When I was a child, some of my teachers thought I must have been mentally deficient because I looked so weirdly underdeveloped compared to the other kids. Funny thing is other teachers (the only ones Sylvia would listen to) thought I must have been gifted — maybe even a genius — for exactly the same reason. You can be one thing and its opposite at the same time, it would seem. So it was with Ruth Baxter, both hero and villain that day in September.

Lindstrom ran, but was caught by Jo and Mina. It wouldn’t have mattered much if he’d gotten away; the story would come out regardless — that he was a fraud, that the secret of the longevity gene had died with Ruth Baxter — and at that point he would have had a hard time convincing anyone to follow his orders in spreading the virus. What’s more, Ruth’s vaccine and antiviral worked; he wasn’t even needed to provide that. The big showdown turned out to be an anticlimax, at least as it involved him.

Harrigan informed his clients that Lindstrom had been caught. He also leveled with them: Lindstrom was useless to them. Ruth Baxter had been the brains of the operation all along, and Ruth Baxter was dead. Harrigan was subsequently informed, in a terse, decidedly cold email, that he would be paid for his efforts accordingly.

“I don’t get the full wad since I didn’t take him out, but they figure they can throw some crumbs my way to keep me satisfied — and silent.”

He told me everything over warm brown drinks in that same dive bar in the Bowery that still somehow managed to stay open despite everything. Even at the end of the world, I could almost hear Jimmy say, there’s always a dive bar.

“You going to accept their crumbs?” I asked with a smile.

“You think I should?”

“Hell yeah.”

“My thinking exactly.” We were quiet for a moment; it was hard to keep up joking banter very long given everything that had happened, still fresh in our minds, and everything that continued to happen. People were still affected by the virus. The longevity gene would be rediscovered one day. The violence would continue. Life and death, same as always.

“What’s next for you, Harrigan? Are you going to pursue the fair Jo?”

I half-hoped to see him blush or at least become flustered, but of course he merely shrugged. “You Lao Women seem to like to do your own thing.”

This was true. Even though Jo and I were technically half-sisters, it was hard for each of us, after a lifetime of feeling isolated from other people, to bond just like that. We ended up parting with an awkward assurance that we would stay in touch, neither of us certain to what degree or how long this would happen. “She did tell me she and the other Lao women are helping Nell go into hiding — I don’t even want to think about what life is going to be like for that baby. She also told me she could use some assistance.”

“Is that what you’re going to do?” Harrigan asked.

I laughed. “No, that’s what you’re going to do. That’s what you can do with all that filthy corporate money.”

Harrigan chuckled too. “Not a bad idea. What about you, Jane? What are you doing next?”

“I’m going to look at some trees.”

He thought about that a moment. “The redwoods?”

“Maggie told you about seeing them?” He nodded. “Yeah, me too. She got me curious. I think I’ll go see them for myself.”

Harrigan set down his drink and looked carefully at me. “You don’t have to keep running, Jane.”

I didn’t say anything. I knew Harrigan was right, but it was hard to stop wanting to run away. And really, what did I think I would find among those ancient trees? Safety? Stability? Something in this world that would stay with me?

Jimmy came to me and stayed, and even though it wasn’t much time, it was enough that he stuck around for, quite literally, the rest of his life. Something that sticks around is worth another look, I think. Sometimes more than a look. Sometimes a smile, a touch, sometimes a day and a night and the day after it. Sometimes as much of your life as you can spare.

But no one sticks around forever. We all know that. When I left the bar I didn’t know if I’d ever see Harrigan again, or, for that matter, Sylvia or Jo or Nell. Part of me wanted to put distance between myself and everyone else, and is that so very strange? Whenever people came together, destruction resulted. Why would I want that?

Yet we can’t help wanting it. It keeps happening, this clash, this coming together, so we go on living with it, for as long as we can.