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“Affirmative,” Clarence said.

Tim heard the click of Klimas switching off the channel.

Outside, the gunfire sounded constant, an orchestra of unending death. A bullet hit the centrifuge on top of the portable table, sending it spinning violently down to the marble floor.

Clarence shook his head. “I have to get her.”

He again turned toward the elevator.

Tim reached up, grabbed Clarence’s arm.

“Otto, stay here, G.o.ddamit! Don’t you f.u.c.king leave us alone!”

Cooper Mitch.e.l.l tried to roll to his hands and knees but lost his balance, fell back down to his side. He looked around, eyes blinking and unfocused.

Clarence grabbed Tim’s wrist, pulled the hand free.

“I’m going to get my wife,” he said. “Stay here with Cooper. The Rangers will protect you.”

He sprinted for the elevator.

Tim felt lost. He looked at Cooper Mitch.e.l.l, who was again trying to get to his hands and knees. Cooper … it was all about Cooper, about the microorganism he had in his body, in his blood.

Tim pressed his “talk” b.u.t.ton. “Klimas, this is Feely, come in! Come in, Klimas!”

Klimas came back instantly, both his voice and the sound of gunfire painfully loud.

“G.o.ddamit, Feely, stay off this channel!”

“Margaret’s infected. Otto went to get her. I’m alone with Mitch.e.l.l. Get us out of here!”

A bullet ripped through the portable table’s metal leg — the table leaned to the right and fell on its edge.

“Feely,” Klimas said, “do you have a weapon?”

“No.”

“Then find one. Right now Mitch.e.l.l is your responsibility. Protect him. The lobby is the safest place we have. That reception counter is decent cover, so stay behind it. I’ll get someone to you as soon as I can. Klimas, out.”

The frequency clicked off.

I am so screwed, so screwed …

A crash of gla.s.s, a whuff of billowing fire so close Tim felt the heat through his suit. He threw himself on top of Cooper to protect him from the flames.

So screwed, so screwed …