Page 43 of Ezra
“I can’t wait to see some of these findings myself in person,” Kat finishes. “Sorry, once I start, it’s hard to stop talking about it.”
“Don’t apologize,” I reply. “It seems much of your specialization requires you overseas.”
“Eventually, I hope,” Katrina agrees. “That’s the plan. After I get my PhD, it’s off to France. From there I’ll be able to study findings in Germany, Belgium, Spain...” She smiles as she continues to admire the replica of ancient artwork. “I want to visit Chauvet Cave in the flesh. You know, only a few people—scientists—get to go in there every year. They have to be careful. Too much exposure to our breath causes the paintings to degrade. It’s why Lascaux got shut down a century ago. All those paintings are destroyed now. Molded over because they just let visitors from all over come in and breathe, smoke, whatever.” She sighs. “Makes me sad I won’t be able to see the real thing with my own eyes. But there’s still Chauvet.” She smiles up at me. “Bodes well for me I’m slim. You have to be small to fit in there.”
“It must mean a lot to you.”
She nods. “It’s sacred to me. Like communing with those who came before. I’ve spent all sorts of hours in my head wondering what they were like.”
“And your caveman porn?” I have to tease her a little. “Do you wonder about that too?”
“You got me there.” She laughs and glances up at me again. “Is that odd?”
“No. I’ve met people with much stranger fixations,” I tell her. I realize this place makes her happy. When I scan her vitals, she’s perfectly at rest. No indication of stress or fear. “But we should probably go.”
“You’re right.” Katrina reaches up and rests her hand on a replica human handprint made with red ochre displayed on the wall. “I wasn’t sure when I’d be back. I wanted to see everything I love about this place. So the bombing isn’t the only thing I think of when I think of it.” She pulls her hand away. “I don’t want itall to be ruined. Even though people died here. That’s probably selfish.”
“No. It’s human,” I reply. “Let’s get you back to the sky tower.”
She doesn’t say much as we return to the cruiser, but she lingers outside the door, giving the museum one final glance before getting in. “Did you find anything useful?”
“I did.”
“Do I get to know what it is?”
“Not just yet.”
“But it helps?”
“I think so.” I settle into the driver’s seat, activating the vehicle. “Thank you, Miss Carson.”
“Katrina,” she corrects me as she secures her seatbelt, not meeting my eyes. “Or Kat.”
I nod at her. “Katrina.”
“You’re a bit of a rule breaker,” she says as we glide down the street, summer rain resuming and hiding the moon. “Not so by the book as you seem.”
“Books are for bureaucrats,” I reply, letting the cruiser’s AI plan our trip home. “TerraPura won’t play by any rules. We can’t either.”
Katrina folds her arms over her stomach, nodding as she exhales and meets my eyes. “Good.” She pulls out her phone and checks it. Dissatisfied, she puts it back.
Her body language clues me in to her discomfort. “Is something else the matter?”
“I’m just worried about Dad,” she replies. “I can’t help it, you know? Mom is keeping me updated, but—I wish I could see him.”
I have a sudden thought and touch the wheel. The autopilot redirects our destination to Carnegie General, announcing our new time and route in my optic feed. Katrina doesn’t seem tonotice until we take a few turns that take us in the opposite direction of BioNex Tower.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ve been cooped up for days,” I reply. “You helped me. I’m going to help you. And I believe it’s in the best interest of your mental and emotional well-being to see your father.”
When we arrive at the hospital, I check in with Robert Carson’s posted guard and ensure there are no threats to Katrina’s safety. Then I accompany her inside and walk with her down the long, lit corridors to her father’s room.
The door is open. The guard sitting outside informs us that Mrs. Carson left earlier to try to get some sleep. Mr. Carson is asleep in his hospital bed. There’s more color in his face, and a quick scan of him shows his vital signs are strong.
Katrina glances at me. “Thank you,” she whispers.
I nod and stand near the doorway, out of sight. My hearing picks up the conversation in the room, Carson roused by his daughter’s soft voice.
