"This is an emergency, Eugene, don't you understand that?"

  Dr. Valerian's voice sounded muffled, as if she were underwater, far, far away. Morbus was so exhausted he couldn't open his eyes. All he could do was listen to what was happening in his room.

  "Ssh, keep it down," came another voice. "Or else he'll wake up."

  Morbus recognized the voice. It was Eugene, the man he'd seen talking with the doctor earlier.

  "Uh-huh," she sneered. "While mister here has a perfect panorama on his glorious dormant EEG, he thinks the boy's coming to his senses. Impressive deduction."

  "Well, uh..." Eugene mumbled.

  "Don't worry about it. I've given him enough sedatives. He won't be waking up."

  What? Sedatives? How dare she?

  Eugene had nothing to say in return.

  "Can we get back to the main issue here?" Dr. Valerian's tone was forceful. "Friday nights aren't for overtime, they're for weekend. Got it? Good. Now let's go over the facts."

  Morbus's hearing sharpened a bit. He heard the scratching of a pen on paper, as if one of them were taking notes.

  "This boy here—" Morbus could almost feel her pointing at him. "Morbus Horatio—is the biggest issue we've had to date."

  "Oh," Eugene said meekly. "Why?"

  Dr. Valerian pressed on. "Out of all the rising cold bloom cases we've seen thus far, symptoms show up within a day. Unrelenting unconsciousness and the green blotches. By the third day, their facial muscles start to change, and from that point onward their face keeps deteriorating."

  "But it's only been 48 hours since they brought him in," Eugene pointed out.

  "That's precisely the issue," Dr. Valerian's voice grew tense. "Everyone has those greenish-brown within 24 hours. Every single one of them! And not long after, they cover the whole body."

  "Except Morbus?" Eugene asked.

  "Exactly. He's still the same as he was two days ago. Unscathed and healthy."

  "Healthy?"

  "Yes. Healthy. We discovered an unknown substance in his body. It automatically produces antibodies and halts the reproduction of the cyanobacteria—the bacteria that causes cold bloom. Let's call it substance X for now. It appears substance X strengthens the immune system and directly dismantles cold bloom."

  Morbus heard Eugene scratching his bald head. "But that's amazing, doctor!" he almost screamed in euphoria. "That means we finally have a cure for—"

  "It's not amazing at all," she cut him off. "Substance X does much more than just that. No, it's altering the poor boy's entire body structure. Take his brain, for example. Substance X is destroying the connections between his neural cells. Instead, it's creating new cells—other that neurons—in his head, and connecting these new cells to his brain. Moreover, there are unusual activities around the thamus, causing some dangerous pressure on the midbrain and the vertebral arteries, which—"

  "Please spare me the details, doctor," Eugene interrupted. "Is this what caused his memory loss?"

  "Bravo, Mr. Eugenius. Full marks for paying attention. But I haven't even reached the most important point yet: his waste processing."

  "You... uh... mean his..."

  "Every body produces waste, in the form of stool, urine, and so on," Dr. Valerian rambled. "It turns out that substance X reconfigures the kidneys, so waste products are stored in his body instead of the bdder and intestines. Substance X treats this as nourishment, using it to create more of itself."

  "So—"

  "Let me finish!" she snapped. "This substance is multiplying at breakneck speed in his body. It's doing things we've never seen before. That's why we can't use substance X to create a vaccine for cold bloom. We have no idea what it's capable of."

  Morbus struggled to stay awake, no matter how intensely interested he was in their conversation. The doctor's sleep dosage was no joke.

  "Can't we analyze how to remove the side effects of substance X?" Eugene asked. "So we're left with only the cold bloom antidote?"

  Morbus could practically hear Dr. Valerian put her hands on her hips in frustration. "And just how exactly does sir propose we do that? Hm?"

  "Well, look, we can—"

  "People want answers, Eugene. Fucking answers. We don't have time for wishy-washy ideas. We need a vaccine ready, or else the media will be on our backs, asking what on earth those suckers are up to."

  Hypocrite, Morbus thought, directing the word at her. You were just saying you didn't want to take risks.

