Outcome (Breakers .5) by Edward W. Robertson

Author:Edward W. Robertson
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: influenza, sci-fi, novels, eotwawki, post apocalyptic, postapocalyptic, Fiction, Science Fiction, virus, books, post-apocalyptic, Thriller, post-apocalypse, post apocalypse, plague, Meltdown, Breakers, postapocalypse, science fiction series, Melt Down
Publisher: Edward W. Robertson
Published: 2012-12-31T23:00:00+00:00

7

He frowned at her from the bed. "And then what? Break out the grappling hooks and bust out the window?"

Ellie moved to switch on the light, then thought better of it. "That's the fastest way I know to find her."

"How about we wait for them to take somebody else who's sick?"

"That could work." She felt herself flushing. The fix was so simple, so much better, she couldn't believe she hadn't thought of it herself.

She must be too tired. While Chip slept, she'd gone out to a coffee shop down past Penn Station to try all her logins without tying them to the hotel's IP address. All her efforts had failed. She'd been blocked from the DAA networks. Either they knew about Mason or they thought she was up to something very sinister. Like alerting the news.

Data-blind, she had resolved to quit wasting time and give her subconscious the chance to kick back a solution to the Dee Problem while she employed her conscious mind in the less-than-enthralling business of renting a car that didn't have a government GPS hidden inside it. She hated these little errands. Grocery shopping. Reupping her birth control. Within the DAA, her trip details had generally been seen to by a young man named Klein who bristled at being called a secretary or even a personal assistant but essentially functioned as one—Ellie's own time being too valuable to waste on travel arrangements. So she was somewhat shocked to discover that even in New York, car rental agencies closed their doors around the same time of night that she had, in her youth here with Chip, often realized she was too drunk to go get dinner and should probably order in Chinese instead.

She wound up riding the A all the way to JFK, a trip that took a good 100 minutes. Plenty of time to work the Dee Problem over again from another angle. This angle being that they'd detained Chip in a rundown Harlem hospital. Not exactly an Atlanta clean room. If Dee weren't sick when they picked her up, but she were being held in a place like that, as time went on, the inevitability of her infection approached 100%. Presumably they were employing some precautions and protocols, extending that timeline, fuzzing its edges, but she would pin the number between 0-5 days. After that, she assumed she would have to detach Chip from the city by force.

She rented the car under her false FBI identity and drove back to the hotel. Halfway across the Brooklyn Bridge, with Manhattan's lights shining on the black river, she had her idea about letting themselves be captured. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but the time just then had been 3:49 AM.

"They might be looking out for me," she said, almost to herself. She glanced at the flimsy hotel clock-radio. It wasn't quite 4:30. "Do you have scissors? A hand mirror? Hair dye?"

Chip wrinkled his forehead. "Scissors, yeah. But they're good for bandages, not hair.

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