by RJ Plant
“More complicated than a contractor,” Conor said. His voice was scolding, but his expression cracked into a wide grin.
She knew that grin. Whether on the boy or the man, she would recognize it anywhere.
This was much harder than she’d thought it would be. She wanted to go to him, tell him who she was. Would he believe her?
Olwen quieted the board and turned the floor over to Conor. If the attention discomfited him, it didn’t show.
She listened attentively to his story. He spoke with his hands every now and again. She looked closer and yes, he seemed to be missing part of a finger. His accent was quite thick, a byproduct of being raised by Mr. Connell, she believed, and being spirited away to Ireland during the middle of the War.
So many years away.
As she listened to the melodic lilting of his speech pattern she was surprised to find how deep his voice was, like a weighted thing, spinning a tale colored with emotion.
So Sean Bernard had been wounded. But he was alive. Which meant it likely wouldn’t be long before his retainers manufactured a proper vaccine.
Or so they think, anyway, she thought. It wouldn’t happen. The virus inside Conor’s other genome was constantly mutating, changing into something new. You had to keep ahead of the virus to keep it at bay. Something only she could do. And she would have to. After a certain number of mutations, Conor’s vaccination would be obsolete.
It would kill him.
She might not be able to rid him of the virus, but she could help him survive.
She’d never wanted this for him.
“Are you fucking kidding?”
The edge to Conor’s voice snapped her out of her reverie. He’d cornered Olwen, was an intruder in her space, warning her.
“Listen to me,” he said. His voice was soft in volume, but his words were sharp. “Listen very carefully, because I’m only saying this once. I’m happy to help you progress your little agenda as long as it benefits me. I’ll even be a team player. But if you come near me in any way I don’t like, if you threaten me, if you sneeze the wrong bloody way, then the virus will become your problem. Clear?”
Kaitlyn touched his arm and he relaxed.
And then they were gone.
*****
6 November 2042, Atlantic Ocean Checkpoint/Fuel Station
“Well?” Olwen asked.
“Well, what?”
Olwen sighed, then took a sip of tea from the Styrofoam cup before returning it to the table between them.
“Any advice for an old woman?” she asked.
“You are hardly more than a child.”
“All the more reason to give me council.”
She studied Olwen, who was visibly resisting the urge to squirm under her gaze.
“I think you should do as the young man says,” she finally said. “Best not to sneeze the wrong way.”
“How long does he have?” Olwen asked.
“A year,” she said. “Maybe more, maybe less.”
“The longer we wait, the more of a danger he is to everyone around him,” Olwen said. “Don’t you want to help him?”
“Of course I want to help him,” she snapped. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry, dear.”
“Why are you waiting? What’s stopping you?”
“Fear,” she admitted.
Olwen said nothing.
“I will not let my cowardice lead to his death, you can be confident in that.”
“It’s not just him I’m worried about,” Olwen said. “You said yourself that the virus will start finding new ways of transmission. We can’t wait that long.”
If only Sean Bernard knew. All he’d had to do was wait. Wait, and the virus would spread far and wide, a wide-reaching means of transmission realized all on its own. He’d wasted time and resources trying to force the virus to do something it was not yet ready to do—cleave the caterpillar from its cocoon too early and both forms are destroyed.
He was not as smart as he believed.
“I’ll need a sample from the infected genome,” she said. “I can do nothing until I know at what stage the virus is presently.”
“Easily arranged,” Olwen said.
“You think he will volunteer it so easily?”
“He will for Dr. Henderson.”
“Maybe so,” she said.
“If you’d tell him the truth …”
“Next time, dear,” she said.
“I have a feeling we’ll be seeing him back here quite sooner than you expect.”
With that statement, Olwen left Mýrún Ylva alone with her thoughts once more.
RJ Plant writes thrillers (usually with a sci-fi or horror bent) and fantasy. She dreams about zombie ROUSes and has a strange love for science and true crime. She’s also a very mediocre violin player, but don’t hold that against her.
Visit her on the web at www.rj-plant.com.
If you enjoyed reading Rise and Run, be on the lookout for
PRESSURE
A Broken Man Novel
Book Two
Coming later this year from RJ Plant
Commonality
Sanctum
After being abducted as a child and raised in a brutal cult, Claudia Dayo is forced into performing a holy task unlike any she could imagine. As her faith in the guru wanes, Claudia fights to find a way out of the cult and away from its headhunters. When she meets a mysterious stranger, she realizes he might be her only hope for escape.
Michael Alvis’s life was turned upside-down the day his family disappeared. He has spent every day since trying to track them down. When Michael discovers a plot to kidnap the senator’s son, he stumbles onto a vicious scene: a bloodied girl crying over the remains of a mutilated body. As he questions the girl, he realizes she might be the only lead he has to finding his family.
As Claudia works inside the cult to find Michael’s missing family, Michael must discover why the cult wanted the senator’s son dead.
And why they set Claudia up to take the fall.