Minutes To Burn Part 44

Ramoncito groaned and began to strip down. Rex watched him for a few moments before following suit.

Cameron awakened with the helo blowing sheets of wind across her body. Guided by the IR strobe, it flew low over the road, landing in the gra.s.sy field between base camp and the air vesicle. A soldier sat crouched behind the M-60 mounted in the door.

Three figures scurried from the helo, running to her body under the yellow blanket of the spotlight, white bands with red crosses standing out on their arms. They stopped dead in their tracks, Berettas drawn, when they saw the mantid's body beneath the tree. One shouted back to the gunner and two men emerged with flamethrowers. Cameron coughed, her throat lined with dirt and blood.

The flamethrowers burst to life with sporadic belches, obliterating the remnants of the virus from the base camp. Cameron raised a weary hand and held up two fingers, then pointed in the directions of Ramn and Floreana's house and of the specimen freezer-the two additional sites that needed to be sterilized by fire. One of the soldiers nodded and jogged off down the road, flamethrower in hand. This was all relevant, she realized, only if the water samples had come in clean.

Two figures moved in cautiously, eyes on the creature, and lifted Cameron onto a stretcher. Cameron tried to speak, to tell them where Justin was buried-that despite her last correspondence with Samantha, he was still alive-but her throat was caked with dust and no sound came out. Despite her protestations, they carried her briskly but carefully back to the helo. Behind her, the flamethrower claimed the mantid's body.

Cameron thrashed on the stretcher. "Stop, we have a man down," she managed to croak, but her voice was barely audible over the burst of the flamethrowers and the whir of the rotors. She pointed to the mound of upturned soil under which Justin was buried, but they moved right past it. Her and Derek's old tent was ablaze, along with the note she'd pinned to it.

She threw herself from the stretcher, grunting when she hit the ground. Justin's body was buried about ten feet away. The figures stopped, concerned, then leaned over her. She saw a needle flash in a gloved hand-a sedative. She rolled on her back, swinging roughly, and the figures backed off.

She turned and pulled herself toward Justin's grave, feeling the pinch of the needle in her a.s.s. The world blurred and swam. She fought off unconsciousness, dragging herself forward with b.l.o.o.d.y fingernails. The figures waited for her to pa.s.s out.

Grunting, she yanked herself toward the plastic tube that protruded from the ground. Spots dotted her vision. She finally reached it and swiped away a handful of dirt, revealing the edge of Justin's cheek. One of the figures crouched over him, checking his neck for a pulse.

Cameron felt her body floating away.

Strapped to the stretcher, she came to when the Blackhawk struck pave-ment at Baltra. One of the corpsmen fiddled with an oxygen line. She leaned over Cameron and checked her pupils with a penlight, first pulling on a second set of latex gloves.

Resting in the tangle of an oxygen tube on her chest was a transparent Ziploc bag that held her necklace and wedding ring. The corpsman must have removed them from her neck to get a clear line to her pulse. Afraid the ring would get lost with all the activity, Cameron reached out weakly and fought the bag open, pus.h.i.+ng the ring onto her finger. The necklace slid from her chest, falling to the helo floor. She wasn't used to wearing the ring properly-it felt large and unwieldy, yet comforting.

Cameron rolled her head limply to the side. Justin lay on the stretcher across the helo, his gla.s.sy eyes staring up at the roof. His face was pallid, like a corpse's, and awash in sweat and dirt. Cameron's eyes traveled down to his fingernails. They were blue; he was shunting blood to his heart and brain. A single tear rolled from the corner of his eye, but he did not blink.

"Baby," she said, her voice choked and broken. She sniffed and wiped the mucus roughly from her upper lip. Justin's body stiffened as a wave of pain wracked him, his thighs straining the vinyl straps, his back arched and contorted. His eyes seemed drugged, insensate, and for a moment Cameron thought she'd lost him already despite the steady blip of the monitor.

The soldiers disembarked, hardly taking note of them.

Cameron cleared her throat and fought to enunciate, but her words still came out a scratchy drawl. "Baby," she said. "Baby, look at me. Look at me."

A glimmer of recognition rippled through his eyes, and Cameron bit her lip, fighting not to sob from relief. He turned, his eyes finding hers. A thin line of drool dangled from the side of his mouth.

"That's right," she breathed. "Just look at me. Look at me."

He watched her, his eyes lit through with pain. Weakly, he raised a trembling hand. It hovered in the s.p.a.ce between their stretchers, reach-ing for her. Despite the excruciating pain in her shoulder, she reached for him too. For an instant, there was nothing else-no noise, no pain, no hammering rotors overhead, just the feeling of her husband's hand in hers, his eyes on her face.

The door swung open, and she saw a montage of images in the night-Rex sprinting for the open helo door, the B1 bomber on the tar-mac ready for takeoff, Diego lying down before the plane, his wrists handcuffed around the forward landing gear. It seemed as if Rex and Diego were wearing only boxer shorts.

