Deadly Strain (Biological Response Team)

by Julie Rowe

  Great job, dickhead. Was he determined to fuck everything up today?

  He wiped the stupid grin off his face. “I’m sorry.”

  She glanced at him as she collected all the dirty bandages and moved back so he could pull up his pants. “Okay.”

  The word sounded forced to him, and she headed toward the hillside exit a little too fast. If he’d thought he’d gotten himself out of the doghouse with that sorry excuse for an apology he was wrong.

  “Shit,” he said, jumping as he tried to get his pants over his butt. “Grace, wait.”

  She paused, but only for a second.

  “Grace.” He finally wrestled his fatigues up and leaped forward to catch her arm in a careful grip. “I really am. Sorry, I mean.”

  Her blank face didn’t change.

  “Fuck, I’m no good at this touchy-feely stuff.” He ran a hand over his face. “I shouldn’t have acted like a sailor who hasn’t seen port in months. I’m such an asshole to even think that shit. How can I make things right between us?”

  Her shoulders relaxed and she blinked fast a few times, like she was trying not to cry. “You just did it.”

  “What are you apologizing for?” a voice said from behind Sharp.

  Hernandez. Just what he needed, a peanut gallery. Not.

  Sharp turned to head off anything else the moron was going to say. “Being an asshole. Your turn is next.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Grace keep going toward the exit with the garbage.

  Hernandez grinned at him. “Making time with the doc?” he asked in a confidential speaking tone of voice.

  Sharp’s reply wasn’t any louder, but it had a backbone of cold steel. “Fuck you.” He glared at his friend. “Say whatever you want about me, but do not disrespect the doc.”

  “Ah, shit, sorry, Sharp.” Hernandez looked genuinely hang-dogged. “I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Yeah, well, start, will ya? We’ve got to be on top of this and back her up all the way or we might all be dead.”

  “You bozos are too hardheaded for dead,” Grace said, coming back into the main cave. “I bet you’d even argue with Saint Peter at the Gates about being a wrong delivery.”

  “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 over her 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 in order 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, maybe in as few as a couple of hours, and 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 of them could kill the bacteria, or even slow it down. Again, taking 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.

  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 in order to remove the possibility of dust contamination. If our CIA friend has some we could do that before Max and his team arrives.”

  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.”

  “We’ve got MREs, is that okay?”

  Why was he asking so carefully? “It’s better than nothing.” She frowned at him. “Is something wrong?”

  He shook his head, then finished the water and grabbed an MRE and another bottle of water.

  He wasn’t arguing with her and seemed genuinely interested in preparing for Max’s arrival, so why did she feel like something was wrong?

  “So, what’s the next job?” he asked, a pleasant, cooperative smile on his face.

  She didn’t trust that expression at all. “We could move everything, so nothing is in the way when the team gets here. Thirteen more people occupying this space.”

  “Might get a bit cozy,” Sharp remarked, looking around.

  “We’re going to need to work and sleep in shifts, so setting aside an area for sleeping would be useful too.”

  “Good idea. There was a smaller room off to the right just as the tunnel starts. That might work. Is Max bringing anyone besides his A-Team?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Then you’ll be the only woman.” It was a statement of fact. An irrelevant fact in her opinion, but the way he said it, with just a touch of extra stress on the word only made her wonder why it was relevant to him.

  “So?” she asked.

  “So, stay within sight of one our guys, okay? Until I have a chance to see who’s on Max’s team.”

  Her jaw dropped open and for several seconds she couldn’t even breathe, let alone articulate how ridiculous his request sounded.

  “You,” she said, “are paranoid.”

  “I’m cautious. It’s my job to prote—”

  “Shut up,” she interrupted, tapping his meal with one finger. “And eat your food. Maybe a litt
le sugar in the bloodstream will aid your thinking.”

  “When did you eat last?”

  “While you were sleeping.” Sick of his overbearing taking-care-of-the-little-woman attitude, she deliberately left him and began moving things away from the area she wanted for the lab.

