Page 91 of Deadly Strain

She smiled at Smoke, Hernandez, and the other soldiers she knew as she walked by. They smiled or gave her thumbs up in return. The ones she didn’t know nodded respectfully to her, which surprised her enough that her nods back were probably more than a little wobbly.

As soon as she and Sharp were away from the lit area of the cave, darkness made walking difficult and she found herself standing alone, trying to see where Sharp went. He surfaced out of the dark, took her hand and tugged her along behind him.

Then she realized he must be wearing his night vision goggles. “Hey,” she whispered. “Got a pair of those goggles for me?”

He didn’t answer audibly, just squeezed her hand, but she figured that was a yes. They slowed, then he put the goggles in her hand.

She got them on and slid past him and around a short corner of the rock wall to the hole in the floor of the cave. Ugh.

There was, however, a ridge of rock she was able to hook her IV bags to. Yay.

Sharp didn’t say a thing when she gave him back the goggles and he led her back to the main room of the cave. She expected him to drop her hand as soon as it was safe, but he didn’t. He kept hold of hers until she stopped in front of the plastic clean room. She tugged and Sharp set her free with a shake of his head.

What was his problem?

“How are you feeling?” Max stood on the other side of the plastic.

“Better.” She smiled. “Have you made progress?”

“Some. I think I know how this anthrax strain kills so fast.”

That was incredible news, so why did he look and sound so glum?

“And?” she prompted.

“And I don’t know if any known antibiotic will have any effect. I’m setting up a sensitivity test right now.”

“What mechanism makes this bug so deadly?”

“There seems to be an affinity for red blood cells, lysing them like a hemolytic streptococcus would. It might be leading to a rapid onset of sepsis that kills the patient.”

“So rapid the antibiotic can’t keep up?”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. If those first soldiers died of the anthrax infection despite the fact that they’d been given Cipro prior to deployment, we have a big problem here.”

“Have you tried mixing Cipro with other antibiotics? If it’s behaving like a strep, try penicillin boosted by a beta-lactamase inhibitor along with it.”

Max tilted his head to one side. “An interesting approach. One worth investigating.”

“Working with anthrax requires level-three containment facilities,” Grace observed. “Who could have made it?”

Max looked grim. “There are no official labs of that level in Afghanistan. The closest ones are in India. Anyone crazy enough to release this bacteria into a village to see what it would do, isn’t interested in proper procedure or safety.”

“What can I do to help?” she asked. She wanted to get in there and assist. She was feeling better despite the exhaustion pulling at her and making her knees wobble.

Max’s gaze shifted, following the small movement. “You can get some more sleep,” he told her, turning away to go back to the microscope.

“But—”

“Grace,” Max said, his impatience all but shouting at her from his partially turned body, as if he had to force himself to stop and talk to her. “I need you healthy, not on the verge of collapse. Have something to eat and let your sharpshooter and hispalstake care of you.”

The room full of men behind her went graveyard quiet.

“For a smart guy, Max,” she said, forcing a sunny tone into her voice that didn’t agree with her clenched hands on her hips, “you say the dumbest things. Do not shovemysoldiers into that crampedbarely necessary itembox in the back of your head. These aren’t some uneducated grunts. They’re highly trained and very intelligent.” She lifted her chin. “Now, apologize.”

“Apple what?” Max asked as if he’d never heard the word before.

“Apologize, Max. Sharp and the others deserve it.”

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