Reviving Emily Page 3

  He chuckled, but he did it while brushing a lock of hair from her face and then continuing to stroke her cheek with his thumb. He was drawn to her like a magnet, unable to stop himself from touching her. “Well, Emily Zorich, if we’re having a confessional, you’re not hard on the eyes either.” Some alien being had possessed his body. Since when did he flirt with women?

  She rolled those eyes at his statement. “I haven’t seen a mirror yet, but I also haven’t had a shower in ten years. Nor have I had a comb or makeup or a toothbrush or a manicure.”

  He glanced toward her hand, lifted it, and held it in front of his face. “Did you get a lot of manicures back then?”

  She giggled, the sweetest sound. “I’ve never actually had one. It just sounded like something I should list.” She narrowed her gaze. “Did I know you? It doesn’t seem possible. Obviously you weren’t working here ten years ago. You can’t be more than about twenty-five. And I so rarely left the bunker. You must just look familiar.”

  He gave her hand a squeeze. “I’m thirty, technically a year older than you. I don’t remember meeting you, but it’s possible you saw me or even interacted with me at some point when I was in my teens. My parents are Tushar Anand and Trish Wolbach-Anand.”

  * * *

  Emily gasped as her brain processed what she’d been told. “Oh God. You’re Ryan Anand. Are they…?”

  “They’re both here. There’s no reason they can’t be revived just like you.”

  “So every member of the team succumbed?”

  “Yes. Eventually. My father was the last. He preserved my mother, and two cryonicists from another government facility came to preserve my father. They wore hazmat suits so they wouldn’t become infected.”

  “I’m so sorry. You’ve been without your parents for ten years.” Her heart hurt for the young kid who’d lost his parents and then gone on to spend his life trying to save them. She also owed him her life.

  He shrugged. “Everyone has burdens they carry. At least I always had hope. And now it looks like I’ll be reunited with them soon.”

  She swallowed over the lump in her throat, lifting her own hand to cup his cheek, mimicking the way he was touching her. For a long time she stared at him, enjoying the human contact. It felt good, as if it had been a long time since she’d last touched anyone. In a way, it had.

  In the months before she had been preserved, she had been too busy to do anything but concentrate on finding a cure. The stress of that workload had increased tenfold when she’d gotten sick. Any human contact had been minimal. Dating had been nonexistent. The last time she’d looked a man in the eye with any level of interest had been… She couldn’t remember when it might have been.

  She hadn’t ever had time for men when she was last breathing. The truth was she needed to shake herself out of this trance and get to work. She still needed to receive the cure, and then she needed to oversee everyone else’s.

  Someone else stepped into the room, clearing his throat, breaking the weird connection with Ryan.

  Emily yanked one hand from Ryan’s cheek and the other out of his grip as if she’d been caught breaking some sort of contact rule.

  She shifted her gaze to the newcomer as he stepped up to her other side. He set a hand on her shoulder, shaking his head. “Every time I see you I’m still amazed.” He smiled wide. “I’m Dr. Damon Bardsley. I’ve been working with Ryan in this bunker for two years. It’s about time someone else joined us. We were getting bored with only twelve of us jammed in here with little entertainment.” His tone was teasing.

  “Do you all live here?” She didn’t know why she was asking. The answer should be obvious. She’d practically lived there herself a decade ago. Everyone had. Or at least they might as well have. Each of them had homes in the nearby town, but she stood a better chance of remembering her old office and the comfortable, worn, brown leather couch she often slept on than her bedroom in her apartment in town.

  “We do,” Dr. Bardsley acknowledged. “It’s easier this way. We’re working on so many projects. In the last few years an entire wing has been built, adding living quarters to the bunker above ground. Everything we need is brought in. Except human company. We get tired of each other.” He smiled, squeezing her shoulder. “But it was totally worth every minute of it seeing you alive and hearing your voice. Everyone is waiting to meet you.”

  Ryan spoke next. “A few high-ranking generals will be here to visit later this week too. You’re about to become the most famous human being no one even knew existed,” he joked. “And you’ll remember General Temple Levenson. She was in charge of this bunker from the beginning, and she still is.”

  Emily nodded. It would be strange to meet someone she’d known a decade ago. The woman would be older.

  “You won’t be able to leave the bunker until the government can figure out how to reassimilate you into society,” Damon added.

  “Where would I go?” she quipped in return, and then another thought struck her as she stared at Damon. “My family. My parents. Oh God. What do they know?”

  “They only know you were cryonically preserved for future scientific research. No one has breathed a word about reanimating any of you yet. The entire mission has been just as classified as your work was in this bunker ten years ago.”

  Grabbing her hand again, though perhaps tighter, Ryan asked her another question. “We read through your file and found you have two parents, Joy and Roger Zorich, and a brother, David. They’re all still living. Was there anyone else special we overlooked?” His eyes drew together, his expression serious.

  “No.” She shook her head. Was he asking if she had a boyfriend? Would it even matter? If she’d had a significant other ten years ago, he would have moved on, married, had kids. It would have been devastating to her now. She was grateful that wasn’t the case.

