Vanguard (12 page)

“We won’t need one.” Anjali’s voice came from behind her, and Sophie turned. She hadn’t seen her friend since the outbreak had erupted, and she looked like hell. Sophie reached for Anjali’s hand and squeezed it tightly. “He’s unconscious. You can come now to confirm that it’s him.” Anjali’s eyes flitted quickly to Will’s and then back to Sophie. Will put his hand on the small of Sophie’s back, and they led her to a screened-off area to the right of the main ward.

Her blood sang in her veins.
Michael, Michael, Michael.
She found it ridiculous that they were making her look at him for identification. Couldn’t they feel it? As they stepped up to the screen, Anjali stopped in front of her, Will behind, his strong hands moving around her waist. Sophie vaguely wondered why he was supporting her so.

“Sophie, listen to me,” said Anjali. “He’s extremely ill. Look at him, but try not to fixate on his physical appearance. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?” She nodded. “Does Vanguard have any distinguishing marks? Something you could see and know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it’s him?”

“Of course.”
Michael, Michael, Michael.
“We all have one of these.” Sophie shoved her jacket up and pushed down the waistband of her jeans. On the inside curve of her hip was a tattoo that read GYL02. “He has one in the same spot.”

“Perfect. Let’s focus on finding that tattoo.” In tandem, Anjali and Will stepped around the screen, taking Sophie with them.

Michael, Michael, Michael.

The figure lying in front of her was not Michael.
Could not be Michael.
Now she understood why Will had her around the waist. Her legs gave out, and the floor spun toward her.

Don’t lose control. His life depends on it.

Sophie hung in Will’s grasp for a moment, then sank to the floor against him. Ripping her mask off, she put her head between her legs and dry heaved a couple of times.
Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out.
Someone pushed a water bottle into her hands, and she drank greedily. It felt good. Even when she threw it back up a moment later, still cold as it rushed up her throat, it was good.

After a few minutes, she signaled Will to help her up. Her hands were shaking too badly to get her mask back on, so he did it for her. Anjali had already moved Michael’s hospital gown to the side so that they could see the tattoo. They had their ID. Sophie looked at him again.

He was thin, so thin that his wrists looked like a child’s. Starvation had made his face skeletal. His bones threatened to poke out through his flesh. Skin waxy and dull, with a bluish hue around his extremities. Sores were scattered across his body. Even at this distance, she could see vermin in his matted hair. Anjali’s team had wiped a layer of filth from him, but a ring of blood crusted around his blue lips, probably from a recent bout of coughing.

Michael’s chest moved quickly, shallow pants as he labored to get oxygen into his wasted body. His lips were slightly pulled back, and he’d lost a couple of teeth. Every inch of him was bruised, cut, or blooming with infection.

His toes were black. Frostbite.
His fingers. He’s a doctor.
Sophie hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud until Anjali assured her.

“His fingers are fine, just his feet. He can manage without a few toes.”

Sophie reached out to touch his face, but Anjali caught her hand. “Not until we’ve had a chance to diagnose him. I can’t have you sick too.” She could feel the fevered heat radiating off him. His face had not been marred by Jaros’ knife.

“Can he hear me?”

“He might be able to.”

“It’s me, Mikael,” she whispered in Orlisian. “I’m here. I love you.”

Anjali looked at Will, and they began to back Sophie out of the area. She struggled at first, not willing to leave him. She
couldn’t
leave him. His presence held her like a magnet. But Will and Anjali moved her back to the door.

“We’re going to begin treating him,” said Anjali. “The cultures will be ready tonight, and then we’ll be able to treat him and everyone else with this pneumonia more effectively. The thing that will help him most now is getting him out of this camp.” She took Sophie’s shoulders, looking her in the eye. “You’re the only person with enough influence to convince Jaros to let him go. Can you do it?”

“Yes.”

She hugged Anjali, then Will. She turned and walked out of the infirmary.

~~ - ~~

She once again interrupted her Soviet soldiers in the middle of a smoke.
Someone should tell these guys that smoking is hazardous to their health.
She kept her head down for fear they would see the emotion on her face.

She had about ten minutes to assemble her thoughts in order to play the most important game of her life. Sophie drove back to the administrative building at a reasonable pace, focusing on her breathing. She pushed everything else to the far corner of her mind, drawing on her extraordinary ability to focus.

I can do this.

Forcing a neutral expression, Sophie pushed open the door of Jaros’ office. He looked up at her with his usual smile.

“Back so soon, my dear? What news on our latest patient in the infirmary?” Of course he would ask. She understood why now.

“It’s not good. The pneumonia has moved faster than I had anticipated. I must reconsider my options.” Jaros locked his eyes on her as he waited for Sophie to divulge more. She sat down in the chair in front of him, a speculative look crossing her face.

“You have a plan, don’t you?” She nodded. “Tell me your plan.”

Sophie pursed her lips as if contemplating how much to reveal to him. She stood up and paced the length of his office, drawing out the moment.

“I fear you’ll disapprove, Commandant.”

“Perhaps,” he said. “Tell me.”

Once again, she paused as if weighing the options. Then she took her seat again, gazing at him. “The pneumonia has spread. Now it is among the young men.” She sighed and shook her head. “We have tried everything – everything! Conventional medications will not defeat this new enemy. It must be viral, rather than bacterial.” She looked at him slyly. “I would like to try something unconventional.” His eyes sparkled as she stood to lean closer, lowering her voice.

“I want to test an experimental vaccine on this new patient. He’s young and strong, not like the old ones before him. If I’m successful, we can inoculate everyone in the camp and eliminate the disease.”

Jaros’ grin stretched across his face. “Medical experimentation on prisoners is against the Geneva Convention,” he whispered triumphantly.

