Payback (31 page)

“Negative.
She’s a target and your job is to get her to safety. Do whatever it takes, I’ll
back you. Now I’ve got to go see Shirley. Out.”

Dawson
joined the huddle, his men grieving an impending death, a death that might take
weeks, or never come. It was the uncertainty, the complete lack of control over
the situation that Dawson found the most difficult.

And he
wouldn’t be able to even comfort his friend for at least half a day.

Or
longer if Henderson continues to be a problem.

He
looked over his shoulder at Henderson as she spoke to the other doctor, both beginning
to gear up.

To
hell with this.

“Dr.
Henderson!” he called, walking swiftly over to her. “I have news about your
parents.”

Sarah
froze and he could see the apprehension in her eyes. He felt a little bad about
his delivery, but he was in pain and wanted to see the best friend he had ever
known, and perhaps a little dose of reality might convince her to not make this
situation more difficult. “Are they—?” She stopped, Tanya putting an arm around
her.

“They’re
fine. There was an attempt on your father’s life, but one of my men stopped it.
Your parents are safe, but my man has been injected with Ebola.”

“Oh
thank God!” cried Sarah, collapsing to her knees as her friend supported her.
Tears rolled down her cheeks when she suddenly stopped and looked up at Dawson.
“Wait, what? What was that last thing you said? Did you say someone was
injected with Ebola?”

Dawson
nodded. “My second-in-command.” His voice dropped. “And my best friend.”

Sarah
reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing, Ebola protocols apparently
forgotten. He ignored the gesture, instead pulling her to her feet. “Ma’am,
you’re a target. As long as you’re here, the perpetrators could return to kill
you in revenge for their attack on your father failing. We need to separate you
from this location immediately.”

Tanya
squeezed her friend’s arm with both hands, looking at her friend. “He’s right.
I’ll stay, you go. It’s only a few hours.”

“No, you
can’t stay here! If it’s not safe for me, then it’s not safe for you either.”

Tanya
shook her head, putting her mouth to Sarah’s ear, her whisper still audible. “I
have to stay. After what I did, I just have to.”

Sarah
turned toward her friend, placing a hand on the Ukrainian’s cheek, then
suddenly hugged her tight.

Dawson
stepped away, his job done. “Captain, we’ll be leaving in two.”

Grimshaw
nodded, immediately radioing for one of the choppers to standby, both now in a
field behind the repurposed community center. He could hear one of the choppers
begin to power up as the two doctors finished their goodbyes.

He just
hoped he wasn’t returning home to say goodbye to his friend.

Outside the Republic of Sierra Leone Embassy, Washington, DC

“Is he contagious yet?”

“No,”
said the paramedic, shaking his head at Spock as Red lay on a gurney, something
he felt was ridiculous. He had wanted to go under his own power in the back of
the ambulance but apparently somebody somewhere had determined that wasn’t a
good idea. He agreed to bow to their presumed superior knowledge. “But he might
be contaminated. Just a drop of this stuff can infect you. I can’t allow it.”

Red knew
the man was right, and he knew Spock knew as well. They had both read the
briefing notes on the virus. He also knew he’d be doing nothing different if he
were in Spock’s shoes. He’d want to travel with his fallen comrade.

It’s
just what you did.

Spock
pointed at the man, dressed head to toe in a bunny suit with face mask, a
special ambulance having been dispatched since it wasn’t a life threatening
emergency. “Then give me one of those suits you’re wearing.”

“I
can’t. Protocol dictates—”

“Spock,
let it go,” said Red, raising himself up on his elbows, looking over at his
friend. “I’m okay. Just make sure my wife and kid get to the hospital safe,
okay?”

The
reference to his family nearly choked in his own throat, but it had the desired
effect, Spock nodding and immediately rushing away as a plastic transparent
bubble was pulled over his body.

He felt
like ET.

Now I
know why they wanted me on the stretcher.

