Search & Destroy

by Julie Rowe

  Rawley considered it. “Transferring patients from one hospital to the other will give the FAFO multiple targets and opportunities to attack us. I can’t protect everyone adequately.”

  So much for the fucking chocolate.

  “You have a team of people to assist you, Agent Rawley,” Carmen said to him, her voice cutting. “We can’t just abandon Orlando General.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Rawley said with enough derision to melt a hole through a steel plate.

  “In all our conversations, Agent Rawley”—Carmen’s tone was too calm—“you have a tendency to speak in the singular. And while I applaud your willingness to take appropriate responsibility for decisions and actions, the CDC Outbreak Task Force almost never operates that way. Our people are required to think and act as part of a team. You are now part of that team.”

  Dozer cleared his throat. “I discovered that if I consulted Dr. Rodrigues and her people before making any decisions that might affect them, I was far more likely to get their full cooperation.” He shrugged. “It’s kind of a nice change from dealing with competing law enforcement agencies.”

  Rawley’s gaze moved from Carmen’s to his, then back again. “Thank you for that observation,” he finally said, his tone so carefully polite it couldn’t be believed. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

  Only if he put earplugs in.

  Carmen addressed the entire bus and told everyone they were going to Kissimmee first. The team there would assist with the work already going on and prepare to receive patients from Orlando General.

  Several questions came up, including the possible need for additional trauma-care staff. She responded that the CDC was prepared to send people to bolster the staff. She would assess the situation and make recommendations to the CDC director.

  The bus arrived in Kissimmee with little fanfare, and the Kissimmee team disembarked and followed hospital staff to an area where a couple of large tents were going up. Though both sides of the street were lined with cars, there were few people in sight.

  After all the sirens and noise at the airport, this calm was quiet. Too quiet.

  It made Dozer’s gut twist.

  9:36 p.m.

  As the bus made its way to Orlando General Hospital, flashing blue, red, and yellow lights of a myriad of emergency vehicles pulled everyone’s attention. There were a lot of lights. And a lot of noise.

  Whispers floated up from the back of the bus.

  Oh my God.

  How many ambulances?

  How big was the explosion?

  “How did the Army get here so fast?” Rawley asked, staring at a spot away from the emergency vehicles. A group of men and women in Army uniforms were getting off another military bus, some of them carrying weapons, others dressed in heavy body armor. Two of them had K-9s with them. All of them wore gas masks.

  That was going to keep things calm…not.

  Carmen was scrolling through messages on her phone. “It looks like the Orlando sheriff requested a bomb squad.”

  “The Army was closest?” Rawley asked.

  “Or the police teams are already out on calls,” Dozer said. “They might have been the only team available.”

  A man in uniform approached their bus and waited a few feet outside the door.

  Carmen, Rawley, and Dozer got off the bus.

  “Dr. Rodrigues?” the man in uniform asked, his voice muffled by the gas mask he wore. “I’m Sergeant Travis. My unit specializes in bomb detection and removal. We were asked by the sheriff’s office to come in to ensure there are no other explosive devices in the area. All other bomb squads in the region are already engaged.”

  “I’m glad you’re here, Sergeant.” She introduced them all.

  “Good to meet you,” the sergeant said. “We were told there was also an active biological hazard here. Is that correct?”

  “Yes. Do all of your people have their vaccinations up to date? We’re assuming our presumptive identification of measles is correct. No one with out-of-date vaccinations should be here. The masks should protect you, but you’ll also have to be careful to wear disposable gloves. Measles is transmitted via airborne droplets. Any of your people coming into the area will need a minimum of surgical masks, gloves, and eye protection. We can provide you with them as required. Wash thoroughly before leaving the area.”

  “What about our K-9 units?”

  “Measles is a human disease, Sergeant. Your dogs don’t need any special equipment, but they will need to be thoroughly bathed, too.”

  Travis didn’t look happy at that, but he didn’t complain, just said, “Yes, ma’am.” Then he trotted back to his unit to give them the fun news.

  A knot of people in medical and law enforcement clothing approached them. One of them was Jean.

  Her hair was matted, and the left side of her head, face, and neck was streaked with blood. She was pale under all the red, and Dozer could see the early signs of bruising on her face.

  “Dr. Rodrigues,” she said almost hesitantly.

  “Jean.” Carmen moved to her, giving her a critical once-over. “Where is your mask?”

  She put her hand up to her mouth and seemed surprised and confused not to find it there. “I…uh, don’t know.”

  Carmen grasped Jean’s forearm and looked into her face. She pulled out a pen light and flashed it back and forth across her eyes. She then took hold of her wrist with her fingers over Jean’s pulse point.

  “Ma’am?” one of the law-enforcement types who’d arrived with Jean said as he put out a hand toward Carmen.

  Dozer intercepted him. “Give her a minute.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  9:47 p.m.

  Carmen ignored the man trying to catch her attention, focusing on Jean’s pulse as it throbbed under her fingers. Too fast. Her eyes were reacting as they should, but she appeared dazed.

  Carmen found John’s gaze and said, “Jean is in shock. We need to get her warm, safe, and allow her to rest with supervision.”

