Payback

by J. Robert Kennedy

  Koroma said nothing, seemingly evaluating what she had said. She decided her best bet to encourage him to follow protocol was to simply give him no choice.

  She headed for the rear exit and shoved open the door, stepping outside. The man who would normally hose her down looked confused, surprised. Even a bit scared.

  She placed the syringe on a table then held out her gloved hands, determined to keep them on as long as she had to handle the syringe. “Just spray my hands and my feet.”

  The man nodded, carrying out the unusual orders as Koroma stepped outside.

  She pointed at Koroma’s boots. “Spray his feet too.”

  The man looked terrified, almost too scared to even look at his boss let alone follow through with the order.

  Koroma shook his head. “There’s definitely no need for that.”

  Sarah decided it was best to pick her battles. If she was right, Koroma would soon be gone, surrounded by infected men who once displaying symptoms, would be infectious to those around them whether some of the virus were on the soles of his shoes or not.

  They rounded the building, returning to where the men were waiting, Sarah filling the seconds with encouraging words about how his daughter was very likely to survive with proper care, a feeble attempt to reinforce the need to leave her and Tanya alive.

  Koroma said nothing, instead holding out his arm as soon as they were with the other men. She said nothing, instead injecting him, not even half a CC, but more than enough to infect him in the days to come.

  “Thank you, Doctor.”

  Her automatic response was said before she could stop herself. “You’re welcome.”

  She closed her eyes for a moment, shaking her head, then injected the other men, none to a man showing any hesitation. She wondered if the Kamikaze pilots of World War II were as stoic in their resolve, if the Islamic terrorists heading out on a suicide bombing mission were as steadfast. As she finished with the last man, she made it a point to make certain the syringe was empty lest Koroma turn it on her.

  I’d rather die from a bullet than Ebola.

  “Very good.” He said something in Krio that sent the men running to their vehicles. Koroma turned toward her, pulling his gun. “I’m afraid it is time.”

  Her stomach tightened and her heart slammed against her ribcage as blood rushed through her ears. Thoughts of her husband, her parents, her family filled her mind, of the sick and the dying, of the lives lost and saved over the years, and of one trembling lip, her last memory of her son, a memory she had never dreamed she would be taking to her grave.

  Her breaths were shallow, rapid, as she began to hyperventilate. She stepped backward, bumping into a table holding supplies. She gripped its edge. Tight. A splinter from the worn table made its presence felt, jarring her back to reality if only for a moment. Koroma stood in front of her, a blur, her eyes filled with tears.

  “I’m sorry, Doctor, but I can’t risk someone finding you and you telling them of our plans.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath and held it, blinking rapidly. She refused to wipe her eyes dry, her hands still gloved and possibly still contaminated from the patient she had taken the blood from.

  And besides, it would only give her a clearer view of the man about to shoot her.

  “Is there anything you want to tell your father?”

  “Wh-what?” The question caught her by surprise. What did he mean? Was he going to send him a message, or worse, actually see him?

  “Do you have a message for your father?”

  “I-I don’t understand. Are you—are you going to see him?”

  Koroma didn’t reply. “Do you have a message? Last chance.”

  She nodded, hesitantly. “Y-yes. Tell him, tell my husband and son, and my mother, that I love them and that—” She stopped, the words caught in her throat as she choked out a sob. “Tell them all that I’m sorry, and that I love them, and that my last thoughts were of them.”

  “They will receive your message.” He stepped closer. “Now close your eyes.”

  She gasped out a cry, her entire body shaking like a leaf as she squeezed her eyes tight, her hands trembling at her sides as she turned her head slightly, cringing with the anticipation of her impending death.

  God forgive me for all my sins. Please take care of my son.

  A horn honked, the grinding of gears causing her to open her eyes and look toward the road. “I got it!” a voice shouted, “I got it!” She saw the blurred form of Koroma turn toward the voice, a voice it took her a moment to recognize as Mustapha’s.

