Free The Last Twilight by Marjorie M. Liu Page A

closed his eyes. “No symptoms in camp. Reports from downriver are clean, too.”
    She tried not to think about what it would feel like to pull an Exorcist moment with her vital organs. “It’s been two days since the initial outbreak. The people who died in the river have been in the water that long. We should be seeing symptoms by now.”
    “Our best guess is that the delivery system diluted the virus. That, or the sick aren’t reporting themselves.”
    “The virus itself could be different.”
    “No live samples yet.” Mack held up her vial of blood. “I’m hoping not ever.”
    “Liar,” Rikki said gently, and that was enough to soften his mouth. But only for a moment. His expression turned pained, as though he looked at her and saw only death. Giving up already. Simply pretending otherwise. It made Rikki angry, but only because she had looked at other people the same way, in other isolation wards.
    Work for the best, was the motto. Work for the best, assume the worst, and never, ever, let your heart get broken.
    Easier said than done. Mack and Ruth turned to leave. Rikki said, “Hey, have you heard from Larry? Any word about people going missing at the regional hospitals?”
    He raised an eyebrow. “No. Why?”
    Rikki hesitated. “Nothing. Forget about it.”
    Amiri shot her a hard look. “Do not forget about it. Ask others. See if anyone has heard rumors. And if strangers should come into the camp, people who do not belong—”
    “Like you?” Mack interrupted. “Larry’s ‘security specialist? Some job you did.”
    Amiri’s jaw tightened. “Be alert. That is all I ask.”
    “Of course. Anything less gets you dead.” Mack’s gaze flicked back to Rikki, but she stayed quiet. There was nothing left to say.
    Mack and Ruth departed. Through the clear plastic walls, Rikki watched them bypass the disinfectant tubs. Her instinct was to call them back to hose down, but she kept her mouth shut. They were not venturing into a clean environment. Just outside to the refugee camp. Later, when they wanted to eat, or sleep, or use the restroom— then dumping their gear would be a trial. The risk of infecting themselves would be at its highest.
    “Sloppiness is death,” Amiri said, also watching them leave.
    She felt like apologizing again. “Just part of the job. Helping people is dangerous work. I suppose you know that, though.”
    “Life is dangerous,” he said simply. “It is what you make of it that matters.”
    Her arm still hurt. She watched Mack leave without a backward glance, and felt very much alone. “So what do you make from something like this? What’s the price of a good life? That’s what you get paid for, right? Making people dead, people hurt. Is that worth the risk of helping someone like me? Being a hired gun? Cash make the wheels go around?” She glanced down at her hands, trying to imagine herself dying, gone, dead. Been there, done that, though this was almost preferable. No fighting. No screaming. No pain. Not yet.
    Amiri did not answer. Rikki looked, and found him with his head tilted, eyes unblinking as he stared at her. Her cheeks warmed, but she did not lower her gaze.
    “You are better than those questions,” he said finally, quietly. “And so am I.”
    She had no comeback. He was too dignified. It was like having a not-so-peace-loving version of Gandhi call her a snot, and the result was an acute sense of Twilight Zone- itis ; like she was floating in some alternate universe where strange men could affect her with nothing but a look and a word—make her regret, when with anyone else she would already be moving on.
    Her face burned. “I apologize.”
    Amiri made a sweeping motion with his hand. “And you? Why are you here?”
    She had to take a moment, still wrapped up in his hold over her—how one of his looks could be so powerful. It bugged her, but not enough to run from. Curiosity would kill her yet.
    “I hunt viruses,” she told him. “I chase outbreaks to