The Deep Zone

would be light. The villa would have tall windows through which pure light would stream and collect in bright pools on floors of ancient oak. She would never live in darkness again. And this she knew: there would be no fear of the purifying light of Provence. Jocelene Alameda Tremaine would never fear anything. That was the name she had given Mr. Adelheid for her new identity. So Jocelene, not Evvie, would soon be enjoying Dom Perignon in the master suite of a superyacht named Lebens Leben, sailing east into the sunrise of a new life.

THIRTY-FOUR

HALLIE AND CAHNER MADE IT BACK TO ROARING RIVER CAMP, the place they had last seen Bowman; both of them were staggering with fatigue. Without even speaking, too tired to fix food, they found sleeping spots and collapsed into their bags.

Hours later, she was dreaming of Bowman again. He was leaning over her face, fingertips brushing her cheek, whispering something, his lips touching hers. His hand moved down along her neck, slipped under the sleeping bag, and settled on her chest, cupping her breast. She moved under his hand, moaning, as his fingertips caressed.

Please, she said in her dream. Please yes.

But his hand slid away and she dropped back down into sleep.

“Hallie.”

Bowman?

“Hallie, wake up, I have something for you.”

Groggy, she opened her eyes. Her sleeping area was illuminated by the glow from a helmet light, but it wasn’t Bowman’s. It was Al Cahner’s. He was down on one knee beside her sleeping bag, holding a steaming mug. “I thought you might like some tea,” he said, putting his face close to hers so that he didn’t have to shout.

She came fully awake, pushed the sleeping bag down, and sat up. She took the proffered mug and sipped.

“Careful, it’s hot,” Cahner warned.

It was, but it was strong and thick with sugar and powdered milk and she thought she had never tasted anything better. She blew over the tea’s surface, drank, felt energy surge through her.

“This is wonderful. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He sat close beside her, cross-legged, smiling as she drank and came fully awake. “You slept a long time.”

“Have you been up long?”

“Oh, a while. How’s your hand?”

She flexed it very gently, grimaced. “Sore as hell. But nothing life-threatening. It’ll heal. How are you holding up?”

“I’m good,” he said. “Really good.”

She looked at him. “You sound almost cheerful.”

He heard the surprise in her voice. “Well, we’ve got the moonmilk, we’re alive, we’re on our way out. What’s not to like about that?”

Not much, except for the fact that three good people are dead, she thought, but she didn’t say it. She knew that in one sense he was correct. The moonmilk was the mission, and they were close to completing it now. That was the most important thing. The three deaths had been horrible, but they might well prevent hundreds of thousands—millions, maybe—of more agonizing deaths. And all of them had come into this thing with their eyes wide open. “You’re right,” she said. “I’m sorry, Al. I’m tired. And we’ve lost a lot down here.”

He nodded gravely. “We have indeed.” Sighed, looked away, then back at her. “I’ve got some MREs ready to heat up over at the kitchen,” he said. “Scrambled eggs and bacon. Are you hungry?”

She was. “I’ll be right over. Give me a minute.”

“Sure.”

He moved off. She shucked out of the bag, pulled on her suit, boots, and helmet, and made her way over to the kitchen. Cahner was already there with the hot MREs. He refilled her mug with steaming black tea, handed her a foil pouch. They stood spooning up the food. The eggs actually tasted like eggs, and the bacon bits were crisp and smoky-flavored. The tea and the warm food began reviving her. She was about to thank Cahner for making breakfast when he bent down to retrieve something from his pack.

It was Bowman’s red flask of rum. She watched, surprised, as he unscrewed the top and poured a healthy dollop into his own mug. He started to add rum to her tea, but she put her hand over the mug to stop him.

“That’s Bowman’s,” she called to him. “How did you get it?”

“I took it from his pack before we left this camp the last time.” He shrugged. “I mean, it’s not as if he was going to need it anymore.”

That was obviously true, but the matter-of-fact way Cahner said it bothered her.

“Really, you should have some,” Cahner persisted. “I don’t think he would have wanted it to go to waste. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying ourselves a little bit now, is there?”

“We’re a long way from being finished with this mission.” Despite herself, Hallie’s voice was taking on an edge. “It’s way too early to celebrate.”

Cahner regarded her neutrally, then drank again and set the mug down. He took a few steps closer, until they were standing at arm’s length. “You’re not often wrong, Hallie, but this time you are. It’s not too early to celebrate at all.”

He opened his arms wide, signaling that he was going to give her a hug. What the hell, she thought. He’s done his part. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. “You’re right, Al. We do have reason to feel good.”

She started to disengage, but his arms remained around her. Okay, I get that you’re happy. She leaned her head back to speak, and, to her astonishment, he kissed her on the lips. His helmet hit hers and knocked it off. She put her arms on his shoulders and pushed, but he pressed his mouth against hers more tightly, scratching her with his rough stubble of a beard. She felt his right hand settle onto her breast, cupping it, rubbing with his thumb.

“Al!” She shoved with all her strength and peeled him off her. She could not have been more astonished. In all their time together at BARDA, she had not seen him give her so much as a suggestive glance. What the hell was the matter with him? And then she remembered: People change in caves.

She moved back to put space between them. Before she could speak, he said, “I like you, Hallie. Very, very much. I always have.”

“I like you, too. You once said you were glad to have a friend you could trust. That goes for me, too. But that’s as far as it goes.”

For a moment she thought that he was going to come at her again, but he stood where he was, holding her gaze, apparently pondering some kind of decision. She thought, If he loses it down here, we’re in trouble. Her biggest concern was not for herself, but for the moonmilk. They had to get it to the surface, no matter what it took. She would not let anything come between her and that end. Not fatigue, nor danger, nor the others’ deaths, even Bowman’s—and not Al Cahner.

“Where to begin?” Cahner said.

“What?” She had no idea what he meant.

“Okay. I think it’s time for straight talk. I know how you looked at me back in the lab, Hallie. I wanted to return those looks more than I can tell you. But I just couldn’t.”

She had once stood on a steep snow slope on Denali and in the moment just before it avalanched the world had shivered. That’s what it felt like now.

“How I looked at you? I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t lie, Hallie. It doesn’t become you. And it is not necessary anymore.”