Page 17

T he constant hum and vibration of the helicopter’s engines changed, lowering in pitch and speed. Sophia glanced at Connor, and he went from asleep to awake from one moment to the next.

There was movement from the cockpit of the aircraft. Con shouted something at someone up there and her stomach flipped as they rapidly descended.

He turned to her and gave her a thumbs-up, but didn’t wait for any kind of a reply.

Okay, things must be going the way he wanted them to go.

She strained to see out, but there was no way to get a good view with all the equipment and supplies in the way.

A minute or two later the helicopter touched down. The doors rolled open, but all she could see was a cloud of sand whirling around in cornea-burning sunlight.

Con took her by the arm and helped her out of the aircraft. He ran with her until they were outside the radius of the rotor blades then yelled in her ear, “Stay here with Private Henry while we offload the bird. These supplies are worth more than gold here, so keep your sidearm in your hand and be ready to deter any potential looters.”

She nodded and removed her Beretta from its holster strapped to her right thigh. Henry positioned himself on her left and slightly in front of her. She made brief eye contact with him, then faced away from the helicopter and watched the crowd quickly gathering around their landing site. Men, women, and children, though the men were mostly older.

Con and the Marines began piling things around her. Bags containing the portable level three lab, more bags containing medical supplies, and her level two lab— brought along at Max’s insistence—and bags of rice.

The crowd shifted and a man dressed in quasi-military gear and armed with the same weapon Con carried walked toward her.

She pointed her gun at him. He came to a stop and took his hands off his weapon, leaving it dangling from his neck by the strap.

A hand touched her back, then slid around her shoulder and pushed her extended arms down. “He’s a good guy.”

She made eye contact with Con and nodded. There was still too much sand in the air for her to want to open her mouth to talk.

Con flashed a hand signal at Henry, who lowered his weapon a fraction also.

The man she’d stopped came forward and gave her a salute as he went past. She glanced behind her to see him join the men unloading the helicopter with Con. When she returned her attention to the crowd, she sucked in a breath at how quickly it had grown, and took an unconscious step toward Henry.

One Beretta and one semi-automatic weapon was never going to be enough to hold these people off.

The crowd surged again, but this time a half-dozen men came forward and toward her. They weren’t wearing uniforms or body armor, but they were wearing identical shirts with the logo for the medical aid group she knew was working here.

This time she didn’t point her gun at them.

Behind her, the helicopter took off, finally allowing the sand to settle. Too bad it wasn’t going to last.

Con patted her shoulder. “If we try to move the food we’re going to get mobbed, so the aid group is going to distribute it from here.”

“What about our stuff?”

“We’ll take it to their makeshift hospital while the food is being handed out.”

That sounded like a very smart idea. “Okay.” She grabbed up the smaller, portable level two lab bag, while Con and Smoke picked up the larger three bags with the level three lab components. River and the Marines all grabbed up the other medical supplies, and Con’s friend led the way into the camp.

She almost had to run to keep up with them, but didn’t complain. Something in her primitive hindbrain told her that predators were all around. They were waiting for an opportunity to take what she was carrying, even if it wouldn’t do anyone else any good.

They traveled along a beaten path in the sand, but from underneath a cobblestone road or trail occasionally poked through. There were rough stone walls and buildings on either side of the path at first, but after a few minutes, only tents were lined up several rows deep.

Ahead, she could see a larger tent with a large red cross painted low enough on the canvas that it could be seen from the ground or air. They entered a space between the medical tent and the ones clearly meant for individual families. There were few people here, at least fewer walking around. A large mound on the left looked oddly out of place.

Sophia came to a stop. She’d seen something like this before and really hoped she was wrong about what it was. “Is this a mass grave?” It wasn’t until the words were out that she realized she’d spoken out loud.

In front of her, their guide stopped for a moment to look at her. “Yes,” he said, without inflection. “We’ll need to dig another one soon.”

“How many bodies are in there?”

He shrugged and continued until just short of the tent, but in the shade.

Sophia looked at the mound for another second or two then followed at a slower pace. Con didn’t say anything at all, but he, Smoke, and River seemed to be looking all over. Same with the Marines. Searching for threats?

The temperature dropped enough in the shade to be noticeable. There were rows and rows of cots, more than she’d ever seen before. Most of those cots were occupied. Other than that, there wasn’t much inside the tent.

No IVs dripping fluid into the veins of the sick.

No food visible.

Very little water.

Not enough nurses or anyone ambulatory to care for all these people.

“We didn’t bring enough of anything,” Sophia said in a soft voice to Con.

