Viral Justice

by Julie Rowe

  “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

  “I’m the security expert.”

  “Right, dumb question.” He squared his shoulders as if preparing for bad news. “How many people do you think we should have?”

  “Total of four. Two extra to help lug your stuff around and watch our backs.”

  Max stared at her like he wasn’t sure he understood what language she was speaking.

  She smiled sweetly at him. “You thought I was going to demand an entire twelve-man team, right?”

  “I did.”

  “You want in and out, that’s what you’re going to get. Fourteen people are going to make an impression. Four, not so much.” She glanced around. People were back to the busy rushing about. “When do we leave?”

  “In two hours.”

  No regrets. That was Alicia’s usual motto. Today, she wanted more time spent with Max the man, not the colonel. She wasn’t going to get it.

  “I’m going to grab our escort and load up on weapons and ammunition. If that meets with your approval, Colonel?”

  He raised a brow, then nodded.

  Alicia left the building, hiding her bemusement. Max had thought she would argue with him, and she would, but she also knew how to pick her battles. She’d been managing powerful men most of her life. Her father and grandfather, her own officers, and officers from other branches of the military. They all said they wanted to be trained by the best, but very few ever went without challenging her skills or right to teach hand-to-hand combat to men twice her size.

  Max was a pussycat compared to some of the assholes she’d had to deal with.

  She headed straight for her father’s office and found him about to leave.

  “Sir? A moment, please?”

  “What is it, Sergeant?”

  “Sir, Colonel Maximillian is heading to a village in Northern Iraq to identify a possible flu virus that’s killed four people. I’d like to take a couple of Special Forces soldiers as escort.”

  He looked at her for a moment, searching her face. “Approved. I’ll give the order on my way out.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Don’t forget your backup weapon.”

  She stood a little taller. “I won’t, sir.” She saluted and headed out of the administration building. Once outside she jogged to the firing range, where the on-base Special Forces soldiers were scheduled to be. At the moment only one team was in residence. A dozen soldiers who were trained by the best to be the best.

  At the range she talked to their unit commander, Sergeant Miles Hamston, and asked him who he recommended for this short mission.

  Ham, as everyone called him, stood with one hip cocked forward and crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t ask me a bullshit question like that. I know you have two guys in mind, so just tell me who the fuck you want.”

  She loved working with men who didn’t bother with chitchat. “I want Bullard and Irving.”

  “They’re yours. Give me twenty seconds to get them.”

  It wasn’t even that long. Fifteen seconds after he left, he was back with two men. “Try to return them in one piece.”

  “Will do.” She turned to her new recruits. “Get your gear. We’re going into a medical hot zone. Possible flu, and it’s killing people. Your job will be to watch Colonel Maximillian’s back while he does his thing to identify the bug. Prep for three days and don’t dress fancy.”

  She glanced at her watch. “You have fifteen minutes to gear up and meet me at the helipad. Go.”

  They went.

  Alicia jogged to her own quarters, grabbed her go-bag and jammed as much extra ammunition, water and food into it as she could. She added an ankle holster on her right leg with her back up Beretta. Her primary Beretta rode in a leg holster on her right thigh. She tucked four extra clips into the pouches on her belt made specifically for that purpose.

  Her primary weapon, an MK 16 Mod 0 SCAR-L, fired forty five-mm rounds and used thirty-round magazines. By the time she was done stashing extra magazines in all the places she could, she looked like a Christmas tree.

  Her backpack was filled with survival gear, high energy protein bars, a couple of additional canteens of water and more ammunition.

  At the helipad, Max was talking to Eugene when she walked up. The colonel took one look at her and said, “We’re going for two days. Two days. To identify a pathogen, not rescue hostages.” He waved his hand up and down in front of her. “You look like you’re going to siege an entire city for a month.”

  She saluted. “Leo in deterius expectabit.”

  “Plan for the worst, hope for the best?” Max shook his head. “Is that your motto?”

  “It is today.” She turned and gestured at the two soldiers who’d appeared next to her. “This is Weapons Sergeant Bill Bullard and Medical Sergeant Tom Irving.”

  Max shook their hands. “It’s just the four of us on this trip, so call me Max. My goal is to fly under the radar, so no ranks, sirs or salutes.”

  “Call me Bull.”

  “I’m Tom to most people most of the time,” the medic said. “Unless shit’s going down, then I’m Tomahawk.”

  “Let’s get moving,” Max said to them. “I’ll brief you in the air.”

  They got on the bird and a few minutes later, they took off.

  Max gave everyone a headset and began explaining to the two Special Forces soldiers the parameters of the mission.

  “We’re going to a village in Northern Iraq. It was overrun by extremists last month, and approximately forty to fifty people were killed during the takeover. A week later, the extremists pulled out of the village to take over a larger one forty kilometers away. Quite a few of those people escaped and some of them landed in the first village because they had family members or friends there. Two weeks ago a few people came down with high fevers and other flu-like symptoms. More people reported the same symptoms in the following days. Last night, a lot more people reported getting sick, enough to ask for help. Four of them died of what appears to be breathing difficulties. Our job is to get in, identify the pathogen, report the results to the WHO and our own command, then get out without injury.”

