8. 8 #2
“Trying to get some work done,” I said. “Are you here to help?”
“Unfortunately.” He grimaced.
Elias stood as Misha spoke, taking the laptop to a place in the lab farther away from the equipment, so Misha could join me.
“Don't sound so excited,” I said.
“Dr. Novikov told me to come so I am here.”
Spinning around on the stool, I found Misha walking slowly toward me, eyeing a box of gloves. He grabbed a pair before he did anything else.
“Look at this,” I said, stepping away from the stool. I gestured for Misha to sit down, and he hesitated, his eyes staring at the slides I had sitting on the counter.
“It’s not going to hurt you,” I added. If he was careful, at least.
He sat, leaning into the microscope to peer down at the virus. “What is in it?”
“Nothing. That’s what the virus looks like.”
“It appears to have metal filings.”
Elias watched from the corner of the room, his eyes traveling back and forth between Misha and I. I wasn’t trying to see him, I was trying to pretend he wasn’t there, but the lab was too small for him to not be somewhere in my peripheral vision.
“Watch,” I said, grabbing a pipette. Shaky hands attempted to add a drop of acid to the slide, but I missed on the first attempt.
On the second, I was able to allow Misha to see my only discovery.
The problem was that it destroyed everything, not just the virus.
An acid this strong would destroy soft tissue, too.
“You will not be able to make a vaccine with this. It will kill,” he said, looking up at me.
“Yes, that’s the problem I’m having.” My hand went to my belly as my stomach growled. I hadn’t eaten yet. “I don’t know where to go from here.”
“Have you tried salt?” Misha asked.
“Salt?”
Misha nodded. “This looks like steel. Salt can poke holes through steel. What we do after we poke holes, I do not know, but it is something to mess with.” He smiled, quoting my words from earlier.
“I’m an idiot.” I knew what salt could do to steel. Why hadn’t I thought of that myself? The idea should have popped into my brain within ten minutes of looking at the virus, or at least after reading the reports.
“No,” he said. “You are not. You are just tired.” Misha looked to Elias. “You should let her sleep more.”
Elias said nothing, looking up from the computer screen. After a short, intense stare, his eyes were back on the laptop.
“What should I grab?” I asked, my hand darting out to put the acid away. Too excited, my fingertips grazed the bottle, knocking it over. I panicked as it fell, fumbling the bottle and splashing myself with the acid. “Shit.”
I ran for the sink, nearly ripping the handle off the faucet. The fingertips of my left hand had taken the brunt of the assault, but a few drops were on the back of my hand, too. I couldn’t see where it had landed, but I could feel the sharp sting. I let the cool water run over my hand.
Misha had stood, watching from a distance, but Elias was there almost as quickly as I was.
“What happened?” He asked. Reaching for me, his hands hung in the air, unsure if it was safe to touch me.
“Acid,” I said, my voice curt. “I’ll be fine.” I shut the water off and dried my hands on my shirt.
“Are you just saying that, or is your hand going to fizzle away?” He grabbed my wrist gently, holding it close to his face for an inspection. It stung like a bitch. “You’re missing a few fingerprints.”
I snatched my hand back. “Like I said, I will be fine.”
“Misha,” Elias said, louder now. “Do you think Cassie should call it a night? Maybe I can let her get some extra sleep.”
“There’s more I need to do tonight.” Walking back over to Misha, to the lab equipment, I reached for a vial of the virus, to prepare another slide, but Misha’s hand flew out, knocking mine out of the way.
“You have a chemical burn and you are not wearing gloves. You cannot touch this,” he said.
“Cassia.” I could hear the impatience in Elias’s voice, the Special Agent threatening to carry me from the room.
“Leave,” said Misha. “Leave. Eat. Sleep. Come back tomorrow. I will keep working because my hands are steady.”
“That’s not necessary. I want to try something,” I pressed.
“What is it?” He asked. “I will do it for you.”
I crossed my arms, glaring at him.
“Exactly,” he said, satisfied that I had nothing. “Go.”
Elias’s hand was at my elbow, guiding me out of the room, and I shrugged him off, walking out the door myself.
I was so tired of being told what to do.
Dr. Hayes, run into Baker and Pryor and make a vaccine or we’ll make your life miserable.
Work for the government, Cassia, or else.
Oh, Cassia, they need you in Russia, we are shipping you off to make another vaccine for a virus no one can control.
Eat your vegetables, pretty girl. Run a six minute mile, pretty girl.
I was over it.
Adulthood had been such a blessing. After eighteen years of following orders from my father, I was given choices for the first time.
More often than not, I made the wrong one, but it was mine to make.
It didn’t take long for me to fall right back into obedience, though.
The government was dictating my decisions before I even knew it.
Starting the walk back to our room, I was stopped by Elias’s hand on my arm again. “We should eat,” he said.
“I’m not hungry. I’d rather read.” I pointed to the laptop he was holding.
“We’ve been working all day. Shouldn’t we take a lunch break? In the States we get lunch breaks.”
I hated when he used my words against me, and he did it so often.
It didn’t matter that he was right, in fact, I detested that he was right.
Without his suggestion, I could’ve come to the conclusion that I was hungry on my own, and chose it for myself.
Instead, another decision stripped from my hands.
“You are so annoying,” I fumed, turning on my heels toward the mess hall.
Elias didn’t speak again until we were sitting at a table, trays in front of us. He sat across from me while I played with the food on my plate.