Page 62 of Their Will be Done

My heart’s about to give out, but then my fingers brush the plastic cover. It shifted, but it’s still there.

The laptop’s whirring, but nothing else is happening. How slow is this thing?

I can’t stop myself.

I turn and look at the clock.

It’s five past eight.

I deflate like a balloon, my shoulders sagging as I let out a relieved sigh.

What the fuck are those condoms doing in the drawer?

I squeeze my eyes closed. What did Apollo say about this device? Did the computer have to be on all the way, or just powered up? He said I didn’t have to do anything, just plug it in, butwhen?

I guess it doesn’t matter. Sooner rather than later, right?

My fingers have turned into foot-long sausages. I drop the cap and spend several billion tick-fucking-tocks trying to get the stupid fucking drive into the stupid fucking slot.

When it finally slides into place like a greased pig, I glare at it.

No wonder people throw computers and shit against the wall. I’m stinking of sweat, never mind those fucking mothballs.

The screen starts spitting out letters.

Shit.

Shit!

Was this a virus or something? Was that the Brotherhood’s plan all along? But then I actually read the messages, and calm down a little. The computers in the library would spout shit like this too. Checking this, allocating that.

Normal. It’s all normal.

My gaze is inexorably drawn back to the clock.

Seven minutes past eight.

Fuck.

I drum my fingers against the laptop’s plastic frame. The Windows logo pops up, accompanied by a too-loud set of chimes that I’m sure Jasper heard back in our room.

Christ, I’m breaking out in hives.

Ten past eight.

This is ridiculous. There’s no way a computer can take this long—

A bright blue desktop pops open. Twenty or so folders and files scream for my attention.

I have no idea if the drive is doing its thing, but I can’t be bothered with it right now. I have about three minutes before I need to shove this thing back in its bag.

Three minutes to prove that Father Gabriel is a good guy.

Three fucking minutes.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Zach

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