Page 100 of Coldwire
“I think the city government shut it for lockdown. They’ll do it sometimes if too many people are posting videos on the feed they don’t like. Should be back in half a day.”
We don’t have half a day. Depending on the speed at which this illness progresses, Nik Grant could be dead in half a day without a suppressant. I drag him forward, searching wildly for some place to take cover. He has the energy to move if I’m urging him along, but he turns entirely still if left alone.
“How,” I mutter, “did you even get infected?”
“Virus particles are tricky.”
Up ahead, I spot an awning tucked subtly between two buildings, and I hurry us toward the gate underneath. The gate latch lifts easily. It leads us into a narrow passage, the exterior walls dotted with windows up ten floors on each side of the neighboring buildings, before the alley spits us through to the courtyard of another. I don’t take us any farther. Nik can’t manage it.
“Sit here,” I instruct.
He doesn’t need to be told twice, collapsing onto the brick path. I take a moment to catch my breath. Most of the windows on the ground level are barred by steel rods, a safety mechanism against break-ins. There’s a potted plant sitting on the inner ledge of the one I’m looking at. No movement inside the glass. Next door, the curtain twitches. Someone likely got nosy enough to peek out, then decided it was nothing they wanted to get involved in.
“Think, think,” I mutter.
He needs Eveline. I also can’t leave him out here in the open while I get it. Eveline is a miracle cure that Atahua invented, a pill that almost entirely suppresses the symptoms of all major influenzas and“improves the survival rate to a staggering 99.8 percent!”as the commercials jingle every time they play. A few hours after consumption, it stops most transmissibility of the targeted virus. I know Medan pharmacies are usually stocked because I did a research unit at the academy on Eveline the company. It accepted a bid from the Medan government as an investor, but lo and behold, due to great Atahuan outcry, though the company promised many of its pills to Medaluo, they came at a huge price point.
Medaluo imports the pills, and no one can afford them. Forget banks, forget jewelers. The most frequently robbed places these days are neighborhood pharmacies, and when the one-pill packages are taken, the pharmacies get insurance payouts from the government, which pats itself on the back for a job well done supplying its people with cures. As long as I can outrun a few alarms, the pharmacies practically encourage people to go in and take them.
Nik starts to tilt, losing balance. Just as I’m reaching forward to keep him steady, I hear the clatter of the gate, and I swivel fast, my grip tight on his arm.
The woman doesn’t step through the gate, merely keeping it nudged open with her shoe. She’s dressed in a pantsuit, a headset still over her ears with the mic pushed up, as though she’s on a lunch break from her remote job.
“Hey,” she whisper-shouts. I jolt. She’s speaking Atahuan. “Are you Eirale?”
“That depends on who’s asking.”
The woman looks over her shoulder quickly. That answer didn’t maintain much plausible deniability if this is a Medan official who wants me hauled in, but I suppose chances are higher she’s an ordinary Medan who recognized me off the feed.
“Proceed ahead into the inner building,” she instructs. “There’s an empty apartment in 1F. You won’t need to climb any stairs.”
I’m already lifting Nik to his feet. This could be a trap. Medaluo military might be getting really good at its capture methods.
“Why?” I ask simply. “What’s it to you?”
She taps her collar. Her nail is long and painted neon pink, visible from a distance. I can track it clearly when her finger loops in a miniature infinity symbol. That may have started as the icon for StrangeLoom specifically, but in recent years after a shift in marketing materials, it’s come to be universally recognized for NileCorp at large. The NileCorp logo doesn’t sit idle in its digital rendering: it will loop again and again.
“You don’t need to trust me. You need to get somewhere quiet.”
The woman slips away, the gate latching again.
There are no other ethnic Medans on Teryn’s team, and I would recognize the handful of others from the Button City base. Either Teryn gathered a new team to enter Medaluo, or this woman is from a NileCorp outpost unrelated to me.
I suppose I have no choice but to proceed with what I’ve been given. I haul Nik forward, his movements already significantly worse than a few minutes prior. We plod through the courtyard, then through the inner building, where the front doors have been taken off the hinges.
“Just a few more steps, Nik,” I say.
“What was that?” he mumbles. “Who were you talking to?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
I find 1F at the end of the hallway. I barely manage to get a grip on the doorknob while I’m focusing on keeping Nik upright with my other arm, and my sweaty palm slips, failing to turn it properly. Panic creeps in. It might be locked, or a lie entirely.
I try again, and the knob turns.
I drag him through the kitchen. The fridge is unplugged, its cord pulled out to save electricity, and the entire apartment is void of the usualhum that accompanies running appliances. I maneuver Nik to the couch.
“Where are we?” Nik rasps.
