In the seventeenth chapter of Deadline, is it normal for a book to cause this much anxiety? No? Well, if you’re intrigued, then it’s time for me to read Deadline.
For real, I wasn’t prepared for the anxiety Deadline would give me.
- The calm before the storm. That’s what the first part of this chapter is. It’s actually nice, in hindsight, to read about these characters largely going about their days with no drama. Of course, this doesn’t help. “Those five days may have been the last good time for us.” THANKS, SHAUN. THANKS FOR SAYING THAT.
- At the very least, though, everyone’s being civil, and I appreciate that. Yes, everyone’s so busy that there’s not much of a chance for socialization, but no one is doing the polar opposite, either. THAT’S A PLUS, RIGHT?
- I am bothered by the fact that Rick isn’t calling Shaun back. Shaun calls it a little wrinkle, but I would offer up that it’s a terrible, horrible, no-good thing. Dude, Rick must know something about what After the End Times has been doing, and it must have reached the President, and I’m guessing that’s why he doesn’t want to reach out to Shaun in any way that would connect the presidency with After the End Times. Well, any way aside from the fact that Rick once worked for them.
- “The waiting ended a little over two weeks after…” I don’t even want to find out what ended the waiting. I just don’t. It’s going to be terrible.
- Oh, it’s Mahir calling. I bet one of the scientists he talked to came up with something.
- “About bloody time, Mason. Come get me.”
- Hahaha what.
- “I’m at the Weed Airport.”
- no you
- You can’t be there.
- DOES WEED EVEN HAVE AN AIRPORT.
- Holy shit, I just looked it up on Google Maps, and IT DOES. Also, Lake Shastina is nearby, and that name makes me laugh so hard. It’s like the tiny kid sister of Lake Shasta.
- Okay, right, WHY IS MAHIR AT THE FUCKING AIRPORT? No, no, there is absolutely no way that this can be a good thing. HOW DID HE EVEN GET AWAY WITH THIS? Like, isn’t flying internationally a difficult thing to pull off? Yes? Yes?
- More worldbuilding, this time about airports. You have no idea how much I love getting information about stuff like this.
- “No. No, I am not okay. I am several thousand miles from okay. I am quite probably involved in divorce proceedings even now, I am present in this country under only the most tenuous of legal umbrellas, I am entirely unsure as to what time zone I am in, and I want nothing more than to rewind my life to the point at which I permitted myself to first be hired by one Miss Georgia Mason.”
- It’s worse. It’s so much worse than I expected. What happened? Why did Mahir come to the States? I am REMARKABLY UPSET, and I don’t even know what for. What did he discover? Was he truly running from something?
- Of course I don’t find out immediately. Mahir is so exhausted that it’s as if his body is going to fall apart at any given moment. This is so fucked up, y’all. Grant does a fabulous job, by the way, of conveying Mahir’s physical state. Strangely, I can’t be excited about Mahir’s presence. I like him, and in another context, I’d be overjoyed that he was joining the group in Weed, but the circumstances are no fun. They are, if I might say, the opposite of fun.
- Oh shit, Mahir’s actually talking about the scientists. I thought Grant would save this for another chapter.
- Awesome, the first one disappeared after Mahir possibly proved him wrong. That’s comforting. The second doctor thought Dr. Abbey’s research was “sound, if a bit overly dramatic,” but he was deported. Let me guess: he didn’t really commit tax evasion or have improper work permits. So what about the third scientist?
- “He read the files. Three times. And then he called me, told me his conclusions and where he’d sent his data, hung up the phone, and shot himself.”
- my god.
- “We were all refugees now. None of us would stop running until all of us did.”
- Fuck. Fuck.
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