Page 29 of Marc
He nuzzled his face against my thigh. “Can’t lose you.”
I closed my eyes.
“Life is so fucking dangerous. Losing people…it tears you apart.”
I wasn’t sure how conscious he was of what he was saying.
“Saw what losing my uncle did to my dad. Still hurts him so much, to this day.”
I sifted my hands through his hair. “I know. But it’s balanced by having your mom, and you and Zeke, his friends. That’s life, Marc. There are ups and downs, wins and losses.”
He made a sound. “I…when Zeke got taken with Amaia, I was so fucking afraid.”
I wanted to hug him.
“Loving someone so much…” He shook his head. “If he hadn’t come home, I wouldn’t have made it.”
God, I’d never realized how deeply the loss of his uncle, and almost losing his twin brother had affected him. He never showed it. No, he hid it all behind a joke and a smile. “Yes, you would have. You’re strong.”
He shook his head. “Can’t take the risk. Can’t. Can’t.”
I realized he was perspiring. I pressed my palm to his forehead. His skin was hot. “Damn, you have a fever.”
He shifted fitfully and my stomach twisted. I had to help him.
“There must be more stuff here.” I slid out from under him and circled the room. There were a couple of empty offices with nothing useful, and one more door in the corner. When I wedged it open, I saw a bathroom with grimy tiles that had once probably been white. I moved to the sink and tried the faucet.
Water splashed out.
“Yes.” Finally, something was going our way. Then I spotted an electrical panel on the wall. I yanked it open and fiddled with the controls.
A second later, emergency lights came on, lighting the room with the low glow.
“Look at that, Marc. The solar power is still functional for the emergency system.”
There was no response.
I raced over to him. He was lying unconscious on the bed, and when I touched his skin, he was fever-hot.
“Marc? Marc, no.”
I tried to get a lock on my panic. I glanced up, searching for something—anything—to help. That’s when I realized one cabinet that I hadn’t noticed before was now glowing. I raced over to it and yanked it open.
I saw an injector and sucked in a breath.
Nano-meds.
Thirty-year-old nano-meds. They were ancient, and hadn’t been stored correctly. They could just as likely kill him as cure him. I rubbed my face with a shaking hand.
He was already dying.
I carried the injector back to him.
“Marc, I found some nano-meds.”
He made a sound and one of his eyes cracked open.
I shook my head. “They’re old. It’s too risky to give you?—”
