The Pilgrim Strain

by Edgar, C. P.

  They had been tracking Brewster for the whole first day that the GPS was slapped on expecting him to head right to the airport and depart, but the Mercedes had instead drifted between three locations close to the area so they were forced to drop the live tracking and resort to pinging the GPS randomly to save the battery power on the unit. Their main focus obviously had been the doctor, who had been code-named 'Sprinter' by Einberg.

  Kef jumped in front of the laptop clicking away with the mouse. After a few moments scrutinizing a map he announced, “Brewster’s Mercedes is located within the refugee camp.”

  Rainer thought for a moment about the implications. He and the team had just left a mission in Papua New Guinea organized by Brewster that very clearly could have cost them their lives, and had been fraught with a hailstorm of uncertainty. Now the very man who had requested this surveillance mission was now sitting in the middle of it. Although Rainer didn’t know what future role the details of this surveillance played, he wasn’t happy about this situation because nowhere in their briefing materials had there been the mention of another team playing a role, let alone Brewster himself making a cameo appearance.

  He reached for the radio sitting on the table and told Helechek and Daggan to continue reporting any details regarding their 'friend' and tossed the radio back.

  “Put a motion notification on the GPS unit,” he said to Kef. Kef turned back to the laptop and placed the new commands into the system. The GPS would automatically notify the team via instant message when it recognized that the GPS had moved more than three meters.

  Several hours later, the team received their instant message indicating a start of motion from the GPS. This was corroborated through Chek and Daggan who reported visual observation of the Mercedes and the panel trucks departing the refugee camp.

  “Kef, keep a close eye on where that Mercedes goes. I want a probable location for its passengers. Also, place a boundary in the system around all the nearest airports so that we are notified if they enter those areas. I want a tight leash put on Brewster.”

  Rainer was standing behind Kef in his PT gear. The two of them had agreed to split the next four hour shift into two manageable two hour shifts so that each could get some physical training in. Rainer had been readying himself for a weighted burpee to pullup regimen in the back of the house when the messages started coming in.

  He reached over and grabbed the radio, “Toad, Juliet, are you ready to get in there?”

  “TOC this is Juliet, we are just outside the camp and are about to make entry.”

  “Ok, good luck. Top, out.”

  ***

  Merissa was exhausted. It was late evening as she sat at the clinic administration building going over the records being brought in from around the camp. It was still hot in the main room and she sat back and looked up at the ceiling trying to stretch her neck. Both ceiling fans were spinning and she noticed that one was off center and was wobbling slightly. She hadn’t noticed it before, her thoughts trailing off.

  They had gotten off to a late start today after receiving the vaccinations and training from Mr. Trecato and his team, but they had pushed on and had managed to administer inoculations for approximately eight percent of the eligible refugee population or approximately four thousand eight hundred patients.

  That’s not bad, she thought. Considering that they had achieved that volume within six hours of operations, she calculated that at that rate they would be complete with the vaccination campaign in roughly six days if they maintained twelve hour operations. She wasn’t sure that the current staff would be able to maintain that pace though.

  Merissa stood up stretching out her arms and trying to crack her back. It seemed like it had been ages since her run earlier in the day and she felt stiff and sore. She hoped that tonight she would be able to get some real sleep. She knew that she would need it for the upcoming days.

  Outside she could hear some familiar sounds and walked out to investigate. It surprised her, the difference between the inside of the building and the outside which had once again taken on a slight chill. Merissa found it to be very refreshing. She had sweat through her clothing earlier in the day and the wash of fresh air was cleansing.

  Hovering in the air were choruses of laughter and song. The native women volunteers were busy cleaning some of the washable equipment and medical coveralls in a makeshift cleaning trough made from halved industrial barrels and fed from buckets hauled from the nearest well. The women, tireless from the day’s effort, were huddled together laughing, giggling, and singing some of the native folk songs which they desperately tried to keep relevant. Many of the women were nothing more than teenagers.

  A young woman dressed in a fine red and green robe with a matching shawl came up to Merissa putting her arm around her shoulders and ushered her toward the other women. Merissa didn’t know her name but she had seen her earlier in the day assisting with the efforts at Clinic Three toward the north west of the camp. She was intent on Merissa participating in the fun. Merissa smiled and tried to politely excuse herself but the effort was pointless, the others absorbed Merissa into their group and the singing grew louder. Merissa finally gave in and not knowing the words, let alone the language they were spoken in, resorted to simply clapping along as best she could.

  Standing near the edge of the area surrounding the group caught up in song and dance were two men taking photographs. Actually, one was taking photos and the other was busy handing out small candies to the group of children that he had attracted. Obviously, he wasn’t familiar with refugee camps as he would have known that if you give one child a candy suddenly hundreds more pour into the area begging.

  The men were dressed in khaki pants and one had on a black long-sleeve shirt and a well-worn Boston Red Sox ball cap. The other was wearing a North Face pullover. Both men appeared to have United Nations press credentials contained in clear plastic identification holders dangling from cords around their necks. Both men also were wearing large backpacks, the kind one would see on someone bivouacking or traveling across Europe.