  "Yes, yes," Eugene muttered, out of ideas. "I get it: we have to act fast. But how?"

  A painful silence filled the room. Morbus had to fight the urge to open his eyes.

  "The answer's obvious," Dr. Valerian finally said. "We ask that woman what happened."

  "That woman?"

  The doctor's tone turned irritated. "You know," she said with passive aggression. "The woman Hank and Barry mentioned after Morbus was picked up at the gate."

  Hank and Barry? The gate? Who are they? What happened?

  "I think her name was Misabelle," she continued. "We need to get ahold of her and ask what really happened outside the Walls. I can't believe she took this boy for a simple stroll and then returned with an entire horde of infected following her. Let alone that giant hole in his belly."

  A hole? Morbus went with his attention to the bandages wrapped around his core. Below these?

  "No, that's pretty hard to believe," Eugene said sluggishly.

  "That woman's hiding something," the doctor decred. "And we're going to find out what."

  Morbus dug frantically through his mind, but he couldn't find any trace of 'Misabelle,' nor of the aforementioned hole. Though, of course, that's no surprise when you can't remember anything.

  Liar, Morbus mentally shot at her. Did I really faint at home? Confess. What actually happened?

  "So we still have a score to settle with that Misabelle," Dr. Valerian grumbled. "I'll email her to come in as soon as possible. Then we'll squeeze some answers out of her."

  Morbus felt his concentration slipping. The sedative was taking over again.

  "Eugene, let's leave it here. I'm tired and want to go home. We'll reconvene next week." She walked to the door. "My goodness, what an evening," she muttered to no one in particur. "It's almost as if this boy is..." She searched for the right words. "...cursed."

  With that final message, she left the room.

  For a long time, there was only silence, punctuated by distant thunder. His mind drifted off into sleep.

  * * *

  As Misabelle pressed the doorbell, a rumble of thunder echoed not far away.

  A moment ter, a stout, plump woman with short gray hair opened the door.

  "Ah, Misabelle," Lia greeted her. "Come on in."

  Misabelle smiled back at her collegue-friend. The sympathic caregiver for Morbus's father had given up her evening to stay at his home. Truly noble of her to help like that.

  "Hey, Lia," she said as she stepped inside. "Shall I get started right away? I'm not sure how much time we have left."

  "Yes, yes," Lia agreed as she closed the door. "It doesn't look good."

  As Misabelle undressed her wet rain suit, she took in the boy's home, the one Mora had so often talked about. The narrow hall with its bck floor seemed to fit the mood of the evening. Even the ceiling light didn't give quite enough light to see well.

  "It's raining cats and dogs," Lia said. "It must have been terrible to come here in this weather."

  "Apparently, all of Aquinox is covered by this heavy bnket," Misabelle expined, recalling the weather report. "But I think it's the same across the country—or what's left of it."

  She hung up her coat. "Alright then, where is he?"

  Lia led the way. "Mr. Horatio is this way." On her right, she pushed a door open and entered a side room. Misabelle quickly followed her.

  The room was a mess. On the left, a rge desk was cluttered with books and random papers, clothes were strewn everywhere, and in the corner stood an old recliner. In the middle was the bed with the person in question. He y with the bnkets pulled over him. His short bck hair was disheveled, and his face was deeply lined with wrinkles.

  "Oh my god."

  Misabelle gasped as she saw the unconscious man lying in bed.

  "Is this… cold bloom?" she asked Lia, who confirmed with a sad nod.

  Misabelle knelt next to the sick Horatio. Everywhere his skin was exposed, it was affected. His face, forearms, and hands were covered with fluorescent green spots, surrounded by a brownish muck. His mouth hung open, and his jaw muscles seemed disturbingly limp.

  Misabelle pulled a small case out of her bag and clicked it open. Inside was an empty syringe and a vial of the liquid that could change everything.

  She'd worked day and night to get the antidote ready. And she'd done it. The mixture, made from the eluminashroom that she retrieved from the Marsh, was supposed to eliminate the cold bloom.

  She unscrewed the cap and inserted the tip of the needle. She stopped once the liquid reached the mark at four.

  "If this works, you'll be famous, Misa," Lia admired her.

