Free Life Support by Tess Gerritsen

week."
    Angus said nothing. He gripped the treadmill bar and concentrated on his stride. Walk, walk. Pump those calves, keep them.firm and young.
    "Funniest damn thing," said Bigelow. "This business about Harry. You don't suppose . . ."
    "I don't suppose anything, Jim. Let's just hope he turns up."
    "Yeah." Bigelow stopped pedaling. He sat catching his breath and staring at the video screen, where a tropical rainstorm was now pounding the jungle ferns. "Trouble is," he said quietly, "I don't expect he will turn up all right. It's been two days."
    Angus abruptly switched off the treadmill. Forget the cooldown. He'd move straight to the upper body workout. He slung his towel over his shoulder and crossed the room to the Nautilus. To his annoyance, Bigelow got off the bike and followed him.
    Ignoring Bigelow, Angus sat down on the bench and started with his latissimus dorsi workout.
    "Angus," said Bigelow, "Doesn't it worry you?"
    "There's nothing we can do about it, Jim. The police are looking."
    "No, I mean doesn't it remind you of..." Bigelow's voice dropped to a murmur. "What happened to Stan Mackie?"
    Angus went still, his hands gripping the Nautilus pulleys. "That happened months ago."
    "Yes, but it was the same thing. Remember how he showed up with his fly unzipped? And then he forgot Phil's name. You don't forget the name of your best friend."
    "Phil's quite forgettable."
    "I can't believe you're so flippant about this. First we lose Stan. And now Harry. What if�" Bigelow paused and glanced around the gym, as though afraid someone else might be listening. "What if something's going wrong? What if we're all getting sick?"
    "Stan's death was a suicide."
    "That's what they say. But people don't go jumping out of windows for no reason."
    "Did you know Stan well enough to say he didn't have a reason?"
    Bigelow looked down. "No . . ."
    "Well, then." Angus resumed working at the pulleys. Pull, release.
    Pull, release. Keep those musclesyoung. . .
    Bigelow sighed. "I can't help wondering. I never felt right about it.
    Maybe this is some sort of ... I don't know. Divine consequence. Maybe it's what we deserve."
    "Don't be so Catholic, Jim! You're always waiting for a lightning bolt to hit you. It's been a year and a half, and I've never felt better in my life." He stretched out his leg. "Look at my quadriceps!
    See the muscle definition? It wasn't there two years ago."
    "My quadriceps hasn't improved any," Bigelow noted glumly.
    "That's because you're not working at it. And you worry too damn much."
    "Yes, I suppose I do." Bigelow sighed and looped his towel around his neck. It made him look like some old tortoise poking its head out of its shell. "Are we still on for this afternoon?"
    "Phil hasn't said otherwise."
    "Right. Then see you at the first tee."
    Angus watched his friend lumber out of the gym. Bigelow was looking old, and no wonder, he'd spent only ten minutes on the bike, hardly an aerobic workout. Some people just couldn't commit to their own health.
    Instead they wasted their energy worrying about things they could do nothing about.
    His latissimus dorsi muscles were burning with that pleasant ache of a thorough workout. He released the pulleys and rested for a moment.
    Looking around the gym, he saw that all the other machines were in use, mostly by women, the granny set in their sweat suits and tennis shoes.
    A few of the ladies glanced his way, flashing him the come-hither look he found so ridiculous in women their age. They were far too old for his taste. A woman of, say, fifty might be more to his liking. But only if she was slim and fit enough to keep up with him, in every way.
    It was time to work on the pectorals.
    He reached up for the appropriate arm grips and was about to make the first squeeze when he noticed that something was wrong with the machine.
    The right-hand grip seemed to be vibrating.
    He released his hold and stared at the grip. It was perfectly still, no vibrations at all. Then he looked