they didn’t let him take the shopping cart.
“Sure, I’ve got room.” The man climbed out of the van and slid open the side door, ready to help Billy. “You probably should climb in beside it and keep it from tipping.”
As Billy started to crawl inside, stepping over all the bags of ice, he tried to remember if any of the other cops wore khaki shorts and really nice deck shoes. That was his last thought as the rock cracked the back of his skull.
CHAPTER 11
NAVAL AIR STATION
PENSACOLA, FLORIDA
Benjamin Platt cut himself again as the tiny bathroom fixtures shook and clattered from the vibration. Overhead, the steady buzz of airplanes and helicopters taking off continued. There would be no break anytime soon, and Platt’s attempt at shaving was leaving him with enough nicks and scars that he considered growing a beard.
The latest weather reports had the eye of Hurricane Isaac heading straight for the Florida Panhandle even though the storm hadn’t entered the Gulf of Mexico yet. The base wasn’t taking any chances. The naval flight school had called in pilots, flight instructors, and even students to fly aircraft to safer ground. And this morning the admiral was adamant about moving the quarantined soldiers to safer ground as well.
Platt had escaped late last night to get a couple hours’ rest, though sleep didn’t come easily. He couldn’t get the image of the young soldier out of his mind. By the time Platt found Captain Ganz, the admiral had already called. Platt only witnessed the aftermath.
Ganz had been unnerved about losing yet another patient, but the admiral’s insistence on an evacuation of the makeshift isolation ward left the captain angry and frustrated. He was depending on Platt to find some answers and find them quickly.
Now as Platt headed over to the lab to participate in the autopsy, he felt a new weight on his shoulders. He hadn’t even had a chance to look at the blood samples. Ganz was in a hurry, not just to come up with answers before another soldier collapsed but also to beat the storm. Platt wanted to tell him to slow down. He wanted to tell him that sometimes these things took weeks, months to figure out. But he knew that was exactly why Ganz had requested his presence. The captain was placing all his bets on Platt discovering some hidden virus, some new deadly strain of bacteria. He expected a miracle. And from what Platt had seen in the short amount of time since his arrival, he knew—barring a miracle—there would be no immediate answers.
He kept thinking about the young soldier who died last night. They said he had vomited green liquid just before falling into a coma. By the time Platt saw him, he looked remarkably peaceful. A single groan escaped his lips while his body struggled to get enough oxygen. There had been no swelling around his incision. No fever, though it was apparent from the wet bedsheets that he had perspired immensely in the preceding hours. The pupils of his eyes were not dilated nor had the blood vessels burst. Only in the last hour had his heart rate slowed and his blood pressure plummeted. He never regained consciousness. Whatever had infected these young soldiers was deceitful, clever, and lethal.
CHAPTER 12
MONTGOMERY, ALABAMA
Gasoline exploded over the top of the can and splattered on Maggie’s shoes before she snapped the pump off.
“Damn it, Wurth. Tell me again why the deputy director of Homeland Security is filling gas cans to haul in his SUV. Aren’t you supposed to be arranging for trucks and caravans of trucks to deliver things to the hurricane victims?”
“What victims? This is my personal stash. Just put that last can next to the stack of bottled water.”
Maggie slipped off her shoes and threw them in the back with the supplies. The asphalt burned her feet before she got back to the passenger side of the SUV. She opened her window despite the scorching heat. The fumes were already giving her a headache, and by her own
“Sure, I’ve got room.” The man climbed out of the van and slid open the side door, ready to help Billy. “You probably should climb in beside it and keep it from tipping.”
As Billy started to crawl inside, stepping over all the bags of ice, he tried to remember if any of the other cops wore khaki shorts and really nice deck shoes. That was his last thought as the rock cracked the back of his skull.
CHAPTER 11
NAVAL AIR STATION
PENSACOLA, FLORIDA
Benjamin Platt cut himself again as the tiny bathroom fixtures shook and clattered from the vibration. Overhead, the steady buzz of airplanes and helicopters taking off continued. There would be no break anytime soon, and Platt’s attempt at shaving was leaving him with enough nicks and scars that he considered growing a beard.
The latest weather reports had the eye of Hurricane Isaac heading straight for the Florida Panhandle even though the storm hadn’t entered the Gulf of Mexico yet. The base wasn’t taking any chances. The naval flight school had called in pilots, flight instructors, and even students to fly aircraft to safer ground. And this morning the admiral was adamant about moving the quarantined soldiers to safer ground as well.
Platt had escaped late last night to get a couple hours’ rest, though sleep didn’t come easily. He couldn’t get the image of the young soldier out of his mind. By the time Platt found Captain Ganz, the admiral had already called. Platt only witnessed the aftermath.
Ganz had been unnerved about losing yet another patient, but the admiral’s insistence on an evacuation of the makeshift isolation ward left the captain angry and frustrated. He was depending on Platt to find some answers and find them quickly.
Now as Platt headed over to the lab to participate in the autopsy, he felt a new weight on his shoulders. He hadn’t even had a chance to look at the blood samples. Ganz was in a hurry, not just to come up with answers before another soldier collapsed but also to beat the storm. Platt wanted to tell him to slow down. He wanted to tell him that sometimes these things took weeks, months to figure out. But he knew that was exactly why Ganz had requested his presence. The captain was placing all his bets on Platt discovering some hidden virus, some new deadly strain of bacteria. He expected a miracle. And from what Platt had seen in the short amount of time since his arrival, he knew—barring a miracle—there would be no immediate answers.
He kept thinking about the young soldier who died last night. They said he had vomited green liquid just before falling into a coma. By the time Platt saw him, he looked remarkably peaceful. A single groan escaped his lips while his body struggled to get enough oxygen. There had been no swelling around his incision. No fever, though it was apparent from the wet bedsheets that he had perspired immensely in the preceding hours. The pupils of his eyes were not dilated nor had the blood vessels burst. Only in the last hour had his heart rate slowed and his blood pressure plummeted. He never regained consciousness. Whatever had infected these young soldiers was deceitful, clever, and lethal.
CHAPTER 12
MONTGOMERY, ALABAMA
Gasoline exploded over the top of the can and splattered on Maggie’s shoes before she snapped the pump off.
“Damn it, Wurth. Tell me again why the deputy director of Homeland Security is filling gas cans to haul in his SUV. Aren’t you supposed to be arranging for trucks and caravans of trucks to deliver things to the hurricane victims?”
“What victims? This is my personal stash. Just put that last can next to the stack of bottled water.”
Maggie slipped off her shoes and threw them in the back with the supplies. The asphalt burned her feet before she got back to the passenger side of the SUV. She opened her window despite the scorching heat. The fumes were already giving her a headache, and by her own
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