Want (Want #1)

Then I unstrapped the Vox from my wrist, put it on silent, and shoved it into my jacket pocket.

Arun and Victor returned two hours later. They both hauled groceries; fruits, vegetables, and bottles of fresh juices and iced teas peeked from the tops of their overstuffed bags. Victor brewed chrysanthemum tea before joining us at the dining table. Iris and Lingyi sat with blankets wrapped around their shoulders and their knees pulled up, snuggled against each other.

“You’re both looking much better,” Arun said. “How do you feel?” He’d put his hazmat suit back on before entering headquarters, and Victor still wore his respirator.

“Human again,” Iris replied. “This flu strain is no joke.”

Lingyi nodded. “Arun, your antidote saved us.”

Arun tucked his chin, a flush coloring his cheeks. “Yeah. I’d tested it with mixed results before. This new batch hadn’t been tested. Didn’t think I’d be using my friends as test subjects.” He exhaled a long breath.

“We didn’t give Arun much of a choice,” I said.

Lingyi blew Arun a kiss. “You’re amazing. This is amazing. Do you have more antidote stocked?”

“A dozen,” Arun replied. “But my lab can replicate more in a few hours.”

“We can release the antidote to the public and help curb the spread of this flu,” Iris said. “Prevent more meis from dying.”

Arun shook his head. “It hasn’t been approved yet by our FDA. There’s no way the hospitals will distribute this.”

Lingyi made a frustrated noise.

“Then let’s take this to the streets ourselves,” I replied.

My friends all stared at me, and I grinned. “Seriously. Victor, you’ve got networks everywhere. Arun and you can head the operation.”

“It probably can’t save those who are too far gone—but it can help many of the others.” Arun’s dark brown eyes were bright with excitement. “It can help to contain the spread of this flu if we get to enough of those afflicted in time.”

Victor was already on his Palm, typing swiftly. “They’re burning the bodies,” he said in a grim voice.

“What?” I said.

“My contacts confirmed that the government has been burning the bodies of those who have died from this flu and rounding up other meis who appear to be sick and quarantining them in warehouses.”

“Locking them in, you mean,” Lingyi replied.

“But I’ve not heard any of this on the news broadcasts!” I exclaimed.

“They’re downplaying it to avoid panic spreading,” Arun said. “And endangering the public at the same time.”

“Still, Jin’s plan is working.” Victor actually sneered, evident even beneath his respirator, the openness of it so discordant with his usual smooth facade. “The sales of raffles and orders for his new, cheaper suits have skyrocketed with each passing day—no matter how much the government and media have tried to spin it.”

“And knowing what I know about viruses,” Arun added, “Jin’s suits can’t guarantee the wearer from getting sick. Look what happened to Zhou. Viruses will find a way.”

“We’re getting shafted from all sides.” I felt rage swell along with all the emotions I had tried to suppress when the girls’ lives were in danger.

“Not if we can help it,” Victor replied. “The warehouses aren’t even guarded, according to my source. It’ll be easy enough for us to break into those sites and administer the antidotes.”

“We can take to the streets, too, set up discreet ‘vaccination’ stations,” Arun said.

Lingyi nodded. “Iris and I are out, but I can monitor news of the flu on the undernet. Track where it spreads on top of Victor’s contacts.”

“I can help on-site,” I offered, but Lingyi shook her head.

“We can’t risk you blowing your cover, Zhou. Better to keep away in case someone recognizes ‘Jason.’?” Lingyi yawned, looking wan and exhausted, and Iris put her arm around Lingyi’s shoulders, hugging her close. Iris’s platinum hair contrasted like a lick of white flame against Lingyi’s deep purple. “Victor and Arun can handle this,” Lingyi said.

“I could use Zhou’s help,” Arun replied. “I’ve asked for two more hazmat suits at my lab, so you won’t be able to see his face clearly anyway. With a third person, we’d be able to move faster and save more lives.”

“I want to,” I added. “I promise to be careful.”

Lingyi studied both of us in turn, then agreed with reluctance. “Because it’ll save more lives,” she repeated. Although she’s the one who knew the most about my past, I had never gone into detail regarding my mother’s death. But Lingyi nodded to me once, and I suspected she knew how much this meant to me personally.

I bumped fists with Arun, glad I could actively help the sick meis and contribute. I thought of the memoir Grass Soup. Zhang endured decades of prison and labor camps during the Cultural Revolution and did everything he could to survive—including eating grass soup.

I knew that the Taiwanese people’s will was strong—that we endured. But we needed at least a fighting chance.





CHΔPTER FOURTEEN




We decided to meet Arun on campus at his lab the next evening, giving ourselves some time to rest, and also time to manufacture more antidote.

I was exhausted and headed back home to sleep. Long moments passed before I realized I thought of my apartment in the 101 as “home” now.

Getting off a few stops early, I walked the rest of the way. No matter how tired I was, I could never tire of the vibrancy of this city. The crowds were thinner tonight, and those who braved it wore thick masks covering their faces. But vendors were still doing business on the streets, doling out fried dumplings, meats grilled on skewers, fried leek cakes, and cups of rice noodles in broth. I grabbed a bag of candied sweet potatoes cooked in sticky syrup, finishing it before I entered the 101 through the private entrance, then immediately crawled into bed.

I slept until noon, rising to take a long shower, pulling on designer blue jeans and a gray, long-sleeved shirt. I brewed a triple espresso for myself and was just firing up my MacFold when my door buzzer rang. Daiyu was framed on my door monitor. Aiyo. She buzzed again. “I know you’re home, Jason,” she said. “Xiao Huang told me.”

I obviously hadn’t been tipping Xiao Huang enough. At least, not as much as Daiyu tipped him. The doorman knew which resident was home even when the private entrance was used, as each of us had to give a palm scan to gain entry. I kept silent for a long moment, then voice-commanded the front door open.

Daiyu strolled in, a vision in tight black pants and a red sweater that hugged her form. She wore black heeled boots that resonated sharply against the concrete floor. Her long hair wasn’t swept back in a ponytail for once, making her look older to me. My heartbeat picked up, as it always did when I saw her—a combination of my fight-or-flight instinct kicking in mingled with my simple want for her. My pulse spiked every time. I hadn’t seen Daiyu in over two weeks.

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