Deadly Strain (Biological Response Team)

by Julie Rowe

  “I see her tracks,” Smoke answered.

  Sharp joined him.

  “She walked this far,” the big man said. “Then she started running.” He pointed in the direction of the route they’d taken from the cave.

  “What the fuck?” Sharp stared at the deserted landscape between them and the cave. Nothing. What the hell could she be thinking?

  “Only one reason to go back,” Smoke said.

  “Fuck me, Smoke, I can’t come up with any.”

  “To protect us.”

  She would too, do anything to protect her team. She’d shown her loyalty to them, to him, in a thousand ways. She wouldn’t think twice.

  Frustrated fury made his words come out sounding like they’d been mixed with gravel. “You think that Afghan got her sick?”

  “Or had something that could get us sick.”

  The goddamn woman was doing it again. Taking care of him by putting herself in harm’s way. When he caught up to her, he was going to spank her sweet ass until it was red and she was begging him to fuck her. Sharp radioed the base. “Base, we’ve lost contact with Major Samuels. We’re beginning our search for her.”

  There was a long pause while Sharp and Smoke began their run to chase down their doctor.

  “Say again, Sergeant?”

  “We’ve lost contact with Major Samuels.”

  This time it was General Stone’s voice over the radio. “Explain that to me, soldier.”

  Smoke had the balls to grunt a laugh.

  “Sir, we think she’s headed back to the cave.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know, sir. We’re following her trail.”

  “You sonsabitches don’t come back without her. Got that?”

  “Understood.” It was an order he was happy to comply with. After a few minutes Smoke said, “She’s a good runner.”

  “She found her stride the night we crashed,” Sharp said. “Kept up with me and stayed on my six like a tick on a hound.”

  “When’s the wedding?”

  Sharp couldn’t stop the grin. “Shit, am I that obvious?”

  “Yeah.”

  Sharp let his words rattle around his head for a minute. “She’d better be okay.”

  * * *

  Grace almost stepped on one of the men she’d killed earlier, and had to stuff her sleeve in her mouth to keep from screaming. Now that she’d stopped, her legs felt like noodles and her knees were telling her enough was enough. But she wasn’t quite done.

  She still had to dispose of the grenade in her hand. At least the cave was only a little farther. She could even see the narrow entrance from this angle.

  If she didn’t do this quick, she might lose her nerve and not do it at all.

  The climb up to the entrance was almost more than she could manage, but she got there, glanced over her shoulder and saw the last thing she wanted to see.

  Sharp and Smoke running toward her, only a couple hundred yards away.

  “No!” She turned and showed them what was in her hand. “It’s got no pin.”

  Did that stop them? No, of course not, not big, bad extra Special Forces soldiers. They didn’t hesitate as they climbed up to stop only a few feet away.

  She stared at them, utterly defeated. “You two are the stupidest people I know.”

  Sharp looked at the grenade. “I wouldn’t throw stones if I were you, princess.”

  “I didn’t pick this up for fun, asshole. That Afghan handed it to me right before he died. It’s got no pin, so it’s going to go off. I was trying to do it somewhere safe for everyone, but no,” she said, trying and failing to stuff the fear and horror overtaking her back inside. “You morons have to run to my rescue.” She barely got the last word out around the choke point in her throat.

  She wasn’t going to make it, wasn’t going to be able to stop the tears or the howls of pain for much longer. If she didn’t get rid of them, they were going to see everything, he was going to see every nightmare and hopeless fantasy she had. She pointed in the general direction of the base. “Not this time. Get lost. Go home, or whatever.”

  “Either you have a fever again or you’re so exhausted you don’t know what you’re saying,” Sharp told her with a shake of his head. “Because we’re not leaving without you.”

  Goddamn stubborn man.

  Despair pulled all the starch from her bones and she sagged against the rocks lining one side of the mouth of the cave. A sob escaped its captivity deep in her chest and she hastily slammed the door on the rest. Nothing could stop the tears from coursing down her face.

  Sharp took a step toward her and she pushed away. “No, I could be contaminated with spores. Don’t touch me.”

  He froze for a moment, then let his hand drop as he growled, “I’m not leaving you to do this alone.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “I outrank you. I order you to leave,” she yelled, desperate, willing to do anything to convince him to go.

  He snarled at her. “You promised to follow my commands in situations where I’m the expert.”

  He wasn’t going to go. She could see it in his eyes, in the set of his face. He smiled, a long, sad upturn of his lips, and turned to Smoke. “Get us some support here.”

  “You sure, boss?”

  “Never more sure in my life.”

  Smoke left.

  “Okay, sweetheart,” Sharp said to her as if they were discussing a plumbing problem and not the instrument of their death. “Let’s have a look at this grenade.”

  She wanted to smack his face. She wanted to kiss the living daylights out of him. She settled for holding out the grenade and wiping cold tears off her face. “You are so stupid.”

  “Nope,” he said, giving the device a thorough examination, though it was still in her hand. “Just a schmuck in love.”