  DS put up his hand. “I’m on it.” He called one of their team members who doubled as a trauma nurse.

  “Do you have time to talk to someone from the sheriff’s office?” John asked her in a calm voice.

  Carmen turned and found three men waiting for her in various law enforcement uniforms. The one in the lead was a sheriff’s deputy. The man standing to the left of the deputy looked like he was wearing a State Trooper uniform. The last man wore a SWAT team uniform.

  All three began asking her questions at once. Though she couldn’t make out their individual questions, a few words made it through the cacophony.

  “Stop,” she said, raising her voice so they could hear her over the sirens filling the air with noise. “First, you should all be wearing masks, gloves, and eye protection. This virus is extremely contagious.”

  After a pause, the men talked over one another. Again.

  DS stepped forward and shouted, “Follow me to get suited up.” He nodded respectfully at her and led the men away.

  She addressed the remaining members of their team. “Okay everyone, let’s get to the hospital and get a handle on the situation.” They followed with no questions or comments. Good. She wasn’t going to know more than anyone else until she’d had a chance to talk to the frontline staff. She wanted to know who survived the blast and who’d been killed. She wanted something to do with her hands to give her an outlet for the raging anger eating a hole through her gut. She wanted to strangle the bomber who’d done this with her bare hands.

  “The smartest thing you ever did,” John said in a low tone she’d only ever heard him use with her, “was luring DS away from that bus driver job he had in El Paso.”

  She refused to acknowledge the shiver his voice caused that chased across her skin and cut through her anger. “I have a whole new appreciation for military people.” She focused on what she assumed to be the ER entrance to the hospital. The force it took to create this level of destruction was bigger than she had envisioned.
No signage remained, only a crater in the side of the building. “You give them a job, and they run off and get it done. You give someone in government a job, and they argue with you about it for days before agreeing to schedule a preliminary meeting about it a month from now.”

  “Taking your time and thinking about a task has its pros, too,” he said thoughtfully. “But this isn’t that type of situation. Lives hang on how fast someone makes decisions and gets their job done.”

  They entered the hospital through a hole big enough to drive a couple of ambulances through at the same time. There were debris, smoke, dust, and people everywhere. Most of the people were up and walking around, but there were also bodies on the ground, covered by hospital sheets that had bloody handprints along the edges. Combined with the sirens, the scene looked like something out of a blockbuster thriller movie.

  Where to find someone who knew what was what in this mess?

  A security guard, his uniform dirty with soot and blood, came over to them.

  “Are you here to help?” he asked.

  “Yes. We’re from the CDC. Who’s in charge?” Carmen asked.

  He squinted into the interior of the building. “Um…I think Dr. Hunt would be your best bet.” He gestured at her to follow him.

  Their best bet? She looked at John but didn’t say anything.

  He narrowed his eyes but also kept his mouth shut.

  They followed the security guard past more bodies lined up along the walls, or what was left of the walls, and injured huddled on the floor or on a gurney. They passed through a partially destroyed set of doors and into a relatively clean hallway. The sound of sirens was quieter here, but that just made the yelling and screaming from the injured and staff easier to distinguish from the rest of the noise filtering in from outside.

  The guard glanced over his shoulder, his face tense and pale and eyes a little too wide.

  He was on the edge of panic.

  “Dr. Hunt is the guy in the bloody OR scrubs,” the guard said, pointing him out with a shaking hand.

  Carmen took a good look at the doctor, made sure she could distinguish him from everyone else running around, then turned back to the guard. “I want you to find somewhere to sit down for five minutes, drink a glass of water, and eat something simple like a granola bar.”

  The guard looked like he was going to cry. “Ma’am, I can’t—”

  “My name is Dr. Rodrigues, and that’s an order. You’re no good to anyone if you faint because your blood sugar bottomed out.”

  He opened his mouth, probably to argue with her, but John spoke first. “She’s in charge now. Do it. Tell anyone who questions you to talk to Homeland Security Agent Dozer.”

  The man nodded so hard he’d be lucky if he didn’t give himself whiplash and moved off toward the interior of the hospital.

  “Not officially here, huh?” she asked John.

  “It’s just my name. He wouldn’t have done as you ordered without it.”

  “We’ll never know if he would have or not.” Had John heard a word she’d said? “This is what you always do,” she said under her breath. “You’re so busy getting in front of me to shield me from anything you decide is a threat, I can’t do my job.”

  “Maybe your job is too dangerous.”

  “Someone has to do it. Why not me?”

  He stared at her, his gaze blowtorch hot on her face. “If an area has active hostiles, I will always say it’s too dangerous for anyone to go in.” He leaned a little closer. “And when it’s someone I care about, I’m going to like it even less.”

  He…cared about her. She should have been happy to hear it, should have been reassured. Instead, the word stabbed her in the chest, robbed her of breath, and almost forced her to her knees. It was too small and safe a word, too contained, too cool.

  She wanted hot, wild, and electric. She turned her head to meet his gaze and let him see the full force of her anger with him. “Don’t get in my way again.”

