Search & Destroy (Outbreak Task Force)

by Julie Rowe

  “How deadly was measles before the vaccine?”

  “Three to four million people a year came down with it. Forty-eight thousand a year were hospitalized. Out of those, about four thousand suffered from brain swelling leading to blindness and other permanent disabilities. Four to five hundred a year died. Relatively low numbers for such a highly contagious disease. But, if this strain is proved to sicken and kill at higher rates…”

  “We’re all going to die.”

  “Well, not all of us.”

  She returned to her work space in time for her phone to ping. She checked it.

  “Incoming,” she said.

  John’s eyes wrinkled in the corners with laugh lines. “You’re spending too much time with DS.”

  “He’s not the only Army veteran I spend time with.” She tried to make it sound a little sour, but John’s laugh lines only got deeper.

  “So I’m a bad influence, too? Excellent.” The laugh lines smoothed out. “Who’s incoming?”

  “A couple of my team leads and some folks from the Guard.”

  The expressions on the half dozen people who entered told her she wasn’t going to like their reports.

  The number of presumed infected was rising at a precipitous pace. They filled every bed in the hospital and one large tent with the sick. Two more tents were now erected by the National Guard with enough space for another five hundred people.

  12:48 p.m.

  John made Carmen stop to eat twice more before he started bugging her about getting some sleep. Issues kept cropping up that needed her attention or decisions to be made. Exhaustion weighed her down, made her muscles ache, and scattered her focus. Despite that, she couldn’t sit still for long. She was too wound up, too anxious, her mind trying to solve a puzzle without all the pieces.

  “Carmen,” Dozer said, his eyes sunken and black with fatigue. “Enough. We need to sleep.”

  “Nothing is stopping you from resting.”

  “Where you go, I go,” he said. “Come on, you’re falling asleep on your feet.”

  “I’m sitting down.”

  “You were pacing not three minutes ago.” He waved at someone behind her, and DS walked over.

  “I just woke up from a five hours of blissful sleep,” the older man said. “I can cover for you here.”

  “I’m fine,” she said in a protesting tone.

  “You’re impaired with lack of sleep,” DS said. “Grab one of the cots at the back of the tent and rest.” He looked at Dozer. “You, too.”

  John put a hand under her elbow. “Come on, let’s get some rest.”

  She got up reluctantly. “If I’m needed, wake me.” It was an order.

  DS met her gaze and came to attention. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She let John guide her to the back of the tent, near the area where they ate. Several cots were laid out in a row. All had occupants.

  Where were they supposed to sleep? She looked at him.

  He grabbed her hand and tugged, bringing her around the stack of MREs and other supplies. There, boxed in on three sides, was a small space just large enough for a cot and room for a person to get in and out of it.

  One cot.

  John needed sleep as much as she did; more—he was still recovering from injuries.

  “You take—” she began.

  “We’ll sleep together.”

  An image of what that would look like, in such tight quarters, flashed through her mind. The two of them tangled together. She’d wake with him curled around her, warm and protective, like he was a greedy dragon guarding his hoard.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You take the cot. Rest is important for healing.”

  His eyes hardened. “Get on the damn cot.”

  “You’re not the boss of me.”

  “I know.” His tone softened. “But let me take care of you. Please.”

  Although he might sound like he was asking, he wasn’t going to back down. His gaze and posture were rigid with not an ounce of give to him.

  Lacking the strength to argue with him, she took off her shoes and got onto the cot. He got on behind her, pulling the blanket over both of them.

  He slid one arm under her head. The other went around her waist.

  For a minute or two she lay rigid before her legs began shifting restlessly.

  “Carmen, stop thinking so hard,” he mumbled sleepily.

  “I can’t just shut it off. I wish I could, but…there’s so much to do, so many people sick. My brain is going in circles, trying to find answers and solutions to a thousand problems at once.”

  He pulled her into his body tighter, and there was no way she could miss the hard bar of his erection snuggled up to her ass.

  “That,” she said drily, “isn’t going to help me sleep.”

  “No?” he asked, the arm around her waist moving up to cup one breast.

  It was so unexpected she gasped. “Wha…” She lowered her voice so it wouldn’t carry beyond the cot. “Stop that. We’re in a public place.”

  He pinched her nipple and rolled it between his fingers. “If we’re quiet, no one is going to know we’re doing anything.”

  She tried to control her breathing, keep it normal, but his hand kept up its sensual torment of her breast until she began rocking her hips back, seeking more contact with his cock. Tiredness faded behind the rising tide of pleasure. It was champagne in her blood and muscles.

  He shifted the arm she was lying on so he could torment her other breast, then sent the arm around her waist to the edge of the elastic-waisted scrub pants she wore.

  His hand slid down into her panties, his fingers seeking out her hot, wet flesh.

  She shivered as he petted her and rocked back against him harder, as if demanding he pull her pants down so he could enter her from behind.

  She wanted it so much, and she didn’t care if the whole tent heard them.

