give us some clues as to what we’re dealing with.’
‘Good.’ Francisco looked at the men on their beds. ‘I think we should burn their tent.’
Aimee nodded without taking her eyes from the three bodies slowly decomposing before her.
‘Of course they’re scared…and so am I, Alfred.’ Aimee paced back and forth in her cabin, kicking clothing out of the way to create some space, as she talked to her boss on the other side of the world. ‘We’re trying to keep things quiet, but…’ she paused to listen for a few seconds before continuing. ‘Yes, Alfred, we’ve got the men who shared the tent with the primary contamination victim in isolation, but down here everyone seems to know everything as it happens. It’s such a small community — you can’t keep secrets. Francisco says he’s overheard some of the men talking about leaving.’
‘Aimee, there’s no evidence that the disease, or whatever it is, is airborne or that there are any vectors involved — you said that yourself. As long as you use basic sterilisation procedures, everything will be okay. It’s usually you telling
‘Alfred, you didn’t see the infected body — it literally dissolved in front of our eyes. It was horrible. I should be wearing a full bio-hazard kit, not a sweaty T-shirt and paper face mask.’
Alfred’s warm, deep voice rose slightly. ‘Okay, okay, stay calm, my dear. Do you really think it’s your little
‘Jack?’ Aimee remembered Jack Hammerson only too well — Alex Hunter’s commanding officer. He had always been in the background, controlling, overseeing Alex’s treatments, and advising him. As her relationship with Alex had started to change as he became more secretive, as he worried more about the uncontrollable rages that would shake him from his nightmares in the middle of the night, and finally as he had confided to her his fears that he wasn’t sure he was even human any more, Jack Hammerson had always been there. She had begged Alex to get a second opinion from doctors outside the military. But Jack had refused to allow it. She knew the colonel had saved Alex’s life — brought him back from the dead — and Alex would never forget it, even though by doing so he had allowed the HAWC commander to turn him into a killing machine — at the mercy of what seemed to be an unstoppable anger; an inner demon that threatened his sanity.
It had seemed to Aimee that Alex had chosen Hammerson and the military over her. Her concern for his safety and mental state, or perhaps it was her pride, had driven her to refuse to accept his decision — and that had been the end of them. She would never forgive Hammerson for not giving him the chance to start a new life outside the Special Forces.
‘Good, I knew you’d remember him. Well, he’s sending in some of his people to follow up on some military matter,’ Alfred went on.
Aimee grimaced as she recalled the horrific scene in the clearing. She hadn’t told Alfred about her and Francisco’s grisly discovery, or their suspicion that it had been caused by something other than a jaguar. Hammerson had clearly been charged with finding out exactly what had happened to the Green Berets.
‘I believe he’s sending Captain Hunter — he should be with you in a day or two. I’m going to see if the CDC team can jump a ride with them. Stay safe, Aimee dear, talk soon.’
Alfred ended the call in a hurry, obviously not wanting to deal with Aimee’s reaction to the news.
She switched the phone off speaker, and sat back with her legs splayed. She lifted the water bottle from the table, sipped a little, then let a good stream pour over her forehead and neck. It ran over her lips and she blew out, causing a plume of spray to fan out above her. She watched it settle to the floor as she allowed her mind to drift.
In the time they had shared together, Alex Hunter had taught her to ride a horse, shoot a gun, deep-sea dive and more. She recalled the time he had taken her rock climbing — she had slipped and twisted her ankle, but Alex had caught her and carried her down the cliff and then for five miles back to their cabin as if she weighed nothing at all. Her lips turned up at the corners as she remembered what else had happened in that cabin, the intimate times they had shared there and in many other locations she could never have imagined herself visiting. The few men she had dated since had seemed so ordinary, so…boring.
When she had walked out on him, it had seemed the right thing — for both of them. But now she wasn’t so sure. She was confused and nervous at the thought of seeing him again. Confused, nervous…and a little angry.
She put her hand up to her cheek and ran her fingers over the red rash bumps.
A cough at the doorway interrupted her thoughts. She looked up to see Francisco standing there looking worried.
‘What is it?’ Aimee asked.
‘The government has ordered the gas well to be capped,’ Francisco said. ‘I am so sorry, but they have locked us down. They suspect we have some form of hantavirus burning through the camp. No one is allowed to leave and no one will be coming in.’
‘We’re in fucking quarantine?’ Aimee was on her feet, her blue eyes drilling into the small doctor, who backed up a step at the ferocity of her tone.
‘I am sure it is just temporary, Dr Weir. I’m so sorry this has happened.’ Francisco was wringing his hands together, and his eyebrows turned so far down they looked as though they were about to slip off his face.
‘Those assholes! I don’t believe it. I don’t fucking believe it.’
Aimee was building up to another onslaught when she realised she was taking her frustration out on the only friend she had in the camp. ‘Ohhh, God. I’m sorry, Francisco. I’m tired and I don’t know what’s happening. This is well beyond the limit of my expertise.’ A sudden thought panicked her. ‘Are they allowing the CDC specialists through?’
‘
Aimee nodded and sat down heavily. She lifted her shirt front and used it to rub her face free of grime. ‘At least it’s stopped raining. Any more infections?’
‘I am afraid so. There are now five men in the quarantine hut. I do not expect them to survive past tomorrow.’
‘It’s spreading,’ Aimee said. ‘I don’t think it’s airborne — there’s not enough nasopharyngeal irritation to produce aerosolising of the bacteria — the men aren’t coughing or sneezing to give it lift-off. There must be a vector — the water, insects, something else we’re sharing…’
‘I agree. If it was fully airborne, we would all have been infected by now. I will have the camp checked for vermin and ensure all the men are using insect repellent.’ Francisco paused then added, ‘The well needs to be capped now, but the men are refusing to go back out to the drill site until they know what is causing the infection. They are calling it “the melting death”.’
Aimee leaned back in the chair and shut her eyes. ‘I don’t blame them,’ she said. ‘Nope, don’t blame them at all.’
That night, three more men were taken. But not by the disease.
In the darkness, something glided through the jungle and came to a halt at the edge of the camp, drawn there by the seed that had been brought to the surface. It sensed the sparks of growth that had been ignited. Now, they needed to feed.
It moved quickly across the clearing towards the back of one of the tents. It could sense the three men inside — could hear their heartbeats, smell their blood. It needed them, all of them, every bit of them. It needed to be strong to protect the growing brood.
Under a single, long, sharp fingernail, the tough waterproofed canvas parted as easily as if it was being unzipped. The creature reached out to the first man and wrapped a long, taloned hand almost entirely around his throat. The man’s eyes shot open and his tongue bulged, but no sound escaped his lips as soft tissue and his upper spinal cord were swiftly crushed together. His head flopped onto his shoulder, attached only by an empty tube of