It made
sense. The biggest threat of spreading the virus was from sneezing or coughing
up blood, or bleeding on someone through a leaking orifice. None of that
applied in his case, but the protocol was the protocol, and what did apply was
that there could be droplets of contaminated blood on his person.

It made
perfect sense and he didn’t begrudge these brave souls for doing their job in a
way that would not only protect them, but anyone else from becoming infected.

As they
had waited, McKinnon had kept them updated on what was happening outside.
Apparently a large number of the party guests had managed to get outside the building
before the lockdown could be put in place. The guest list was now being checked
so everyone could be monitored for the next several weeks.

He
didn’t envy them.

At least
he knew he had the damned disease.

There’s
no way I’m avoiding this one.

Now the
question was whether or not he’d survive. He knew the numbers were grim, as bad
as a 90% mortality rate, though with it being caught immediately, and being in
a country with the most advanced medical system in the world, he was much more
confident it would be closer to the 50% mark the literature said was possible.

Fifty-fifty.

He’d
take those odds right now if he didn’t have a wife and son depending on him,
but as he was loaded into the back of the ambulance, isolated from the world
around him, reporters gleefully snapping photos as gathered throngs held up
their cellphones to get their fifteen minutes of YouTube fame, he felt
dehumanized. With hundreds of eyes on him, he suddenly realized what his own
father must have felt like after his heart attack a few years ago. Loaded onto
a stretcher in full view of his neighbors, pushed into the back of an ambulance
while strangers and friends watched on, all the while trying to put on a brave
face, instead feeling completely humiliated inside.

And as
the doors slammed closed, the prying eyes of those who should never see you in
your most vulnerable state finally shut out, the cold, clinical interior of
what might be your final ride in a vehicle, a mobile coffin if there ever was
one, eliminated that last bit of humanity you were clinging to as people you’d
never met until minutes before asked you about the intimate details of your
life while hooking you up to monitors. And as a siren blared, the rear windows
you faced provided a unique view of life in reverse as you pulled away from the
cars behind you, as if pulling away from life, from existence, leaving you to wonder
if you’d ever see your loved ones again, wondering what would happen to them if
you were to die right here, right now, without ever getting to say goodbye.

Because
you had put on that brave face and acted as if it were nothing, when deep down
you were terrified you’d never see them again.

Today he
knew how his father had felt, yet at least he knew he wasn’t going to die soon,
he at least knew he’d get to say goodbye.

But the
thought didn’t comfort him much.

For the
first time in his life he felt fear. Genuine fear.

And it
threatened to overwhelm him.

The very
thought that his son might have to grow up without him, grow up to probably forget
him, to never be able to remember the love his father had for him, was
devastating.

A tear
rolled down into his ear, surprising him.

There’s
no crying in baseball!

His
drill sergeant’s voice echoed in his head, the line delivered during basic
training to the young recruits who had been broken down on their way to
becoming men. It was a lifeline thrown at his sinking self, allowing him to
refocus if only for a moment.

But it
was all he needed.

He had
never let the bastard see his pain.

And he
wasn’t going to start now.

He
turned his head toward one of the bunnies.

“What do
I need to do to beat this thing?”

The
paramedic leaned over him so Red could see his eyes through the face coverings.

“Fight.”

Belme Residence, West Luzon Drive, Fort Bragg

Shirley Belme closed the door of the dishwasher, hitting the button
to start the cycle when she heard car doors slamming shut outside. Glancing
through to the living room, she spotted Colonel Clancy walking up the driveway
with Maggie.

Maggie!

She
began to untie her apron, excited Maggie was back, when it suddenly hit her.

The
Colonel!

Her
heart slammed into her ribcage as she gripped the countertop, desperately
trying to hold herself up as her world closed in around her. The doorbell rang,
the sound distant, as if from another world, a world no longer hers, a world
that no longer included her beloved husband, for there was only one reason the
Colonel would be here.