Cameron blinked lazily, trying to make sense of everything. The bomber should already have taken off; it should have been heading to Sangre de Dios by now, bearing the neutron bomb in its belly. Diego must have delayed the takeoff by handcuffing himself to the wheel. A UN soldier pinned down Diego's arms with his knees as another strug-gled to undo the cuffs with a key. They came free, and the soldiers dragged Diego away struggling and shouting. A b.u.t.ton popped from the soldier's s.h.i.+rt, pattering on the tarmac. Ramoncito, wearing a dirty pair of underwear, ran forward from seemingly nowhere, pounding one of the soldiers' backs weakly with his fists.

The bomber rolled forward, engines revving for the takeoff.

Rex stumbled up to the door, shoving the corpsman aside. Water dripped from his hair. "The water samples are clean," he said. "All of them."

Cameron tried to smile but couldn't.

"Did you exterminate the carriers?" he asked.

Cameron fought against the haze. She raised a pale hand and flashed a weak thumbs-up. Behind them, the B1 roared into its takeoff, engines screaming, cutting through the night air like a scythe. Justin mumbled something, but it was lost in the noise.

Diego kicked free from the UN soldiers and ran for the helo, his sleek ponytail bouncing, Ramoncito at his heels. "Did you do it?" Diego screamed. One of his elbows was bleeding, sc.r.a.ped by the tarmac.

Rex pulled out his bottom lip and removed the small disk of the transmitter from where he'd wedged it against his gums. Holding it in the palm of his hand like a jewel, he activated it, telling the operator to patch him through to Samantha. His leg hammered up and down nerv-ously as the B1 grew smaller over his shoulder.

On the runway, the Minutes to Burn electronic billboard sat blank, awaiting another morning, another reading. Diego muttered Spanish curses under his breath as they waited. Finally, Samantha's voice clicked through.

"They're back," Rex said. "The virus reservoir was exterminated. We're clear."

The phone rustled against Samantha's s.h.i.+rt, but they could still make out her yelling through the window at Secretary Benneton.

The B1 faded in the night, the blinks on the wingtips almost out of sight. Diego watched it go, clearly fighting off panic.

"He just issued the order to abort," Samantha said.

Diego's face went limp with relief. He began to sob with a slow urgency. Ramoncito leaned against him, burying his face in his side.

"I want you, Dr. Rodriguez, the boy, and Cameron to come straight here for tests. The C-130 is standing by."

Rex turned. "Yes," he said. "I see it."

A corpsman jogged over from the C-130. "How many cots should we prepare?"

Rex looked inside the helo, noticing for the first time how empty it was.

When the corpsman asked again, his voice was full of dread. "How many cots?"

Cameron nodded weakly.

"Two," Rex said. When he spoke again, his voice was little more than a whisper. "Just two."

In the distance, the sound of the B1's engines s.h.i.+fted, rising to a sharper pitch. The plane banked high and hard, a broad sweeping arc in the night, and headed back for the airport. Diego fell to his knees, his hair wet and hanging across his eyes in the front.

It was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

Reclined on carefully secured cots, Cameron and Justin were out cold before the C-130 even took off. The acceleration caused Rex to lean in the cargo seat, but he quickly adjusted. The plane climbed rapidly and circled the island before heading northeast toward Maryland.

Wanting one last look at the islands, Rex rose carefully and crossed to the small round window near the propellers. One of the corpsmen tend-ing to Justin urged him to sit down, but Rex waved him off. He peered outside, then turned and smiled at Diego and Ramoncito. "Come here," he said. "You've got to see this."

Diego was careful to keep his balance as he joined Rex. He reached out a hand, helping Ramoncito navigate his way from the seat to the window. The boy's wonder at the plane was evident.

Down below, the black ma.s.s of Santa Cruz was visible on the dark waters. Above the southern edge of the island, right near the heart of Puerto Ayora, the air was lit with dozens of fireworks, the bright sparks coasting to the ground like settling embers.

Diego instinctively reached out, ruffling Ramoncito's hair. The three of them stood and watched the brilliant flashes of light until the island pa.s.sed from view. Diego's eyes moistened when he looked down at the boy at his side.

"Happy New Year," he said.

CHAPTER 76.

--------------------- 1 JAN 08.

amantha was ready and waiting when an irritable male nurse arrived to unlock her from the slammer at nine in the morning. She stepped out into the hallway and took a deep breath, stretching her arms. It felt odd to be out of the confines of the room; it usually took her a few hours to adjust.

The nurse handed her that morning's test results-viral count: 0. Samantha rested her hands on his shoulders. "I'll always remember you," she said.

He did not smile.

