Page 200 of Johnny

She says nothing.

“I already know about the longevity experiments. Megan told me about her rat. I know they’re

infecting migrants in camps trying to make antibodies.”

The girl scowls. “Should I clap for you?”

I didn’t really know that. It was just a guess. But her answer tells me it was a good one.

“You don’t care?”

“I have a job to do. That’s all I care about. I want to do my job and just go home.”

“Where’s home? Some pathetic prison island? Do they make promises to you, kid? Like the ones

they made Megan? Those promises don’t mean anything. I can get you out if you help me. Take you out

of the Bahamas. There’s a bigger world out there—”

“I don’t live down here,” she spits. “I live in America.”

Well, that’s a surprise. “Then why are you here?”

“I told you. I’m on a job. A job you just fucked up by showing up early. And my team is gonna be

very fuckin’ pissed off when they find out you stole me.”

“What? Who are you?”

“You don’t need to know who I am. You just need to understand who I’m not. I’m not some dumb

girl who works in a lab because her daddy told her to. I was sent there to grab a sample of their little

infectious disease and I had one hour left on my contract when you showed up and ruined everything.”

“Hold on a second.” I laugh. “You, a little girl, were sent to grab a sample of an infectious disease

so dangerous it requires level four biosecurity? By who?”

“How the fuck should I know? I’m a professional. I don’t ask questions.”

“You’re fourteen years old, kid.”

“I’ve been on the job since I was ten, OK?”

I laugh at her. She’s been on the job four years and she thinks that’s some big deal?

But then I frown. Because by the time she’s twenty she will have been doing this kind of thing half

her life. And by the time she’s thirty—hell, who am I kidding this kid isn’t going to make it to thirty.

She probably won’t make it to twenty.

“And let me tell you something else,” she continues. “I like my life right now. It’s going pretty

good. So again”—she stresses the word—“you need to let me go.”

“I could’ve blown your face off back in that lab.”