I was reviewing the reports as my senior scientist and I headed toward Moreta’s room in the infirmary. The analysis was not thorough, and I may have been acting prematurely, but I feared making her wait any longer. At this point, nothing else could harm her any worse. She was already dying. I wouldn’t let hesitation kill her no matter what Zane believed.
I opened the door for my staff member and motioned for her to pour out a little bit of the antidote into one of the small plastic cups by the sink. She obeyed silently as I flipped on the lights. It was hard not to get teary-eyed at Moreta’s still form. Her dark black hair was fanned around her small, pale face. The fluorescent lighting was not kind to her and highlighted how sallow she looked. She was struggling to breathe, and the monit