  Merissa had seen many reporters come and go during her tenure at the refugee camp and although these gentlemen looked slightly different for the most part they adhered to the profile. She smiled at them as they continued to take photos for a short period then they began walking toward her and the group. The young man in the cap smiled at her as they approached and held out his hand.

  “Good evening Ma’am, I was wondering if you could point us in the right direction. We’re looking for Doctor Manzak. Do you know where we could find her?” he asked.

  “I’m Doctor Manzak, how may I help you?” she asked dusting herself off a bit and pushing the hair that had fallen along the sides of her face back behind her ear.

  “Oh, no way, nice to meet you. I’m Marc Johnson and this is my buddy Justin Goldberg,” Einberg said giving Miller a smile and a coy wink. Miller obviously not finding Einberg’s sarcasm funny just smiled and after giving him an I’m going to beat your ass look reached out and shook the doctor’s hand.

  “Nice to meet you Ma’am,” he said.

  Einberg continued, “We heard of your work here while we were touring the refugee camp up near Babanusah and wanted to see if we could take a day or so to document the activities going on here.”

  Merissa had taken a moment to peak at their credentials and noticed that each seemed to be documented correctly and obviously had made it through the UN security point although her misgivings about the veracity of that was well-documented. However, she thought these two looked like every other reporter coming and going through these parts. This part of the world was often documented in Western reporting and media even though nothing really came of it.

  Merissa had even seen American actors and actresses come and go. She called it “modern safari” alluding to the sense of adventure these people were striving for without really delving too deep. Photo opportunities that feed the Tweet machine.

  She did think though
that these two looked unusually fit as most foreign affairs reporters were heavy smokers and heavier yet drinkers.

  “What organization do you represent? It doesn’t say on your creds.”

  Miller jumped in, “We’re both freelancing at the moment. I used to work for Nat Geo in South America mostly. This is my first trip to Sudan and I don’t have a sponsor so I’m just trying to figure out the situation here. How long have you been here?” He took out a notebook he had stashed in the left cargo pocket of his pants. He shifted the weight of his backpack from his shoulder to the center of his back as he stood up straight again.

  Merissa looked at the notebook and then back at Miller, “Is this an interview? Come on guys, you should know the deal by now. If you want to talk officially about what is going on here you’re going to need to contact WHO media relations to set it up formally. You have all the authorization you need to photograph and interview the refugees, but I’m bound by that requirement.”

  “Sorry Doctor, I wasn’t intentionally trying to subvert the rules. I’ve never interviewed a WHO representative. I’ll call them tomorrow and set it up. My apologies,” Miller said returning the notebook from where he had retrieved it.

  Merissa felt bad about having to take an official stance with these guys, they seemed pretty harmless. “You can call me Merissa and as long as we are just shooting the shit. I’ve been here for about four months.”

  They continued to talk for a few moments, Merissa explained the plight of the people and the growth of the refugee camp. Eventually she told them about the immunization project that had been kicked off that day.

  “We’re going to be really busy around here for the next couple of days so you’ll excuse me as I need to go get some much needed rest. Where are you guys staying?”

  Einberg pointed to the packs on their backs and gave a wink. Merissa shook her head, Millennial cowboys.

  She pointed to the clinic administration building, “You guys can crash in the administration building. There are cots set up in one of the back rooms. There is a working bathroom in there as well. Just please don’t mess with any of the medical equipment.”

  The two men expressed their gratitude and assured her that they would leave the place as they found it. Merissa headed in and grabbed the reports she had been working on and a laptop she had been utilizing and placed them in an attaché case she slung over her shoulder.

  “Goodnight gentlemen, I’ll see you around,” she said leaving them to their room as they dropped their bags on two cots set against the far wall. She shut the front door to the main room on her way out.

  Miller looked at Einberg, “Fucking Goldberg? Really? You’re such a douche bag.”

  Einberg laughed. “Now you feel my pain? Nice use of the notebook by the way dumbass. You suck as a wingman,” he countered.

  Einberg looked over his shoulder to make sure the door to the clinic was closed and then he unzipped the main compartment to his backpack. It folded out into two sections and Velcro strapped to the main section was a suppressed HK MP7 with an Elcan SpecterDR optical sight. Miller had a similar setup in his backpack. The front section housed all the cameras and reporter props that they had brought with them, but the main compartment was all business.

  Miller sat on the cot after finding the camera he was looking for and closed his pack up. He placed the camera next to him and then bent over and took the SIG Sauer P239 and ankle holster off his left leg. He needed some relief for a few moments. He checked to make sure the P239 was still chambered even though he had loaded it himself and it would have been impossible for it not to have still been loaded, but he did it anyways out of habit.

  Looking around he tucked the pistol, holster and all, into his right cargo pocket and grabbed the camera. He wanted to document as much of the materials inside of the clinic administration building as possible in case this was their only chance. He proceeded to root around keeping an ear out for anyone ascending the front concrete stairs.

  “I can’t believe she invited us to stay in here,” Einberg said. He had pulled out his Virgin and was typing a situation report for the TOC.

