Page 58 of Viral Justice

“Okay.”

She was much too agreeable.

He took the flashlight from her and shone it to one side of her face, then the other. Her pupils reacted normally and she didn’t seem to have any blood or bruises above her neck.

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure you haven’t suffered a head wound you hadn’t told me about.”

“Why would you think I have a head wound?”

“Because you’re cooperating without a word of complaint, and that’s the opposite of normal for you.”

Her frown turned into a scowl. “I’m trying not to be a pain in the ass.” She leaned forward, then said with far too much enthusiasm, “But I can do that if you prefer.”

“Well, shit.” He tried smiling in apology. “I really screwed that pooch.”

She snorted a laugh, then caught herself. “Stop that. Stop.”

He handed her the flashlight and took off his backpack. Most of his equipment and supplies had been in the house that had gone up in flames, but he preferred keeping his first aid kit separately in his pack.

He pulled out a suture kit and opened it up. He gave Ali a local anesthetic, cleaned the wound with iodine—call him old school, but he preferred it to other antiseptics—then closed the wound with six neat stitches.

He covered it with a self-adhesive bandage and took the flashlight from her so she could put her clothing back on.

“How do you feel?” he asked. “Light-headed, dizzy?”

“No,” she answered, meeting his gaze with ease. “I’m good.” She looked at the stairs leading up. “Check in with Tom?”

Max nodded and brought the radio to his mouth. “Tom?”

No answer.

“Tom?”

“Hi, Dad.” Tom spoke in Arabic, his voice low and careful.

Relief loosened tight muscles along Max’s shoulders. He was safe, but not alone. “How’s the weather?”

A long pause, then a reply. “It’s raining bullets all over the place. There are two separate firefights going on at opposite ends of the village. No sign of brother Bull.”

“Is the fire out?”

“Mostly. It spread to another house, but a few people finally got a bucket brigade going and threw some water on it.”

“What are the chances of leaving the village safely?”

“Not so good. I saw a couple of people try to leave. They were chased back into the village by some armed men who must be hiding in the hills around the village. That’s not the only bad news.” He paused for a moment. “There are a few bodies in the streets. Some of them are wrapped in sheets, but some are just lying outside doorways. Not all of them are the result of the weather.”

“How many?” Max asked, despite knowing he wouldn’t like the answer.

“I don’t know, twenty maybe.”

That many?

“Call me with another weather report in ten minutes.” He ended the call and looked at Ali.

“What’s wrong?” she asked him, her gaze sharp.

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