  He ate his food, drank the sports drink included and another bottle of water before going in search of the trash inside this camouflaged garbage heap.

  She was alone for the first time in days.

  The starch went out of her legs and she plopped onto the bench she’d been sweeping rocks off of.

  Fear was exhausting. It took a lot of energy to remain in a constant state of terror, and every time she thought she and Sharp were out of danger, something else would happen to make things worse.

  Unfortunately, worse seemed to be coming at them from every direction.

  Her emotions were all tangled up and not only that, but physically, she was at her limit. At some point soon, her body was going to shut down whether she wanted it to or not.

  “Hey, you okay?”

  She pulled her hands away from her face. Sharp was crouched on the ground in front of her.

  “Just running out of gas. I thought medical school was bad, but this is...worse by an order of magnitude.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, this kind of constant-alert shit will kick your ass in short order. Have another nap before this place gets busy.”

  “I thought I was okay, until I had more than two seconds of quiet, then I couldn’t even stand anymore.” Tears leaked out to wet her face, which made her feel even more inadequate and weak.

  One of his big hands reached out to brush the wetness off her cheeks.

  He frowned and felt her forehead. “Grace, you’re burning up.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  It took Grace a couple of seconds to process what Sharp was saying. Burning up? One hand sought out her sore leg. Pain radiated from the wound.

  “Shit. I need to see.” Hands jerking on her belt and the fastening on her pants, she jerked them down and bent to examine her leg. “Damn it.” The wound was puffy, red and hot to the touch.

  “How long has this been going on?” Sharp leaned down to look, then speared her with a furious glance. “Could you try to not die in front of me?”

  A kernel of anger flared inside her tired mind. “Could you try to not be an asshole? This—” she pointed at her infected wound “—is not my fault. You want to blame someone? Blame Marshall.”

  Footsteps approached, but Grace didn’t bother looking up. There weren’t enough of them for the men to be Max and his team. That left her guys and she wasn’t worried about them witnessing an argument.

  “Whoa,” Hernandez said. “What’s with the lack of pants?” He stopped several feet away, March next to him.

  “It looks like the doc’s leg is infected,” Sharp told them, his voice still tight with fury. “She’s got a fever.”

  “That’s a problem we didn’t need,” March said.

  “I don’t have any antibiotics with me,” she said, her own anger already burned out. All she felt now was tired and light-headed.

  “Will Max?” Sharp asked.

  “Probably Cipro, but I’m not sure what else.”

  “Here’s what you’re going to do,” Sharp told her in a tone allowing no questions or disagreement. “You’re going to grab that nap, stay hydrated and eat more often so you don’t fall over once the work starts.”

  Did he think she was going to protest? She tried to dredge up some energy to tell him he was acting like a jerk, but there wasn’t anything left. “Yes, Dad.”

  “There’s one other important thing the doc needs to do,” Hernandez said.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  His face looked pained. “Pull up your pants.”

  March’s expression matched Hernandez’s and she couldn’t help laughing. She tried to pull up her pants, as requested, but wobbled on her feet. That made her laugh harder.

  “You look fucking drunk, Doc,” Sharp said, pushing her hands out of the way, putting his on her waistband and getting her fatigues all the way up.

  She sat down and fastened her pants. “I wish I were drunk. That would be kinda nice about now.”

  Sharp helped her back to her feet and guided her with a hand on her lower back toward the alcove they were going to use as a crash pad. She loved his hands. His big, warm, wonderful hands. If only he trusted her a little more. She lay down on the cool ground. “Night,” she said, closing her eyes.

  * * *

  Sharp stared down at Grace, who looked too pale in the washed-out light of the cave. He stepped away from the sleeping area and waved at his team to follow.

  “She looks like shit,” Hernandez said without fanfare. “You sure she’s going to be okay?”

  “I’m not sure about much right now,” Sharp said. “Other than the fact that we’ll be up shit creek if things don’t go like clockwork from now on.”

  “Right.” March snorted. “Like that’s going to happen.”

