Containment (33 page)

They set him down on a gurney beside a National Guard truck. Gary waited patiently for a few minutes, looking up into the brilliant blue sky.

Suddenly a woman leaned over him and he saw her face clearly.

"Hi there," she said.

Gary stared at her. Something about her....

"I'm going to give you two injections," she said. "You'll feel two needles, but that's all." She bared his arm and swabbed some alcohol on it. "The first injection is a drug that the second injection needs so that it can get into your nervous system. We can't mix them together so they have to go in separately. Sorry, but I have to poke you twice."

"
You're not wearing a mask," said Gary. "You're not wearing a suit."

"
They tested this stuff on me," said the woman. "I volunteered. And I'm a survivor—like you. I used to work at the hospital."

Gary watched her smoothly insert one needle, then, after a few minutes, the other.

Afterward, the woman asked, "What's your name?"

"
Gary Winters."

"
Well, Gary, you made it."

"
There was...." Gary started to tell her about the two other people in his house. They had stayed overnight.

"
You're asking about your parents?" The woman smiled and pointed. "There they are. They made it, same as you. Both of them."

Gary lifted his head. The woman was climbing down her gurney; she wasn
't quite steady but she managed to stay on her feet.

The man looked at her.
"Cecily. Cecily, you're not supposed to get up so soon."

"
Yeah, I know, Gordon. But they're understaffed."

The man grumbled irritably and sat up. Slowly he rolled off his gurney and, with a staggering gait, followed the woman.

Montgomery County, Pennsylvania
/ 1:15 p.m.

Five miles from the zone, in a room at a cheap motel near the interstate highway, Abe freshened up.

A bruised face looked back at him in the mirror. His body ached all over. Bandages dotted his arms and chest and back and legs. A chunk of skin had peeled off the back of his hand, leaving a red, raw wound.

But he was alive. Alive and out of the zone.

Abe went out of the bathroom and slipped into a t-shirt and sweat pants he
'd stolen from a self-service laundry right after he'd escaped. Two sizes too small, they hugged his bulging muscles and the expanding paunch that had grown along with the success of his business.

He
'd lost his business partner. It hurt him, in more ways than one. Jacques, though flawed, would not be easily replaceable. And he'd been a friend, or something close to that. At the very least Jimmy had been a constant companion and Abe felt the loss.

But the luck of the draw was that Jimmy
's side of the armored cage had collapsed and Abe's side had remained stable and intact. If fate had chosen the opposite side, Jimmy would be standing here and Abe would be dead. Abe appreciated his good fortune. Briefly he wondered how Jimmy would have felt if he had been the only one to survive. Probably wouldn't have affected Jimmy very much.

Checkout time was twelve noon so Abe had to pay for another night, which he considered wise rather than skipping out. He also considered it wise to move on this afternoon. The sooner he reached the bank and accessed his account the better; the cash roll he
'd stuffed in his sock the night before would last quite a while, but Abe wanted to put a whole lot of distance between himself and Medburg as soon as possible. The safest way to do that was to go to a car dealership—a less reputable one—and plunk down cash for whatever they had available. No fuss, just give me the keys and keep your nose out of my business.

Then on to California. Abe wouldn
't start to relax until he crossed the Mississippi.

He walked out into the sunny, warm afternoon. He took a deep breath. Nice to be a free man again, and even the weather cooperated, a pleasant day to take a stroll and find a bank.

He wasn't at all worried about security cameras. He'd already passed dozens of surveillance cameras, in parking lots and street corners and the motel's lobby and the Wawa where he'd bought his breakfast this morning. It didn't matter.

Abe smiled to himself. That
's the beauty of it all. No one would recognize who he was. Sure, they'd be searching their asses off but they didn't know who they were looking for. There was no way they could have seen his face during the breakout—he'd worn a mask—a precaution that had probably been unnecessary anyway, given the chaos. Abe had an I.D.; not a valid one, but it was good enough to pass a cursory glance. And that was all he needed. There was no way anyone could prove he'd been the one who escaped.

Abe
's smile vanished as he stepped across the parking lot and was suddenly surrounded by two dozen armed soldiers of the Pennsylvania National Guard. All of them wore hazard suits.

Within sixty seconds Clarence
"Abe" Trammers was wearing a hazard suit too, though his was for a different purpose than the suits of his captors.

Bethesda, Maryland / 7:30 p.m.

Roderick sat quietly in Kraig Drennan's office. Kraig's eye scanned the list on his computer monitor.

"
Lisa Murdoch didn't make it," said Kraig.

"
I'm sorry to hear that. I hope you don't blame yourself."

"
No, of course not. All I did was send her out into the middle of an epidemic caused by one of the most dangerous molecules in history."

Roderick sighed. He stood up and bowed.
"If that'll be all, I think I'll go now."

"
We caught the escapee," said Kraig.

"
I heard. No spread?"

"
A little. We've been checking everybody in the area. Only two cases so far: one was the motel clerk and the other was a lady who'd visited a nearby laundry business. Looks like we got lucky, awfully damn lucky. It's a good thing Cecily talked to that Winters kid so that we got a description, otherwise we never would have caught him."

"
And that, I might add, was an opportunity we would have lost if not for your extraordinary effort to get the cure into the zone."

Kraig said nothing and Roderick turned to leave.

Suddenly Kraig said, "Don't you want to hear the final tally?"

"
Not especially," said Roderick.

"
Eight thousand three hundred and some change. That's how many we saved."

"
Encouraging."

"
Chet's getting praised to high heaven. Maybe he won't fire me."

Roderick shrugged.
"Of course he's getting praised. He's the director. And of course he won't fire you. If he tried, I'd have some friendly words with him." Roderick smiled briefly. "Calm, rational, friendly words—he's the director."

"
And he's a survivor."

"
Of that," said Roderick, "I have always had little doubt."

"
Too bad there weren't more survivors. Twelve thousand people died." The words rolled around in the room. As if to voice an echo, Kraig spoke the words again: "Twelve thousand."

"
For whom I mourn as I'm sure you do. If that will be all, Kraig, I'll wish you a pleasant evening."

"
Rod."

Roderick paused, halfway outside the office. He turned to look at the assistant director.

Kraig stared at him. "Thanks."

"
You're welcome. In due course I'll pass along your congratulations to Pradeep Rumanshan, who I believe is still at this moment asleep in my office. One last thing. As a reminder for future reference, I do require 48 hours notice."

"
Say hello to the musician fellow."

Roderick nodded and left.

"I've always liked
him
better," Kraig muttered.

K
raig was just about to leave his office when an audio-only telephone call came through. Cecily's voice: "Hey, Kraig, you still around?"

"
Good to hear from you, Cecily. I'm getting ready to go home."

"
I just wanted to say thanks."

"
Thanks for what?"

"
I know for damn sure it wasn't Chet who saved us."

Kraig smiled.
"Glad to help. How are you feeling?"

"
I feel terrible. But I think I'm going to be okay. And even better than before."

Kraig
's eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

"
Yeah, really. See you later."

The phone clicked off. Kraig paused for a mo
ment, puzzled. Then he shut down all his equipment and walked out.