  “Sir, is this going to be like the mission in Northern Lebanon, when your doctor ran into Akbar?” Bull asked.

  “Unlikely. My doctor went into that camp not knowing what the pathogen was and worked on the assumption it could be anything. This time, I’m reasonably sure it’s an influenza virus, I just need to verify it and determine which one.”

  “What if it isn’t?” Irving asked.

  Max shrugged. “The mission will change.”

  “And Akbar?”

  “Is unlikely to be involved in this. He’s trying to create the next great plague. While the flu can be deadly, and has been in the past, there are easier pathogens to use as biological weapons than influenza. It’s just too...unpredictable.”

  “Sounds like my last girlfriend,” Bull said.

  Max looked confused. “You’re comparing your last girlfriend to the flu?”

  “Yeah, when you put it that way,” Bull said, “it does sound kind of bad. But trust me, that bitch made me feel every flu symptom there is.”

  Stone ignored him. “How many people live in this village?”

  “Numbers seem in contention, but approximately six hundred. Two or three hundred are new.”

  “Who got sick? The residents, the newcomers, or a bit of both?”

  “Unknown, but those are good questions. We’ll have to ascertain all that when we get there.”

  He unzipped the duffel bag nearest to him, took out a medium-sized bag and pulled out a fancy-looking medical mask, showing it to everyone. “This is a surgical mask designed to fit snugly on the face and create a seal so no air droplets c
an get in from the sides. They come in a bunch of sizes, so go through the bag and try them out until you find one that fits. Once you find the right size take an extra mask and keep it with you.” He handed Stone the bag.

  Max went back to the duffel bag, grabbed a small box and pulled several pairs of gloves out of it. “Take several pairs of gloves, as well.”

  “Do we have a contact on the ground?” Stone asked.

  “Yes, the UN has a couple of different groups with people in the village, an international aid group based out of France has a couple of people in the area, and the World Health Organization has a small emergency clinic set up. They’re the ones who contacted me about the flu. Officially, we’re not there. We’re not going to be there, and no matter what anyone says, we were never there.”

  “Unofficially?”

  “We’re coming in to support the WHO. Once we have a diagnosis, we leave. The army’s only official act in regards to the village will be a supply drop if needed of emergency food and/or medical supplies.”

  Alicia studied Max’s face as he finished speaking. His shoulders were raised, and that along with clenched hands told her there was more on his mind than he was saying. “In the interests of proper planning,” she began, and received instant attention from all three men. “What kind of worst-case scenarios could we see in this village?”

  Max’s mouth tightened and she knew she’d read him correctly. He was worried about something. “Unfortunately, there’re several. When one group of extremists takes over a village they’ll usually kill a large number of the men and often boys. Sometimes they kidnap women and children. Sometimes they kill indiscriminately. Sometimes they target specific religious or ethnic groups. The Kurds have been hard hit in the area. So have Christians, as well as any Muslims who don’t follow the teachings of the specific extremist group.”

  He hunched over a little, almost as if he were praying. “Then, another extremist group or the relatives of the displaced might retake the village. They perform the same atrocities as the first extremists in revenge or retribution.”

  “A vicious cycle,” Stone said in a tone that sounded tired already, even to herself.

  “One that doesn’t end quickly or well.” Max shook his head. “We’re going into a volatile environment. The aid group workers are in almost as much danger as we are, but the American military is everyone’s preferred target, so be cautious.”

  He pointed at a duffel bag attached to the fuselage of the helicopter. “There are some poncho-like coats that are common in this part of the world in the winter. Where we’re going gets pretty cold at night, so no one is going to think twice if they see you wearing one. There’re also some scarves to camouflage your helmets and face masks.”

  He made eye contact with Alicia. “Do you want to go in wearing female or male clothing?”

  “I’d rather not advertise I’m a woman.”

  “Fair enough.” He glanced at the two male soldiers to include them. “Who speaks Arabic or Dari?”

  He put his own hand up. Alicia put up hers, so did Bull and Tom.

  “Excellent. One last thing. We’re landing a couple of miles away from the village and walking in. Getting dropped off by an American military helicopter would be enlarging the target that’s already on our backs.”

  “Already?” Bull asked.

  “We’re outsiders, so by definition, we’re suspect.”

  “Of what?” Tom asked.

  Max shrugged. “Everything.”

  Chapter Ten

  The helicopter hovered only long enough for the four of them to grab all the equipment bags before it took off as rapidly as it had descended.

  Everyone had to carry their personal pack and weapons in addition to one duffel bag. Max worried that Alicia would be overloaded, but she made no complaint as she hoisted the duffel she’d grabbed over her shoulder.

