Mallory smiled at him reassuringly and laid a petite hand on his arm. “Are you okay?”
Alton briefly reflected on the higher plane of life on which he would have existed, had he known Mallory in an uninjured state and somehow earned the blessing of her love.
“Thanks—I’m fine,” he replied, incapable of meeting her friendly gaze lest his own countenance betray his inner turmoil.
As they traveled back from the Lodge, Alton was lost in thought. Earlier in the evening, he had told Mallory and David about the “regret avoidance” principal he applied to his physical-therapy routine. The idea, in essence, was to take necessary and correct actions in the present to avoid future regrets. Should he apply this same principal to his relationship with Mallory? He knew the odds were a hundred to one against him, yet would he later regret not pursuing that one percent chance? Or, more likely, would he regret creating—through unwanted advances—an uncomfortable restraint in a solid friendship that had as yet known none? The question remained unanswered as he retired to bed that night.
Two days later, Alton reported to the physical evaluation board for the exam that would dictate the future direction of his life, determining whether he would return to the battlefield or devise a new plan from scratch.
By the time Alton finished the panel of rigorous tests, sweat poured down his face, and his leg pounded out a steady heartbeat. Nonetheless, he experienced a wave of relief to have the dread and anticipation of the exam removed from his life. He could now reflect on it philosophically. Whatever happened, happened.
That evening in Gandamak’s, he told David and Mallory of the exam.
“Wait,” said David, “You had the physical evaluation today? Why didn’t you tell us before?”
“It didn’t seem important,” replied Alton. And he would rather avoid making it the focus of their conversations, especially around Mallory.
Alton glanced at Mallory, who wore a distinctly troubled look. The concern of his two friends lifted Alton’s spirits. “Guys, it’s not my funeral. I admit I was worried before, but to be honest, I’m relieved it’s over.”
Mallory’s thin smile betrayed elements of remaining concern. “When will you find out the results?”
“They said pretty soon, but hey—this is the Army. ‘Hurry up and wait,’ right?”
CHAPTER 28
Research Triangle Park, North Carolina
Three months had elapsed since the initial success of lot fifty-four, and the subsequent results were almost more than one could wish for. The immunized rats that survived the initial rabies exposure not only continued to show resistance to the disease but also exhibited no other ill effects from the vaccine.
Although it was still early in the drug’s development, Jeffrey Finch felt it appropriate to host a modest celebration in the company cafeteria to recognize the research team for achieving this milestone. He gathered the researchers, techs, and supervisors around him, thanked them for their many hours in the quest to rid the world of a deadly disease, and urged them to even greater efforts until the vaccine had won full FDA and CVB approval. “As you know, rabies isn’t a big problem in the US, but it kills seventy thousand people worldwide every year. With our latest accomplishment, we’re well on our way to finishing phase two trials. However, my friends, only when phase four trials are complete, and our product is in every country saving lives, can we declare a final victory.”
After a smattering of polite applause, the gathering broke down into smaller groups. Some attendees visited the refreshments table, while others merely talked. Satisfied with his speech, Finch mingled with the crowd.
As he conversed with a pair of chemists, his cell phone vibrated. Without breaking off his conversation, Finch glanced at the text on his screen: “We have a problem. Come to the lab.”
CHAPTER 29
US Central Command, Army Section, Afghanistan
Colonel Drake locked the door to the secure-line room. He initiated a private call to the NSA Central Operations Command office.
“Operator,” said the answering party.
“This is Colonel Charles Drake with Central Command. I need to leave a message for Red Snake. Can you put me through to his voice mail or ask him to return my call?”
“Stand by, Colonel.”
The colonel stared at the ceiling as he waited for almost ten minutes.
The operator returned. “Red Snake is no longer an active agent. Your new contact will be Ivory Tower. Can I relay a message, Colonel?”
“No, not at this time,” he replied. Rather than expressing surprise or dismay at this unannounced change, Colonel Drake smiled in satisfaction.
CHAPTER 30
Research Triangle Park, North Carolina
Once out of sight of the cafeteria’s celebrants, Jeffrey Finch picked up his pace, nearly running by the time he entered the lab.
“What happened?” he demanded.
“We were preparing the equipment for the local phase three trials—the outdoor population tests,” replied Luis Romero, the lab manager. “Since we’ll have to disburse the vaccine over a wide area for this test, Nelson was attaching a Rabinil canister to the accelerant line. Apparently, the L-value on the canister was damaged. As soon as Nelson pressurized the line, he took a full shot of Rabinil in the face.”
“How is he now?”
“Come look.”
“Good Lord!” Finch took a step back when he saw the prone figure. Nelson was pale, and a trickle of blood seeped from each eye and from his right nostril. The team watched as EMTs wheeled him away on an ambulance gurney.
Finch called an emergency roundtable of the project’s research scientists, Luis Romero, and the lab team leads.
Finch opened the meeting. “Are we sure Nelson’s condition was caused by the Rabinil?”
