Chapter 11: Count Backward

"Ten," the technician said.

He stood pinned against the van with Jessa's hand wrapped in his collar, and the whole squad stood around them in a half circle.

Nobody said a word.

Frost was crawling up the sleeve of his gray jacket, slow and white.

"Nine."

"Louder," Jessa said.

"Nine," he said again, and his teeth were chattering. "Please. I don't know what you want."

"Eight."

Her ice was only level three, and it only spread an inch at a time.

It was enough.

He could feel it climbing his arm, and he could see her face.

"Seven," he said, and his voice cracked in half.

"Do you hear how it sounds?" Jessa asked. "When you say it that way. Steady. Almost bored."

He shook his head.

"You said it to someone like this, once. Strapped down. Awake."

"I never!"

"Maybe not to me. Not yet." She leaned in.

"But you will, in two months, if I let you walk away. You will count for a girl on that table and she will hear every number."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Six."

He sagged against the van.

"Six," he whispered.

Jethro shifted his weight, and Rhys held up a hand.

"Let her work," Rhys said quietly.

"Five. Four." The technician was crying now, big tears running into the frost on his cheeks.

"Please, I have a daughter. I have a little girl. Please."

Jessa felt her stomach turn.

She had thought the sight of him begging would feel like victory.

It felt like nothing, and that frightened her more.

"Three," she said. "What is the intake at Halcyon for?"

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