“Agreed.” Con sounded as horrified as she felt. “I’m going to go back to the landing area and see if I can grab a couple of bags of rice. I’ve got one of the water filters and some purification tablets, so we’re okay there.”

“Can you ask for more food to be flown in? Rice, flour, MREs. Anything?”

“You’re in charge of this operation. You can make the request.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry. I forgot.”

Their guide snorted and looked away.

“Speaking of forgetting, Dr. Sophia Perry, this is Len Zobel, Special Forces veteran who now works for himself.” From the grin on Con’s face, they must be friends.

“I sure as shit earn enough to live on now,” the other man said with a playful grin. Then he gave Sophia a thorough once-over and offered his hand. “I wouldn’t have minded looking out for you, Doctor. You’re a whole lot easier on the eyes than any assignment I ever had in the Army.”

She shook it once, then pulled her hand away despite his momentary tightening of his grasp. Jerk . “Charmed.”

Both men blinked, then started laughing.

“Hot damn, ma’am,” Con’s friend said, saluting her. “I haven’t been put in my place that well since General Stone did it last, two years ago. I’d be pleased if you called me Len.”

“You can call me Dr. Perry.”

“Oh,” Len said with mock fear to Con. “Is she always this prickly?”

Con smiled. “You should see her with a syringe. My ass is going to be sore for a long time.”

Wonderful, now he was making it sound like they’d done something sexual and saying it to a guy she didn’t know.

“You can tell me all about it later,” Len said with a wink to Con. “We’ll be right back, Dr. Perry. I promise.”

She ignored him and stared at Con. Was this some kind of male bonding bullshit? Sometimes men were so weird.

“Why don’t you start sorting out your equipment and decide where you want your lab set up?” he said, glancing at Smoke and the Marines. “If you pick out a spot before I get back, these guys can get it started. River, you’re with me.”

“Fine.” She looked around, trying to find someone who looked like they were in charge, but all she saw were sick people. There had to be hundreds of them. “I need to talk to a doctor to find out what’s going on.” How on earth was she going to help this many people?

“Are you good, Sophia?” Con asked. The smile was gone, replaced by a frown.

“Yeah, shoo.” She swallowed hard and forced herself to focus on what she could do, not what she couldn’t. “The sooner you go, the sooner you get back.”

Con took one last look around, nodded at her, and followed Len out.

Sophia stood, duffel bags behind her, sick people in front of her, with one Special Forces soldier and four Marines who looked like they were holding on to their cookies by the skin of their teeth.

“Hello,” a voice called from behind her.

She turned to see a man in his early thirties with brownish hair hanging in dreadlocks and a full beard. His blue eyes and fair, sunburnt skin told her he probably wasn’t a native of the area. His surgical mask, gloved hands, and clear plastic rain poncho told her he was with the medical aid group.

“I’m Dr. Nigel Blairmore,” he said stretching his neck to look behind them. “Are you the promised military medical team?” He frowned as he finally met her gaze. “Where are the rest of your people?”

“Dr. Sophia Perry, Biological Rapid Response Team.” She gave him a professional nod. “This is everyone.”

Dr. Blairmore glanced at the bags around her, his frown growing deeper. “Is this all the medical supplies you’ve brought? We need more of just about everything.”

“One of my escorts and your Len have gone back to bring some of the food supplies here for your patients.” She pointed at the bags. “Most of this is my portable lab and other medical equipment. Now that we’re here, I’m going to make a list of the most urgently needed items and request more be brought as soon as possible.”

Dr. Blairmore crossed his arms over his chest and widened his stance. “Just supplies? That’s not what I was promised. I was told I’d get personnel as well as equipment. Nurses, doctors, medical supplies, food, and water.” He practically snarled the list of things she didn’t have with her.

“I don’t know who you talked to, but your requests would have gone through a whole list of people before they got to me,” Sophia snarled back. “I came here with everything I was allowed to bring. Including water filtration units and purification tablets.” She grabbed the right bag and opened it so he could see.

“Well, at least that’s something.” He gestured at one of the local men hovering around their conversation. He took the bag and carried it over to a large plastic tank that sat about twenty feet away from the medical tent, inside a tent of its own. The tank was about half full and wouldn’t be enough to keep a large number of people alive for long.

“Where does your water come from?”

“There’s a well in the older part of the camp,” Dr. Blairmore answered, his tone a little less hostile.

“Everyone in the camp drinks the same water?”

“It’s the only source.” When she continued to stare at the water, he added, “It’s been tested for parasites and bacteria. Other than a high iron content, the water was safe enough to drink short term. Still, that filter will definitely improve the quality.”

