The checkpoint guard barely looked at Ellie’s papers before waving her through.
“Welcome back to Seattle, ma’am. Quarantine Zone 7 is two miles north. You’ll need to register within twenty-four hours.”
Ellie nodded, throat too tight to speak. She shouldered her pack and walked past the barricade, into the city she’d sworn she’d never see again.
The phone rang at 3:47 PM on a Tuesday.
Sarah , CFO of a mid-sized biotech firm in San Diego, glanced at the caller ID. It was her CEO, Marcus. She picked up immediately.
“Sarah, it’s Marcus.” The voice was unmistakable, the slight rasp, the Boston accent that crept in when he was stressed, even the way he paused before getting to the point. “Listen, I’m in a meeting with the acquisition team. We need to wire $340,000 to secure the due diligence escrow by end of day. I’m sending you the account details now.”
The cereal aisle was not where Alesto expected his life to fracture again.
He’d been reaching for the same brand he always bought, the one with too much sugar and not enough substance, like most of his choices, when he heard it. A laugh. Soft, musical, breaking off mid-note like it always did when she was self-conscious about something.
Twenty years dissolved in an instant.