After twenty unanswered rings Tess gave up on Dodge. If she was going to get out of this, she would have to do it some other way.
And she would get out. She had to. Mobius had taken everything else from her, but he would not take her life.
She tried to think, figure out what to do, a plan of action. There was poison in the air. How was it reaching her?
The air conditioner. That was how he’d done it, the son of a bitch. He had sabotaged the air conditioner. Put VX inside it, so the outflow ducts would spew it into the room.
With every inhalation she was breathing in more death. It would overcome the antidote, weaken her all over again, paralyze her, kill her right here on the floor.
She had to stop the AC. Switch it off. The unit was mounted below the window, trailing a heavy-duty power cord plugged into the wall.
No way she could reach the cord to yank it out. The distance was only two yards, but she still had no strength, no motor coordination, no way to get there.
Closer to her was another wall outlet, unused, almost near enough to touch. It might be on the same circuit as the AC.
Cause a power surge, get the circuit breaker to trip, and the AC might shut down.
She looked at the cell phone in her hand. Had an idea.
But to give it a try, she had to get nearer to the outlet.
She ground her palms into the carpet and dragged herself forward. Sweat leaked into her eyes. Her heart pounded a furious rhythm in her ears.
She was not very religious anymore-Paul’s death had badly disillusioned her about such things-but she found herself bargaining with God, making a deal.
Just let me get out of this, she thought, and I’ll make it up to you. I’ll catch Mobius. I’ll stop him. That’s got to be worth something. A couple hundred Hail Marys, at least.
She thrust herself forward another inch, using her arms and a contortion of her hips, dragging her useless legs, while the air conditioner chugged, and the fan blades whirred, and the air moved around her.
Don’t breathe, she ordered herself. Once the AC is off, you can take a breath, but until then don’t breathe.
The outlet was within reach now. Slowly she extended her arm, the cell phone outthrust in her trembling hand, and jammed the phone’s antenna at the outlet.
She missed contact with the holes. Tried again. No good. A third try The antenna plunged into one of the holes, and the phone sizzled with an influx of voltage, strong enough to lift her off the floor and shock her backward. Her fingers splayed, the phone fell in a shower of sparks-and half the lights in the room went out.
She lay on her side, stunned by the jolt. Somewhere behind her, Myron Levine was still talking, and a varicolored play of light from the television bubbled over the walls and ceiling.
The TV was on a different circuit. But the air conditioner?
She listened.
There was no sound but her hoarse breathing and Levine’s drone.
The AC was off.
No more VX would enter the room. She’d accomplished that much.
All she could do now was wait and see if the symptoms passed…or worsened.
She lay still. Her hands were numb and boneless. Her legs were sprawled on the carpet in limp disarray. She was panting, straining for breath. The muscles sheathing her rib cage still worked, but for how long?
For a few minutes she was almost sure her symptoms were continuing to worsen, in which case she had been wrong, deluded, and there was no hope. God, it appeared, had rejected the terms of her offer.
Then her chest shuddered, heaved, and she pulled a stream of air down her throat.
She could breathe. Really breathe.
Evidently God had been open to a deal, after all.
Slowly she curled into a fetal pose and lay there, clutching her knees, wondering what to do next.
She couldn’t say. She knew only one thing with certainty. She had promised God that she would stop Mobius. And she intended to keep her end of the bargain.