  “Exactly, so we need to be on top of our game.” He looked at each man for a moment. “Be ready to help however you can, don’t wait to be asked. We also need to be ready in case this place gets stormed by any unfriendlies.”

  “I’ll work on a run-and-gun strategy if we have to get out of here fast,” March said.

  “We could booby-trap the tunnel and the other exit,” Hernandez said.

  “A firefight here would be...” Smoke let his voice trail off.

  “Suicide?” Sharp asked.

  “Likely,” Smoke replied.

  “Let’s get it done, gentlemen,” Sharp ordered. “Stay frosty.”

  His team dispersed while he went to have a chat with their CIA friend. Hopefully, Grace would get enough sleep to help her think with a clear head despite the infection in her leg.

  He took his time with the trip through the tunnel, taking note of the condition of the stone all around, the items sitting on the ground lining the walls. They could certainly put more stuff in the way, make the tunnel look unused and impassable.

  First line of defense.

  He arrived at the ladder leading up to the wooden hatch, then slowly lifted it up so he could see if anyone was around.

  No feet in evidence.

  Sharp slipped through the hatch and lowered it silently. He stood and listened for voices, but didn’t hear anything, so he moved forward through the building to the next room. Again, it was empty.

  The sound of men talking finally reached him just outside the main room with the seating area around the fire. CIA was speaking in Dari to someone, maybe the two teens he had working for him. He gave instructions for the arrival of the truck. Some of the men would be interested in buying a couple of the rusting hulks of vehicles for parts. They were to show them around and make sure they were given every courtesy, but they weren’t to be allowed to go into any other buildings.

  Some of the men were coming to trade and negotiate for more costly items. They might stay a couple of days.

  The boys affirmed their understanding of their instructions and went outside to watch for the truck.

  CIA came around the corner and stopped dead when he saw Sharp waiting for him.

  “One of my men asked about some plastic sheeting,” he said in an even tone to give no hint he’d overheard a thing. “Did you find any?”

  “Yes, I put it over here.” CIA didn’t hesitate to lead the way.

  He was a cool one, Sharp had to give him that.

  Sharp grabbed the roll of plastic and gave CIA a nod. “Anything else I should know?”

  “I believe your friends will be here in less than an hour. Some of them are pretending to be buyers while the others will join you in the c
ave.”

  “Have you been made aware of what we’ll be doing down there?”

  “Testing a cure for the anthrax?”

  “Hopefully we’ll get to that point. First they have to do analysis, then they start looking for an antibiotic that will kill it. It’s precise, dangerous work that could kill us all. I just wonder if you should send your two young helpers home until we know what we’ve got.”

  “If I send them away, the people who come through here might ask questions, become suspicious.”

  Sharp thought about it for a minute, then the perfect reason occurred to him.

  “Tell everyone the truth, sort of. Tell them you found out the strangers who arrived in the helicopter all died and you’re scared the boys were going to be next. Tell everyone to stay away for a couple of days until you know if you’re sick or not.”

  “And the men arriving today?”

  “If you wait to send the boys home until tomorrow morning, you can say one of your good customers got sick too.”

  CIA thought about that for a few seconds before, finally, nodding. “Yes, that might work. The threat of illness is one thing most won’t ignore.”

  “Good.” Sharp gave him a respectful nod and made his way to the hatch over the tunnel. His last view of the room above was of CIA staring after him with a thoughtful look on his face.

  The team had already changed the topography of the tunnel. They’d moved in several long lengths of wood and other debris. It wasn’t finished, but it was looking promising. He entered the main cave and rested the plastic sheeting against the wall. The team had finished moving everything out of the way and the place looked ready to be occupied by whatever equipment Max brought.

  He moved toward the hillside exit and liked what Smoke and March were doing with it. They’d added a few things to the inside side of the debris cover without changing anything else. One of the things they’d added was a long beam of wood they could use to bulldoze a quick route out.

  Now all they needed was Max and his escort of a dozen Special Forces soldiers.