  “Shh,” he whispered in her ear, then nipped it. “I’m not going to fuck you here.” Oh God, his voice was so quiet and rough it sent shivers through her. “But I am going to make you come. Hard. All over my hand.”

  His fingers stopped petting her and parted her slick folds. His index finger brushed her clitoris, making her jerk. He rotated his hand so his middle finger could enter her body, slowly, so slowly, while his thumb brushed over her clit.

  The pleasure grew and grew, ramping up higher and higher, until he did something with his finger inside her that hit a spot that had her balanced on the edge of a precipice. Her breath caught. He pinched her clit, and the pleasure crested, waves of it pulsing through her, pulling her under into a soft blackness.

  …

  1:12 p.m.

  Dozer listened as Carmen’s breathing deepened and evened out. He pulled his hands away from her, making sure her clothing was where it should be, then studied her. She’d crashed hard.

  Right after flying apart in his arms.

  Fuck, his cock was throbbing, but he could wait until they were somewhere safe and alone. Where no one would bother them for a day or two or seven. He wanted to sink into her and not have to leave until he’d sated himself with her taste, until he gave her so many orgasms she’d never even think of walking away from him again.

  She fit in his arms just right. It threw him back in time to the first night he’d made love with her. She’d slept like this then, safe and sound.

  It was an illusion, that safety, but it was one he’d hang on to as long as he could. They were fighting an enemy no one could see, hear, smell, taste, or feel. An enemy that was likely all around them.

  He closed his eyes and let himself fall into the watchful sleep he’d learned to slip into at will when he’d been in the Army.

  No one was going to touch her without him knowing about it.

  Chapter Seventeen

  5:17 p.m.

  Why was it so hot?

  Carmen rolled over, or tried to, but there was an arm over her waist and a body behind her back preventing her from moving. Her m
emories came back in a rush, the very naughty things John had done to her jolting her completely awake.

  Holy shit, she’d orgasmed so hard she’d passed out. Her face heated, and she tried to look over her shoulder so she could see him, but the angle made it impossible.

  “John,” she whispered, using her elbow to nudge him.

  No response.

  Really? She elbowed him harder. His body rocked back slightly, allowing enough air between them for her to realize her clothes were wet.

  Wet? How could…oh no.

  Carmen fought her way out of John’s embrace and rolled off the cot to land awkwardly on her feet. She pushed herself upright, pulled the blanket away, and took in John’s soaked clothing. A touch to his forehead confirmed her fears.

  He was burning up, and he’d been hot enough, for long enough, to sweat through his clothes. One of the earliest symptoms of measles.

  Did he have the rash?

  She attacked his shirt, nearly ripping the buttons loose as she pulled it open.

  A throat cleared behind her. “Maybe you should wait until you get a room to tear his clothes off.”

  Carmen looked over her shoulder at DS. Why was he talking and not helping her? “He’s got a high fever. I’m trying to see if he has the rash, not have my way with him while he’s sleeping.”

  “Shit,” the older man said as he strode over, but he couldn’t get closer than the foot of the cot, thanks to the tight quarters. He pulled the cot out of the space, then helped her open John’s shirt and lifted his arm so she could inspect the skin underneath.

  A mottled rash had begun to form. It was still faint, but it was there.

  “How deep in shit are we?” DS asked as he lowered John’s arm.

  “Up to our eyeballs,” Carmen replied. “His recent wounds will have had a negative impact on his immune system. The infection could overwhelm him.”

  She’d told John this was a bad idea. She’d warned him that they were taking a risk in letting him come with her to ground zero of an outbreak. Now he was sick, very sick, and it was her fault.

  He’d been sleeping behind her, breathing into her hair. She was probably infected, too. The whole tent would have to be disinfected if it were to continue to be used as a clean working area.

  “We need to move him out of here.” Damn it, he couldn’t die now when they were finally, finally working through their past.

  DS hurried off while Carmen located her stethoscope and listened to John’s chest. His lungs were clear. For now.

  DS came back with clean masks for her and John.

  “I’ll be back with someone who can help me move him.”

  She nodded.

  It was time to face a few unpleasant facts.

  The masks weren’t offering the protection she’d been counting on. That meant…

  Ninety percent of health-care workers currently working were going to get sick, probably within twenty-four hours of one another. And…

  Hospitals were the last place people should be congregating. So…

  It was time to issue shelter-in-place or quarantine orders to the public.

  Carmen listened to John’s heart beating for a lot longer than she needed to. She just wanted some time with him. Heat came off him in waves. She didn’t need the actual number to know he was in trouble.

  Footsteps became audible behind her. DS, River, and Rawley.

  “How is he?” Rawley asked.

  “He has a fever, but his lungs are clear.”

  Rawley cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.” He looked like he meant it.

  “He’s a tough bastard,” DS said.

  “I’m going to tell him you said that,” River told him.

  “Who do you think you are? My nosy little brother?”

  Obviously, they were trying to make her feel better with all this banter.

