everything.”
They drank, and for a moment all was silent but the music, soft and haunting in the background. Kira swallowed the water in slow gulps, sloshing it thoughtfully in her mouth, tasting the chemical tang. She rarely even noticed it anymore, but it was there, sharp and bitter. She thought about Madison and Haru, and about their baby, perfect and innocent and doomed. She thought about Gianna, and Mkele, and the explosion and the Voice and the Senate and everything else, the entire world, the future and the past.
CHAPTER NINE
“I need a sample of your blood,” said Kira.
Marcus raised an eyebrow. “I didn???t know we’d reached that stage of our relationship.”
She ripped up a tuft of grass and threw it at him. “It’s for work, genius.” They were on Kira’s front lawn, enjoying a rare instance when they both had the same day off. They’d helped Nandita with the herb garden for a few hours, and their hands were rough and fragrant. “I’m going to cure RM.”
Marcus laughed. “I wondered when someone would finally get around to that. It’s been on my to-do list for ages, but you know how things are: Life gets so busy, and saving the human race is such an inconvenience—”
“I’m serious,” said Kira. “I can’t just watch children die anymore. I can’t just stand there and take notes while Madison’s baby dies. I’m not going to do it. It’s been weeks since she told us, and I’ve been racking my brain for anything I can do to help, and I think I finally have a workable starting point.”
“All right, then,” said Marcus, sitting up in the grass. His face was more serious now. “You know that I think you’re brilliant, and you got better grades in virology than … anyone. Ever. How do you expect to suddenly solve the biggest medical mystery in history? I mean, there’s an entire research team at the hospital that’s been trying to figure out RM for a decade, and now a medical intern is going to step in and just … cure it? Just like that?”
Kira nodded; it really did sound stupid when he said it like that. She glanced over at Nandita, wondering what her opinion would be on the matter, but the old woman was still working in the garden, completely unaware. Kira turned back to Marcus. “I know it sounds like the most arrogant thing in the whole world, but I—” She paused and took a breath, looking him squarely in the eyes. He was watching, waiting; he was taking her seriously. She put her hand on his. “I know I can help, at the very least. There has to be something that’s been overlooked. I joined maternity because I thought that was the nerve center, you know? I thought that was the whole point, the place where it all happened. But now that I’ve been there and I’ve seen what they’re doing, I know it’s not going to work.
“If I can put together something concrete for Skousen, I bet I can transfer to research full-time — it’ll take another month or two, but I can do it.”
“That’s a good move for you,” said Marcus. “It’ll be good for them, too — coming from maternity like that, you’ll have a different perspective from the others. And I know there’s an opening, because we got a transfer from research into surgery last month.”
“That’s exactly what I mean,” said Kira, “a new perspective. The maternity team, the research team, everybody’s been studying the infants exclusively. But we don’t need to look for a cure, we need to look for immunity. We’re resistant to the symptoms, so there has to be something in us that fends off the virus. The only ones who aren’t immune are the babies, and yet that’s where we keep looking.”
“That’s why you need my blood,” said Marcus.
Kira nodded, rubbing her fingers over the back of his hand. That was why she loved Marcus: He was funny when she needed to laugh, and serious when she needed to talk. He understood her, plain and simple.
She plucked a blade of grass and slowly peeled it until nothing remained but the soft yellow core. She studied it a moment, then threw it at Marcus; it traveled only a few inches before it caught the air, stopped, and fluttered in erratic circles straight back into her lap.
“Nice shot,” grinned Marcus. He looked up over her shoulder. “Isolde’s coming.”
Kira turned and smiled, waving at her “sister.” Isolde was tall and pale and golden-haired — the lone light- skinned outlier in Nandita’s makeshift foster home. Isolde waved back, grinning, though Kira could see that the smile was forced and tired. Marcus scooted over as she approached, making room beside them on the grass, but Isolde shook her head politely.
“Thanks, but this is my best suit.” She dropped her briefcase and stood next to them wearily, arms folded, staring straight ahead.
“Rough day in the Senate?” Kira asked.
“Is there ever a smooth one?” Isolde glanced around, looking for something to sit on, then sighed and sat down on her briefcase, cross-legged to keep her pale gray pants out of the grass. Kira studied her in concern — Isolde could barely even mention her job without swooning over Senator Hobb. If she wasn’t doing that, she must really be exhausted. Isolde stared blankly, then roused herself to look at Kira and Marcus. “Hey, neither of you do much traveling outside of the city, right?”
“Not really,” said Kira. She looked at Marcus, who shook his head. “When they call us on salvage runs, I guess, but never really on our own. Why?”
“Because they just voted to institute border checks,” said Isolde. “The Voice hit a watchtower last week — knocked the whole thing down and took off with the soldiers who were manning it. Combine that with the raid on the old school depot and you’ve got at least one cell of the Voice working right here in East Meadow, maybe more.” She shrugged. “That’s a little too close to home. The Senate figures the best way to root them out are searches and examinations every time somebody enters or leaves the city.”
“The perimeter of the city is huge,” said Kira. “There’s no way they can patrol the entire thing.”
“That doesn’t mean they shouldn’t try, though,” said Marcus. “It’s better than nothing—”
“Please don’t,” said Isolde, rubbing her temples. “I’ve heard these same arguments a hundred different times today, and I don’t need to hear them again. The vote is done, the checks are official, let’s stop arguing about it.”
“How did Senator Hobb vote?” asked Kira. Isolde was his personal assistant. She opened one eye, peered wearily at Kira, then opened the other and crossed her arms.
“If you must know, he voted for,” said Isolde. “He wasn’t in favor of sacrificing personal rights to privacy, but he didn’t want to stand in the way of stopping another attack.” She shrugged. “I don’t think he’s right, but I don’t have any better suggestions. If the Voice have started kidnapping people now, who knows what they’ll do next?”
“What are the Voice trying to accomplish?” asked Kira. “That’s what I can’t figure out. They don’t need supplies — food and clothes are free for the taking all over the island — and yet they keep raiding East Meadow and the farms. They’re not winning support for their cause, they’re just making everyone angry and jumpy and… I don’t get it. The watchtower attack by itself probably took weeks to plan and pull off, and for what? They didn’t get any supplies, they didn’t make any statements, they got maybe two or three clips of ammunition each from the soldiers they kidnapped — they didn’t get anything.”
“They got two soldiers,” said Marcus. “Maybe it was a staged battle to hide a defection.”
Isolde shook her head. “As near as we can tell — or at least the current best guess in the Senate — is that they’re trying to destabilize the government. If they hit enough targets, rouse enough rabble, and shake enough beehives, pretty soon the people in East Meadow are going to get pissed off. That’ll make them harder to control, which will make things harder for the Senate, which will give the Voice a prime chance to swoop in and attempt a coup.”
“Ouch,” said Marcus.
“Back up,” said Kira. “Did you say it’s harder for the Senate to ‘control’ us?”
Isolde grimaced. “That’s not what I meant, that’s just the first word that came out—”
“But that’s the sentiment, right?”
Isolde closed her eyes, trying to think, and Kira felt guilty for pushing her. She didn’t deserve this, and yet
