Plague Zone

Captain Ge told some of us to help—”

They probably sent only the weakest ones, Jia thought, the women and the walking wounded. Let the injured take care of the injured. It was cruel, but he approved. If there were still operational crews overhead, they would be impossibly busy as they tried to meet the American offensive.

Who was in charge? General Zheng? How many officers had been killed when the base collapsed?

“Sir,” Bu groaned. “Sir, I can’t…”

“Come here,” Jia called to Dongmei, drowning out his lover’s voice. What if Bu Xiaowen said the wrong thing? “Take over,” Jia said. “Keep him stabilized. I need to get upstairs, but we never leave one of the People’s Heroes behind. This man deserves all the help we can give.”

Dongmei nodded, and Jia thought he saw a new uncertainty in her expression. She was beginning to doubt what she’d seen. That was good. But it wasn’t enough.

He couldn’t leave her alone with Bu.

As she picked her way through the rubble, Jia bent down to the other man again. He’d made his decision. There had always been two of him, the soldier and the man, and it was the soldier who must win over his secret, more gentle self.

“I love you,” he murmured.

Bu misunderstood, groggy with pain and shock. “Sir?” he rasped. Then he smiled. “Sir, we shouldn’t…”

Jia clamped his good hand over Bu’s nose and mouth, hiding this action as best he could from Dongmei with his own face. Bu stiffened beneath him. He was too weak to fight. His hips moved but the injuries throughout his chest must have been an agony even worse than smothering. He tried to bite, too. Jia clamped Bu’s jaw shut, smashing his lips. Bent close to Bu’s face, Jia shut his eyes to block out the sight of his lover’s bulging eyes.

Dongmei hesitated again a few paces from them. Jia had forgotten to pretend to be lifting his head for air and exhaling into Bu’s mouth. Maybe she’d also seen Bu’s face, blotched red from popping capillaries.

Then it was done. Jia didn’t look at the body as he stood up. He was afraid he might start crying again if he did.

“He’s dead,” Jia said, putting too much emphasis on his first word. It might have sounded like an innocent thing to say, except that she’d just seen him commit murder.

“I… Yes, sir,” Dongmei said. Her eyes were solemn and clear, but was there a quaver in her voice?

Jia could not wait or give her a later opportunity. He needed to trust Dongmei, so he said everything he knew to prove himself to her. “The most important thing is to bring everyone together again and take command. We need to be sure we’re protected against more attacks, and our team will be critical in following the nanotech. Show me how you got down here. Is there a ladder?”

“Yes, sir. We used ropes, sir. I think I got down over there,” Dongmei said, pointing back to her right. She wouldn’t confront him now.

But would she eventually betray him?

Jia strangled her, too, throwing himself on top of the young woman in a grotesque masquerade of intercourse, driving his legs between hers and shoving his arms up through Dongmei’s flailing hands to her neck, using his weight to hold her down against the rubble. She was his friend and an excellent soldier, but China needed him. It was the best he could do for his country. It was his duty.

When she was dead, Jia surveyed the wreckage. He dragged Dongmei away from Bu and pulled judiciously at a length of rebar, bringing an avalanche across her face and torso. If there was an autopsy, her neck wounds would be obvious, but Jia knew the survivors were too busy to make time for a criminal investigation.

He stalked away. And when he found his way through the dust and carnage to the rescue teams, no one questioned the bloody slash she’d left on his forehead or the cold, seething fury in his eyes. They helped him up a rope ladder to the second floor. Two medics tried to assess his wounds, abandoning more badly wounded soldiers in favor of him, but Jia brushed them off. “Tend to our Heroes,” he said.

“Colonel!” a man called. “Colonel!” It was an Air Force lieutenant whom Jia recognized, although he couldn’t remember the man’s name.

“Report,” Jia said.

“Casualties are overwhelming, sir! Most of the base is gone, sir! I can’t raise anyone else on the radio and Captain Ge said it looks like the whole city is gone!”

The young man was hysterical, but his reaction only seemed to increase Jia’s self-possession. “Where are Generals Zheng and Shui?” he asked.

“I don’t know, sir! You are the most senior officer I’ve found, sir! We’ve been trying to organize our rescue efforts—”

“You’ve done well, but we need to reestablish communications both here and with the mainland. I need to know how badly we were attacked and what assets we have available. Especially our Air Force, lieutenant.” Jia clapped him on the arm paternally and saw his own steadiness register in the lieutenant’s expression — steadiness and gratitude — and he was glad somewhere beneath his rage.

Jia Yuanjun would hit the Americans with everything left at his command.

17

Cam was no longer sure where to go, but their first priority hadn’t changed. Protect Ruth. Survive. He led the women east into a narrow valley because he wanted to get out of the line of sight of any more nuclear flashes. They also needed to stay out of the wind, although he was glad for it. The breeze would be spotted with nanotech, but it might also keep the towering black clouds in the east from collapsing across them with radioactive dust. His most distant landmarks were already gone, the snow-white peaks absorbed by the storm.

“Wait,” Ingrid said. “Please.”

They were walking single file with Cam in front. He glanced back. Ingrid was favoring her right leg, and he worried that she’d turned her ankle among the immature aspen and crumbling granite shale.

“Keep going,” he said to Ruth. “We’ll catch up.”

“No.”

“I’ll carry her if I have to—”

“No. We stay together. I need a minute on my computer anyway.”

He couldn’t see her face because of her goggles and mask, but the stubborn way she’d lifted her chin was enough. What could he do? There wasn’t time to argue, and, as Cam wrestled with himself, trying to find some way to outsmart her, Ruth unslung her carbine and her backpack. Then she knelt and opened the pack.

“Goddammit,” he said as Bobbi stepped out of his way. He crouched in front of Ingrid, who sat down on a worn nub of rock. The sunrise was gone, lost behind the hideous, roiling clouds, and yet there was enough light that the mica in the granite sparkled and winked. The yellow aspen rattled in the wind.

The land had been scoured by the blast waves. When the ground shook, the four of them tried to hang onto the grass only to be slammed into the sky. Then came swirling winds full of dirt and plant life, but this aspen grove was still beautiful despite everything that had happened. The trees were mostly saplings, reed-thin but strong, growing among the few larger trunks of their parents. Cam hoped this place would always be so vibrant — alone, safe, and forgotten.

“I’m sorry,” Ingrid said. “My toe.”

“Let’s see if we can splint it,” he said, yanking at her boot-lace as he looked at Ruth. She was gazing at him, too, with her half-open laptop in her arms. They both turned away.

Why does she keep pushing me? he thought.

There was a third reason to move east. They’d heard fighting. It was a distant sound — the snap of outgoing artillery — but it meant someone was alive. Cam knew there were old refugee camps among the upper reaches of these mountains. Some of those camps were still in use as supply depots. They might have been excellent rendezvous points for American units trying to escape the plague.

Who were they firing at? Their own infected people? The artillery might also be aimed at Grand Lake, trying