  The truck he was in skidded to a halt, a cloud of dust rolling toward them as he jumped out, the man clearly excited.

  “Got what?” asked Koroma, stepping away from Sarah, giving her a moment’s reprieve she wasn’t sure she was happy to have, it merely giving her more time until her impending doom.

  “The IV supplies they said they needed!”

  This statement snapped Sarah’s survival instinct back into play. She yanked off her face mask and gloves, tossing them aside then wiped her eyes dry. “Did you say you got IV supplies?”

  The suddenly in focus Mustapha nodded, a genuine smile spread across his excited face. “We hijacked a supply heading for Port Loko. That’s where I’ve been for the past few hours.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder as two men began unloading boxes of supplies. “We’ve got a whole truck full.”

  She chose to be bold, to take the initiative and ignore the danger, since the worst that could happen would be for Koroma to shoot her, something she had been seconds away from regardless. She walked swiftly to the rapidly growing pile of boxes and tore one open. Inside were precious bags of IV fluids, the exact type she needed to help save the people in her makeshift clinic.

  She flashed a smile at Mustapha then whirled on Koroma, pointing at the boxes. “With these I can save your people.”

  Koroma said nothing, the gun still out, but now at his side.

  “You can kill me now and all of this will go to waste, or you can let me put this to use. I can save your people, not all of them, but many of them.” She stepped toward him, lowering her voice. “I can save your daughter.”

  This got a reaction as his eyes finally met hers. “Are you sure?”

  She decided telling the truth was the best option, any hint of deception possibly sealing her fate. “No, I can’t guarantee it. But she’s young, strong and has just started showing symptoms. She’s been isolated early and hasn’t begun to dehydrate yet.” She pointed at the boxes. “Let me save her. With proper, prompt intervention, over half can be saved. Let this be your legacy.”

  He said nothing for a moment, then suddenly holstered his weapon, walking briskly toward the idling vehicles. He stopped, turning toward her. “Save my daughter.”

  “I-I will.”

  He nodded then turned to Mustapha. “If my daughter survives, give her to her grandmother.”

  “Of course, Adopho.”

  “And if the Americans come, you know what to do.”

  Mustapha bowed slightly, closing his eyes for a moment. “It will be done.”

  Koroma opened the passenger door to the lead vehicle, looking at Mustapha one last time. “Good bye, my friend.”

  Mustapha snapped a rigid salute, Koroma returning it as the vehicle pulled away, leaving Sarah to wonder what Koroma’s final instructions were.

  She could think of only one thing.

  Kill the doctors.

  But she had to ignore that inevitability for now. She turned to Mustapha.

  “I have to get Tanya. I’ll need her help to get everyone hooked up as quickly as possible.”

  Mustapha nodded and she headed toward the showers, assuming that’s where Tanya had disappeared to, she not having seen her since the new arrivals had first appeared. Stepping inside the building, she pressed against the wall, her entire body shaking with relief as she looked up to the heavens, thanking God for one more chance.

  CIA Headquarters, Langley,
Virginia

  “What are we looking at?”

  Chris Leroux used a laser pointer to indicate an L-shaped building surrounded by a loose cluster of houses in a semi-circle on three sides. To the right, only several hundred yards from the tiny village was a small winding river, the entire area cleared of trees leaving pale yellow grass and dried dirt covering the open areas.

  “This is a community center in the town of Samaia in northern Sierra Leone, population less than five hundred. When these photos were taken several hours ago, you can see two transport vehicles that match the description of those missing here and here,” he said, moving the pointer. “What’s interesting though is this.” He hit a key on his laptop and the photo changed to a zoomed in and enhanced photo of the southern side of the building. “Here you can see two individuals, one appears—”

  “Is that biohazard gear they’re wearing?” asked Donovan Eppes.

  “We believe so. It matches the personal protective equipment that those dealing with the Ebola outbreak are wearing.”

