Pestilence

45

Samantha leapt out of the elevator, unsure of what floor she was on. A flood of memories of the past month overtook her senses so profoundly that she thought she might faint. But she kept running. Not until she was standing at the windows, staring down at the parking lot, did she know she had arrived at the top floor.

She ran into one of the rooms and shut the door behind her. Then she ran to the bathroom and shut that door. Samantha stared at it as though it would explode off its hinges at any moment. She backed away and sat on the toilet, nearly falling off. Putting her hands to her face, she sobbed.

After a few moments, the emotions passed. She took a deep breath and thought about what to do next.

Duncan and Jane were downstairs, and Samantha couldn’t be certain that man didn’t know about them. She didn’t know how to help either of them. Robert Greyjoy had known everything about her before they had even met.

She stood up and walked to the door. The shooter had come for her. She didn’t understand why she knew that, but she could read the unspoken understanding between them, like a crackling energy. He was the hunter, and she was the hunted. Maybe if he killed her, he would leave Jane and Duncan alone.

She opened the door, stood there a moment with her eyes closed, and stepped out into the room.

A woman was in the bed. Her closed eyes were turned toward the window, and a beeping monitor echoed in the small space. Samantha walked to the bed. The woman’s face was wrinkled and gray.

Samantha wasn’t sure how long she stood there, but eventually, she sat down in a chair against the wall. The woman’s hair was thin and missing in spots. She seemed so weak and fragile that death couldn’t have been far off. Tears swirled in Samantha’s eyes, but she didn’t wipe them away. Instead, she put her hand over the woman’s and sat quietly, listening to the rhythmic beep of the machine and the deep, grainy breaths that the woman pulled into her thin body.

Finally, Sam rose and walked out into the corridor. She shut the door softly, then glanced down both directions before walking to the front desk. She wasn’t going to run anymore. She didn’t see a point to running. If he was like Greyjoy, he would catch up with her.

She quickly jumped on the elevator and went down to her floor.

When she got off, the floor was empty and quiet. She went into Jane’s room, and there, standing next to the canopy, was the shooter. His weapon hung at his side between relaxed fingers.

“I knew you’d come here,” he said.

“What do you want?”

“I want you to die.”

She shivered and averted her eyes, turning them to Jane. “What about her?”

“Make it easy, and she lives.”

Samantha nodded. Ian raised his weapon, aiming for her heart.