Dr. Do-Or-Die. Lara Lacombe

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      “Hmm?” Now he felt a flash of irritation. Why was the nurse still here? She’d delivered her message—why couldn’t she just leave him in peace so he could lapse into the coma his body so desperately needed?

      “The expert from the CDC is here and wants to meet you.”

      Damn. He was going to have to get up after all.

      “M’kay,” he muttered. He flipped onto his back, then brought his hands up to his eyes and rubbed vigorously. “I’ll be right there,” he called out, dismissing the messenger. She closed the door, leaving him alone again.

      Grant forced himself to sit up, knowing that if he didn’t it would be all too easy to surrender to sleep once more. But since he was the chief doctor on-base, it was his responsibility to brief the reinforcements about the “situation,” as he’d come to think of it. He preferred that to the more inflammatory term outbreak.

      Or apocalypse.

      He stood and forced the exhausted hamster back on the rusty wheel in his brain. Caffeine. He needed caffeine—industrial quantities of it.

      He stepped into the small adjacent bathroom and flipped on the lights, wincing at the sudden brightness. A dull throb started up behind his eyeballs, but he ignored it. He’d learned from experience that medication didn’t relieve his fatigue-induced headaches. Only sleep helped, and he wasn’t likely to get that anytime soon.

      A glance in the mirror told him he looked as rough as he felt. Too bad there wasn’t time for a shower and shave—he certainly wasn’t going to make a good first impression with his hair sticking out and a weeks’ worth of stubble on his cheeks. He sighed, dismissing the issue. With everything else going on, he just couldn’t muster up the energy to care about his appearance.

      He stepped out into the hall and started down the narrow corridor. Every inch of available room was crammed with stuff—supplies, medical records, bedsheets. They couldn’t afford to let any space go unused. When he’d first arrived, he felt claustrophobic and overwhelmed—how was he going to remember where anything was? But it hadn’t taken long for him to learn the system, such as it was, and now he navigated the apparent chaos with ease.

      He walked to the main desk, which faced the entrance to the hospital, expecting to find the new arrivals clustered around the door. But the small entryway was empty, along with the nurse who was on reception duty. Where were they?

      The sound of voices drifted down the other hall and he turned and set off, wondering what they were doing. Maybe one of the nurses was giving them a quick tour of the facility? And it would be quick—with only twenty beds, they weren’t exactly set up for the kind of cases they’d been getting lately. He shook his head, his mood sinking as it always did when he thought of the four patients he hadn’t been able to save...

      Fortunately, most of the beds were empty now. After the initial set of ten patients, they’d settled into a lull, and there hadn’t been any new cases in the last three days. He hoped this was a sign the outbreak was over, but deep in his gut he worried it was only the beginning.

      Despite the ten patients and four deaths, he knew they’d been incredibly lucky. Although this bug was nasty, it wasn’t very contagious. That was the only thing that had saved the base. If the virus or whatever it was figured out how to jump from person to person? This whole place would be wiped out within a week. It was the nightmare that kept him awake, trying to figure out what he could do protect the researchers and staff toiling away here at the bottom of the world.

      He hadn’t protested when the base commander called the CDC for advice—he had his pride, but given the nature of this disease, he wasn’t about to turn down help, especially not from people who had tackled this sort of thing before. He just hoped the guy they’d sent out would be easy to work with—people were already stressed and on edge, wondering when the disease would strike again.

      The voices were coming from the small bay that held the dentist’s chair and equipment. Dr. Farnly was their resident dentist, but he hadn’t seen much work recently. Grant poked his head around the corner and was shocked to find a small group of people moving dentistry supplies and equipment and setting up what looked like laboratory instruments.

      The two women and two men moved around the space like they owned the place. He opened his mouth to protest, but his gaze caught on a blond ponytail and the words died in his throat.

      Avery?

      His brain rejected the idea almost immediately, but his heart took a little more convincing. Of course it wasn’t her—it couldn’t be. But this woman, whoever she was, had the same color hair—a warm, golden mix of honey, sunshine and corn silk that Avery had worn in long waves cascading down her back. How many hours had he spent running his hands over the soft strands, stroking it away from her face as she lay with her head in his lap, both of them enjoying the lazy days of summer back when they’d been college students and their biggest worry had been what to do on Friday night?

      This woman shifted and something in his chest tightened, her graceful movements yet another reminder of the woman he’d once loved. He realized now with the gift of hindsight just how stupid he’d been. But it was too late to make amends. Avery had moved on with her life and she deserved better.

      Fresh grief welled up, but Grant tamped it down. He missed Avery, would always miss her. But he couldn’t get bogged down in emotion now, not when so many people were counting on him to stay focused.

      He shook his head to dispel the faint nostalgia that always appeared whenever he thought of Avery. He’d realized his mistake almost immediately after their breakup, and he’d spent days mired in the memories of their life together. But as the weeks and months had turned to years, he’d gotten better about keeping thoughts of her tucked away, only stopping to take them out and linger over them when he was alone. He certainly hadn’t meant to indulge now, in the middle of the hospital.

      It was the fatigue, he decided. His defenses were down, which was why he’d been blindsided by the sight of a woman with long, blond hair. Time to meet this expert and head back to bed for a long-overdue nap.

      “What is going on here?” The question came out a little harsher than he’d intended, his emotions still too close to the surface for his liking.

      One of the nurses glanced over and stepped to his side. “It’s the CDC expert—they’re setting up a temporary lab.”

      “You’ve got to be kidding me. We don’t have the space for that!”

      She shrugged and held up her hands in a kind of “what am I supposed to do about it?” gesture.

      So much for the guy being easy to work with. He’d been here all of five minutes and was already reorganizing and repurposing space without asking permission. Grant eyed the small group, trying to pick out the man at the head of this little takeover.

      “Who’s in charge here?” he asked, glancing back and forth between a tall, skinny man in a blue scrub top and a stockier blond guy in a Harvard sweatshirt. My money’s on Harvard, he thought, waiting for a reply.

      “I am,” came a distinctly feminine voice.

      A very familiar voice.

      Oh, God. It’s not possible. Is it?

      His heart beating double time СКАЧАТЬ