  The Green Berets and Alicia had their MK 16s strapped on under their ponchos, partially hiding them from sight, but still easily accessible.

  Max didn’t carry one. He had two weapons, besides his brain. A 9mm Beretta and a knife he kept strapped to his right calf under his clothes. It was one of those survival knives that had a hollow hilt filled with a flint, wire and fishhook. He couldn’t fight his way out of a cardboard box with it, but having the minimal survival gear attached to his body always gave him an extra degree of confidence.

  They’d been dropped off next to a rutted road. The terrain was rocky, and with the temperature only a few degrees above freezing, the only vegetation around was winter brown.

  Alicia talked with Bull for a moment, then started off in the point position. The two Special Forces soldiers nodded at Max to follow, putting him in the protected position as they brought up the rear.

  They headed perpendicular from the road until they got about one hundred feet away, then they paralleled it to avoid highwaymen, robbers or other armed bandits.

  Alicia set a good pace. Her head constantly moved from side to side as she looked for threats.

  How did she define a threat? Was it anyone who saw them, or anyone with a weapon who saw them? One person or more than one?

  He sometimes got the impression that she saw everyone as a threat, until you proved you weren’t. Until then, your continued existence was in question and your ability to keep breathing in doubt.

  Was he a threat? Was that why she didn’t stay, sleep with him?

  Alicia suddenly stopped moving and crouched, giving a hand signal for him, Bull and Tom to do the same.

  Max tried to find what she was looking at. There it was. A boy sat on a rock about twenty feet away. A dog crouched near him, along with seven or eight goats.

  The boy watched them graze with an unmoving face, like he couldn’t see them at all.

  Tom rose and ambled over. He sat down near him and offered the child something. The boy accepted whatever it was, said a few words, then Tom got up and came back.

  “Shepherd,” he reported. “His family lives in the village. What’s left of his family, anyway. His father and four brothers were killed when the first group came through. He’s the oldest man in his household now. His mother is sick and at the makeshift hospital in the village. I told him we had a doctor, so he’s going to tell anyone who might come this way he’s never seen us.”

  The continued blankness on his young face said the boy had already seen far too much.

  They marched on. The terrain got rockier and Max found himself following without really looking too far ahead. He was busy watching where he stepped and trying to avoid twisting his ankle.

  Alicia slowed, then came to a stop.

  The village was in sight, but it wasn’t what he was expecting. Stone-and-wood houses dotted the opposite side of a small valley, and seemed to be organized mostly in a circle, perhaps surrounding a well. Most of the buildings and houses appeared intact, but a few looked damaged and others burned out.

  It was the couple hundred or so tents set up around the buildings, extending down into the valley, that were the surprise. He’d been told there might be one or two hundred refugees from the neighboring town. This was no one or two hundred. If each tent represented one family, they were looking at several hundred extra people.

  Alicia glanced at him. “In and out, huh?”

  “It appears my information was incomplete,” Max intoned as if he was James Bond.

  Bull snickered.

  “Very fucking funny,” Alicia said in the voice all women used when frustrated by a man acting like an idiot.

  Suddenly, he felt very, very tired. “This doesn’t change anything. It might even make it easier for us to get our job done without the wrong people being the wiser.”

  Alicia didn’t respond to that, just sighed and said, “Let’s go.”

  The walk down into th
e valley took longer than he thought it would. Alicia and the Special Forces soldiers adapted their pattern of walking from efficient and alert to tired and unobtrusive. Like four men who didn’t want anyone to pay too much attention to them because they didn’t have anything interesting.

  Except they all had duffel bags slung over their backs.

  As they came upon the first tent, a couple of men casually blocked their way.

  Bull moved forward to look at them. All he did was stare.

  Max wasn’t sure what the living roadblocks saw on Bull’s face, but they got out of the way within seconds.

  No one else seemed interested in making it difficult for them after that.

  Max looked for his contacts. Most of the aid groups that helped in these kinds of high volatility situations had interesting people on the ground. People who were quite capable of defending themselves, but were even better at blending in.

  They cleared the tents and entered the village itself. Shortly after that a man came toward them. He looked like a local—bronzed skin, dark hair with a full beard—except for one major difference. He smiled and made direct eye contact. Something no local would do.

  “Welcome, cousin,” he said in Arabic to Max. He spread his arms and Max went along with the triple cheek kiss that was the way men greeted their relatives in this part of the world.

  “I’m sorry it took so long to get here,” Max replied in the same language.

  “No, no, don’t apologize. The world is a crazy place, yes?” He put a hand on Max’s back and guided him and his three shadows to a house near the outskirts of the village proper. A tent had been attached to it, doubling its size.

  Max’s cousin opened a flap and waved the four of them in.

  The tent had been added to the front of the house. The front door stood open and a sort of clay potbelly stove sat in the middle of the canvas room. All around it were people on cots and pallets. People who were coughing.

  Max immediately pulled his mask and gloves out his pocket and put them on.