“It’d be a hell of a coincidence if it was caused by anything else, don’t you think?” replied Romero. A biologist nodded in consent.
“That’s true, Luis,” conceded Finch. “But why did Nelson have such a profound, immediate reaction, when the lab rats were unaffected for weeks? Is it due to the medium of delivery? In other words, Nelson was exposed to an aerosol medium, but we administer a liquid vaccine to the rats.
“What are other potential explanations? Is the Rabinil absorbed too quickly if applied directly to the eyes? Or could it be that humans as a species have a profoundly different reaction to this particular biologic? Could it be that Nelson is a fluke who didn’t react the way most people would? Or was it simply a bad batch of Rabinil?”
Finch pondered briefly. “Harold, I’d like your team to rule out the ‘bad batch’ theory. Inject lot one-oh-four with the same canister that sprayed Nelson, use lot one-oh-five as the control, and watch all of them with full alpha-level monitoring for seventy-two hours. Let me know what you find either way.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Bob,” continued Finch to the biologist, “Assuming that the batch isn’t contaminated, I need your team to work out the root cause of Nelson’s reaction. Is there any way to test the impact on humans without running the risk of another reaction like his?”
“Not really,” replied the scientist, “considering we haven’t even started the human trials yet. I think we should focus on the lab animals for now. Let’s use the rats to see if there’s a different reaction to using spray versus liquid delivery or to using eyes versus other vaccine entry sites. That would be consistent with the clinical trial procedures.”
“Okay—start with that,” said Finch. “In the meantime, until we know with certainty the drug’s impact on humans, remind the staff to use universal-precaution lab protocols. Let’s keep everyone safe.”
CHAPTER 31
Camp Eggers, Kabul, Afghanistan
Two days following his physical evaluation test, Alton had just begun his work day when a private approached his desk. PFC Jenson was one of several curriers who delivered personal mail and important military documents within Camp Eggers. He handed Al
ton two sealed envelopes.
“What are these?” asked Alton.
“The first one is from the physical evaluation board. The second is your discharge papers.” He leaned over and spoke in a quieter voice. “I’m sorry to see you go, Captain Blackwell. Me and the guys—we have a lot of respect for you. Good luck in the future.” He turned on his heel and left.
Alton sat, stunned. This was it. He was truly not returning to the field. Acknowledging the likelihood of this outcome during past seasons of cool reflection hadn’t eliminated the emotional blow of the actual news. He opened the second envelope. He would be “medically discharged with honor” in a month.
As Alton reflected on his impending departure from the military, his heart and mind wrestled with competing emotions. Now that his plans for a lifelong career in the heat of the action had ended, his couldn’t help but grow somber as he speculated on the unknown course his life would eventually chart. He had grown to enjoy the lighthearted and serious moments with his new C2 friends. He would miss those moments, especially those with David and Mallory.
Mallory. What would his life be like not seeing her every day or two? The thought opened up the yawning black abyss of dark emotions from which he had narrowly escaped the previous year.
Yet at the same time, a rational voice in his mind pointed out the futility of pining after a woman of such caliber. The torment of gazing upon Mallory—such an unattainable, ineffable beauty—increased daily as his feelings for her deepened. What good would it do to prolong the agony of separation?
Mallory would never know it, but she would always occupy a space in his heart. He could only hope that the encouragement of family and future friends would buoy him as he struggled to adjust to a life without her.
At Gandamak’s Lodge that evening, Alton spent the first few minutes in casual conversation with his friends. David had apparently entered a “World’s Worst Jokes” competition and was trying out his material on them.
“Okay, here’s one for you,” said David, smirking. “What does a bad-ass rodent have?”
Mallory rolled her eyes. “Do I want to know?”
“Rattitude!” announced David, slapping the bar’s countertop and laughing.
“Shhhh,” teased Mallory, “if the humor MPs hear you, they’ll carry you off to lockup. That has to be a violation of some kind.”
Alton smiled wistfully. He would miss evenings like this. Realizing he could procrastinate no longer, he asked David and Mallory to join him at a remote table so they could enjoy a bit more privacy.
Alton steeled himself against an ungenerous display of emotion. He couldn’t put Mallory in the awkward position of refusing unwanted advances from a man desperate to form a relationship she didn’t desire. Besides, what good would it do? He would soon be gone, out of her life forever.
“I received the results of my physical exam today,” said Alton. “I didn’t pass.”
“Alton…” said Mallory, her eyes wide. She continued in a whisper. “What does this mean?”
“I received my discharge papers today, too. I’ll be state-side in a month.”
Mallory appeared shaken. A stricken look crossed her face, and her lips trembled. “Oh, God…”
Alton called upon all his resolve to remind himself that Mallory’s reaction was that of a good friend, nothing more. Under no circumstances would he give in to his weakness and, in doing so, undermine their friendship.
“I can’t tell you how much I’m going to miss you all,” he continued. “You’ve been friends in the truest sense of the word. You’ve helped me pull myself out of dark times, laughed with me, had some wild adventures with me…” He trailed off, not trusting himself to contain his rising feelings. Mallory was too sharp to miss any unusual display of passion on his part. With that in mind, he tried to disguise a deep breath and slow exhale lest they betray the tender emotions that roiled in his breast.
