Kimmy wanted to shake them and say, Puh-leeze. You’re on TV, for god’s sake. And those stupid clothes—you’re not on safari here. Try not to look like you’ve been sleeping outside for the last two nights. She shifted Grace to the other shoulder and was thankful that she could at least sit down. Around fifty folding chairs had been set up in orderly rows, facing the stage. Whoever had set them up had been either misled or optimistic; most of the chairs were empty.

The stage itself had been erected in the very middle of Clark Street, between City Hall and Daley Plaza. Two flags bookended the stage, the light blue horizontal bars and four red stars of the City of Chicago flag, and the stars and stripes of the U.S. flag. The solemn walnut podium stood empty in the center.

Kimmy tried to relax. She reminded herself that she was just being catty to the reporters because she was jealous that they finally got to look cool, like those foreign correspondents who were always broadcasting while bombs and bullets burst over their heads.

But not her. Oh, no. Lee had instructed her to look as flawless as possible. So she’d pulled out her best black strapless evening dress. Diamond studded choker. One-carat diamond earrings. Hair upswept, precariously held together with a few hidden hairpins, strong hairspray, and a lot of prayers. Even Grace was wearing her best Sunday dress and the stiff shoes that she hated, because they hurt her feet.

Lee had on one of his most expensive suits. His tie was the color of the red stripes in the American flag, with a matching silk handkerchief in the breast pocket. His hair was slicked back and gleamed in the media lights.

The fear was making her impatient. The press conference was supposed to have finished over an hour ago. She’d overheard some of the reporters talking, and they were apparently all waiting for one of the main guys from the CDC to show up. The CDC could give an assessment of the situation, and then Lee could step forward and take all the credit, offering up Kimmy and Grace as proof that the city was quite safe.

Apart from that, she didn’t know anything else about the press conference. While she certainly didn’t expect Lee to stand at her side the entire time, it would have been nice if he’d come over once in a while to check with her.

Instead, he was too busy huddling next to the stage with his slimy uncle. Phil seemed to be angrier than usual; Kimmy watched him yelling into his phone, a finger stuck in his other ear to muffle all the chaos from the soldiers and helicopters. While his uncle was on the phone, Lee went over his speech. As she watched him move his lips as he read, practice his gestures, she realized she didn’t know how she felt about him anymore.

She didn’t really want to know, frankly.

At first, it had all been so gosh darn exciting. Lee was incredibly handsome, powerful, and rich. He was a man who would not just provide for his family, he would take care of everything. He was the kind of man who didn’t blink at spending over six hundred dollars on a four-hour meal for just the two of them. Back when she and Tommy were still together, she would try and explain that she wanted him to take her out, to make her feel special, and all he’d do was stare at her and blink uncertainly while he tried to figure out what she meant, as if it were some impenetrable calculus mystery that couldn’t be solved.

Now Tommy was gone and although she felt bad sometimes, she didn’t really want to see him again. He reminded her of a part of her life that she wanted to forget. She had closed the door on that chapter, and only wished to look forward. Like this quarantine thing. Soon it would be over, Lee would be seen as a hero, and their lives would only get better, filled with state dinners and long trips and getting her picture in the paper at charity functions.

Down the street, in the wash of the TV lights, she watched a rat crawl out of a storm drain. The animal was filthy, emaciated. She wondered if she should say something, let someone know, but hesitated because she didn’t want to interrupt Lee’s big moment. The rat scurried off into the shadows and she stopped worrying about it and wondered instead if they would be staying at a hotel tonight outside of the city or end up back at Lee’s condo.

Kimmy turned her head away from yet another helicopter landing, shifted Grace again, and didn’t see the second rat emerge.

Or the third.

Or the fourth.

Even with his right foot free, Tommy could not pull any of his other limbs loose or tear any of the other straps, all them each a full three inches of leather. He flailed even harder, kicking out with his bare right foot, and only managed to stub his little toe on the bench opposite. The pain almost made him cry.

It wasn’t fair.

One leg. Nothing else. Just enough to tease him.

One goddamn leg.

The paramedics had left the windows cracked so he didn’t die of a heat stroke. Still, it was terribly hot. Sweat streamed down his face, his chest, his arms. The moisture made the leather straps swell, which made things worse as they grabbed hold even tighter. The paramedics had kept him hydrated, but hadn’t given him any food. He hadn’t taken a piss in over nine hours. He was hoping that night would cool things off a little.

He caught a flash of something out of the corner of his eye, and turned his head to look through the back windows of the ambulance. At first, he thought it might be some kind of sticker on the window, maybe a dead leaf or something, because the image looked so out of place. After growing up next to Lake Michigan, he’d grown so accustomed to the flat, featureless expanse of water that seeing something large out there was like finding a tree growing out of the middle of the Dan Ryan Expressway.

There was a warship out there.

It wasn’t one of the giant behemoths, of course, not like those huge aircraft carriers that lumber around the ocean, floating cities in their own right. Still, spotting it suddenly just offshore made it seem even bigger. It must have been five to six hundred feet long. It looked like it had one large cannon mounted on the forward decks, but that wasn’t what took his attention. He blinked the sweat out of his eyes. It looked like there were not one, but two helicopters waiting on two separate landing pads on two levels at the stern.

Something Dr. Reischtal had said bubbled up in the back of his mind: “A proper laboratory is en route.”

It all clicked into place. That warship must have some kind of lab on it, and now that it was here, Dr. Reischtal would be showing up at any minute to drag Tommy out there. He didn’t want to think about what might happen to him once Dr. Reischtal laid him out on an operating table. He focused instead on the unyielding fact that he was out of time and out of luck.

In frustration, he kicked at the bench opposite, this time driving out with his heel, and drove his wheelchair back against the wall of the ambulance. The force of the kick was enough to push the back wheels off the floor an inch or so. He abruptly released the tension, and the wheelchair hit the floor with a creaking thud. He tried it again, extending his leg all the way, pushing the back wheels up the wall. This time, he guessed he must be five or six inches off the floor.

He relaxed his leg and crashed into the floor once again. The impact made the metal shriek. He rolled it forward. He couldn’t tell if it was his imagination or if the chair actually felt wobblier. He tried it again, this time leaning slightly to his left, trying to put more pressure on a single wheel.

Again. And again.

He lost count after twentieth crash. The wheelchair started rattling and shaking loose every time he positioned himself for another drop. Somewhere around the fiftieth or sixtieth fall, the left wheel snapped off abruptly, dumping Tommy sideways on the floor.