  He stared down at her for a long moment, unblinking. “Fuck, doc,” he said, breaking the tension. “Keep talking like that and I’ll come in my pants.”

  Seriously?

  “Still a moron,” she said, then went to speak to Dr. Hunt, who was standing over a patient lying on a gurney. Most of the patient’s head was covered in a bloody improvised bandage. As she approached the doctor, he pulled a sheet over the head of the patient.

  Hunt was pale, but anger lit his gaze from within. Anger she understood and identified with.

  “Dr. Hunt,” she said in a calm tone. “My name is Dr. Carmen Rodrigues. I’m from the CDC. I’ve brought additional staff and other resources. I’m very sorry we have to meet like this, but I’d very much like to help you.”

  Something she’d said must have hit the right note, because he released a breath and nodded. “Thank you. I accept.” He came around the gurney. “The bomb killed several people, including some of my staff and yours. Firefighters are still trying to put the last hot spots out. Our isolation area was breached, so nearly everyone you see has now been exposed to the pathogen.”

  Fear chased shock through her body, leaving her hands shaking and her mind spinning in circles, trying to figure out a way through this mess.

  She clenched her hands into fists. Concentrate on problem one, then two, and so on. One step at a time.

  “I would like to suggest removing your patients to the hospital in Kissimmee. I’ve got people setting up to receive them now.” She kept going so he wouldn’t have a chance to complain about her taking over. “The building may be too damaged for anyone to remain.”

  “How much help did you bring with you?”

  “I’ve got a trauma team of six who are going to assist your staff immediately. I’ve got more people in Kissimmee setting up to receive everyone here,” Carmen said with a smile. “What do you need most right now?”

  Ten minutes later, she and Hunt had agreed on the top three priorities: security, triage, and the evacuation of the entire hospital.

  DS walked toward her with Sergeant Travis in tow. Neither man looked happy. John slid in behind her, not getting in the way, but making himself visible to all.

  “Something to report, gentlemen?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Travis said. “We’re still searching, but we haven’t found any undetonated explosives at this time.”

  The way he said it made her curious. “Did you find some detonated ones?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Travis looked at her dubiously, but continued with, “What we’ve found indicates the kind of devices used in Afghanistan.”

  “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “Ma’am,” Travis said with even greater reluctance than before. “I spent a fair amount of time dealing with IEDs in Afghanistan. After a while you realize there are only so many types or styles.”

  She shook her head. “I still don’t—”

  “The device used here wasn’t created randomly. I saw the same welds over there. The same exact welds. Whoever made this bomb used to make bombs over there.”

  His words made her colder than if he’d dropped her into the middle of Antarctica without a parka.

  “You’re saying that a prolific Afghan terrorist who specializes in building IEDs is now inside the United States, creating bombs, and one of those bombs was used here?”

  Travis nodded hard.

  John swore. “Rawley is going to lose his shit.”

  “He’s not the only one,” she said under her breath. Everyone was going to lose their shit. “Does this…artist have a name, Sergeant Travis?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Muhammad Abdi Amman.”

  “How could he have gotten into the United States?”

  “That’s definitely a problem.”

  “You think?” She looked at John. “Tell Rawley he needs a few more people for his security detail.”

  “He’s going to recommend the CDC pull out.”

  “He can recommend anything he likes. I don’t follow his orde
rs.” She glanced at Travis. The man looked like he was about to announce that a lot of people had just died. And they had. “What else?”

  He looked at DS again.

  The crusty old man turned to her. “It’s not just the construction of the bomb. It’s the location of it.”

  “What’s so significant about the location?”

  “It’s in a restricted area. Staff only, near an oxygen line. If the line had ruptured during the blast, it could have taken out a lot more of the building. A lot more. It’s a miracle that line didn’t rupture.”

  Travis looked about as grim as the reaper. “We were lucky.”

  Dr. Hunt snorted. “Tell that to the three people I’ve toe-tagged in the last fifteen minutes.”

  “Have you reported this to everyone who needs to know?”

  “You’re the first.”

  “Agent Rawley is next.”

  “You want me to contact him, ma’am?”

  “Yes, he may have questions.”

  DS grunted what might have been a laugh. She wasn’t entirely sure.

  “All I care about,” Dr. Hunt said, “is making sure my patients and staff are safe and there isn’t another bomb stashed somewhere else in the building.”

  “We’ve got dogs searching for that right now,” Travis said.

  “So,” she said to Hunt. “Let’s focus on triage and evacuation.”

  He stared at her blankly for a second, as if stunned by her calm tone. “Okay, that sounds…good.” He turned and walked back into the fray.

  Carmen looked at the other men clustered around her. “Sergeant, please continue your work searching for more bombs or other evidence. If you discover something dangerous or pertinent, let me know.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He nodded, then he, too, disappeared into the crowd.

  She turned to DS. “Status?”

  “I thought we could use the bus to evacuate the most mobile people here.”

  “Good. Do it. Can you find out who’s in charge in an administrative capacity? Even the areas that look untouched might have damage that’s not obvious. All it would take is one small puncture of the oxygen line somewhere to cause another explosion. We need to expedite the evacuation as quickly as possible.”