Emma looks upset…

‘What for?’ Emma looks hurt. ‘You don’t think – I’m not judging you, for God’s sake! You were attacked!’

Wait… she actually believes you?

Emma’s shaking her head, staring down into her lap. ‘The police here have been scouring the island – they interviewed everyone at the resort, but no one saw anything. You said they were kids, right? Junkie kids?’ Her face twists unhappily. ‘What on earth were you doing halfway up the mountain in the first place?’

‘Ah…’ You close your eyes painfully, trying to get a handle on things. Clearly Alan’s been telling his own version of events to the cops – and fair enough, it’s the reasonable assumption to make. At least he believed you’d been injected straight away.

‘Do you mind if we don’t get into that right now?’ you ask instead, knowing it sounds suspicious. Emma looks unhappy about it, but nods her head.

‘Yes… of course. You must be exhausted. And I’m sure the police will want to interview you. I… I just…’ She squeezes her hands together so hard they turn white. ‘I just didn’t know where you were… where you’d gone…’

‘It wasn’t exactly planned,’ you tell her, unsure how much to say. Fortunately, your doctor chooses that moment to make his appearance.

‘Heard your voice from the corridor. It’s good to see you’re awake.’ The doctor walks into the room; he’s older, white-haired, with thick laugh lines etched into his mahogany skin. ‘My name’s Doctor Hamana, and I’ve been overseeing your treatment. Now you’re back with us… I have good news and I have not-so-good news. Which would you like first?’

‘Let’s hear the good news,’ you say quickly. Beside you, Emma’s tensed up in the chair.

‘Well, the good news is that your body’s responding swiftly to treatment.’ Hamana smiles encouragingly. ‘PEP **** work particularly well when the patient keeps themselves in good shape, and you’re, what, a martial artist? An athlete?’

‘Ex-martial artist,’ you tell him, unable to suppress the sudden flare of hope in your chest. ‘Well, MMA. Before that I did… other stuff.’

The doctor nods. ‘Well, it’s a good thing you’ve kept up the exercise regimen. It’s still early days, but we have an excellent specialist here at the hospital and he’s assured me your system has responded as well as could be expected. Better, in fact. We’ve already run a blood test, which shows negligible signs of HIV. With any luck, once we run another one in a few hours’ time, the **** will have finished killing off virtually all of the virus.’

You blink up at him stupidly.

Beside you, Emma’s mouth is working soundlessly. ‘So – so it’s actually worked?’ she stammers. ‘I thought – HIV was – I thought it was incurable!’

The doctor smiles down at her. ‘Well, technically it still is. And thirty years ago, the prognosis would have been much worse. But we’ve done a lot of research and made a great deal of progress since then, and even if the PEP **** don’t wipe it out completely, I’d say the future looks bright. You might have to take a few pills every day, but we can certainly get the virus down to undetectable levels.’

The word rings in your head. Undetectable. Hamana looks down at the clipboard attached to your bed. ‘That’s what we aim for these days. A viral load so minimal even a blood test can’t detect it – and as long as we get the virus under control, our antiretrovirals can make it stay there. It’s not a permanent state, and you’ll have to keep taking your medicine – but as long as you do, and your tests remain undetectable, you can even, ah…’

The doctor coughs, and looks slightly embarrassed. ‘Well. You can even have intercourse without any risk of passing on the virus.’ He’s very determinedly not looking at Emma.