34
Abandon All Hope
Darkness and silence. An explosion of light. Darkness and silence. An explosion of light and pain. And awake. Bolt upright. Gasping. Panting. Shivering. Philippe standing over me with defibrillator pads in hands.
ELEVEN MINUTES TO CRITICAL MASS.
“What happened?” I asked, still catching my breath. Confused to f**k.
“You wandered off,” Philippe said. “That’s what happened.”
“Huh?” I tried to get up off the medical bench.
“I found you in a boiler room, face down next to Nathan. Your heart had stopped.”
“Jesus! How long?”
“Who cares?” Philippe said. “You’re alive and no more brain-dead than usual.”
He helped me off the bench. He’d lost the suit jacket, and his white shirt was dirty from gun and grenade smoke, a sticky red hole in the upper sleeve of his right arm.