  “What?” He couldn’t have said what she thought he’d said.

  He smiled again. “Speaking of which, will you marry me?”

  Speechless, her jaw opened and closed a couple of times, before she managed to snap it closed and say from between her teeth, “Not funny.”

  “Not joking.”

  “Ha. We’re both going to die.”

  His expression turned serious. “How sure are you of that?”

  She lost her righteous anger in a heartbeat. “The possibility is good.” She swallowed hard and begged, “Please, I...I love you.” The last two words came out as a whisper. She cleared her throat. “Let me finish this alone.”

  He put his hand over hers on the grenade. “Could you let me do it alone?”

  Bastard. Smart, stubborn bastard, he had to know how she felt or he wouldn’t have asked the question. “No.” Her shoulders sank. “This is going to kill us both.”

  He didn’t respond to her prediction, but asked, “Do you have a plan?”

  “Nothing past getting here, throwing the grenade inside and running for my life.”

  “That’s not bad. Let’s see if it would work.” He moved past her and into the cave. A flashlight came on and he led her inside a few feet until the walls of the cave expanded a bit.

  “If we throw it up against that side,” he said, pointing to the right. “The blast might deflect off this side and back in on itself rather than funneling outside.”

  “Okay.”

  He pointed the light at her, just below her neck, and watched her for a moment. “You look tired, sweetheart.”

  She was so tired. “Yeah, I’m going to crash soon.”

  “It’s almost over, darlin’.”

  He made it sound like something was going to change, but they were both inside the nightmare now. “I don’t even know what that would feel like.” />
  “We’ll both be able to rest soon,” he said, coming close and tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

  “I’ve killed you,” she whispered, leaning into his hand. “Rest isn’t something I’m ever going to have again.”

  “Won’t know until we get there.” Sharp took the grenade out of her hand. One second she had it, the next he did. “Out. I’m going to throw this thing in ten, nine, eight...”

  She ran.

  Seven, six, five, four, three, two, one...

  Sharp flew out of the cave and flattened himself over her, huddled against the exterior wall of rock just as an explosion blasted sound, rocks and dirt around them.

  Sharp tugged at her and they scrambled down the slope and away as fast as they could go. After a couple of hundred yards, Grace ran out of air, strength and everything else.

  “I’ve got nothing left,” she said, folding in on herself and sitting on her butt on the ground.

  “Okay,” Sharp said, reaching into his pack and pulling out a bottle of water. He took a swig and handed it to her. “We’ll wait here for the cavalry.”

  She nodded, breathing hard. “Make sure they’re wearing bio-suits.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He sat down next to her, then pulled her into his lap, his arms around her, his head resting on top of hers.

  She relaxed into his embrace. This might be the last time she had to be close to him, to feel his chest rising and falling with each breath, to hear his heart beating under her ear.

  She cried a little more and soaked in the nonsensical words he murmured into her ear. She calmed after a while and he asked, sounding no more curious than if he asked her for the temperature, “How long until we know if we’re going to die?”

  She sniffed and tightened her arms around him. “A few hours. Not long.”

  “Don’t cry, darlin’. Wherever you go, I go.”

  Chapter Thirty

  The bag of saline hanging above Grace’s head was almost empty. She frowned at it. When had she gotten an IV? There were three smaller bags next to it, Cipro, doxycycline and penicillin.

  Voices, their volume rising with every word, drew her attention to a knot of uniformed men standing about ten feet away. Though they could have been farther, the room looked a little fuzzy.

  “She’s been scrubbed head to toe and she’s getting massive doses of antibiotics. What more do you want?”

  Huh. If that wasn’t Sharp, she’d eat her boots.

  “She could be infectious and she should be isolated,” someone else argued.

  “She doesn’t even have a cough,” Sharp shot back. “Standard isolation procedures work just fine.”

  “You’re a sniper, not a doctor.”

  “I’ve been working with an infectious disease specialist for months who was happy to share her knowledge. If you’d like more information, why don’t you ask her? She’s right over there.” He pointed at her.

  Grace looked at herself. Someone had removed her clothes and dressed her in a hospital-style gown. Her skin looked as if it had been scrubbed hard, the dirt and sand embedded under her fingernails, gone.

  No sores visible.

  She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. No coughing either.

  “He’s right,” she said.

  The whole group stopped their arguing to look at her.

  “I’m asymptomatic. I pose only minimal risk.” She smiled at them. “If I start hacking up blood and form bleeding sores on my skin, feel free to stick me in a plastic bubble.”

  Sharp folded his arms over his chest and gave the officer a fuck you grin. “Colonel Maximillian will be here in an hour. You can check with him if you want, but we’re following his infection control protocol to the letter.”

  The officer finally left, the others following him.

  Sharp waited until they were gone before walking over to sit on the floor next to her gurney.

  They weren’t in the infirmary on the base, there was no noise from other medical staff or patients. Someone had set up portable hospital curtains on all four sides of her gurney, making it look like she was inside a box.

