The Hatching (The Hatching #1)(49)

“Yes,” Thuy said to Aonghas. “Go ahead and ask me, because the answer is yes.”





Desperation, California


“Well,” Gordo said. “Waiting for the world to go boom is kind of boring.” He tried changing the television station, but it was the same news everywhere: no news. China had set off a nuke and . . . and that was it.

“Fred called.” Amy sat on his lap and put her arm around his shoulder. “He said if the world isn’t ending today, we should go over and have dinner and drinks with him and Shotgun. We can play hearts.”

Gordo sighed. “Sure.”

“What’s with the grumpy pants?” Amy tapped her finger on his lips. “You’re all pouty.”

Gordo kissed her finger. “Eh. You know. A nuke goes off and I’m thinking, okay, this is it. We’re ready. I’m ready. Let’s do it. I’m not saying I really want it to happen, but come on. I thought this was it.” He wrapped his arms around his wife and pulled her tight against him. “Yeah, f*ck it. Let’s go over and play some cards. Beats just sitting around waiting for the bombs to start falling.”





American University,

Washington, DC


Oh, that private bathroom. Of all the things Melanie was glad that she negotiated for—lab space, funding, administrative support, reduced teaching—a private bathroom and shower in her office was what made her most thankful. There was the obvious plus of not having to use the public restrooms, but it was the shower that was the best. She could go out for a quick run and shower off without having to head to the Jacobs Fitness Center, or, on days like today, when she hadn’t left the lab in nearly seventy hours, it meant she could take a shower and put on one of the changes of clothes she kept in her office. She could feel human again.

She tugged on her brown motorcycle boots and pulled her jeans down over them. She’d bought the boots at the same time she bought her first motorcycle, when she was eighteen, and even though she hadn’t had a bike in a decade, she kept resoling the boots. They were scarred and had a deep patina of wear. She always felt like a badass when she wore them. She buttoned up her dark-blue blouse, gave her hair a quick brush, put her diamond stud earrings back in, opened the door of her bathroom, and crashed right into a big black man in a suit.

The man was rooted like a tree. Melanie bounced back a few steps, and he reached out and caught her arm.

“Sorry about that, ma’am,” he said.

He didn’t have to say anything more for Melanie to know he was Secret Service. She sighed.

“Where is he?”

“Ma’am?”

She straightened her blouse and slipped past him into her office. There was no one else in the office, though she could hear voices in the lab. “Manny. My ex-husband. Where is he?”

“He’s in the lab, ma’am, with the others.”

It was a pattern that was too familiar to her from their marriage: Manny wanted to spend time with her, she’d say she was busy, he’d show up anyway saying he hoped just to steal a few minutes, they’d fight about whether their marriage was failing because of how little time they spent together or because what little time they did spend together they spent fighting. It had been exhausting when they were married, and she didn’t want to spend any part of the day doing a postmortem on a body that had long gone cold. She’d already taken the blame, already said it was her fault, even though there was a small part of her that thought Manny could have done more. No phone could be slammed hard enough, no door closed firmly enough to keep him out when it came to garnering support for a bill or getting money for Steph’s campaigns, but he had never fought as hard for her as he had on Steph’s behalf.

“All right, Manny,” she said, pushing through the door to the lab, “I don’t have the patience for . . .”

But it wasn’t Manny.

Or, rather, it was Manny, but it was also Steph. The president of the United States. She was leaning over the insectarium with Julie, staring at the spiders.

At the sound of Melanie’s voice, everybody in the room turned. And there were a lot of people in the lab besides her and Julie and Manny and Steph: Bark and Patrick, fussing over the computer and recording equipment, nearly a dozen Secret Service agents, and Billy Cannon, the secretary of defense.

“Madam President,” Melanie said. She started to put out her hand and then nodded her head before turning it into a sort of half bow. It was embarrassing. She stood up straight and looked around the room. “Traveling sort of heavy today?”

The president waved her hand at the suited men. “Comes with the territory. It’s hard to casually pop in anywhere.” She stepped over and gave Melanie a hug.

Melanie hugged her back, reluctantly. She was never really sure how to feel about the president. She knew how she felt about Steph, but Steph, as the president, was a different matter. She’d known Steph for as long as she’d known Manny. Close to eighteen years now. She’d known Steph when she was still just Steph, before it was Governor Pilgrim or Senator Pilgrim, let alone President Pilgrim. Melanie had been one of the bridesmaids at Steph’s wedding to George Hitchens, and one of the few people to really see what it was like behind the scenes during Steph’s run for president. And she also knew that, since she and Manny had gotten divorced, her ex-husband and the president of the United States were f*cking a couple of times a week.