Page 112 of Deadly Strain

The line went dead.

Grace put the phone down gently and turned to face Sharp. “He said this is all a distraction and we’re falling for it. We need to find the real enemy—Akbar. Marshall thought he wouldn’t be far.”

“What about Marshall?” Sharp asked.

She couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down her face. “He’s already feeling sick. He inhaled a huge amount of spores. I don’t think...he’ll last long.”

General Stone spoke from where he sat, unnoticed, on the far side of the room. “Marshall’s right. Go find me that bugger,” he said to Sharp. “But don’t kill him, not unless you have to. I want to have a little chat with him.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Doctor,” Stone said to Grace. “You’re going with the Berets. They may need your expertise.”

“Understood, sir.”

“However—” he pointed a finger at her “—no heroics.”

“Sir, I believe Sergeant Foster will sit on me if I try to do something noble like trying to save someone’s life in the middle of a firefight.”

“And take care of that hand.”

She glanced down. The back of her hand was covered in blood and a big scab had formed where the IV had been inserted into a vein.

“I will, sir.”

Stone grunted and waved a hand at them.

Sharp took Grace by the arm again and walked her out of the communications building into supply with Hernandez, March, Runnel, and Smoke trailing behind. He loaded her up with clean clothing, body armor, a Beretta, and extra clips of ammunition.

He marched her to the nearest bathroom, where she washed her hand and put a Band-Aid over the puncture hole.

She disappeared into another female soldier’s quarters and changed clothes. When she came out, she felt almost human again. “I’m ready,” she told Sharp.

“That makes one of us,” he muttered, then added in a louder tone, “We’re expected in the War Room. Those satellite pictures should be ready now.”

She glanced at him while he spoke and watched the muscle in his jaw bunch. “You’re angry?”

He didn’t answer.

She put her hand on his arm and pulled him to a stop. “Talk to me.”

Hernandez coughed. “We’ll meet you there.” He patted Sharp on the shoulder. “Good luck, buddy.” March, Runnel, and Smoke followed him.

Sharp scowled at the men, then met Grace’s gaze and crossed his arms over his chest.

“What?” she asked, matching his posture.

“This is going to be a bitch of a mission, and I don’t want you...”

“There?” she finished.

“In harm’s way,” he corrected.

“I’ve been doing that since I took the Hippocratic Oath. There’s a part that goes,I will prevent disease whenever I can, for prevention is preferable to cure. This is prevention.”

“You’re equating disease prevention to taking out a terrorist?”

“Yes.” She shook her head. “Jerk.” She continued walking to the War Room, Sharp grumbling behind her all the way.

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