daily – 44
The thought that Patrick might have already isolated the virus and re-engaged the condo systems flashes through my brain, but I know it’s impossible. He’s probably only just reached the desk, much less had time to find out what’s going on.
The soft hiss of the airseal re-engaging straightens the hair on my forearms. Not once in the five years we’ve lived here has that noise ever before sounded so like an angry, skulking snake.
The lights on the security panel blink away happily.
“Are these the moon?” Patrick calls.
“These coordinates and maps. They look like the lunar resorts.”
“The moon?” The reports I ran earlier for Ingrid and the other office. Strangely similar coordinates. I didn’t even bother to look where they were pointing.
“Yeah! There’s Maanlicht, where Barry and Greg went.”