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whereabouts. I’m not a virologist, but I’m fairly sure it takes special equipment to isolate the live virus without risking infection, and that said special equipment would not only be delicate, but would require special training to operate and maintain. Do you see where I’m going with this, Governor Tate, or should we draw you a diagram?”

“She’s right,” said Emily. Governor Tate looked toward her, eyes narrowing. She met his gaze and said, “I took virology courses at college; they’re required for an animal husbandry degree. What Peter is describing is lab quality. You’d need a clean room and excellent biohazard protections just to isolate it, much less load it into any sort of a… a weapon. They just didn’t have the resources. You’d need something a lot more secure than a pressure cooker in a hotel room to do something like this.”

“Furthermore,” I said, cutting Tate off before he could speak again, “even assuming we could somehow come up with the resources to do something like this, and had some sort of ‘silent partner’ we could get out to the ranch while we were occupied at the convention, we’d have to be idiots to turn around and be the ones who found the proof that the outbreak was man- made. So now that you’ve insulted our patriotism, our sanity, and our intelligence, how about we move on?”

Governor Tate leaned back in his seat, eyes narrowed. I kept my own eyes wide, playing off just how disturbing the unbroken, too-too-blue of my contacts is to most humans. He looked away first.

Satisfied, I turned toward Senator Ryman. “So now that we’ve had that little throwdown, what else did you feel needed to be handled behind a firewall?”

To his credit, he looked embarrassed as he said, “We were wondering, given the circumstances, if, well… if it might not be the best idea for the four of you to go home.”

I gaped at him. Rick did the same. Buffy, who had been uncharacteristically silent through the entire exchange with Tate, continued staring at her hands.

In the end, it was Shaun who spoke, slamming his feet flat against the floor as he stood up and demanded, “Are you people fucking insane?!”

“Shaun—” said Senator Ryman, raising both hands in a placating gesture. “If you’d just be reasonable here —”

“Pardon me, sir, but you gave up your right to ask me to do that when you suggested we run out on the story,” Shaun snapped, voice tight. Out of everyone in the room, I was the only one who understood how much that degree of self-control was costing him. Shaun’s temper doesn’t show itself often, but when it does, “duck and cover” is the best approach. “Don’t you think we owe it to our viewers to finish what we started? We signed up for the long haul! We don’t get to cut our losses and run as soon as things start getting a little bit uncomfortable!”

“My daughter died, Shaun!” said the senator. He was suddenly on his feet, leaving Emily abandoned and looking lost on the couch. “Do you understand that this is more than a story to us? Rebecca is dead! Telling the truth isn’t going to bring her back to life!”

“Neither is telling a lie,” said Rick, his tone so calm that it seemed almost out of place among the heated exchanges. We all turned to look at him. His head was up, his expression clear as he looked from Senator Ryman to Governor Tate. “Senator, believe me when I say I understand your pain more than you can know. And I understand that concern is making you listen to bad advice,” he glanced toward the governor, who had the grace to redden and scowl, “that says we’re civilians, and you should get us out of harm’s way. But, sir, it’s too late for that. This is news. If you send us away, you’re just going to get other reporters sniffing around, looking for a story. Reporters who, if you’ll allow me to beg your pardon, you can’t control. Now, we have a working relationship, and you know we’ll listen to you. Can you honestly expect that from anyone else who might be attracted to this scoop?”

“I think we should go,” said Buffy. I turned to her, eyes going wide. Still looking at her hands, she continued. “We didn’t sign up for this. Maybe Rick’s right, and maybe other people will come, but who cares?” She glanced up through the fringe of her hair and licked her lips. “If they want to come and die, that’s their problem. But I’m scared, and he’s right. We shouldn’t be here anymore. If we were ever supposed to be here at all.”

“Buffy,” said Shaun, sounding stung. “What are you talking about?”

“This is just a story, Shaun, and everywhere we’ve gone, horrible things have happened.” She raised her head, expression miserable. “Those poor people in Eakly. The thing at the ranch. Senator Ryman, I think you’re a wonderful man, but this is just a story, and we shouldn’t be in it. We’re going to get hurt.”

“That’s exactly why we have to stay,” I said. My disappointment didn’t show in my voice; I found that astonishing. I wanted to slap Buffy. I wanted to shake her and demand to know how she could be so blind to the importance of telling the truth after everything we’d been through together. Instead, I faced the room, and my voice stayed calm as I said, “Everything is ‘just a story.’ Tragedy, comedy, end of the world, whatever, it’s just a story. What matters is making sure it’s heard.”

“That attitude, young lady, is why it’s time for you to go,” said Governor Tate. “We can’t trust you to keep your mouth shut when you decide it’s time for the story to be told. Your judgment isn’t the yardstick here. National security is. And I don’t think you fully understand the dangers you could place us in.”

“Now, David—” said the senator.

“Nice stand for freedom there, Governor,” I snapped.

“Can you believe this bullshit?” demanded Shaun.

“On the plus side, ‘Faithful Reporters Fired from Campaign as Veil of Censorship Descends’ has a nice ring to it,” said Rick. “I figure that’s a rating spike, right there.”

“Ratings! All you concern yourself with—”

“Be quiet,” said Emily.

“—is your precious by God ratings!” Governor Tate was getting into it now, his face flushing with religious fire. He’d found his latest opponents, now that Senator Ryman was off the menu. Us. “A little girl dies, a family is shattered, a man’s run to the presidency may not recover, and what do you care about? Your damn ratings! Well, you can take those ratings, and—”

We never found out what we could do with our ratings. The sound of Emily’s palm striking Governor Tate’s cheek rang through the room like a branch breaking; the only thing that could have been louder was the silence that came after it. Governor Tate raised his hand to his cheek, staring at her like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. I couldn’t blame him. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing either, and I wasn’t the one who’d been slapped.

“Emily, what—” began Senator Ryman. She raised her hand for silence, and then slowly, deliberately, removed her sunglasses, eyes on Governor Tate the whole time. The unforgiving light flooding the room had caused her pupils to expand until her irises were entirely gone, drowning in blackness. I winced. I knew how much that had to be hurting her, but she didn’t flinch. She kept staring at Tate.

“For the sake of my husband’s political career, I will be pleasant to you; I will smile at you at public functions, and I will, whenever a camera or member of the undiscriminating press is present, endeavor to treat you as if you were a human being,” she said, in a calm, almost reasonable tone. “But understand this: If you ever speak to these people in that sort of manner in my presence again? If you ever behave as if they have no judgment, no compassion, and no common sense? I’ll make you wish you’d never joined this ticket. And if I come to believe that your attitude is in any way changing my husband—not damaging his oh-so-precious career, but changing who he is as a man—I will repudiate you, and I will end you. Do we have an understanding, Governor?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Governor Tate, sounding about as stunned as I felt. A glance to Shaun showed that he was probably feeling much the same. “I think you’ve made yourself clear.”

“Good.” Emily turned toward us. “Shaun, Georgia, Buffy, Rick, I hope you won’t let this unpleasant little scene sour you against my husband’s campaign. I speak for both of us when I say that I very much hope you’ll continue doing exactly what you’ve been doing for us.”

“We signed on for the good and the bad alike, Mrs. Ryman,” said Rick. “I don’t believe any of us are planning on going anywhere.”

Looking at Buffy, I wasn’t sure. “He’s right, Emily,” I said. “We’re staying. Assuming, of course, the senator wants us to…?” I looked his way, and waited.

Senator Ryman looked uncertain. Then, slowly, he nodded and rose, moving to put his arm around his wife’s