back from the doorway. For a moment, Greg thought he was going to slam the door in his face.
Instead, Dustin turned and walked into the room, leaving the door open.
Was that… an invitation?
Greg hesitated. Then followed.
The clipboard was on the bed. Greg reached for it—and Dustin's hand closed around his wrist.
“Not yet.”
“Please. I'm running out of time.”
“Then talk fast.” Dustin's grip was firm. It was the most solid thing, in fact, in a world that seemed to be dissolving along with Greg. “You were ordered to kill me. By Morrith. Right?”
Greg closed his eyes. “The file wasstill open. The collection hadn't happened. He said sometimes death needs help. I didn't want to, but…”
“But you did it anyway.”
“Yes.”
Silence.
Dustin let go of his wrist.
“You're pathetic,” he said. “You know that? You talk about death being sacred and then you cut a guy's parachute because your boss told you to.”
Greg said nothing. What was there to say?
“I’m going to Boulder tomorrow,” Dustin said.
Greg's head snapped up. “What?”
“Whatever’s going to kill Sarah,” Dustin's expression was hard, “I'm going to stop it.”
“You can't. That's interfering with the natural order?—”
“We’ve already established that I’m good at that. That’s why you tried to murder me.” Dustin picked up the clipboard and held it just out of Greg's reach. “Consider this payback.”
“Dustin—”
“You wanted to have a piece of me so badly. Now you have it.” Dustin’s lips twitched. “But I'm going to make your job a living hell.”
“You don't understand.” Greg's voice was rising, desperate. “These deaths are supposed to happen. They're part of the order. If you interfere?—”
“Then you'll have a lot of explaining to do to your boss.” Dustin tossed the clipboard at Greg's chest. “Better start practicing your excuses.”
Greg caught it reflexively. The moment his hands made contact, he felt the tether snap back into place—the connection to headquarters, the anchor holding him inexistence. The fuzziness at the edges of his vision began to clear.
He should leave. He should take the clipboard and go. Report to Morrith. Figure out how to salvage this disaster.
Instead, he said, “You'll get yourself killed.”
