Love.
All mixed together.
“You’re both impossible.”
Claire almost smiled.
“Genetics.”
I turned to Margaret.
“Can we speed it up?”
“Maybe.”
She started typing.
Rebecca began counting.
“Twenty-nine.”
Margaret rerouted power.
“Twenty-eight.”
The transfer jumped.
47%.
“Twenty-seven.”
Daniel locked the server room door.
50%.
“Twenty-six.”
Hayes, still bleeding, stood slowly.
Everyone watched him.
He looked at me.
Then at Margaret.
Then toward the corridor.
