Page 52 of Master
Clara's eyes widened the moment she noticed the unusual precipitation. She stepped nearer to the glass, squinting at the darkness.
“It’s snowing.”
She glanced back at me, joy crossing her face so beautifully my heart clenched. It lasted for a precious second before confusion creased her features.
"Wait a minute. It was seventy-something degrees just a few minutes ago. How is it snowing?”
“It’s not snow.”
Clara glanced between me and the window. “What is it?”
“A drug called mumje.” The words flowed over my tongue like bitter ale. Clara took a step away from the window at the realization of danger.
“A drug?” Clara gestated the information, then bristled with anger. “Is this how the Alliance wipes people’s memories?”
She glared at the window as though her disgust could change the properties of the white powder drifting against the glass.
I dug my fingers through my hair, trying to rid my scalp of the pins and needles sensation of painful memories fighting for dominance. “No. What mumje does is much worse.”
"Oh my God," her voice trembled. "Mei's out there. Buck and Lula... and all those children."
Her gaze turned to me once again, blazing with determination. “We have to help them!”
A heavy sigh of regret broke from deep in my soul, knowing what I must tell her.
“There’s nothing we can do. Everyone will be infected by now."
I’d never forget the moment Clara discovered my subterfuge back on the Hartouk Lenaii...fucking her under false pretenses,she called it. The anger she exhibited in those moments paled at the fury now crossing her features.
“No, we have to help them.”
Her feet stomped toward the doorway. I moved to block her escape, my hands gently resting atop her shoulders. Clara didn’t pull away from my touch, although if looks could kill, I’d be breathing my last.
"There is nothing we can do for them while the mumje is airborne," I told her in my most soothing tone. I knew exactly how it felt to watch what the drug did to others and be helpless to stop it. "We'll get infected in seconds without re-breathers," I warned her.
"Re-breathers? You mean like scuba gear?" She scowled at me.
Scuba gear referred to what humans used to breathe underwater using self-sufficient air tanks, from what I understood.
“Yes. Without a self-contained air source and environmental protection gear, mumje would infect us in seconds.”
Clara looked toward the window again, white powering swirling like a blizzard, and her lower lip trembled.
"I'm sorry, darlin’. All we can do is wait."
“What is the stuff doing to them?” Violet eyes shimmered with wetness.
My stomach clenched with dread. “Mumje is a neurodegenerative agent. Those under its effect lose their ability to think or act independently. The human word zombie might be the closest description of what mumje does to an individual.”
Clara's eyes widened, a small squeak of distress escaping her lips. "Oh my God, they're out there eating each other?"
“Zombies eat each other?” My stomach rolled at the thought. The mention cannibalism wasn't part of the definition I knew.
“Not each other.” Clara made a face. “Zombies are walking dead that crave living human flesh... mostly brains.”
“That’s disgusting,” I said over a dry, bitter tongue.
“That’s why I’m freaking out!” Clara’s hands pressed to her stomach.
