“What’s that mean?” Adam growls.
“I’m taking her with me,” Donovan deadpans. Like this isn’t going to set Adam off.
I wait for Adam to lunge at him the way Indie did. Wait for McKay to pull him back.
But Adam doesn’t move. He just shoots him that look.
I will hunt you. You had better kill me before you leave here, because I will hunt you.
Donovan ignores him. “All right. Bottoms up or things will get interesting.” Then he chuckles. Like the madness in his head is burbling. Overflowing. About to break free.
We glance around at each other, wondering who will be first.
It’s Adam. He downs it.
And then we all drink. Even Maggie.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO - MERC
I’ve taken the Lectra before so I know what to expect.
It is burning cold going down. It coats my throat with a slick of black ice. Then it hits my stomach and some chemical reaction that feels like the hand of God flips my world upside down and I float.
I float.
No. I laugh. This isn’t floating. This is fucked up. Instant fucked up.
A Dixie cup full of Lectra. That’s not a shot. Not an ounce. Two, at least.
Wasted.
I am fucking wasted.
But the controller in me has enough sense to look over at Maggie to check and see if she’s even alive. Two ounces.
But she didn’t drink. She’s still holding her cup. Her mouth is moving, but I can’t really hear her words. Instead I see them. They float too. Letters and letters and letters come streaming out of her mouth like they are leaves riding a river.
Then I see Sasha holding her cup too. It’s empty and she’s swaying a little. Her eyes find mine and she smiles at me.
Little Sasha Cherlin. Look at her. So pretty and—
I lose my train of thought, distracted by McKay, who bursts out laughing when Indie breaks free of Nathan and rushes up to Donovan.
What is she saying?
What is she talking about?
Wendy is laughing and so is Nick. They fall onto the couch together. Kissing.
Kissing? I laugh too. Who the fuck wants to kiss at a time like this?
Wait a minute.
“What are we doing again?” I say it out loud and see the river of letters come from my own mouth. It’s in typewriter font. And then, the minute I think that, there’s little typewriter sounds too.
Then I’m laughing. And McKay’s laughing. The nurses are kissing.
I laugh harder, holding my stomach. Doc is barking orders, but they don’t make any sense. He’s saying, “Someone get that man an eggplant! Stat!”
I fall into the nearest chair, unable to make my legs work. And my eyes dart around. Looking at everyone.
So happy.
We’re so fuckin’ happy.
We should drink this shit every day.
I’m gonna give it to my wife, and my kids, and the cats—
And then… then… something is wrong.
Maggie is talking to Sasha. And Sasha is talking to Donovan. And Donovan has a syringe. He pokes Sasha with it. Her eyes flutter and I get up, rush over there, and catch her before she falls.
Except she doesn’t fall. And there’s no possible way in hell I can get out of this chair right now.
Besides. Sasha’s eyes go clear. She takes a deep breath. Shakes herself out of the stupor and smiles at Donovan. “Good job.”
Then he says, and I see every letter with perfect clarity, “You take care of Nick, I’ll take care of Indie.”
And then Sasha says, in that typewriter font, as she holds up another syringe, “I’ll meet you at the river in ten minutes.” Then her eyes meet mine and she puts a finger up to her lips. “Hush, Merc. Just hush.”
Ding! Carriage return. New line. New sentence.
Fuck that.
I’m dead.
Time passes. But I come back from it. Just for a moment.
Just long enough to see Indie, Nathan, Maggie, and Donovan leaving the house through the French doors near the pool and slipping into the woods.
Just long enough to hear Sasha talking to Nick in the breezeway.
Just long enough to confirm that I am, indeed, inside the fucking PSYOP.
And Sasha Cherlin is the controller.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE - NICK
I remember laughing even though nothing was funny.
I remember drifting, and floating, and thinking… that’s how it’s always gonna be. Just nothing but laughing and floating.
I remember kissing Wendy as she asked about the cure. I just kept kissing her because we came all this way. We made all those plans. I made all those promises. And now look. We have been left ruined in the darkness.
And that’s how I stay for some indeterminate length of time.
Then a pinprick in my vein and the drifting and floating ebbs back to reveal a smiling face.
Sasha’s face. “Hey, there. Can you hear me?”
I can hear her, but I can’t seem to move my lips or make any noise.
“No.” Sasha chuckles. “Sorry. You won’t be able to respond. Or move, for that matter. Not until tomorrow at least. But good news. You can hear me. And that’s all that matters, Nick. You need to hear me.”