  Ryan was still holding her hand during a few moments of silence before several other people stepped into the room. He released her and stepped back, his gaze locked on hers, and then someone fiddled with her IV and someone else began to speak about physical therapy, forcing her to shift her attention.

  Chapter 4

  Two weeks later…

  Emily was walking gingerly down the corridor toward her newly assigned living space, one hand skimming the wall for balance, when Ryan rounded the corner and startled her. She’d seen him nearly every day for at least a few minutes in between the constant barrage of doctors and scientists coming in and out. No matter how busy Ryan was, he always managed to pop in and check on her.

  It wasn’t as if she should be surprised to run into him. There were only twelve people living in the bunker besides her. The only other humans she’d encountered so far were government employees—high-ranking military in every instance.

  She teetered slightly as Ryan caught her off guard, and he reached out with both hands to grab her shoulders and keep her from falling backward. “Damn. Sorry. Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” His fingers were warm and welcome on her biceps as she flattened her back against the wall and let him take the brunt of her weight.

  “Don’t worry. Not your fault. I’m still unsteady. It’s like my muscle memory isn’t one hundred percent yet. My brain fires directions, but my limbs don’t respond quickly enough.” She calmed under his touch, her mind going back to how he held her hand when she’d first woken up.

  Still holding one of her arms, he shifted his body to help her down the hallway. “I can’t imagine the frustration. I wish I could tell you how long it will take to regain total movement, but I just don’t have anyone to compare it to.”

  That was an understatement. “What? You don’t have case studies of hundreds of twenty-nine-year-old women who’ve been vitrified for ten years?”

  He chuckled. “Nope.”

  The truth was she knew the entire team was watching her closely and taking copious notes every day on her recovery before they were willing to awaken the next member of her team. Part of her couldn’t wait. She had
pored over Ryan’s data and felt confident his injection would cure her as well as all the others. People she knew. Colleagues.

  The only familiar person she’d reacquainted herself with was General Temple Levenson, though everyone called her by her first name. Temple lived in one of several housing units scattered on the four-acre government property. The other units were occupied by the security team tasked with protecting the facility.

  Without Temple, Emily would feel like she’d dropped into another dimension. Without Ryan’s friendship, she would also be losing her mind.

  They reached her suite, and Ryan took her keycard from her hand to swipe it over the panel at the entrance. She was still impressed by the new technology, and she was well-aware there were dozens of other things she had yet to encounter that had changed in the last ten years. It was too overwhelming to tackle everything at once.

  He led her inside, shut the door behind him, and helped her maneuver her way to the couch where she flopped down with a sigh.

  “Can I get you anything? A drink or something?”

  “Water would be great. There’s a bottle in the fridge.” She glanced around at her temporary home, still enamored by the improvements to the bunker in the last few years. Each member of the team had a set of rooms that reminded her a bit of hotel suites. They weren’t luxurious or anything. Standard stuff. All of them identical and done in a lovely shade of beige. But they were a hell of an improvement over leaving the bunker each night or sleeping on a loveseat somewhere underground.

  She took a seat in the main living area on the khaki couch facing a television she had yet to turn on. The room also had an attached kitchenette with a fridge, microwave, and sink. There was an armchair catty-corner from the sofa and a small table for two in a light wood with two slatted kitchen chairs. Behind her was a separate bedroom and bathroom. It was tight, but it gave everyone someplace to spend time alone.

  The team ate together in another part of the bunker in the same larger kitchen where she’d spent countless days dining with her previous team. It had been updated and renovated so that it was hardly recognizable, but at least she felt a slight connection to the old days dining in there.

  Ryan returned to sit next to her, holding out a bottle of water. He pointed at the remote for the TV. “Have you managed to use that yet?”

  She smirked. “Nope. I haven’t even tried. I wasn’t a big television watcher before I took ten years off from society. I don’t imagine I will be now either. Besides,” she pointed at the pile of folders on the coffee table, “I have a lot of work left to do. It feels like I need to go back to med school to catch up.”

  He nodded. “It’s not that bad. Technology has changed a lot in the last decade, but doctors still treat patients in much the same way they did before.”

  “And this bunker is still working on the latest challenges and discoveries.” She’d been given a briefing from several people in the last two weeks, but her primary concern was the disease she still carried and ensuring the cure would work on her the same way it worked on current victims all around the globe.

  He took the water bottle from her shaky hand. “You sure you’re not overdoing it? You need to take it slow.”

  She lifted a brow. “You say that like I have all the time in the world.”

  He scrunched up his face. “Good point. I realize the clock is ticking, but you’re not in any danger so far. The total blood replacement and the drugs we administered to minimize the effects are buying you time. You’re not even showing symptoms yet.”

  “Yet. The operative word.”

  He leaned back against the couch next to her, having left enough space between them that they weren’t touching. His palms were on his thighs, gripping. When he tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling, she felt the tension coming from his body.

