“I have your things if you want to get going.”
Lyndon turned, saw a different woman standing there. He didn’t know what else to do—there was nothing more for him here. He nodded, and followed her.
* * * *
Lyndon didn’t make it to Curtis’ place until after his first shift back to work. It wasn’t intentional—the moment he was back, his boss scheduled him, giving him little sleep to recover before getting back to ferrying medical samples about the area. Everything returned to normal so fast, Lyndon felt sick. Even the reports of the outbreak—less dramatic now that people were being seen to and the sources were discovered and sterilized—had become less frequent.
Life, or at least Lyndon’s life, went back to usual. He’d sent a brief message saying he’d gotten back in one piece to the email