  "Oh, I will be," she said, rolling up Horatio's sleeve and pcing the needle against his skin. "That CCB can move to the moon if this works."

  Carefully, she injected the liquid into Morbus's father's body. He didn't respond and simply continued sleeping.

  "How long has he been like this?" she asked Lia once she was done.

  The homecare pulled the bnket up further over the sick man. "Morbus and I found him like this Wednesday morning. But Morbus said he hadn't seen his father on Tuesday either, so who knows—it could have been longer than three days."

  Misabelle packed up her things. "That's a record for me. Most people who get infected go straight to the CCB on the first day."

  Lia pushed a pile of clothes off the chair in the corner of the room and sat down. They exchanged a look that said it all.

  "Yes, so about that…" she began.

  Misabelle pretended not to hear and walked over to the window, pressing her nose against the gss. Outside, the sky was draped in a bck shroud, unleashing its holy water on Aquinox. Lightning fshes could be seen far beyond the city.

  "It's horrible, Lia. I..."

  Misabelle leaned against the windowsill with a sigh, covering her eyes with her hands. "I didn't have a choice, damn it. If I hadn't called them, Morbus wouldn't have survived." A few tears slipped through her fingers.

  "It's not your fault, Misa," Lia comforted her warmly. "You couldn't have known such horrors were lurking outside our city. Let alone a giant mosquito."

  "And yet," Misabelle sobbed. "Maybe Morbus was right. President Previs should just tell everyone what's going on. What's happening in the CCB. What's going on outside the city. All of that. Then Morbus wouldn't—"

  "Would you like something to eat or drink?" Lia asked, changing the mood and taking on her role as a true caregiver. "Coffee? Tea? There's plenty here that needs to be used up."

  "Maybe some tea," Misabelle said absently, and Lia left the room, heading to the kitchen.

  She was left alone with the sick body of Morbus's father. If it weren't for his steady breathing, one might think he was a painted corpse.

  I wonder how Morbus is doing, she thought, recalling her adventures with the brave boy. I have to see him as soon as possible. Who knows how long he has left.

  Suddenly, Horatio took a deep breath. His chest rose and fell more visibly, and he moved his mouth.

  As Misabelle turned her head toward the bed, his eyes slowly opened. His brown irises stared at her as though he'd been asleep for four thousand years.

  "LIA!" she shouted. "He's awake!"

  As footsteps echoed through the hallway, Horatio continued to stare at her, bewildered.

  "Where… am I…" he croaked in a hoarse, dry voice. "Who... are you?"

  Lia entered the room, and his gaze shifted to her.

  "Oh, Mr. Horatio," she said, tears in her eyes. "You're back."

  "Lia?" Horatio said cautiously. "What… is... happening?"

  "Don't worry," Lia reassured him. "You're safe here in your room. This is Misabelle, a dear friend of mine. You were very ill, and she has woken you up."

  "Sick…" Horatio said each word as if hearing it for the first time.

  "You have cold bloom," Misabelle expined. "I don't know if you've heard of it, but it's a dangerous disease," she expined. "And very little is known about it."

  Misabelle was as moved as Lia, but inside, she was also leaping with joy.

  No way. This cure might actually work.

  "Misabelle went all the way outside Aquinox to collect materials for an antidote. Together with your son, Morbus."

  Horatio's face filled with panic as soon as he heard his son's name. His eyes darted around the room. "Morbus!" he shouted. "Morbus, no... damn, what have I done…" he said, his voice sounding suddenly clear.

  Misabelle and Lia exchanged bewildered gnces.

  Could he already know?

  Horatio continued to ment. "This will never… never be okay again." He sat up in bed, clutching his head with both hands.

  "Careful, Mr. Horatio," Lia said, crouching empathetically beside him. "You're still weak, and—"

  Horatio's voice now shifted to fear. "Where is he? Please, tell me, where is he?"

  Misabelle froze.

  There's no choice but to tell the truth.

  She scraped her throat.

  "Mr. Horatio, we need to talk," she tried to say as neutrally as she could. "And I'm saying this in the nicest way possible: they've taken your son into the CCB."