If we have to stay longer, we’ll stay in the Semper Fi, I don’t
care how that looks. He’s mine.Hell, I’ll sleep in their damn
quarantine lab if I have to, just to be with him.
Ellington points at the window and the three
of us crowd together to peer inside. A woman lies on a bed in the
center of the room, the skin around her closed eyes as dark as
bruises in her pale face and her hair like seaweed spread out on
the white pillow. She’s hooked up to a monitor of some sort, which
beeps quietly beside the bed, and on the other side is a
straight-backed chair where Conlan sits, his elbows on his knees,
his chin in his hands, watching her, waiting. Shanley and another
man hover by the monitor, talking low. Conlan doesn’t seem to
notice them—he just stares at the woman, nothing else exists for
him. “Marie,” Ellington whispers behind us.
“She doesn’t look too good,” Dylan
murmurs, resting a hand on the window.
I stop him before he can tap on the glass.