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.”Julia paused, considering his words.“You’re right,” she said.“It’s too dangerous in the wrong hands.”“Exactly,” Peter said.“Help me get rid of it.The police…”“We don’t need the police,” she said, stepping over to the control panel and shoving McCoy’s body out of the way.She examined the panel until she found the switch she was looking for—flipped it, and a readout showed five minutes.Then it began counting down.She reached under the panel, finding the wire leading to the switch, and yanked it out, rendering it useless.“Julia, are you insane? You’ll kill thousands of people.”“I’m not releasing the virus, Peter.You heard McCoy.This thing’s wired with enough thermite to destroy it, and turn this whole place into slag.I’m leaving now.If you follow me I’ll shoot you.When the countdown reaches three minutes you can leave.That should give both of us enough time to get out safely.” She looked at Big Eddie crying over Little Eddie’s corpse.“Even him.”She backed away again, and started up the stairs.“At least answer me this,” Peter said.“Is it true? What McCoy said? About Walter’s lab? About Carla?”She smiled at him, pausing at the doorway.“A girl’s got to have her secrets,” she said, and she disappeared from sight.Peter stopped himself from running after her.By the time he got up there she’d be long gone.Or she’d shoot him.That was fine.He’d find her.He knew exactly where she was going.Peter looked back at the device, the clock counting down the seconds.There was no way he’d get the switch re-wired in time to shut it off.And did he want to? This way, nobody else would get the virus, and thousands of people would be saved.He gave it another ten seconds before heading up the stairs.As he stepped through the doorway, he heard Big Eddie’s voice, bellowing behind him, followed by pounding footsteps.So he ran, taking the stairs two at a time and flying up the ladder like he had demons at his heels.Worse than demons, he had Big Eddie.When he popped up through the open manhole, Peter threw himself into the gutter, sliding behind a parked car as if he was stealing home base.Seconds later flames belched forth from the tunnel, and the ground lurched beneath him.He covered his head with his hands.When he dared to sneak a look at the chaos in the street, he saw a crowd of anxious Brooklynites milling around the manhole.A pair of hipster Samaritans were trying to help a guy slumped against the power company truck.The guy’s bald head was burned bright pink and there was a raccoon mask of soot on his furious face.Big Eddie.Still alive and kicking, the hard old bastard.Luckily, he was distracted by the hipsters, giving Peter an opportunity to melt, unnoticed, into the crowd.DUSK AT REIDEN LAKE.It was an innocuous place, drowsy and lost in time.Not really big enough or scenic enough to attract out-of-state visitors.Mostly kids with nothing better to do, who wanted an unsupervised place to drink and make out, and the occasional lone older man in a splintery canoe who didn’t really care that the fish were small and scarce.The beach was narrow and rocky, the water murky and cold even in the summertime.A cracked rowboat had been abandoned belly-up on the far end of the beach.There were a few modest cabins clustered around the northern end, most of which seemed to be empty this time of year.If Peter remembered correctly, one of them belonged to some relative of his father—an uncle maybe.But like all of Peter’s memories of this place, it felt foggy and jarringly incomplete, as if he’d made it up or seen it on some television show.There was nothing about it that wasn’t utterly mundane, yet it felt profoundly haunted, pregnant with mystery and secrets.Like the scene of an unsolved murder.I’ve got to stop reading so many cheap crime novels, he told himself.Peter ditched the stolen car on the overlook and ran down to the beach.There was Julia, standing in the water up to her hips, a loaded syringe in her hand.“Julia!” he called out.She spun toward him, eyes wide.“I thought you might follow me,” she said.“I had to,” he said taking a step closer to the water.“I need to know what the hell is going on.What are you trying to do? You’ve done nothing but lie to me from the minute we met, and now I want some answers, dammit!”“I understand,” she said softly.“Of course you want answers.About your life.Your childhood.About why you feel so out of place, no matter where you go.We’re alike in many ways, Peter.Outsiders.Strangers.Alone even in a crowded room.The difference is that you chose to run away and keep on running, even though no matter how far you run, you can never get away from your own head.“Me, I chose to do something about it.”She leaned in, eyes glittering.“You want to know who you really are, don’t you?” she asked [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]