Kriegspiel [Sequel to The Turing Test]

18. One Chance

"Yes!" I shout, my spirits only slightly dampened when neither human wakes at my volume. Soon it won't matter.

I barely hear Alan scrambling up behind me; in two steps, I'm back at Davis's bedside, waiting impatiently for Ava to prepare a syringe. As she starts injecting a serum into Ayo's IV line, I watch the doctor's face for any change.

"It takes time, Ronnie," Ada says as if she can hear my thoughts. She finishes with Ayo's IV and moves to Davis's.

"And it will work?" I ask.

"It will work."

I stare down at Davis, his rough breaths tugging at my heart. I still can't relax. What if something goes wrong? He's still incredibly weak. He's not out of the woods yet.

But he's as close as he can be, my subconscious reminds me. He's in good hands. Ada knows her stuff, and it reminds me of the people on the outside—the ones who don't have access to a doctor whose existence is a gift to modern medicine, one who can stay up for days without sleep or food and still produce a cure for something unknown.

I run my hand through Davis's hair, smoothing it back absently. "Ada," I mumble, "what about...?"

I can't finish the question. I know what Darwin would say: Forget about them. He'd accuse me of still caring about Sven. But this isn't just about Sven. It's about humanity.

With half a smile that's more like a sad commiseration, Ada unfurls her fingers to reveal a small vial of clear liquid.

"I swore an oath," she says. "To help. To save lives."

My stomach swoops. Her offer looms in the air between us: One vial. A chance to save the exposed humans.

"There's only one. Enough for a dose and a little left over. Supplies down here are limited. So I guess...." She twists the vial so that it catches the light, sparkling almost mockingly. "I guess you'd have to give it to someone who has the resources to make more."

I don't answer. We both know who she means.

Ada shrugs. "Up to you."

"Why, though?" I burst out. "Why is it up to me? If you want to save lives, why do I have to be the vessel?"

She blinks at me, and for half a second I want to curl up inside myself and vanish. She doesn't deserve my anger, and if I'm completely honest, I don't even disagree with her. It just doesn't seem fair. Why does it matter who delivers the cure?

"You're the only one he still loves," she says as if she can read my thoughts.

The air in my lungs vanishes. That word again. Love. It only reminds me of what Davis said before he collapsed, and reinforces the impossibility of anything ever working between us.

Even if I could love or be loved, I don't think I want it anymore. Not after Sven.

But can I really let him die for everything he's done? The very thought makes my fingers twitch, itching to grab the vial from Ada.

"It's not just one man," she murmurs, her eyes softening. "It's men and women and children who have done nothing wrong. You see two people lying in beds, and it doesn't seem dire until you remember that those are the only two people in here."

I look at Davis, his face still glistening with clammy sweat even though his breaths seem slightly less labored. If I was on the outside, and he was sick, I'd want someone to be brave enough to save him. I'd want myself to go out there and find Sven and help distribute this medicine, no matter the cost.

"Give me that." I grab the vial, and Ada releases it willingly.

"You need to go before Darwin comes back." She jerks her head toward the door. "This is a loophole he intends to take full advantage of. He's the only one that can kill. The closest the rest of us will ever come is standing idly by while humans die. That's exactly what we're going to do, whether we want to or not."

I nod, swallowing as my throat tries to close in on itself. I turn my back on the beds; I know if I look one last time, all I'll be able to think about is how badly I want to be here when Davis wakes.

As if on cue, he groans from behind me. "Ronnie?"

I lurch back around. His eyes are narrowed into slits, and I can only imagine the pain slicing at his temples from the harsh light above. I stand, leaning over him to shade some of it out, and brush his hair back off his forehead.

"Hey. It's okay." I reach for a glass of water from the bedside table, but my trembling hands almost knock it over. "Here. Drink." Even as I tip it down his throat, I grab for food and present that to him next. "Eat."

He coughs, and I finally get the message to back off. But the IV tubes still don't seem like enough. I want to help somehow, and if I'm not feeding him, then I don't know how.

"Sorry. It's okay. Just relax. We're going to get you all better."

His eyes roll back into his head, just for a second, and as the agony of his fever rips through his body, I start to wish he hadn't woken. All I can do is hold my hands against his head and hope my icy fingers can absorb some of the heat rolling off his body.

"Ronnie." He takes my wrist in the weakest grip I've ever felt, and tugs. I stare, helpless, trying to figure out where he wants my hand so that I can place it there for him, because he's too delirious to complete the task.

"Ronnie!" he mumbles, just as softly but more urgently this time. His eyes widen, revealing bloodshot sclera and dilated pupils. With the sallow face of death, he looks like something from a nightmare. The Grim Reaper, come to life, about to die again. He grunts, and with what looks like the rest of the strength left in his body, plants my hand on his chest, directly over his heart.

I resist the urge to pull away. The unbearable burn, from his hand and from his chest, surrounds me like the oppressive heat of a furnace in July.

"It's okay." I can't bring my voice above a whisper, knowing that the volume will expose its weakness and uncertainty. "You're going to be fine."

"Don't go."

In the space of a second, oxygen turns to lead, weighing down my lungs and leaving me breathless. I close my eyes and pray he doesn't ask again, because if he does I know I'll do whatever he wants.

"He has it," Davis mumbles, words slurred almost beyond recognition. "He has the code. My code."

"Shh. I know." I smooth his hair behind his ear with my free hand. "You need to rest."

"I'm an idiot. I was such a goddamned romantic back then. Hung up on loyalty and...." He shakes his head, the movement much too loose. "I only gave you one."

I squeeze his hand, trying to offer enough comfort that he'll stop writhing and drift back to sleep. "One what?"

He swallows. "Chance to love."

I freeze as he finally manages to focus on me. Is that why I couldn't say it back? Why I still can't, even as I see in his eyes how much he wants me to?

Because I had that chance, and I gave it to Sven?

I clamp my mouth shut, sealing it against some unknowable, crushing force as I bend down to press a kiss to his forehead. His fever brands my lips even after I pull away; he struggles to keep his eyes open as he watches me back up a step.

I turn toward the door, and before I can change my mind and run to him, I push it open.