Contagious by Scott Sigler Page A

originally been designed for on-site postmortems of infectious-disease victims. If you had an unknown, lethal contagion, it made more sense to analyze the corpses where they died rather than haul them to a Biohazard Safety Level-4 lab. No matter how secure the transportation, you were still at risk of spreading the contagion somewhere along the route. A portable BSL-4 autopsy facility, on the other hand, let you not only analyze the body on the spot but incinerate it as well.

A few seconds after Gitsh shut the driver’s door, the passenger-side door opened and a soaking Dew Phillips climbed in. Bits of ice clung to his bald scalp and the ring of red hair that circled around the back of his head from temple to temple. He looked tired, wet and pissed off.

“One survivor,” Dew said. “An infant boy, in the van on the right. Doc Braun, can you check him out? He’s not infected.”

“How do you know?” Margaret asked.

“Because if he was, Perry would have killed him. Just like he did the three people that were.”

Margaret sagged back into her chair. They were too late. Again.

“I’ll check out the child, Dew,” Amos said. “But I have to wonder why you government types can’t control Mister It Puts the Lotion in the Basket .”

“He put Baum and Milner in the hospital,” Dew snapped. “Maybe you’d like to try and control a six-foot-five murderer who can probably bench-press this whole rig?”

Amos shook his head. “No way. That alkie scares the fu-schnickens out of me. Make sure that psycho is gone from the house before I go in, or I’m not even getting out of this vehicle.”

“Tiny white man makes a good point,” Clarence said. “Dew, can your guys get the eunuch out of here?”

Dew nodded, tiredly. Margaret sat forward.

“No,” she said. “I want to talk to him first.”

“Forget it, Margo,” Clarence said. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“First of all, the man’s name is Perry, not the eunuch , not Mister It Puts the Lotion in the Basket and not that psycho . Second, nothing is wrong with me.”

“ Something is wrong with you,” Dew said. “Didn’t you hear me say he just killed three people?”

“Yes, and I also heard you say he didn’t kill the baby because the baby isn’t infected. He didn’t kill the boy who found Baum and Milner, and, I might add, he didn’t kill them, either. I’m not infected, so I’ll be fine.”

“No way,” Clarence said. “He’s probably drunk again. Dew, is he drunk?”

“If not, he’s on his way.”

“See?” Clarence said. “That’s it, Margo, you’re not going in there.”

“He’s right,” Dew said. “Forget it.”

“Quorum carries,” Amos said. “Moving on to new business, the chair recognizes Senator Gonzales from Topeka.”

“All of you just shut up, ” Margaret said. “We can’t have Perry killing the hosts. Someone has to get that through to him.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Dew said. “You can bet the next time he gets a sniff, he’ll be in handcuffs and leg irons before we track it down.”

Amos laughed. “Handcuffs? He’ll probably just eat them.”

“Handcuffs?” Margaret said. “ Leg irons? After the tortures that man has faced, you think you can get through to him by putting him in chains?”

“He just killed three people,” Clarence said. “Someone please tell me I’m not hearing this bleeding-heart-liberal bullshit.”

“Margaret,” Dew said, “you need to pull your head out of your ass.”

“Stop it!” Margaret shouted. “All of you, just stop it! We need to figure out why Perry is doing this, and we need to figure it out now. He’s my patient, did you guys forget that? I’m the one who kept that rot from killing him.”

“Hey, I helped,” Amos said.

Margaret waved her hands dismissively. “Yes, of course you did. That’s not what I meant. I know that Perry is extremely dangerous—I’m not an idiot. But since we discovered he can find hosts, he’s run loose. He could have taken off anytime he wanted to, but he hasn’t. And yet you keep him isolated from