Page 67 of Smoky Lake

Someone with the handle PetriFied commented that green teas weren’t the only source of catechins, and reeled off a list of other plants.

She clicked on the profile of PetriFied and scanned through their comments. The account’s profile pic was a closeup shot of a microbe, and the location was listed as the Arctic. In other words, he or she was basically anonymous. All their posts were related to plants that had been shown to be effective in battling various viruses. So he or she must be some kind of plant scientist.

There was a thought—in the absence of an antibiotic, maybe she should roam the landscape and do some wildcrafting.

Of course she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t leave Gil alone that long. He’d be furious with her. In fact, even now he was probably waking up to check on her. It seemed crazy, since he was the sick one, but even in the depths of his fever he kept saying things like, Are you getting enough sleep? Lie down, I’ll stand guard for a while. Have you seen anyone suspicious come through?

Poor Gil. Clearly he didn’t like being incapacitated and dependent on someone else. It all went back to Lachlan, she knew. Lachlan needed a shield. Gil needed someone to devote himself to.

Someday, one extremely lucky woman would be that person for Gil. Ani could picture her—maybe a celebrity who couldn’t trust anyone except a protector like Gil. Or a high-level politician he met during one of his postings. Or maybe a genius like his brother. Whoever it was would be extraordinary— because Gil was.

Gil didn’t show much of what was going on underneath his watchful surface, but she’d seen enough to know it went deep. His loyalty went all the way to bedrock. Every time she got a glimpse of that core Gil-ness, she knew it wouldn’t take much for her to lose her heart to him.

It would have happened already, except that he’d been careful to warn her about how he operated. When someone tells you who they are, believe them. She respected Gil enough to accept that he wasn’t the “settling down” sort. His life didn’t lend itself to that, and he’d never been tempted.

She knew herself well enough to know that she was that kind of person. At some point, she’d be ready to try again, if she was lucky enough to find someone. This little moment-outside-of-time with Gil would pass, and she’d never do something like that again. It wasn’t her style. She wanted marriage, she wanted family.

But right now, more than anything, she wanted Gil to be okay.

On impulse, she sent PetriFied a private message. What plants might I find near Denali to fight an omegavirus?

She startled when she got an answer almost right away. What elevation? What omegavirus?

She didn’t want to identify the virus, and she didn’t know the elevation here. Nvm, she answered. I’ll try the basil.

Another answer popped up right away. What symptoms?

That should be safe, right? Headache, fever, light congestion, heavy sweating.

Any hallucinations? Disordered speech?

A sharp chill went through her. This was the first time anyone had brought up hallucinations in relation to the virus. Maybe she’d stumbled on someone who knew more than Dr. Christianson about the virus.

But was Gil experiencing hallucinations?

Maybe. He’d said something about “love” yesterday that seemed completely off the wall. And sometimes he seemed to be talking to the virus as if it was there in the room with them. He had demonstrated disordered speech, at least for a short spell.

Possibly, she answered. What do you know about this?

I can’t say anything more in an online forum.

Well, that was helpful.

Another comment popped up. You said Denali. Where?

She snatched her hands away from the keyboard, ready to shut it down and end this convo before it got too close for comfort. But what if this PetriFied knew something that could help Gil?

Or what if someone was lurking in the forum in case someone came looking for answers?

Or what if she was now completely paranoid because of everything that had happened since that state trooper had landed?

Hello? I want to help. Can we meet?

If only she could ask Gil what she should do. But he hadn’t said a lucid word since this morning, when he’d sat straight up and said, “You need a break. Go get some coffee for yourself and add lots of cream and sugar.”

He remembered. Sweet man. But then he’d burrowed back into the blankets and started snoring again.

This was up to her. I need more information about you first.

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