The Future War

She'd lost patients, of course. Death was a part of life and there were some diseases they hadn't yet eradicated. But this!

This was a nineteenth-century-style epidemic. Or a third-world one. Funny to think that was what they were now. As third world as anybody else.

That was probably an exaggeration. But I'm in an exaggerated mood— hypersensitive, exhausted, uncomfortable in my own skin.

Still, things were going from bad to worse at the moment.

They really were…

On top of everything else, four men had entered the clinic in the last week to be treated for what looked like one hell of a beating. Three of them had accused the guards of jumping them; the fourth was in a coma. But everyone knew the four men had been involved in selling drugs, or bootleg alcohol, or black-market goods. So their word was taken with a grain of salt.

Besides, the accused guards were able to call on witnesses who placed them elsewhere when the beatings were supposed to have been administered.

People! she thought, feeling close to despair. They just never stop. They make an accusation, which the accused deny, someone demands an investigation, the investigators claim they're being impeded, the accused say the investigators aren't going far enough, the accusers shout 'whitewash!' the accused

'persecution!'

Mary stopped and plopped down under a tree with a discouraged sigh. She was in the middle of a hydrangea thicket and she looked for the clusters of buds on the tips of the branches. They were still tightly wound in their protective winter coating, not a hint of petal showing.

Taking a deep breath redolent with the scent of cool, damp air and earth and growing things, she started to let down her guard.

Mary allowed her eyes to tear up; she'd come out here to have a good cry in private. It was the sort of thing that helped her survive.

'The cholera is doing a great job.'

With an effort of will Mary swallowed her tears, though it felt like they were going down inside a cardboard box. But then, she'd been startled, both by the voice and what he'd said. She hadn't heard anyone walking. How long had they been there?

'Yeah. It's really helping things along. And they're all still sniffing the toilets and boiling water and things like that.'

The two men laughed; she wasn't sure, but she thought there might have been a third voice.

'I toldja nobody would believe that anthrax would occur naturally.'

'Maybe not, but it spreads like crazy.'

'Yeah, but it's pretty obviously not natural.'

'Cholera's more treatable.'

'Only if you get the medicine.'

'Tomorrow trucks will be arriving to take the sickest people to the central hospital. So the clinic will be receiving even less.'

'Well, fewer patients. One way or another.'

They were moving away, laughing. Mary stood and crept toward the voices. Moving carefully, she peered through the branches of the hydrangeas and saw three figures, dressed in what looked like army fatigues, moving down the path. They'd gone out of sight before she could get a look at even the backs of their heads. Moving quickly but carefully, Mary moved parallel to the path, trying to catch up to them enough to get a glimpse.

She heard car doors slam and moved more quickly still, risking the sound of crunching leaves. But she was too late. By the time she reached a dirt road, a green van was just turning a corner, to be quickly hidden by some bushes and fir trees. Looking around, she saw no one else.

What was that all about? she wondered.

It had sounded as though she'd been listening to people who were happy about the epidemic, maybe even somehow causing it. But who on earth would that be? Even Arab terrorists had better things to think about these days. And this was the first she'd heard about patients being taken to a central hospital.

Or even that there is a central hospital.

She should probably tell someone. Not that she had anything concrete to tell, considering she hadn't seen any faces and hadn't recognized anybody's voice. Still… But who could she tell?

Matron? No, she had enough on her plate.

Maybe… maybe that good-looking lieutenant. She didn't mind taking advantage of his apparent interest if it would help.

It galled her that she had no proof. Unless trucks do in fact show up tomorrow. That wasn't something she would know. At least not yet. She glanced at her watch and gasped. Not now, later. Right now she needed to get back to work. She certainly had a lot to think about. Like how anyone would go about deliberately spreading cholera.

* * *

'You could spray the germs on raw fruits and vegetables,'

Mary said.

Dennis Reese just looked at her, his mouth partially open.

When she'd suggested coffee he'd been delighted; Mary Shea was a fine-looking woman, with a striking figure, long auburn hair, and hazel green eyes. She didn't look like a conspiracy nut.

'We don't have that many raw vegetables,' he pointed out.

'Yes, they're scarce, which may be why everyone in the camp hasn't come down with it. It sure isn't in the water supply, which is the usual vector. The second most-likely source is contaminated food. But the kitchens and the food in storage have been checked without finding anything wrong. So what if food is being treated just before it's served?'

Dennis took a sip of coffee, never taking his eyes from her pretty, anxious face. She'd related an overheard conversation to him and it was worrying. On the one hand, a simple explanation was that someone was playing a sick joke on her. Which begged the question why anybody would do that? Maybe she turned someone

down and they resented it? The other, and actually most likely explanation was that Nurse Shea had fallen briefly asleep and had dreamed the whole thing.

'Let's see if these ambulance trucks show,' he suggested.

'You think I'm making this up?' she asked. It was clear that she was offended.

'No.' He waved that away. 'But it's possible you dreamed it.

You looked really tired, yesterday. And that conversation had a kind of dream logic to it. You know what I mean?' She shook her head, her expression cool. 'What I mean is, one minute they seem to be saying they've caused the epidemic, then they're talking about ambulances.' He held his hands up, moving them like two parts of a scale. 'What you fear, combined with a hope of rescue.'

'Excuse me,' Mary said, rising, 'but it never occurred to me that this epidemic might be the result of bioterrorism. If anything, I thought it was the result of shoddy construction. And since the idea hadn't even occurred to me, it would be hard for me to be afraid of it. Don't you think?'

'Yeah,' he agreed. 'Like I said, let's wait and see about those trucks. Then we'll know.'

'We'll know that I overheard someone talking about ambulance transport,' she snapped. 'We still won't believe that I overheard the first part of the conversation, will we?'

'I didn't say that.'

'You didn't have to,' she snapped, and stalked off.

I seem to be seeing this woman's back a lot, Reese thought.

Nice view.

'Cute,' Chip Delaney said.

Dennis looked up at him; he and Chip were sharing quarters and getting to be friends. 'You think?' he said.