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slapping Logan, sweeping him off balance. His eyes went wide, white all around, as he teetered for a moment—his balance good in the exoskeleton, but not perfect, he wasn't as nimble as he'd been—and, in proof of that reality, he pitched back over the edge without a sound.
    Max had seen it coming but had no time to warn him, much less reach him in time. All she could do was throw herself toward the roof's edge, her hand extending out in front of her and over the side. At the last possible instant, she caught Logan's gloved hand in hers, and then he dangled seven stories over the city, a human Christmas ornament.
    Max's arm threatened to tear itself from its socket, in this effort to defeat gravity and keep Logan from falling. Alec and Joshua, moving quickly, each grabbed one of her legs and started pulling her away from the edge and thus raising Logan. Original Cindy and Mole had hopped to either side of Max, their hands extended down over the side, too, waiting for the first chance to get their hands on Logan and wrestle him back onto the roof.
    Max concentrated on holding onto the man she loved, just keeping him alive and letting the others do the work. As long as it was only their gloves touching, everything would be all right. Logan swung closer now, and Mole and O.C. each grabbed a shoulder and started tugging. Mole got a good hold and jerked, and suddenly Max saw Logan coming back up over the edge . . . his head flying right toward the flesh of her uncovered face!
    Lurching backward, Max jerked her head out of the way as Logan crashed down on top of her.
    They were touching everywhere, but Max wasn't terribly concerned about that—they were bundled up, and other than their faces, their skin was not exposed. They both moved carefully as they untangled.
    Max could see Original Cindy and the others shouting, but she was concentrating so hard on not touching Logan that she didn't hear a word anyone was saying now. Just as they slid apart, a gust of wind came up from behind her. She braced her body, but there was nothing to be done as the gale swept her hair up and into Logan's face, her stocking hat flying off and over the side.
    She could feel the electrical charge exchanged between her hair and his face, as her corrupted DNA met his vulnerable DNA. He gasped, and in that second of contact, Max died inside, knowing that those wisps of her hair had just sentenced the man she loved to death.
    Everybody froze.
    Her eyes locked with Logan's, and his look said that he knew the truth as well as she did.
    In less than twenty-four hours, he would be dead. They both knew the drill by now: they had been through it before. On two previous occasions, the symptoms had erupted and nearly done him in. Both times a miracle had saved him, but this time they knew no miracle would be in the offing. No one had discovered the cure, and the only vial of antigen that existed had long since been used up.
    Logan found his voice first. “I'm . . . I'm sorry.”
    That almost made her break down.
    She'd just killed him, and
he
was apologizing?
    Max knew, hearing those two pitiful words, that she couldn't get through this. There was no way she could watch Logan go down this horrible road again. First there would be the fever, then the chills, the sweats, the seizures, and from there on a rapid downhill slide to the bottom of the abyss . . .
    But after only a moment's consideration, she also knew there was nowhere else for her to go. If Logan was going to die, she would be at his side until the end . . .
    . . . even if it killed her, too.

Chapter Three
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    DEATH WATCH
    SEATTLE, WASHINGTON
DECEMBER 20, 2021
    That Logan's apartment seemed warm and cozy, made a bitter parody of the evening Max had envisioned for them earlier.
    After making their way through the underground passageway leading from Terminal City to the clandestine apartment, Logan—surprisingly, not showing any signs of the virus kicking in, as yet—had called his old friend Dr.