I know what it feels like to say them. Noah gave her the vial. It should’ve been enough. Maybe too much time elapsed since she was the last to see Conlin; maybe her metabolism burns hotter; maybe using her fear to guide us in the forest was too taxing. “She was the last one Conlin saw,” Noah says softly, barely shaking his head. “She was the last one to get a real shot.” “But how long were we asleep for?” I say. “How long did she go between shots?” “I don’t know. I don’t know. It was close. Sometimes . . .” “Sometimes what?” His lower lip trembles, and for a second I think he might cry. But he just presses his lips together. “Sometimes Tycast gave her a little extra. Her body temp was higher, he said.” My stomach flips and I think I’m going to throw up. When I thought she was doing a superb acting job...she wasn’t.
