Exit 9

32

I.D. MINUS 10 HOURS 6 MINUTES

LOCAL TIME 12:24 PM

Sanjay didn’t return to the dormitory after he found Ayush. Instead, he fled to the slum where he grew up and hid in the small, single room that belonged to Ayush. He stayed there all the next day, then through another night, scared out of his mind.

Sage Flu. Ayush. The spray. Kusum.

Sleep came in fits and starts-an hour here, another there-only occurring when his exhaustion momentarily won out over his fear. But it never lasted long.

The last thing he’d eaten was the pani puri he had in front of the building on Gamdevi Road. That was over thirty-sixty hours earlier, and though he still wasn’t hungry, he knew he should eat something. He began rummaging through Ayush’s things, and had just discovered a warm bottle of cola when a rumble of voices and shouts began moving in his direction.

He moved to the doorway and sneaked a look outside. The narrow passageway that ran in front of Ayush’s home was lined on either side by the huts that had been built with whatever material could be found-metal, wood, rubber, plastic, paper. It snaked off both ways so that Sanjay could see only thirty or forty feet in either direction.

The noise seemed to be coming from the right. He leaned farther out until he was able to see a sliver of the alley another seventy feet down. Everything looked normal-a few people passing by, and the back of a woman who seemed to be talking to someone. Then suddenly the woman jerked around and pressed against one of the homes as three men walked by. The two in front were big and angry-looking. But it was the one behind them, the European man, who made Sanjay race out of Ayush’s room and down the passageway in the other direction. It was the mean, older man from the Pishon Chem compound. The senior manager.

They had to be looking for him. They must have figured out he was the one who’d discovered his cousin. Of course, he’d made it easy, not showing up at work. That was all the admission of guilt they needed.

Staying under the shelter of the slum, Sanjay cut back and forth through several alleys, trying to get as far away from the men as possible. When he finally reached an opening to the street, he paused, checking the road to make sure no one was out there waiting for him.

It appeared to be clear, so he sprinted across, and into another warren of huts on the other side.

When he emerged again twenty minutes later, he knew his only choice was to get out of the city. Subconsciously he touched the top of the pouch that he’d stuffed in his pocket. Inside were the syringes the woman had filled from the same vial of vaccine he’d made her take a shot from. He hadn’t been sure at first whether to believe her story, that the contents of the barrels he and the others were going to spray around the city was not intended to kill mosquitoes but the residents themselves. It seemed too crazy to even consider. But there, on the other side of the plastic wall, had been his cousin and the men who had been working with him, all suffering from a severe flu. And now, the people from Pishon had come after him.

Get out of the city. It was the only thing he could do to survive. But there was something else he needed to do first.

When he reached the market, he feared Kusum wouldn’t be there. Then, as soon as he saw her, he feared he wouldn’t be able to talk her into coming with him. The plan he’d thought up while he was running seemed weak now, but he had nothing better.

“Sanjay,” she said as he approached. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“Not today,” he said. “They have given me the day off, for working so hard.”

Kusum’s mother was sitting nearby. “Really? Since when do companies give time off for working hard? Isn’t that what you are supposed to do?”

He forced a smile. “Apparently they do it differently in Europe.”

“A waste of a good day, I think.”

It was too good of a lead to pass on. “For them,” he said, “but not for me.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Because I can take you and Kusum to lunch as a thank you for your kindness.”

“And who would watch the shop?” Kusum’s mother asked.

“Is no one else coming today?” He already knew the answer. On Thursdays it was just the two of them.

“Do you see anyone else?”

Sanjay bowed his head. “I’m sorry. I had only been hoping. You cannot go, so I understand.” He glanced at Kusum, then back at the mother. “Unless…it would be okay…”

The mother raised an eyebrow. “For you to take Kusum alone?”

“It would only be for lunch.”

“And how long would you be gone?”

“An hour. Two at the most.”

“Two? And I am to be here alone the whole time?”

“Mother,” Kusum said. “Don’t worry. I will stay with you.”

Her mother huffed under her breath. “You would only mope around here all day if I don’t let you go.”

“So she can?” Sanjay asked.

The mother gave him a sideways glance. “As if this was not your plan all along. Yes, she can go.”

“Thank you,” Kusum said, smiling.

“Don’t tell your father. He won’t be happy.”

“Of course.”

Sanjay wanted to rush Kusum out, but he let her take her time making sure there was nothing else her mother needed her to do. Finally, they were walking through the market toward the street.

“And where will we go to eat?” she asked.

“Someplace special.”

“Really?”

He nodded, worried if he said anything more, he would give himself away.

When they reached the street, it took him only a few minutes to find someone who would rent a motorbike to him.

Surprised, Kusum said, “Are we going far?”

“A little far, but don’t worry. You’ll like it.”

She seemed a little hesitant, but climbed onto the back of the bike and put her hands on his waist.

An hour later, as they were riding-now heading east out of the city-she demanded to know where he was taking her. It was another hour, though, before he pulled onto a side road and they got off.

“Take me back! Take me back right now!” she demanded.

“I can’t.”

“Why not? Are you kidnapping me? My parents do not have any money.”

“I’m not kidnapping you. I’m saving you.”

“What do you mean? Saving me?”

Without warning, he stabbed the needle into her arm and depressed the plunger. She tried to pull away, but he injected all the vaccine before she did.

“What is this?” she asked, staggering back from him. “Are you drugging me? What is wrong with you, Sanjay?”

“I’m not drugging you. I told you, I’m saving your life.”

He put the other needle into his own arm.

“What is that stuff?”

“A vaccine.”

“A vaccine? For what?”

When he told her, she didn’t believe him.

Not at first.