  “So they have an outbreak in this village,” said Cindy Fowler, the testiness in her voice suggesting she was pissed off at somebody, probably Eppes. “Should we be surprised by that?”

  “Of course not,” said Leroux, ignoring her attitude, it getting tiring. “We’ve confirmed however that there are no clinics in this area, no workers assigned to this village, and that this village, Samaia, is the hometown of our prime suspect, Major Adopho Koroma.”

  “Now those are just too many coincidences,” said Morrison with a slight smile of approval directed at Leroux. “Anything else you can tell us?”

  Leroux nodded, flicking through several more enhanced photos, each showing different armed men around the village. “Clearly there is a significant armed presence for this small a village. We’ve got a UAV heading for the area now and our Delta team along with British Marines are ready to enter, but the Sierra Leonean government is refusing permission. They want to handle it themselves.”

  “When?” cried Vice President Henderson. “How long will it take them to get there?”

  “Hours. They’re proposing leaving the operation until tomorrow morning as it will be dark before they get there.”

  “No goddamned way are we waiting until tomorrow!” Henderson jabbed his finger into the tabletop. “I want Delta sent in, now!”

  This demand was above Leroux’s pay grade. He turned toward Morrison who said nothing. He began to wonder if his boss was expecting him to respond when he was finally saved by someone jacked in over the speaker.

  “Proceed.”

  Henderson’s shoulders slumped in relief.

  “Thank you, Mr. President.”

  Samaia, Sierra Leone

  “Tanya, it’s me!” Sarah knocked on the door to the showers again, this time a little harder. She could hear the water running inside, but the door was closed and locked. She put her ear against the door and swore she heard sobbing inside. Pushing on the door, she twisted the knob as hard as she could to no avail.

  She slammed on the door with the palm of her hand.

  “Tanya, open the door!”

  The sound of the water changed inside, then the squeak of the knob being turned was followed by the water stopping. She stepped back slightly, not sure of what to expect, but when the door finally opened, she gasped, stunned at what she saw.

  Her friend was soaked from head to toe, her clothes stained dark red, the water pooling at her feet mixed with what was clearly blood.

  She resisted the urge to grab her, her fear of the virus too great, but when her friend started to collapse, she leapt forward and grabbed her, helping her to a nearby bench in front of the lockers then kneeling at her feet. “What happened?” she asked, quickly checking her body for wounds, finding none. “Whose blood is this?”

  “It-it’s not mine,” she finally said, her eyes at last looking at Sarah. “It’s the driver’s.”

  Sarah’s jaw dropped. The amount of blood was significant, despite her having been under the shower. If she had stabbed him, they were dead.

  Or maybe he’s dead?

  “What happened?”

  “He tried to rape me.”

  “Oh my God, are you okay? Did he…” She couldn’t bring herself to say the words, the very idea of vocalizing them sickening, as if it would make it that much more real. But Tanya was suffering, and she needed her help. “Did he hurt you?” she finally managed, the words a whisper.

  Tanya shook her head, vehemently. “I cut it off.”

  Sarah fell backward, looking up at her friend. “You what?” She knew what the words meant, but she wasn’t sure if ‘it’ was really ‘it’. She secretly hoped ‘it’ meant what she was thinking.

  “I cut it off. Clean off. With a scalpel.”

  Sarah bit her knuckle, hard, trying not to laugh with delight, the horror of the situation still not lost on her, but still she couldn’t help herself. “You mean…his penis…you cut it off?”

  “I sliced the goddamned thing off and tossed it away like a piece of gristle.” Tanya looked at her and smiled bashfully. “Was that okay?”

  Sarah finally let herself laugh, pushing herself back up on her knees, grabbing Tanya by either side of her face, touching foreheads. “Oh you brave, brave, girl. Of course it’s okay!” Tanya suddenly hugged her, sobbing and laughing, and the two of them sat there for a moment without saying anything. Sarah finally gently pushed her friend away, holding her shoulders and looking into her eyes. “Where did he go?”