“Yes, it is.” She let a ghost of a smile linger around her lips.
Let him believe that he had just witnessed the corruption of a young idealist.
They stared at each other in the silent office. His profile hadn’t indicated a background in the life sciences. If he knew much of medicine or biology, she was lost. They didn’t need a live patient to create a vaccine, and creating one in the field with the resources available was nearly impossible.

“It’s a good plan, my dear. Why would you think I might disapprove?”

“Because I must remove the patient from Parnaas to conduct the test. Everything that occurs here will be documented by Dr. Shah and her team. I can’t conduct an illegal experiment under the noses of my colleagues. No, I must take him with me, back to our camp.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of the border. “It is there I will find a cure for this disease.”

“Absolutely not. Prisoners do not leave Parnaas alive.”

“Send a guard with us then. He’ll be returned, one way or another.” She spoke casually, her innards writhing.
Michael, Michael, Michael.

“Insufficient.”

She took a few steps back and sank down in her chair, still holding his gaze.

“Then he’ll die. Others will die. Your workforce will die, and you will have failed the Soviet Republic.”

The Commandant considered her words, then chuckled. “Sophie, I know you too well. You will not give up. You’ll work to the last man, to the last hour to find a cure. I have faith in your abilities.” His eyes shone with malice.

She slumped a bit, as if acknowledging his superior insight. “This is true. You do know me well, Commandant.” He beamed at her compliment. “But going the conventional route will take longer. More time. More will die.” Sophie made her voice low, persuasive.

Jaros stepped into the trap.

“That doesn’t matter to me. More deaths among the prisoners do not trouble me.” She could hear the false ring under his joviality.

“But they do.” Jaros’ eyes hardened, but never left hers. Sophie’s voice slipped down to a whisper. “This new one is the first of the young men to become ill. Men in their twenties with their lives ahead of them. Good, strong, young men. Those are the ones you wish to keep, yes? How many will be left by the time I find a cure through conventional means?

“Consider our motivations, my friend. If you give this one patient to me, I’ll find a vaccine quickly. More refugees will live. You will keep your workforce, keep those most valuable to you.” She pressed forward. “The Soviet Republic – and you – will get credit for brilliant leadership in a crisis.”

His eyes narrowed, and she could see his mind working. “What is
your
motivation, Sophie?”

“More refugees live. My coalition will be a success. I take credit for the vaccine in America. I advance. I will become unstoppable.” She felt goose bumps creeping across her flesh. All of this could be true were she a different sort of person.

Jaros leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling. When he spoke, it was a low, gravelly sound. “He must be returned, dead or alive. And you will take two soldiers with you, not one.”

Michael, Michael, Michael.

“You are a visionary, Commandant.” Sophie reached for the walkie, but stopped when Jaros stretched his hand out.

“I will speak with them.”

Reluctantly, she handed him the radio. Jaros clicked the override function and put the radio to his lips.

“Dr. Shah, this is Commandant Jaros.” He spoke in English for the first time since Sophie had met him; his pronunciation was surprisingly good. A long hiss of static filled the silence between them.

“Hello, Commandant.” Anjali’s voice rang out in the quiet room. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I understand you have a new patient in your infirmary. A young man.”

“Yes, sir. He came in about an hour ago. We are beginning treatment now.”

“I am granting you permission to remove this patient, and this patient only, from Parnaas for the purposes of medical treatment at your camp.”

“Why, yes,” Anjali said with just the right amount of surprise in her voice. “I’ll make arrangements for the patient to be transported immediately.”

“Thank you, my dear,” he said. But he didn’t put down the walkie. Sophie felt unease creeping through her again. “Dr. Shah?”

“Yes, Commandant?”

“Please bring the patient to the administrative building. I’m sending two guards to accompany him. There is another matter that requires my attention before he is permitted to leave the perimeter.”

“Of course, sir.”

Jaros clicked off the radio and handed it to Sophie. He spoke privately to his guards, who left the building. They sat in silence as the long minutes ticked by. The Jeep roared up outside, and her heart pounded. Something else was coming.

The Commandant stood up and moved around to the front of his desk. The guards returned with Will, the Rev, and Jim. She noted Anjali’s absence, and her heart leaped against her ribs. Had she been deliberately left outside?
Please let me be right about this.

“Sophie.” Jaros’ voice sounded like the swish of a snake’s scales on the rocks. “The prisoner has been given a job of great responsibility. You know what that means, don’t you?” She looked up at him. As she had expected, he held the knife.

“If you brand him, he’ll die.” She was unable to prevent her voice from trembling. “He won’t survive the trauma.”

Jaros smiled. “Then someone must stand in for him. One of your colleagues, perhaps.” Jaros gestured at Will, the Rev, and Jim standing behind them. Sophie could hear their collective intake of breath. “Perhaps one of these fine gentlemen you admire so much. I have noted your particular attachment to each of them, especially that one.” He pointed at Will.

Nothing would give him more pleasure than marking an American aid worker as a possession of the Soviet Republic.

“You will choose now.” His soft voice became menacing, and Sophie turned to look at the men behind her. She saw each of them straighten a bit, their expressions firming up. Preparing to be branded in place of a man they didn’t even know. That wouldn’t happen, not while she was still taking air.

“Jim, continue the tent-to-tent search,” she ordered. “We need to isolate these pneumonia cases as quickly as possible. Dave, you remain second-in-command of this mission. Please go about your business.” At the Commandant’s nod, the guards removed both men from the building over their protests.

That left Will. Sophie looked at him for a long time. William Temple, her mentor. Her dearest friend. The man she would follow anywhere.
Her boss.