Now his hand came carefully behind my neck, supporting my head as if I were something breakable.
I hated that I noticed.
I hated even more that I needed it.
“Easy,” he said.
The word was so unfamiliar in his voice that I almost opened my eyes.
Daniels stood a few feet away, pale and sweating despite the heat.
“What is it?”
“Step back,” the medic told him.
“Give her air.”
I heard boots moving.
Voices lowering.
The distant rumble of the support truck approaching from the access road.
The medic pressed a cool cloth against my forehead.
“Mercer, do you have a medical device implanted?”
My heart stumbled.
“No.”
“Any recent surgeries?”
“No.”
“Any history of cancer?”
The question landed harder than the ruck had.
For one suspended second, no one spoke.
Then Vega said, “She said no.”
The medic looked at him.
“I asked her.”
My eyes opened.
The sky had sharpened slightly around the edges.
Vega’s face was above me, stripped of the hard expression I had come to expect.
Dust streaked one cheek.
His mouth was set in a tight, uncertain line.
I looked at the medic.
“Yes,” I whispered.
His jaw tightened.
“Yes, what?”