  And it was the critical question. If he had time to get away and tell someone, they’d be looking for them and if the wrong person found them, they’d be dead, or worse, raped like originally intended.

  But not by that bastard.

  “Nowhere. He’s still behind the building.”

  “Really? Didn’t he run away?”

  Tanya shook her head. “I sliced his femoral artery. He was out cold within thirty seconds. I’m sure he’s dead by now.”

  Sarah felt her chest tighten. “We have to hide the body, now.”

  Tanya nodded. “I tried but he’s too heavy.”

  “We’ll do it together.” Sarah pushed herself to her feet and helped Tanya to hers. “Show me.”

  Sarah stepped into the hallway, looking both ways to make sure they were alone, then led Tanya out by the hand, heading quickly for the rear exit. Opening the door, she looked outside and saw no one, the community center backing onto a cleared area then trees. Running toward the back, Tanya in tow, she rounded the corner and gasped. The amount of blood was incredible. The driver she remembered as Mohammed lay in the center of it, one hand gripping his groin, the other outstretched in front of him, his eyes closed, his skin a sickly color she had seen too often in her line of work.

  There was no doubt he was dead, drained of blood.

  She let go of Tanya and grabbed the outstretched arm, beginning to pull. “Help me!” she grunted, Tanya frozen in place. “Tanya, help me!”

  Tanya finally moved, taking the other arm. Between the two of them they managed to drag the deadweight to the rear entrance when Sarah stopped.

  “What?” asked Tanya. “We have to hurry before someone sees us!”

  “They’ll be searching for him.”

  Tanya looked at her and nodded. “Which is why we need to hide him. Now!”

  Sarah shook her head. “If we put him inside they’ll find him and know we did it.”

  Tanya looked over her shoulder at the distant tree line. “There’s no way we can get him all the way over there. And besides, they’ll find him anyway.”

  Sarah motioned toward the front of the building. “We’ll put him in Zone Three.” Tanya’s eyes opened wide then she smiled slightly as she too realized it was the perfect hiding place. “I’ll make sure it’s clear.” Sarah let go of the body and walked toward the front of the building. Nobody was at the rear entrance to Zone Three. The only problem now was the lack of protective gear.

  They�
�d have to risk it.

  She rushed back to Tanya and grabbed Mohamed’s loose arm. “It’s clear.” She began to tug when she noticed Tanya not helping. She turned. “What?”

  “We don’t have any equipment.”

  “I know. We’ll have to chance it, we have no choice. If they find him, we’re dead anyway. If we catch Ebola, there’s at least a fifty-fifty chance we’ll survive. I prefer those odds to certain death.”

  Tanya nodded, beginning to pull again. “We need to survive until the Americans get here.”

  “Koroma had me infect him and eight others with the virus,” grunted Sarah as they pulled the two hundred pound man in jerks. “He was going to kill me when Mustapha arrived with IV supplies.”

  “Really?” Tanya sounded excited. “With those we might actually save some of these people.”

  “Agreed.” The word was strangled out, her muscles screaming for relief. She moved two hundred and even three hundred pound men around in her daily life, but it was always on a gurney or at least with some of their own power helping her.

  Never had she pulled a deadweight across dirt for a couple of hundred feet.

  She was exhausted.

  She peered around the corner and they were still clear. In one last, all-out effort they pulled him as quickly as they could toward the door. She opened it, looking inside, seeing no one but the dying. Trying not to touch anything with her hands, she took a deep breath and yanked the body inside, eying an empty spot nearby. A few more tugs and the body was flopped into place.

  They raced outside.

  She gasped for air, her lungs screaming in protest. Tanya already had the hose pumped, the bleach solution spraying on Sarah’s feet then her outstretched hands, Sarah returning the favor before they sprinted to the other exit that led to the showers. Inside they stripped and shared the shower, Sarah’s discomfort over being completely naked with another woman forgotten.