  It hit her with a sucker punch to her gut—John was a victim now. Another casualty of the outbreak. She’d always been good at putting the victims of any disease or disaster at a healthy mental distance, but she couldn’t do that with John.

  He wasn’t a number.

  He wasn’t a faceless victim.

  She wasn’t going to let him die.

  He’d saved her once. It was time she repaid the favor.

  “We’ve got a cot for him near the entrance of the tent next door,” DS said. “You’ll be able to check on him whenever you want without having to walk too far.”

  He was talking to her like she was the emotionally fragile relative of a dying man.

  He was not dying.

  “Thank you,” she said smoothly. There was no way she could allow anyone to see how scared she was. “Be careful with him.”

  They moved around her, picked up his cot at the ends, and walked out with it.

  For the next several hours, she split her time between the command tent and the rapidly filling overflow tent ward, where John alternately soaked his clothing and blankets or huddled under them racked by cold chills.

  The number of sick continued to rise, with more and more Florida hospitals reporting cases of the variant measles.

  “Got any ideas?” John asked, lucid thanks to a break in his fever. She’d dumped as much ice as could be spared on him in the hopes it would bring his fever down. It had worked, but as the ice melted, his body temperature began to rise again. “Any experiments you want to conduct? I’m open to anything as long as it doesn’t involve a three-way with DS.”

  He was either trying to be funny or his fever was coming back fast and it was affecting his thinking. She decided it was funny and chose to be funny in return. “Experiments?” she asked, injecting a little fake outrage into her voice. “Who do you think I am, Dr. Frankenstein?”

  The silly expression on his face faded. “I’m serious. Got anything you want to try? Even if it’s dangerous, I’m game.”

  “Why would you want to do that?”

  “First”—he raised his head a little and looked around—“this tent is full of people, a lot of them kids. To pull a rabbit out of this hat will take some out-of-the box thinking.”

  “So I’m supposed to just pull some chemical out of my ass and give it to you?”

  “Well…” He gave her the same little-boy smile she’d fallen in love with years ago. “Maybe not out of your ass.”

  “That isn’t funny. This,” she said, gesturing at the room, “isn’t funny. I won’t risk your life.” It took work to keep her voice low enough so none of the people around them could overhear. And panic.

  He rolled his eyes, and in that moment she wanted to smack him.

  “Second, I don’t want to die,” he said with a calm that was as out of place as the humor. “I’ve finally got you talking to me.” He grinned.

  He was feverish. No sane man would try this bullshit if he wasn’t deathly ill. He probably wouldn’t remember this conversation at all. “You lied to me, you took my trust and tore it apart, and you think there’s still a chance for…for…you and me?” Her voice rose as she finished the question.

  His smile got wider. “You wouldn’t be so mad if you didn’t care.”

  He was right, damn him. She did care. She cared about him more than she cared about anyone or anything else, but once he was back on his feet, he’d never let her out of his sight. Never trust her to make the right decisions about her safety. And he’d use this horrible situation as the justification.

  He thought he had everyone all figured out. Once he did, he’d stick you into a labeled box and never let you out. He assumed he knew what you needed, and he provided it despite any arguments to the contrary.

  He had her in a box labeled helpless female. That probably wasn’t the only label on her box, but it was the biggest one. Well, thanks to him, she’d learned how to take care of herself. Other people, too.

  She leaned down, putting her masked face next to his right ear. “Yes, I care,” she said in an even tone. “I will not risk your life on a slim chance. I’ll talk to my team an
d ask for ideas. I’ll talk to my boss’s boss’s boss to see if there are any drugs in the midst of the FDA approval process that might help. They’ve been known to grant special permission to use unapproved drugs in extraordinary circumstances. That is all I will allow.”

  He blinked at her. “Wow, you’re fucking gorgeous when you’re angry.”

  She closed her eyes and shook her head. Nope, he wasn’t going to remember any of this.

  He made a strange noise.

  She opened her eyes to see him visibly shaking. “Cold?”

  “F-freezing.”

  The ice had melted; his fever was back. She pulled his blanket back up to his neck and stayed with him until he slept.

  DS offered to watch over John and several of the people around him so Carmen could get an update on the situation.

  Nothing had changed. It looked like the entire state of Florida was coming down with the measles. Airports in Miami, Fort Lauderdale, and Tampa had all been shut down. Hospitals were swamped with the sick, and the National Guard was sending units to help all over the state.

  The state had also issued an outbreak alert and asked people to remain at home if at all possible. The Surgeon General of the United States was watching the outbreak closely.

  People were dying.

  Carmen talked with her teams, asked them for ideas on treatment and prevention, but everyone was already doing everything they could think of. Ice baths were helping some, but not for long enough. All approved anti-viral medications were being used, but to no noticeable effect.

  Wednesday, April 2, 8:10 a.m.

  “I feel like it’s the early sixties, before the first measles vaccine became available,” she said to Henry during a video call with him. She’d hoped he’d have some news or information to report, but he didn’t.