“Al,” said David, “I didn’t say you could leave.” For once, he didn’t laugh at his own joke. Even he seemed to be sick at heart.
“I still have a month,” said Alton, doing his best to smile. “It’s not like I’m leaving tomorrow.”
Like Alton, David and Mallory had known the likely outcome of his physical evaluation, but now that the results were final, they too were struck with the sorrow of his pending departure. The three friends passed the rest of the evening quietly together.
When he returned to his barracks that night, Alton had to remind himself that the course of events over the last few hours had been for the best. Throughout the evening, he had acted with Mallory’s interests at heart, a fact he hoped would provide consolation in the impending, lonely future. He also found solace in the reflection that the longer he remained in Kabul with Mallory, the higher his secret, unbridled hopes would climb, and the further they would fall when he eventually came to grips with reality. It was for the best that he was leaving.
He climbed into bed and stared at the ceiling, exhausted yet awake.
CHAPTER 32
Research Triangle Park, North Carolina
After two weeks of extensive testing, the group of Briggsfield scientists reconvened to discuss Nelson’s frightening reaction to the Rabinil test vaccine.
“Okay, Bob,” said Finch. “Tell me what you’ve found.”
“As you know, we’ve eliminated the ‘bad batch’ theory. The Rabinil that doused Nelson was identical to all other batches.”
“What about the other theories?” asked Finch.
“Based on the tests we’ve run so far, it doesn’t seem to matter—to rats at least—what delivery medium or route of entry is used: aerosol or liquid, eyes or nose or IV. In all cases, the rats show a consistent immunological response: about eighty percent are successfully inoculated with little or no immediate side effects. Considering that most of our efficacy fine-tuning work lies ahead of us, these are amazing results.”
“I don’t think Nelson would think they’re so amazing,” said Finch, “so let’s discuss the human response to Rabinil. Was Nelson’s response typical, or was he especially sensitive?”
“That’s uncertain, frankly. The animal testing has nearly reached phase-three trials, but the human testing hasn’t even begun phase one yet. We can’t yet experiment on a human…period.”
“Okay…Is there any testing we can perform on living human tissue samples?”
“Yes,” replied Bob. “The test is of limited scope, but we should be able to use it to assess whether humans react negatively once the dosage exceeds some concentration level. If there is some kind of tolerance threshold, Nelson’s dose probably exceeded it.”
“Okay, conduct the tissue testing as you suggested. We still don’t know the root cause of Nelson’s reaction, so encourage your teams to use caution when handling the drug or the test animals. Hopefully we’ll fix this problem in time to stay on schedule for next year’s large-scale phase-three field testing.”
The team members began to file out.
“Bob, can you stay a moment?” asked Finch. When they were alone, he asked, “Do you know what this project costs us per day? Nelson’s accident put us a good two weeks behind schedule. Even the animal testing was put on hold. We have to get back on our timeline. If this drug passes phase four trials and is successfully marketed, the profits—and our bonuses—will be enormous. On the other hand, if we don’t finish by the phase-four deadline, we’ll be out of the bonuses and maybe even our jobs. I know your people want to proceed cautiously, and they should, but we have to find a way to get this project back on track.”
“We’ll do our best.”
“I’m beginning to think Nelson’s reaction was a fluke—” began Finch, when the intercom cut in without preamble.
“Mr. Finch, a cage in pod four fell on a tech and gashed his arm. The impact didn’t seem to hurt him too severely, but we’re having a hard time stopping the bleeding.”
“I’ll be down shortly,” said Finch. “In the meantime, call the infirmary
and see who they can send.” He turned to his companion and repeated, “Back on track, Bob.”
CHAPTER 33
Camp Eggers, Kabul, Afghanistan
Alton’s final month in the Army seemed to fly by in a matter of minutes. His days were filled with a myriad of activities: training his replacement (the capable Lieutenant Garcia), completing mountains of discharge paperwork, turning in equipment, making the rounds to bid adieu to his Army counterparts, and attending a few parties thrown in his honor. Without meaning to, Alton had established a following of friends and admirers, and the warm wishes they imparted to him lifted his spirits somewhat as his departure day neared.
Through it all, Alton never wavered in spending his evenings with David, Mallory, and the other friends who regularly assembled at Gandamak’s Lodge. As the days grew short, the time with Mallory became ever more precious. During his few remaining evenings with her, Alton would often stop and try to commit specific moments to memory, knowing they would soon be all he had.
On the day of Alton’s departure from the NATO section of Kabul’s airport, David, Mallory, and Fahima came to see him off. They had all promised to keep in touch. For his part, Alton intended to keep his promise, and he believed his friends would, too. In this respect, Alton had given in to a small weakness in allowing Mallory to maintain a shadowy role in his life via correspondence. Of course friends would write. What harm to Mallory, or his friendship with her, could come of it?
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