Page 82 of Deadly Strain

“Us?” Sharp said, turning to include her in their conversation. “Argue? Never.”

Hernandez held out his hand to her. “I’m really sorry, Doc.”

After a brief hesitation, she took it. “We’re good.” She turned her intelligent gaze on Sharp’s face. “I’ve heard this kind of thing before in the heat of the moment.”

“Oh yeah?” Hernandez asked.

Sharp was going to kick his ass. He opened his mouth to start the beating, but Grace got there first.

“Two years ago, I ended up in the middle of a firefight. There was this one Marine sergeant who kept yelling at me to get my, and I quote, ‘sweet American ass back inside the armored vehicle.’ I told him he could go fuck himself, but I wasn’t going without my wounded.” She laughed softly. “I thought he was going to strangle me, but after it was all over, you know what he did?”

Sharp and Hernandez shook their heads.

“He came up to me and said, ‘Good job, Sweet. Good job.Oorah!’” She smiled at both men. “Best compliment I’ve ever been paid.” She headed for her pack and began putting things away.

“That was when she won the Star?” Hernandez asked quietly.

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to take that as a win,” Hernandez said.

“Oorah.”

***

Grace glanced overher shoulder at the two soldiers standing several feet behind her. They were both looking at her with identical proud expressions on their faces, like she was important to them.

Tears prickled the corners of her eyes, and she had to pretend interest in organizing her pack to hide how much it meant. How much it helped with the difficult job ahead of her. Because the really hard part hadn’t even started yet.

Max would be here soon, perhaps in just a couple of hours. The work to identify how this strain of anthrax had been altered, magnified, and weaponized was going to take some time. Then they had to test the bacteria against all known antibiotics to discover if any could kill it or even slow it down. This would take up more time they didn’t have. Given the deaths of the discovery patrol members, finding a quick answer didn’t seem likely. In the meantime, they had to pray the creator of the anthrax wouldn’t use it before they were ready.

Even less likely.

Doubt and despair attempted to pull her down, but she refused to give in to them. She had a job to do and people counting on her.

She glanced around the cave, trying to picture how the equipment might fit into the space.

“How can we help?” Sharp asked, coming over to stand next to her. Hernandez flanked her on the other side.

“Well,” she began, “I think these stone benches will make the best working surface, but we’ll need to put down plastic sheeting to remove the possibility of dust contamination. If our CIA friend has some, we could start that before Max and his team arrives.” She shifted her weight, and a spear of pain shot up her sore leg. It was work to keep a wince off her face, but she couldn’t let it show. These knuckleheads, especially Sharp, would make her rest. There wasn’t time for that.

Hernandez nodded. “I’ll ask him. How much do you need?”

“I don’t know, guesstimating stuff like this isn’t a skill of mine, but it’s got to cover from here—” she moved to stand at the end of one bench, then walked about twenty feet down the wall and stood at the end of another one “—to about here, but a few extra feet wouldn’t hurt.”

“About seven or eight yards. Got it.” He headed out, entering the tunnel and disappearing into the dark.

“What’s the next job on your list?” Sharp asked.

She handed him a bottle of water. “You’re going to drink all of this while I talk.”

“They gave me a unit of blood in the medical center at Bostick,” Sharp told her softly, even as he opened the bottle and took several swallows.

“Not nearly enough. Did they give you any saline or other fluids?”

“Saline, I think, while I waited for the blood to arrive, and an electrolyte drink right after, but I don’t know how much.”

She harrumphed. “You need to eat too.”