Page 52 of Supernova

“Honestly, if you want food, I’ll get you food,” Max grumbled, picking through the leftovers on his tray and finding a couple shreds of ham.

Adrian nudged up his glasses, watching Turbo devour the feast. His movements were slower every day, his coordination clumsier. Someday soon, he would simply stop moving. Stop eating. Stop biting. He wouldn’t stop existing, but become like one of those plastic dinosaurs kids got in the coin machines down in the hospital waiting room, the ones that came in clear acrylic eggs.

“Say,” Max started, his attention trained almost nervously on the little beast. “Have you ever thought about…” He hesitated.

“What?”

He cleared his throat and tried to act nonchalant, wriggling his skinny shoulders back into the pillow. “Do you think the tattoos would work if you gave them to other people? Like… could you make Simon immune to me?”

Adrian tapped the end of his pencil against his temple. “It’s crossed my mind, but I don’t know if it would—”

“I know, I know,” interrupted Max. “It might not work on other people. And… then you’d have to tell them about the tattoos and that could lead to a lot of questions and…”

“I have thought of it, though,” said Adrian. “Maybe I could try it on Oscar first. Or Ruby or Danna. I could test it on one of them. And if it works…”

Max watched him, and Adrian could see him trying to temper his own hopes. The look flooded him with guilt. Was the secret of the Sentinel worth preserving, if it meant Max would be stuck forever in this sheltered half-life?

“If it works,” he continued, more forceful now, “then I’ll tellHugh and Simon, and offer to give the tattoo to Simon, too. Then you could come home and live with us.”

“You don’t have to,” Max insisted. “I don’t want them to figure out who you—”

“No, Idohave to,” Adrian said. “If the tattoo works on other people, then it’s a done deal. You’re more important than the Sentinel.”

Max leaned back again, though he seemed more concerned than excited, as his mind started to race down all the possible outcomes—if the tattoo didn’t work, and if it did.

“Okay,” he finally agreed. “How long before we know?”

“I’ll talk to the team tomorrow, determine who’s going to be the guinea pig, and figure out a time to do it. The tattoo needs a few days to heal, and then… we’ll just have to test it.”

“So maybe, like, a week?”

Adrian considered. It seemed optimistic. He needed to be extremely focused when inking the design, otherwise he risked its power being weakened from his distraction.

And focus was something he’d been lacking lately.

But what else could he say? “Sure. A week. Maybe.”

Would Max still be in the hospital, or would the quarantine be ready by then? Would he already have been moved back to headquarters? He had a feeling the new quarantine would have strict security measures put on it, much stricter than the first. It might be more difficult to test the tattoo’s effectiveness once it was healed.

But an idea was percolating in his thoughts. One that might have been a little foolhardy. An idea his dads would certainly disapprove of.

Which wouldn’t be the first time.

“Nowwhat?” said Max, eyeing him warily.

Adrian leaned closer. “Why wait around here for the next week? What if we sneaked you out of here instead?”

Max chuckled. “And take me where? A deserted island?”

Scratching behind his ear with the pencil’s eraser, Adrian felt a smile creeping across his face. What felt like the first real smile since Danna had told him the truth.

“I have somewhere more hospitable in mind.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“AT WHAT POINTshould I remind you that this is a terrible idea?” whispered Max.

“It’ll be fine,” said Adrian, leaning against the wall. They were hidden in a small alcove with a hand-washing sink, around the corner from the nurses’ station.

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