Germ

They crossed the gap and he let go to continue his sad slide along the wall. They had halved the distance to Litt. This near, she could make out the blood that coated the remainder of his ear and where he had smeared it on his jaw and neck. It was stark against the whiteness of his face. Closer, she noticed that a scarlet trickle had followed his jawbone and formed a bead on his chin like a tiny goatee. An explosion hurled debris against the hangar hard enough to shake the entire wall, but she resisted the temptation to look. Hot air billowed her hair. The air strike had taken a giant step toward them.

A body length from Litt, she stopped. She pointed her gun at the left lens of his black sunglasses.

"You're not going to use that thing," he said, smiling thinly.

"In a heartbeat."

In her peripheral vision, she saw Allen slide down the wall, grunting when he hit the ground. He held one shoulder out at an uncomfortable angle, as if trying not to completely collapse. His head drooped; he appeared to have spotted something fascinating in the dirt. Litt appraised him.

"Well, Dr. Parker. Did you enjoy your stay with us?"

"You're a sick man, Litt," Julia said, not sure what to do next.

"So I've been told. Something about the pointless death of his family will do that to a man."

"That's what this is about? Revenge?"

"When you put it that way, it does sound petty, doesn't it?"

They were both stalling, trying to figure a way out.

"Other people have lost loved ones. They don't kill thousands in retaliation."

"I'm not other people."

Keeping his lenses pointed at her, he placed the remote control device into the breast pocket of his lab coat.

"Don't move. Not even a finger." Julia said, poking the gun at him. Her upper torso leaned into the movement.

"Or what, you'll shoot? Of course, you could pistol-whip me. Would you like that? Maybe this will dissuade you." His hand came out of the pocket with something that looked like a harmonica—

My mind's not working right, she thought. And if that's true, we're not going to survive.

Then a fat blade snapped out of the end. He held a stiletto.

ninety-eight

Litt began casually stirring the air with the knife.

It looked utterly ridiculous in his bony fingers, but she wasn't going to bet the farm he didn't know how to use it. That he kept it in motion told her something; a moving weapon was the hardest to take away.

"Don't worry, I have no intention of attacking you. I merely desire the same courtesy."

She raced through her options: Shoot and die . . . Jump him and risk the blade . . . Follow him and hope they moved out of the Deadeyes' sensors. The hangars all had people-sized rear doors. Litt could easily back to a door, then duck in and lock it before she could reach him. By the time she raced around, he'd be gone again. Maybe he had a plane waiting. Or a car. Something with bulletproof windows and bulletproof everything. If she attacked, he might cut her down and get away. The only certain way to stop him was to shoot.

But he didn't move; he watched her.

"You're the one, aren't you?" he said. "The information on the chip. You modified it. Hacked it, as they say."

She felt herself smile.

"Oh, you are cunning. The president's family was never targeted. You added them."

"As you said, best not mess with a man's family."

A plane flew over, followed by a tremendous explosion. It had hit well away from them, where the Quonsets were or even farther. Still, the ground shook hard enough to make Julia's feet unsteady for a few moments. Silt and ash drifted down on them. A hot wind blew past.

"Kendrick's final wave," Litt announced. "Annihilation of the base. We'd better resolve this, don't you think?"

"I'm not letting you leave."

"I can help him, you know." He cocked his head at Allen. "All of them."

"What are you talking about?"

"Ebola. I have the cure."

She didn't know whether to believe him. She wanted to see his eyes, but his glasses were too dark.

"It's reversible," he said, "at least in the early stages. Many people have recovered, even after experiencing severe hemorrhagic symptoms. Once the virus is gone, the body repairs itself rather quickly. The cure restores and accelerates intravascular coagulation, which give the endothelial cells time to reform."

She could not risk a glance at Allen, but she knew he looked as if a truck had hit him. That was repairable?

Her doubt must have shown on her face. Litt said, "Even Dr. Parker has a chance. On the scale of heart failure due to the Ebola virus, he is on the early side. His organs have not failed, but his heart is responding to the blood loss and hypotension. He has a chance," he repeated, "with this." He tapped the metal case with his toe.

Then she saw it: movement reflected in his glasses. Silhouettes of legs moving, heads bobbing, a swinging arm. The Atroposes were behind her, approaching slowly.