The Future War

Mary herself was very tired, that limbs-filled-with-wet-sand, burning-eyed, hard-to-talk exhaustion that almost made her want to weep.

As if I didn't have enough reasons to cry, she thought. And then: You're healthy, you've got no one to lose anymore, you're young enough to probably throw off the infection if you do get it.

Right now it felt as though she was stealing this time from other patients, but babies responded better if they were held occasionally. And it gave the nurses, both professional and volunteer, a chance to sit down.

She opened her eyes slowly and realized that she'd dropped off for a moment. It could only have been a few seconds because Matron was still with the same patient, in much the same posture as she had been. Mary yawned, then looked down at little Sonya. The baby's eyes were half-open and her mouth was slack.

A spear of anxiety shot through her and she quickly checked the baby's pulse. The infant's skin was already cooling, and where the pulse had been far too rapid, now it was utterly gone.

She sighed. At least someone was holding her when she died; she didn't go alone in her crib.

Yet Mary regretted that she hadn't noticed. Not that there would have been anything she could have done about it.

Nurse Mary Shea rose and took the baby's chart off her crib, carrying it and the small body outside. Beside the clinic there was a large tent where the bodies were stored prior to being buried. She handed Sonya to a soldier wearing a hazard suit and respirator; he glanced at Mary and she could see the misery in his eyes through the buglike lenses of his mask. She shook her head and shrugged and he nodded; sadly, she thought. Then Mary made a note on the chart of the child's time of death and gave him the paper.

She returned to the clinic only for a moment, just long enough to inform the head nurse of little Sonya Stratzman's death.

Matron looked her over.

'Take a break,' she said. 'Don't come back for twenty minutes or so. We won't fall to pieces.'

'Thank you,' Mary said, from the heart.

She turned and walked away, grabbing her jacket on the way out. Outside the clinic she paused, but not for long. I've got to get away from the smell of this place, she thought, and headed for the gate. She just had to get somewhere that didn't stink of death and disease.

As she approached the gate a soldier stepped out of the guard shack. 'Identify yourself, please,' he said.

He was one of the odd ones that Mary had noticed around the camp. They had this low-affect manner and they looked at you with these dead eyes that seemed to measure you for your scrap value.

'Mary Shea,' she answered. 'I'm a nurse at the clinic. I'm going for a short walk; I'll be back in ten minutes.' Theoretically, civilians were free to leave the camp anytime they wanted. Up until now, though, she'd been too busy to test the theory.

I hope he's not going to give me an argument, she thought. I am so not in the mood.

'I don't think you should do that,' the guard said. 'It's very dangerous out there.'

'It's pretty damn dangerous in here at the moment,' she said crossly.

'Maybe you should just take a walk around the perimeter of the fence,' he said, standing in her way.

'I just need to get away from the smell around here, okay? I'm not going far; I've only got ten minutes and I'd rather not waste it arguing with you.' Her voice had risen toward the end there and now the guard was looking stubborn.

'Something the matter?' a voice asked.

She turned to see a lieutenant standing there. He was a good-looking young man with light brown eyes and dark brown hair.

'I just want to go for a short walk outside the fence, but this fellow thinks it's a bad idea.'

'No one here is a prisoner, Corporal,' the lieutenant said.

'Yes, sir.'

The lieutenant turned to her and smiled slightly. 'Would you like some company?'

She returned the smile. 'Another time, perhaps. But right now I really just need to be alone for a few minutes.'

'Another time, then.' He watched the attractive young nurse walk away. Then he turned to the corporal. 'Have the orders changed recently?' he asked. 'Are there now restrictions on who can leave the camp?'

'No, sir.' The corporal looked surly. 'I just hate to see girls go out there alone. There's some rough characters out there.'

'There are rough characters lurking a five-minute walk from this fence, Corporal?' Reese gave the soldier a hard look.

'Considering that's well within our patrol range, I'd have to say that you and your friends aren't doing a very good job. Wouldn't you, soldier?'

'Yes, sir.'

If there's one thing I hate, it's a trooper with an attitude problem and this guy has one in spades, Reese thought.

Granted, the world has come to an end, hundreds of millions are dead, and we've got an epidemic, but…

He looked the corporal over in the patented intimidating style that good officers learned early and utilized often. 'You forgot to have her sign out,' Reese pointed out. 'That was your oversight, not hers. So I don't want you giving her a hard time when she gets back. Just note that a young woman left at this time and have her sign in when she returns. Don't forget it again, and don't restrict the movements of civilians. If someone wants to leave, we can't stop them. Like I said, this isn't a prison.'

'Yes, sir.'

Reese continued on his way. He glanced down the road, but the girl was already out of sight behind some trees. He frowned, wondering how many other soldiers were getting the idea that the civilians in the camp were prisoners. He'd felt damned uncomfortable when the captain referred to them as inmates, even though he knew Yanik was only kidding. At least he thought the captain was kidding.

Then there were the thugs who claimed to have been beaten up by the guards. Ordinarily he'd have rejected such accusations out of hand. But there was something in the atmosphere of the camp lately that made their story hard to discount. Which made a soldier refusing to let someone take a walk outside the fence somewhat worrying.

* * *

Spring was moving on and the grass was growing, still looking thin and uncertain, but pushing up to the light anyway.

It doesn't seem right, somehow, Mary thought, obscurely disturbed by the returning life. She took a deep breath of air that only smelled of cool and green.

Some trees wore a fuzz of red at the tips of their branches; others were just putting forth new leaves, all pale green, with silver-gray fuzz on the outside. It was still too early for flowers, though. Maybe there were snowdrops and crocuses blooming somewhere, but there were none around here.

Given that it was colder than usual, it was probably still too early for the young leaves that were already showing. But nature was resilient; if these leaves got burned, others would replace them.

All her life Mary had thought that if the bombs ever dropped, the world would just end—no more spring, no more people, no more anything. And here things like grass and trees were carrying on much the same as they always did.

People, however, are screwing up as usual.

Maybe that was unfair. To date, no one had been able to discover where the cholera had come from and why it continued to spread. Poor little Sonya. And her poor brother, too.

Poor me, she thought. She wasn't used to losing patients like this. I'm used to treatments that work. People died of cancer, or degenerative diseases. Apart from a few stubborn exceptions, they didn't die of bacteria!