  “Where, exactly, are we?”

  He smiled at her. A much too happy smile. “We’re in what used to be the supply room for the infirmary.”

  “Oh.” She studied the grin on his face. Was he high? “How long have I been here?”

  “Six hours.”

  That had her blinking.

  He laughed. “After we detonated the grenade, you kind of crashed.”

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  “It didn’t bother me. You ran out of gas. No shame in that.”

  His grin was starting to get creepy. “Did you sleep?”

  “A couple hours here and there.”

  “So, what, that fills your gas tank? Find a bed and get some real sleep.”

  “I will, as soon as Max gets here.”

  “Why are you waiting for Max?”

  Sharp looked at her and raised one eyebrow.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Paranoid much? No one is going to do anything to me for fear of getting sick.”

  “Still waiting.”

  “How’s Smoke?”

  “He’s good. Sleeping.”

  “Let me guess. As soon as Max gets here, you’re going to wake him up while you sleep so I can have a big, scary, silent Special Forces soldier stand guard over me.”

  “Yep.”

  She sighed. “How is...Colonel Marshall?”

  Sharp’s grin drained away. “He didn’t make it. Died a couple of hours ago.”

  “Oh.” Sorrow swamped her like a high tide. She hadn’t liked him, but she understood his grief for his son. Understood how it could eat at you and change the way you see the world.

  “Stop that,” Sharp ordered.

  “Stop what?”

  “Beating yourself up over his death. You didn’t kill him.”

  “Doesn’t make me feel any better.”

  “I thought doctors learned to compartmentalize, disengage their emotions so they can treat sick people with objectivity and a clear head?”

  “I seem to have lost all my objectivity when I met you.”

  “Ah, I’m heartbroken.”

  She was too tired to deal with his shit. “I’m going back to sleep.”

  “Nighty-night, Grace.”

  He was smiling again. She could tell from his tone he was damn near gloating.

  Asshole. She knew him now. “Just you wait until we play chess. You’re going to lose.”

  His voice followed her into sleep. “Sweetheart, if I lose to you, I win.”

  * * *

  “Grace.”

  She opened her eyes at her name. “Max.” She smiled. “When did you get here?”

  “About an hour ago. I had to bribe your watchdog into going to sleep.”

  “Smoke?”

  “No, the other one, the sniper.” He snorted. “The silent one didn’t require much convincing.”

  “I think Sharp was overtired.”

  “His alertness was in no way responsible for his overprotective attitude,” Max told her in a tolerant tone. “He follows you around like a puppy.”

  “He’s not a puppy.”

  “The question is, what do you want to do about it?”

  The thought of not having Sharp around to talk to, bounce ideas off of, with his strength and calm competence, induced an anxiety she didn’t want to entertain at all. “Do I have to do anything?”

  Max stared at her, his wise eyes seeing far too much. “What happened?”

  She thought back over the last few days. Where did she start? “A lot of things. Awful things. Amazing things.” Damn it, she was crying again. She wi
ped away the tears. “Did you find the man responsible for the anthrax? Was he one of the men with the grenade launcher?”

  “No. CIA has confirmed Akbar is responsible, but he’s nowhere to be found.”

  “Is he going to try again?”

  “That’s what everyone thinks. General Stone has ordered our team to take on some new members. You’ve been working with your sniper’s team to train Afghan forces for almost a year. Would you feel comfortable working with Green Berets as official members of our Biological Response Team? We need men with their training and ability to spot problems from a distance to pair up with our doctors.”

  “Yes. Absolutely. I trust my guys one hundred percent.” More tears. “I just wish I hadn’t lost so many of them.”

  “Sharp? Do you...trust him?”

  “With everything.”

  “Everything?” Max approached and asked softly, “Does he know you’re in love with him?”

  She smiled, but knew it was a weak effort. “It sort of slipped out when I thought I was going to die, but don’t worry. We both know where we stand.”

  “Are you sure?” Max’s gaze filled with brotherly concern.

  “Yes. He’s a good man. The best, we’re...good.”

  “What about this Smoke?”

  “Oh, he’s a brother. He’s harmless.”

  Max shook his head. “If you believe that, you need a lot more sleep.” He got up and took a few steps away.

  “Wait,” Grace said. “What did you discover about the anthrax? I thought it wasn’t susceptible to Cipro.”

  “It is, just not alone. As you suggested, I tried a cocktail of ciprofloxacin, doxycycline and penicillin boosted with a beta-lactamase inhibitor. The sensitivity test worked, so as soon as you got to the base, I had the doctors here start infusing you with all three. It seems to have worked to prevent the anthrax from getting a foothold in your lungs.”

  “Did you find spores on my skin? Clothing?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sharp?”

  “Far less on him, so he’s taking oral Cipro rather than in an IV.”

  “What about the grenades that Sharp stopped from being lobbed in here?”

  “Also tested positive for spores. We found a dozen of them.”

  “Oh my God. He’s insane.”