I’m following Plan B. In the event of a bio attack, don’t let anybody in. Your orders. I’ve sealed the airlock.
Suppose that I anticipated this event and took precautions. You’re immune to this.
Anybody didn’t mean me. Don’t be a cork-nut.
What are you doing? Open up!
Don’t be a moron. Let me in.”
What happened to her? What’s going on out there? Let me talk to her!
Where were you? Have you been in a fight?
You have no idea. Now let me in.
“She’s right here with me. She’s had a hard time.
She can’t talk right now. I can’t lift her up. I’ve had a few injuries. Now quit fucking the dog and let us in.
I'm counting on you.
Towards dawn, the door monitor beeped. Someone was punching in the numbers for the airlock. It wouldn’t work, of course, because Jimmy had changed the code.
Jimmy coded open the door into the airlock. Now Crake was at the inmost door. Jimmy turned on the airlock video monitor: Crake’s head floated life-sized, right in front of his eyes. He looked wrecked. There was something – blood? – on his shirt collar.
As Jimmy watched, frozen with disbelief, Crake let Oryx fall backwards, over his leftarm. He looked at Jimmy, a direct look, unsmiling.“I’m counting on you,” he said. Then he slit her throat. Jimmy shot him.