She received a standing ovation when she pa.s.sed the staff room and she clenched her hands above her head like a heavyweight champ. As she pa.s.sed reception, one of the secretaries stood up, holding out a pink message slip. "NIH called this morning, girl," she said. "Heard you were available."

Without slowing her pace, Samantha snapped up the message slip, heading for the entrance.

Colonel Strickland caught her at the door, placing a firm hand on her elbow. Samantha had to tilt her head way back to look him in the face.

"Secretary Benneton was quite impressed with your efforts," he said. "He strongly recommended that we extend to you an offer to return as Chief of the DAD."

Samantha ran a hand through her messy brown hair, scratching her scalp. "You're not gonna much like my proposal for what you can do with your offer. Sir."

"I imagined you'd have...reservations." He raised a neatly-trimmed eyebrow. "Retiring?"

She laughed and pushed through the door. "Yeah," she called over her shoulder. "I thought I'd take up needlepoint."

Though she didn't see it, Colonel Douglas Strickland actually smiled.

"h.e.l.lo there," Samantha said when Maricarmen picked up the phone. "Where are my children?"

"Iggy and Danny are watching cartoons," Maricarmen said. "And Kiera is pretending not to."

Samantha tapped the sat phone against her ear. A few lanes over, a car honked.

"What is that? Are you out?"

"Free at last."

"I should get the children. They'll be so excited."

"I'd rather surprise them in person. But I'm taking a quick trip to Hopkins first."

"Johnny Hopkins Hospital? In Baltimore? What for?"

Samantha smiled. "To visit a friend."

"A friend?"

"Dr. Martin Foster. Don't worry, I'll be home soon."

Hanging up, she fiddled with the radio until she found an oldies sta-tion. The Carpenters came on, and she sang along with them, zoning out and watching the trees fly by at the edge of the highway.

Finally, she reached the hospital, parked the van near the Ross Build-ing, and found her way to the Infectious Disease Offices. She stopped outside the door, suddenly nervous. Looking down, she realized she was still wearing scrubs, and she cursed herself for not going home first to shower and change.

She entered and greeted the receptionist, a heavyset woman whose computer was framed with family pictures. "h.e.l.lo, Samantha Everett here to see Dr. Foster."

"Is he expecting you?"

"No," Samantha said. "Not at all."

"Well, he's in with a patient right now. He's booked pretty solid for the next few hours."

"That's all right," Samantha said. "I'll wait."

She sat down and picked up a People magazine. She tilted a bra.s.s lamp over so she could fix her hair in the reflection.

"Ms. Everett," the receptionist said, trying not to smile. "Or is it Dr.?"

"Either," Samantha said. "Whatever."

"I think I can free him up for a few minutes at the end of the hour." She scanned the appointment book. "But I'm not certain. Maybe you'd like to wait somewhere more comfortable?"

"Sure." Samantha shrugged. "Where would you suggest?"

The receptionist smiled shyly. "Maybe it's the mother of four in me, but I always like the nursery."

"Huh," Samantha said. "Actually, that sounds nice."

She left the office and crossed the street to the Nelson Building, riding the elevator up to the second floor. A row of chairs was arrayed outside the long window where expectant mothers and fathers could see their infants for the first time. Samantha sat in an orange plastic chair, tilting it back on two legs. She stared at the rows of gorgeous, smiling babies.

Closing her eyes, Samantha thought of the Darwin virus, safely frozen in the Revco freezer back at Fort Detrick. There were still many tests to be run so that they could better understand its etiology and pathogenic-ity. Maybe some of the infected dinoflagellates had survived and were out there now, floating around in the ocean, the virus ready to find its way into another species if circ.u.mstances allowed. She prayed silently that it wouldn't again rear its head. In her mind, she sorted through the events of the past week, searching for any mistakes she may have made, any errors in judgment. It was the heaviest burden of her job-making tough decisions when lives hung in the balance. Complete accountability was difficult, but she wouldn't have had it any other way. She wondered how long she had before another deadly virus found its way to her from the Kenyan jungles, the Amazon basin, the scrubby plains of Australia.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and she opened her eyes, seeing Dr.

Foster's reflection in the nursery window. He stood behind her quietly. She felt the warmth from his hand. They stayed silently like that for a few moments, Samantha sitting and Martin Foster standing behind her. Without turning around, she reached up and took his hand.

The peace was broken by a tray clattering to the ground somewhere out of sight. Iggy's voice sailed loud and clear around the corner. "Is this where the fat lady said mommy was?"

Kiera's voice followed. "It's not nice to say fat, you idiot. She was big-boned."

Samantha heard Danny laughing and Maricarmen trying to shush all three children, and a broad smile spread across her face. She leaned back in the chair, admiring the healthy newborns laid out before her, the warmth of Martin Foster's hand on her shoulder, the noise of her chil-dren growing closer. This is how it's supposed to be, she thought. This is really how it's supposed to be.

For the first time she could remember, she reached down and turned off her pager.