Chapter 26
Jenna’s hands were shaking.
The last cup of coffee she’d had was long gone, and things were almost ready.
She rubbed her eyes. Shehopedthey were ready. Her brain was like an internet browser with nineteen different tabs open—four of them were frozen, and she had no idea where the music was coming from.
And the lives of untold people—most imminently hers and Mark’s—depended on her ability to keep everything in forward motion.
So yeah, shehopedthis was all going to work the way she planned.
The couple of times she’d gotten Joaquin to let her go to the bathroom, she’d done her best to observe the layout of the building they were in. To her relief, it didn’t seem to be overly complicated. She hadn’t seen any stairs or signs of the building being multiple levels. There weren’t many windows either.
They were in a lab. Lab buildings didn’t tend to be geared toward comfort or aesthetics; they were all about functionality.
Thankfully, even the buildings terrorists owned needed to be built to regulation, so there were a couple of exit signs, though she hadn’t seen the doors.
She would find those once she made her move. And worry about dealing with her panic once she was outside.
First, the formula. It had been ready for the last hour, although she hadn’t let Joaquin know. She’d been trying to test it again and again to make sure this version of the universal subjectification compound was truly temporary.
If not, she’d be handing Joaquin the very thing he’d asked for. The process of putting someone under subjectification was relatively simple. Keeping them there was the hard part. People’s bodies metabolized the formula quickly, so the real art of it was finding the correct chemical compounds and genetic editing sequence for the subject—which had always been too individualized to be effective on a large scale.
The formula she was staring at now would put anyone under subjectification, but it wouldn’t keep them there. About thirty minutes after they were injected, it would wear off and render the person completely whole and themselves, with no memory loss or withdrawal symptoms.
Jenna went over the formula again, running simulations on the computer. There would be no room for trial and error once she gave it to Joaquin. If she got it wrong—if it didn’t work or wore off too early—Joaquin would shoot first and ask questions later.
Even worse, shootMark.
He hadn’t tried to talk her out of it again. She hoped he’d understood her cryptic message and was trusting her. But every time she’d looked at him over the last couple of hours, he’d had his eyes closed.
His leg wound was bleeding again. Not a good sign. But right now, she had to focus on the formula.
It was right. It had to be. Over eleven hours had passed, and her brain was fried. There was nothing else she could possibly think to do except to ask someone for outside verification. And that wasn’t an option.
So she glanced through the documentation one more time and sent it to the machine to be synthesized.
Joaquin had come back in a few minutes ago. His eyes were harder, posture more tense.
He wasn’t screwing around anymore. If this compound didn’t work, she and Mark would pay the price.
“Okay,” she said, drawing the eyes of Joaquin, who was sitting across the room. “It’s being synthesized.”
He checked his watch. “And you said you couldn’t do it in twelve hours. It’s only been eleven.”
“It’s going to take a while to synthesize.”
“Good, then it will still be ready, and we can test it.” He looked at her. “Do you have any objections to testing it?”
Mark’s eyes opened from where he still sat, bound to the chair. She wanted to go to him, to help him. But mostly just to touch him and draw from his strength.
“You know I have issues with you using this or testing it on anyone. But that’s not going to stop you.”
“You’re correct.” He stood. “When I test it, is it going to work?”
“It should,” she said. “I’ve done what I can.”
The smallest smile sent chills down her spine. “Well, you know what happens if it doesn’t.”