Departure(19)

Inside the plane, I kneel beside Harper’s pod. She’s asleep, or unconscious. I shake her, but she doesn’t come to. Her hair’s drenched. So’s her shirt. I wipe the sweat off her forehead, brushing her damp hair back. Feeling how hot her skin is scares me. She’s dangerously sick. Finally I force myself to stand up and turn away.

Sabrina is at the back, talking quietly with Yul. “Have you seen Harper?” I ask her.

“Yes.” She just stares at me.

“Well, what’s the prognosis? What’re you doing for her?”

“I’m currently monitoring her.”

“That’s it?”

“She has an infection. I’m waiting to see if her body can fight it off.”

“It can’t.” I struggle to keep my voice level. “Have you seen her this morning? Her forehead’s burning hot.”

“A positive sign. Her body’s immune system is mounting a robust response.”

“And losing. She’s getting sicker every day. She didn’t even wake when I shook her. She needs antibiotics.”

Sabrina steps closer and lowers her voice. “We’re almost out of antibiotics. I’m rationing them, saving them for critical cases.”

“Harper is a critical case.”

“Critical as in life-threatening.”

“Her life wouldn’t be in danger—she wouldn’t even be sick—if she hadn’t gone into that plane and saved those people. We owe it to her to save her life. What message are we sending to these people if she dies? You stick your neck out for someone, and we’ll leave you for dead? That’s dangerous, Sabrina.”

“If I administer antibiotics to her today, when she doesn’t absolutely need them, it might be a death sentence for someone else. I’m taking a logical risk to save the most lives. I believe you’re familiar with this concept—you demonstrated it at the lake.”

“You’re a real piece of work, Sabrina. You know that?”

“You’re unable to see this situation objectively. You’re irrational because you’ve formed an emotional bond with Ms. Lane—”

“You know anything about that—forming emotional bonds with people? Or did you read about it in a journal?”

“Your bias is easily demonstrated. William Boyd, in seat 4D, has symptoms worse than Ms. Lane’s. You have yet to ask about Mr. Boyd.”

“William Boyd wasn’t in that plane, drowning. Harper was.”

“He was in the water, in the line that passed the people from the plane to the shore. But this isn’t about his role in the rescue operation. You haven’t asked about Mr. Boyd because you don’t have an emotional connection to him. You’re not objective, Nick. I am. In fact, for reasons you’ve already alluded to, I’m almost uniquely qualified to make unemotional, logical decisions about the care of these people, maximizing the number of lives saved.”

“Give me the antibiotics.”

Sabrina presses her lips together and looks at the floor.

“You heard me. Hand them over, Sabrina.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“You’re damn right I am. You’re threatening the life of someone I care about, someone we all owe a huge debt to, and I’m not going to let you. You can play your bizarre medical chess game on somebody else.”

“I knew this moment would come, but I didn’t anticipate it would be from you. I’ve hidden the antibiotics, along with all the medicine.”

Of course she has. I’m so mad I can barely see. The wave of anger passes, and a focused, ruthless calm settles over me.

I turn and march down the aisle, past Bob Ward, who’s got Mike at his side.

“We’re ready, Nick,” he says, but I don’t even look at him.

I kneel at Harper’s side, slip my hand into the pocket of her sweat-soaked jeans, and fish out the key I gave her yesterday. In the cockpit, I unlock the box and flip the lid back. Four handguns lie there, stacked at haphazard angles.

I learned how to use a handgun as a kid. Kidnapping is a constant risk for every child who grows up the way I did.

I take the top gun out and weigh it in my hand for a moment, telling myself I’m acclimating to the feel of it, telling myself I can do what I’m contemplating. But as I crouch in the cockpit, holding the handgun, I know I can’t. It’s funny: you can imagine committing a vile act, something completely against your moral code, but only when you physically hold the means to take that action does the decision become real. Only then do you learn what you’re capable of—and I’m not capable of this. I’m not sure if that makes me a bad guy or a good guy.

I hope help is out there. I really do.

Slipping the other three guns into my jacket, I slam the lid shut and stand there for a moment, the key in my hand. There’s another solution, well within my moral boundaries.

Sabrina stiffens as I approach her, but I just hand her the key. “There’s a lock box in the cockpit. Could be a good place for the meds—it’s close by, sheltered from the elements. This is the only key.”

She takes the key wordlessly, her intense dark eyes locked on me, not betraying a shred of emotion.

“In case it affects the calculus on your end, I need to say this. As you pointed out, I have an emotional connection to Harper. If she dies, I’ll be depressed. That’s a psychological disorder. I assume your training includes psychological conditions.”