Immunity Index Sue Burke (best way to read ebooks TXT) 📖

worse, either. Avril had come to the bathroom to moisten a cloth to put on her forehead to cool a scary-hot fever. Would that help? There had to be a way to find out for sure.

“Are there any med students in Dejope?” she asked the two women as gently as she could, hoping to draw them into a discussion and give them support. “Or premed? Nursing?”

“Can’t we just break out?” one of the women answered angrily. “Go get help? If we stay here, we’ll all get sick and die.”

Avril shook her head. “They’ll shoot us. So far I’ve seen more than one guy try to run out of here and get shot. Haven’t you heard the gunfire?”

The other woman began weeping. Avril felt her own eyes tear up. Crying is as contagious as a cold. Out in the hall, a voice boomed. Avril peeked out. A centaur, one of the ones usually guarding the ground floor, was patrolling the hallway to terrify the residents. “Remain in your rooms,” it commanded in that too-human voice.

She closed the door, shaking. “There’s a centaur in the hall.” That was a stupid thing to say. Anyone could have guessed.

“Another robot?” the crying woman said. “I haven’t seen any human guards. Maybe we can find someone and reason with them.”

Who’d want to guard a plague ship? There was no point in trying to reason with a robot. Even if somewhere someone was directing it, those people tended to act more inhumanely than they would in person. Metal made people mean.

Hetta covered her face with her hands. “What do I do with … my roommate? I can’t go back there. I…”

“Come with me,” Avril said. She didn’t want to be alone, either, and she needed to get back to Shinta. She took her damp washcloth and peeked out again. The elevator was shut and the centaur gone. For the moment, it was safe to leave.

Shinta seemed unchanged, her forehead still hot. If the cool cloth did nothing but help Avril feel useful, that might be enough—no, she needed to do more.

“What exactly was supposed to happen today?” she whispered to Hetta, who slumped utterly morose on Shinta’s desk chair.

“I don’t know much. Cal knew more. Mutiny. Today. Don’t obey. Wear purple.”

“That simple?”

“Yeah, just don’t obey the Prez. All sorts of people are going to say no and do things right.” She cradled her head in her hands.

Avril stared out the window wondering what to disobey. The campus lockdown, for starters. How many centaurs were there, or to be precise, how many of them compared with the entrances to the dorm? Could the residents fight back? What weapons did they have? Maybe someone had a gun, or better yet, unregistered, disruptive electronics. How about weightlifting dumbbells to throw at centaurs or windows? Equipment in the food court like knives? It was time to think creatively.

This lockdown was going to fail if she could do anything about it. What Dejope residents needed was leadership. Avril had been taught how to lead teams in high school, and one had won a computer competition. If she was going to be a rebel dupe, she could start now.

Dead woman walking. Stay out of my way.

Berenike woke to the sound of uncontrollable coughing. She sat up in a panic and started to climb out of bed. Papa! Then she realized where she was. Karen. Her roommate was sitting on the edge of her bed struggling to breathe, lit by the night-light through the open bathroom door. Karen might have caught that cold that was going around, which wasn’t the Sino, just the sniffles—although she was doing more than sniff. Well, the Prez was a liar, so maybe …

Berenike hopped down from the top bunk. “Karen?”

“Sorry,” she answered, and tried to say more and couldn’t.

She’s apologizing for waking people up even though she might be dying. Typical Karen.

Deedee, a light sleeper, stirred.

Berenike considered what to do for a cold: rest, fluids, cough medicine, and painkillers. But for Sino? That disease killed people.

“Karen?” she asked. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, but she gasped and panted. Berenike felt her forehead—definitely warm. “Let me get you a glass of water.” She could do that in the dark, get a glass from the cabinet and cold water from the kitchen sink. Karen drank it quickly.

“She okay?” Deedee muttered.

“I’m fine,” she rasped.

Berenike sighed. “She’s not.”

Their fourth roommate, Nina, sat up. “Apartment, lights on.”

Berenike blinked in the light, and when her vision adjusted, she saw froth on Karen’s lips. Oh, fuck! Like Papa. Maybe Berenike had brought whatever it was back with her. But food poisoning wasn’t contagious, much less genuine poisoning, and she didn’t feel sick. And Karen had been sick last night. But what if Papa really died of Sino? The people from the funeral home were angry about something.

“Karen,” Deedee said, “you look really bad. Maybe we should call an ambulance.”

“No, I don’t have … insurance. And I have things to do.”

“They might take her for free today,” Nina said.

Nina knows, even the date. So much for secrecy. Still, free service at the emergency room. Health care even for the uninsured.

“I’ll call an ambulance,” Berenike said. “Yeah, today’s the day. We all disobey.”

Deedee cheered, although she kept her voice muted. “I know! I’ve been waiting for this! Is everyone here on board?”

“Hell, yeah!” Berenike said, trying to echo her hushed enthusiasm. But she really felt dread. Because Papa died? Or because this whole idea is way too optimistic? And that food-poisoning lie. Too much was plainly going wrong already.

Her phone chimed. A message from AutoKar: “Attendance today is mandatory. Failure to report will result in termination. Employees will receive double pay and are urged to report as soon as possible, even ahead of scheduled shifts. Partial hours will be compensated to the minute.”

That was weird beyond words. Why would those cheap motherfuckers offer double pay by the minute? Maybe the mutiny had the corporate headquarters scared, which meant the Prez was scared, since corporate kissed his butt. If they