One possible infection source removed, Sophia turned her attention to the interior of the tent. “Where can I set up my lab?”

“We’re a little cramped for space. We’ve had thirty-three new cases in the last hour and we’re running out of cots, as well as space.”

“And everything else, it seems.”

“There’s probably a tent you can use.” He frowned as he studied her. “A lab? What kind of lab can you set up out here?”

“It’s a prototype portable lab with it’s own solar powered batteries. I have everything I need to identify the pathogen.”

He stared at her, his jaw slack. “You’re not a trauma doc are you?”

“I have a dual specialty in hematology and virology. I’m here to determine the cause of all of these people becoming sick and—” she glanced out at the mound, easily visible from the hospital tent “—dead.”

“We need that, absolutely,” Blairmore said, his tone cajoling, he even tried to smile, but the expression never rose past his nose. We also need frontline healthcare workers. Nurses, doctors, anyone who can help. If you put a good word in, maybe...” he left the sentence open.

“I’ll make the request, but your isolation here and the unknown status of the pathogen most likely means air drops only. Nothing and no one else is going to come in until I have identified the bug.

“Will that include nurses?”

“Doubtful,” She shrugged. “But I’ll ask.” She crouched down among the bags and pulled out her satellite phone.

Max answered on the first ring. “Colonel Maximillian.”

“Sir, it’s Dr. Perry. We’re on the ground and I’m at the camp’s hospital. Food, medical supplies, and trained hands to help with the sick are desperately needed.”

“Orders have come down, food and supplies can be air-dropped, but until you determine what’s causing so many people to sicken and die, no one new is going in. Identify the pathogen. That’s your only priority, Sophia. It needs to be done fast.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Check in with me every four hours. Good luck.”

“Thank you, sir.” She hung up and tucked the phone into a holster on her belt. When she stood Dr. Blairmore looked at her expectantly.

“They’re going to start supply drops from the air, but won’t send more human assistance until after I determine the pathogen responsible for this outbreak.”

There was no hiding the disappointment and frustration on his face. “Fine.” He glanced at the bags of equipment around her. “Do you need help setting up your lab?”

“No.” She pointed at Smoke and the Marines. “I have all the help I need.”

“Well, don’t take too long.” He turned and strode away.

“Can I get your records and patient files?” she called after him.

He spun around. “What for?”

“The Army always wants more info. It may help me convince the higher ups to send help faster.”

“Yeah, fine.” Blairmore headed toward a spot in the middle of the hospital tent where some pallets and boxes were stacked.

“What do you think of Dr. Blairmore, Smoke?” Sophia asked in an undertone that wouldn’t carry.

“Jackass.” Was the one word reply.

“Agreed,” she said with a sigh. “I’ve met his type before. They never make the job easy.”

Smoke grunted.

A local man came out from the area Dr. Blairmore disappeared to with a banker’s box in his hands. He set the box on the ground about ten feet away from Sophia, then hurried away.

Blairmore came out of his hidey hole of supplies and shouted, “Our records, so far. Some of the patient documentation is missing. We’ve had so many people we sometimes don’t even get a name before they’re too far gone to talk to us.”

She waved at him, happy to interact with him at a distance. “Thank you. I’ll read them here.” She quickly went through the box, scanning the forms for symptoms, treatment, and results.

A couple of people pointed, then ran out of the tent. Sophia glanced after them. Con, River, and his buddy were laden with sacks of rice.

Smiles graced the faces of everyone not wearing a surgical mask as the men came closer to the tent with the sacks. A woman came over and directed them to another tent about fifty feet away. Probably where they did the food preparation for the sick.

Con glanced at Sophia as he passed her. “I’ll be right back.”

She nodded and set the box aside. There wasn’t anything in view for miles, only desert. Casting her gaze over the camp only revealed that every available spot within eyesight with any shelter or older building was already in use.

Con came back within a minute. “You still here? Where are we setting up?”

“I thought I’d let you choose the spot.”

“Really?” His expression said he didn’t quite believe it.

She sighed. “To be honest, I’m not sure where to go. Nothing is closed off or easily defendable, so...”

He looked around. There wasn’t much to see. The tent was open until about five or six feet above the ground so air could circulate. Anyone could see in and out of the structure.

Con’s mouth pressed into a grim line. “No privacy or protection.”

“Privacy isn’t a huge concern,” she told him. “Safety is another matter.”

“I can’t promise you one hundred percent safety,” Con said, looking unhappy about it.

Little did he know, he couldn’t protect her from the deadliest enemy she had.

Her own body.