  Miller did not respond, he was busy reading the label on a vaccination canister that he could see through the semi-clear plastic medical waste container it was in.

  Looking through the camera’s LCD viewer he centered on the canister label and clicked off a couple of images. He reviewed them, and satisfied that he had properly captured the information displayed on the label, moved on looking for the trash receptacles located throughout the building. Trash was always treasure, he thought.

  Hours later they had recorded pretty much all the useful information contained in the administration building. They had company in the form of people on two occasions during their search.

  First, a tall black male had come by to check in with them and to make sure they were settled in. He obviously had been told that they were occupying the space for the night. Luckily, Einberg and Miller had been taking a break on the cots talking about getting a beer and going to see a ballgame when they got back to the States when he had entered the building.

  Einberg had noticed that the man had eyed each of them and their gear warily and thought for a split second that he was going to be a problem but the man had left as quietly and swiftly as he had come after gathering up all the trash and taking it with him.

  The second time they were interrupted was when two women came in to drop off some medical equipment and garments into the storage room. They were pleasant and smiled but were also obviously wary of the men. Miller sensed they were frightened and he and Einberg did not rise or move from where they were sitting when the two had entered the building. They reminded him of deer, going about their business but highly suspicious of any movement out of their peripheral.

  Other than that, it had been quiet. Miller had attached his camera to his Virgin and had sent the photos that they had managed to take to the TOC, and then cleared the memory from the cameras so should they be stopped at some point and searched nothing would be compromised.

  Einberg had finished his situation reports and they bedded down for the night alternating shifts on guard. Hopefully tomorrow they would be able to conclude with the surveillance and be off this mission. Neither man could conceive why Merissa Manzak was being watched by Brewster but neither truly cared either.

  ***

  Merissa had managed to find her cot after a lengthy email exchange with David. She had started by giving sort of a lengthy summary of the activities of the day and those planned over the next few days. She had indicated that she might not be able to make their planned Skype date on Sunday and hoped he would understand. She had also made it clear that she would make it up to him when she got back home.

  She had sent it not expecting a return email, but obviously David had read it immediately. She knew he kept his iPhone on him most times and he had probably read it just as it came through. She had expected him to be mad or disappointed.

  She read his response, “Ok babe. Just let me know when you are free next. It doesn’t have to be on a Sunday, it can be any day or time. Whatever is convenient for you I’ll make it work on my side of the planet.”

  Merissa smiled when she read it. David was just about the nicest guy she had ever met. He wasn’t the toughest guy on the block and he could be rather nerdy from time to time, but she had fallen for him nonetheless. She just hoped that he would ask her to marry him sometime soon. Merissa knew he could be a little insecure and she had been dropping hints left and right trying to show that she favored him but he hadn’t made the move yet. Hopefully this long absence would be the tipping point.

  She dreaded the thought of it not working out and having to go back on the dating scene. She usually made the wrong choice in men, ending up dating some Neanderthal or even worse, a self-centered bureaucrat. David had been a leap in faith but was the best choice she had ever made in a man. He was brilliant, handsome but not overly concerned with his looks, and an ok runne
r. He was perfect. Right at that moment she decided she was going to marry David McDaniel. She whispered, “Merissa McDaniel,” to herself as she flopped on the cot. She was asleep in an instant.

  The banging at her door woke her. She looked for a moment at the scene around her not knowing whether it was another false alarm. She couldn’t believe she wasn’t going to get another night's rest. She had fallen asleep fully clothed having apparently passed out from exhaustion in a pair of clean khaki pants and a quarter-zip pullover. She grabbed her shoes sensing that this would not be like last night as the banging continued in rapid succession.

  “Hold on, I’m coming,” she yelled.

  The urgency of the person on the other side of the door concerned her. She immediately believed there to be a medical problem. She slipped on a shoe with each step toward the door and then only after unlocking it, swung it open.

  Samir crashed through the door, grabbing Merissa by the shoulders. His actions startled her and believing for an instant he was attacking her she drove her right knee up into his groin then pushed him off her. He groaned when she made contact and he fell to his knees and bent forward placing his head on the ground.

  She looked for a way to escape and seeing the door was about to sprint out when she saw standing there two native women. Both girls had their hands to their mouths with a look of disbelief on their faces.

  Confused, Merissa looked back down at Samir who remained positioned on the floor groaning slightly. Merissa saw a deep laceration on his back caused by something that had torn through his shirt. It wasn’t bleeding heavily but it would probably require at a minimum some butterfly sutures and a dressing to keep it from getting infected. She felt confused and anger was billowing up at him for forcing her to defend herself.

  She raised her voice to him while he lay there, “Samir, what the hell is going on? I thought you were attacking me!”

  Samir flopped over onto his side and then his back, finding some wind finally. He said in a low voice, “Something is wrong. Many of the refugees who received the vaccinations are showing up at the clinics complaining of medical issues like severe headaches and body pains. Some are hard to understand and are acting crazy. One woman even attacked me and we've had to restrain her. We need your help Doctor.”