Forty-Four
Tuesday, December 21
Bailey’s Key
Eva sat in the conference center at RIMS, her eyes on her laptop. She’d much rather she was sitting in her old equipment shed than in this building that had been funded by Julian’s bitcoin.
She reached up to the back of her head and touched the staples in her scalp. She still couldn’t recall how she’d been injured. Dr. Vasquez said that was a sure sign she had suffered a concussion. She also couldn’t stop scratching at her arms, which were incredibly itchy. The doctor explained that was a common side effect of a transfusion, which she’d received because she’d lost so much blood. He’d prescribed antihistamines, but she refused to take anything that might make her groggy. She would need every one of her neurons to get through this.
She looked