  “You must be anxious to bring your parents back,” she whispered, reaching out to set her hand on top of his. What possessed her to touch him like this? She glanced at their connected hands, unwilling to release him. It felt good. Human. He didn’t pull away.

  He turned his head slightly in her direction and smiled. He looked tired. As though he’d spent the better part of the last decade working his ass off. And she knew he had. “I’ve waited ten years. Another few weeks or months won’t kill me. We need to be sure we’re doing everything right before we revive the next person.”

  She nodded, feeling awkward about touching him so intimately. As she started to remove her hand, however, he flipped his over and threaded their fingers together, holding on to her. When he lifted her hand to his cheek and closed his eyes, she stopped breathing.

  His touch was welcome. She was living in another dimension. She hardly understood the world around her or even who she was or what her place would be in this new universe. It was nice to have this connection. Ryan was kind. Caring. Concerned.

  She stared at him, learning his features, the way his nose tipped up slightly at the end, the way he licked his full lips often as if he either had a serious need for lip balm or was always about to say something he held back.

  He sighed as he pressed her knuckles against his face, blinking his eyes open to meet her gaze. “You ground me. You give me hope.”

  She nodded slightly, unsure how to respond. She knew he was referring to his parents, and she was glad she could help him through the process. He needed a friend. She could be that friend. She was the only person alive who had walked in those shoes.

  He continued, “I’ve had my head buried in books for half my life. I started working on the cure for AP12 as far back as fifteen years old when General Custodio was first brought into the bunker.”

  She gasped. “Wow.”

  “Yeah. It interested me. I researched everything I could about blood disorders. Before I even went to college I knew more than most medical professionals about anemia. It became a hobby, or an obsession.”

  She nodded, not interrupting him. If he was anything like her, he hadn’t had the time in the last ten years to share his concerns with someone else. He probably kept them bottled up, ignoring his fears because what good would it do to wallow in self-pity?

  “I’m rambling.”

  She squeezed his hand. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

  He met and held her gaze for several moments. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For listening.”

  “Thank you, for bringing me back to life, for helping me find myself, for being a calm presence when the world feels like it’s upside down. I have no idea what I’m going to do next with my life. It helps having someone to talk to.” She turned her hand around in his grip and cupped his face with her palm.

  He smiled. “You’re not alone there. I worry about what I’m going to do next with my life. After all, I’ve accomplished what I set out to do. I found the cure. It works. I also found the people who specialized in cryobiology to solve my other problem. I put together a team.

  “I got the government to back me. The highest ranking members of the military are involved in a project I spearheaded. I did it. It’s almost over. I can see the finish line…”

  “Totally understandable.” She would be lost in his shoes too.

  “I’m definitely scared. My parents are trapped in suspension one floor below me as I speak. But I have so much hope. And I’ve done everything I can. It’s like the end of a chapter.” He took a breath. “On the flipside, I’m not done. My parents are still waiting. Nineteen other people are also waiting. I feel guilty every time my mind wanders to the future instead of focusing on what I’m supposed to be doing.”

  She understood every word. In many ways the two of them were the same. She too had devoted her life to finding a cure for AP12. She also had no idea what the next chapter of her life would look like. She still had to reconnect with her family and figure out what role she might play concerning Project DEEP going forward.

  She got him. They were in the same boat. “You said you were already involve
d in other projects here. Do you see yourself continuing with Project DEEP or leaving the facility?”

  He nodded. “I’ll be honest, every time I dig into another project, my blood pumps faster. I love the thrill of curing the next mysterious disease. It’s awkward for me at this stage because half my mind is focused on finishing this project and bringing the entire original team back to health.” His eyes twinkled with excitement that made her heart lurch in a manner she was extremely familiar with as he continued. “But I itch to move on to another virus, another mystery, another cure.”

  She smiled. “I get that,” she whispered. They were so much alike.

  He licked his lips again and then sighed. “Thank you for listening. I mean it.”

  She nodded. “Any time. I hope you know that. We’re in the same place in a way.”

  He held her gaze, not moving a muscle.

  A shudder rushed down her spine, and she jerked her gaze away at the same time she pulled her hand back.

  She pointed at the pocket on the front of his scrubs—the only clothing she’d seen him in so far. Inside the bunker everyone wore scrubs most days. It was just easier. Logical. “Show me this fandangled phone of yours. Eventually I’m going to have to learn modern technology.”

  He pulled it from his shirt and handed it to her.

  “How do you turn it on?” she asked.

  “You don’t. Not without my thumb print.” He winked. After unlocking the screen with his thumb, he tapped the front, making her flinch.

  “The screen responds to your touch?”

  “Yep. It’s called a smartphone. It’s come a long way in a short number of years. It’s a tiny handheld computer. I can do anything on it I can do on my laptop. It even takes pictures. It also holds books. As many as I want.”

  “That’s insane. No wonder no one ever sets their phone down since I woke up. It’s like you’re all possessed. Addicted.” She settled back on the sofa, touching the screen to see what would happen.

  “There’s an app for everything.”