Something’s
happened to Mike.

Her
knees gave out and she collapsed to the kitchen floor, the linoleum cold and
unforgiving as she slid along the cupboards, her shoulder coming to rest
against the side of the fridge.

“I’ll
get it, Mommy!”

Bryson’s
voice was as far away as the doorbell, the pounding of heels as her son rushed
down the hallway almost as fast as her heart. The door opened, voices faint
then a cry followed by feet pounding on parquet flooring.

“Shirley!
Are you okay?” cried Maggie, a hand gently lifting her face off the side of the
refrigerator. “Can you hear me?”

A shadow
crossed in front of her and she felt a strong hand grip her shoulder. “Mrs.
Belme, I need you to listen to the sound of my voice. Try to take deep, slow
breaths, okay? Deep… slow… breaths…”

The
Colonel’s voice was steady, strong, monotonous. His repeated words began to
sink in and she suddenly took a long, deep breath in, then slowly exhaled,
repeating the instructions as her world slowly came back into focus.

Suddenly
everything snapped back and she reached out, grabbing Clancy by the arm.
“What’s happened to Mike?”

Clancy
helped her to her feet then into a kitchen chair, Bryson, terrified, raced over
to her, hugging her as hard as he could, burying his head into her side so he
couldn’t see the others. Maggie knelt on her other side as the Colonel took a
knee in front of her, looking up at her tear streaked face. He took her hand in
his.

“Mrs.
Belme, Red is alive, but there’s been an incident.”

“Is he
going to live?”

“He was
injected with something we believe to be Ebola.”

Shirley
gasped, everything starting to spin again.

“Mommy!”

She
squeezed Clancy’s hand, hard, then looked down at Bryson.

Be
strong for him!

“When
will you know?” she finally managed.

“Testing
will be done immediately. He’s on his way to a hospital now that’s equipped to
handle this. They’re the best, and if he does have it, it’s been caught
immediately. I give you my word that everything will be done to save your
husband.”

Shirley
wiped the tears out of her eyes and stared up at Clancy for a minute.

“I’m
going to hold you to that, Colonel.”

She
pushed herself to her feet, straightened her blouse then wiped her eyes dry
with a tissue handed her by Maggie.

“Now
take me to my husband.”

Howard University Hospital, Washington, D.C.

Red held out his wrist as yet more blood was taken. He was hooked up
to an IV drip and half a dozen monitors, constantly being checked by medical
personnel he’d never be able to pick out of a lineup, their gear hiding them
from him. He was in total isolation.

He felt
like a lab rat, a specimen to be measured and examined.

In their
defense, the staff were excellent, always talking to him, trying to be
personable, but the down time was long and boring with entirely too much time
to think.

He was
scared.

Yes,
scared for himself, but more for his family. The idea of his son growing up
without him was crushing, of his wife grieving then moving on almost
debilitating in his imagined transgressions.

But he
would want her to move on, to be happy, to find a new husband who would take
care of her, and she him.

To be a
father to Bryson.

His
chest heaved once, just once, the thought of Bryson calling another man Daddy
killing him inside.

You’re
not dead yet.

He
thought of what the paramedic had said.

Fight.

And
that’s what he was going to do. He was going to fight this disease, he was
going to beat it, and he was going to kill the bastards responsible.

His
blood pressure and heart rate triggered an alarm. He glanced over at the
monitor and took a deep breath, slowing his heart rate back to normal within a
few seconds as he set the thoughts of revenge aside for now.

“Are you
okay?” asked one of the nurses, coming over to check the monitor.

“Yeah,
just thinking too much.”

She
chuckled. “That’s to be expected. But we need to keep your blood pressure and
heart rate as normal as possible, okay?”

“Yeah,
sometimes it’s easier said than done.” She began to walk away when he reached
out and touched her arm. She jumped. “Sorry, I guess I shouldn’t touch you
guys.”