Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 110757 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 554(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110757 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 554(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
We don’t have years, though. McClain and I are in a race against time. We don’t know who will take over at Rising Tide now that Virginia’s dead. We’re safe from Tiders coming into our camp, but that doesn’t mean they can’t hurt us.
A stabilizer is the key. If we can find a way to treat the emotional volatility and urges to breed and kill that come from aromium, we can covertly distribute it to the Tiders through their well water. They won’t even know.
I have a hope in the back of my mind that we can make an antidote to aromium and render it completely ineffective. It’s a pipe dream though, because soon our research team of two is going to be down to just the twenty-five-year-old with one year of college under her belt.
It’s no longer a matter of if, but when. Dr. McClain is dying.
2
“I can’t stress this strongly enough: never break your cover. You’ll see terrible things and want to stop them, but your value to the cause lies in being a long-term, deep-cover agent.” -Decoded message from ILF handler Hiro Tanaka to ILF undercover operative Flint
Six years ago
Briar
The ferry finally lurches away from the dock in slow motion, but at least we’re moving.
I’ve been waiting for this moment since sunrise. For the entire past week, actually. My summer internship through my school is on a small, rugged island off the coast of Washington with no electricity, running water, or cell service.
I might as well be on the moon. This is a perfect location for several years-long research projects university faculty members are conducting, but it’s the worst possible place to be when shit’s hitting the fan on the mainland and I’m worried about my family.
“Are you hanging in there?”
Alden Cosgove, the professor leading the internship, approaches and wraps a hand around the rusty guardrail I’m standing in front of. His bushy gray brows are knitted together in concern.
I nod slightly, my shoulders sinking with a sigh. It’s been seven agonizing days and nights since we last went ashore and he got a message through the university’s intranet that was relayed through a friend of my mom’s.
Tell Briar to stay where she is, no matter what’s happening, and that we love her and we’ll always be with her.
I thought I was going to throw up when my professor passed me his phone so I could read the message. The terror I felt was bone deep, like nothing I’ve ever experienced.
I was already worried because it was unusual that no texts or phone messages popped up on my phone when we reached the shore and reconnected to the internet. The first four weeks of my internship, I had messages waiting from my parents and Mae at least once every day I’d been out of touch.
Mom was always her sunny self, telling me she hoped I was learning a lot and wearing sunscreen. Dad kept me apprised on the score of every Mariners game I’d missed that week. Mae was Mae—she’d leave long voicemails about random things like her new favorite coffee order.
That’s us, though. We’ve always been a tight-knit family. I placed calls to all three of them immediately, but got no response. Same with texts. I tried everyone I could think of who might be able to reach them, eventually calling the police in my hometown and asking if they could check on my parents.
We’re only responding to emergencies due to the spread of the virus.
The knot that formed in my stomach was like a boulder. I spent all our time on shore trying to reach someone—anyone—who might know more. Other students and professors went to the tiny pub and general store in the small town, and by the time we all got back to the boat and traded information, we knew the world was on the cusp of something terrible.
We’re all science majors, so hearing things about the virus like airborne and highly communicable set us all on edge.
It was two non-scientific words that brought most of us to tears, though—martial law.
The pub wasn’t serving food, but was selling water for exorbitant prices, and the general store was boarded up and guarded by people with machine guns.
It’s been a week since then. I wanted to set out for home immediately when I got the message from my mom, but Professor Cosgrove begged me to listen to my parents and return to the island with the group.
I trust my parents, so I went. It’s been the longest, most hellish week of my life.
The hour and twenty minutes it takes us to reach the mainland feels like an eternity. The small ferry stays docked at our island in case we have an emergency, so we haven’t communicated with anyone in the past week.
Around me, other students shoulder their backpacks and prepare to get off the ferry. But I close my eyes, denying reality for a couple more precious seconds.