threat?” He looked down the corridor. “We don’t have security here.”
“I don’t think you have to worry,” the senator said dryly. “They’ll hardly burst in with commandos. They’ll merely ruin my career.”
“And possibly mine!” Jacob said and waved his hands.
Amber stuck her head into the kitchenette. “We knew that was a possibility,” she said. “Remember? I said we would get smashed through the floor by Big Pharma and you said something about how we were helping people, blah, blah, damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead.” She waved her hand. “Well, here we are, buddy. Don’t get cold feet now.”
“What, now you’re threatening me, too?” He looked at her, his expression one of a man betrayed.
She only rolled her eyes and disappeared.
Senator Williams smiled at him and headed into the other room to where his wife waited. They embraced the way they always did—as if the rest of the world ceased to exist for a moment. She laid her head on his shoulder and he smoothed her hair. She must have said something about the smell on his clothes because when she picked her head up, her nose was wrinkled and he was laughing.
“I have something for you two,” DuBois told them. Jacob leaned in the doorway as the man set the speakers up to play Justin’s message. Then, with uncommon tact, the doctor ushered the others out of the room and shut the door of the kitchenette.
They waited and caught snatches of Justin’s voice on the monitor. All of them had heard it when he recorded it, and Nick had been suspiciously sniffly.
It wasn’t long before Tad came to push the door open and beckon them inside. Mary had clearly been crying, and she still tried to repair her makeup.
“How is he doing?” the senator asked. “Mary told me that remembering the accident was difficult for him.”
“It was,” DuBois said. “The good news is that his reaction to that was much more in line with what a healthy person would experience than his reaction when he died in the game. It would appear that he is getting better.”
“I want to talk to him,” Tad said.
The doctor hesitated. “We can send another voice packet fairly easily,” he said, “but we don’t want to do this too often. Justin needs to focus on the game, which he can interact with, rather than having his focus on the outside world.”
“I understand.” Amber winced when Tad swallowed. “But I want him to hear our voices.”
Wordlessly, the doctor pointed to the microphone and, with a few clicks on the computer, set it up to record before he ushered the others out again.
In the kitchenette, Amber narrowed her eyes at the doctor. “What are you worried about?”
“It’s a balance,” DuBois said without preamble. “We wanted him to believe the game was real. He knew it was a game, which helped to keep him from dying when his character died, but he needs a certain amount of immersion. If he doesn’t get that, his brain won’t have an incentive to heal. And if he does…”
Amber frowned. “What then?”
“So many people in comas never wake up,” DuBois said. “They’re locked off from the world forever. That could still be him.”
Chapter Eighteen
Justin wasn’t sure if he slept or not and was even afraid of sleeping now. He was very aware of the fact that his body lay in a perpetual sleep and something about that made this version of consciousness all the more vital. If he went to sleep there, would he ever wake up?
Still, time slid away from him for a while and when the sun came up, he felt rested. Did his mind feel more acute or was that merely his imagination?
“Lyle,” he said. “Wake up. We’re going back to the inn.”
The dwarf sat. “You have more money for beer?”
“We’re not going to get beer,” he said. “We’re going to get quests so that we can level up—I mean, get better gear—before facing Sephith.”
“Good,” his teammate replied.
“What do you mean, good?” He looked at him suspiciously as Lyle made the campfire vanish. “I thought you wouldn’t like this plan.”
“The longer we wait before we face him, the better the chance you don’t decide to do it at all,” Lyle explained.
“You could theoretically run off,” Justin pointed out.
“Oh, don’t you say that, boy.” The dwarf pointed a finger at him. “That’s a deathly insult where I come from. Yer lucky I’m not my father or ye’d be dead for that.”