corner in case we needed to sleep in shifts. If I know you, you didn’t get much rest last night.”
“I’m okay.” He was right. She was exhausted, but no way would she let him know how easily he could still read her. Or how the touch of concern in his voice made her heart skip a beat. “It’s just warm in here.”
“I know. The air-conditioner in the lab is ancient, and the filter doesn’t let much of it through, anyway.”
Even as he said it, a tiny trickle of sweat coursed down her back. “It’s fine.”
He pushed the slide beneath the viewer of the microscope and focused on the smear. “How old are the samples?”
“Just a couple of hours.”
He swore softly as he continued to peer through the lens, evidently seeing something he didn’t like. He took the second slide and repeated the process, his right hand shifting a knob on the side of the instrument repeatedly. Sitting up, he dabbed at perspiration that had gathered around his eye with the sleeve of his lab coat then leaned back in for another look.
“What is it?” She felt her own blood rushing through her ears as she awaited the verdict.
It didn’t take long. He lifted his head and fastened his eyes on hers. “If I’m not mistaken, it’s pneumonic plague, Tracy.” Shifting his attention to the test tube in her hand, he continued, “And if you’re the one who took these samples, you’ve already been exposed.”
TRACY SAGGED AND swallowed hard, trying to process what he’d said through her own fear. “Are you sure?”
“Here.” He moved aside so she could look at the slide.
Putting her eye to the viewfinder, she squinted into the machine. “What am I looking for?”
“See the little dots grouped into chains?”
“Yes.” There were several of them.
“That’s what we’re dealing with. I want to look at another sample and do a culture, just in case, but I’m sure. It’s Yersinia pestis, the same bacterium that causes bubonic plague. I recognize the shape.” He rolled his shoulders as if relieving an ache. “Bubonic plague normally spreads from infected rats through the bite of a flea, but if the bacteria migrate to a person’s lungs, it becomes even more deadly, spreading rapidly from person to person by way of a cough or bodily fluids. When that happens, the disease no longer needs a flea. We’ll want to put you on a strong dose of streptomycin immediately.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll start on them as well, but just as a precaution.” Ben dripped a staining solution on another slide. “Most of the people who work in the lab are vaccinated against the plague, including Mandy. But I assume you haven’t been.”
“No, which means neither has … Oh, God.” She rested her head against Ben’s shoulder for a second as a wave of nausea rolled over her. “That town. I have to get back there. They’ve all been exposed. So has Pedro.”
“Pedro?”
“My assistant.”
Just as he pushed the slide back under the microscope, the lock to the outer door clicked open before Tracy had a chance to figure out how to proceed.
The guard pushed his way inside, glancing from one to the other, his eyes narrowing in on her face. She sat up straighter.
“Problema?” he asked.
Instead of lunch, he only held a coffee cup in his hand.
A tug on the back of her shirt sent a warning Tracy read loud and clear, Don’t tell him anything until I’ve taken another look. The gesture surprised her, as he’d always been buddy-buddy with the military, at least from what she’d seen over the course of their marriage.
Still holding one of the slides, he casually laid it on the table. “We need to run a few more tests before we know anything for sure.”
“No need. Our doctors have isolated the infection and will take the appropriate containment measures.”
Containment? What exactly did that mean?
Her brows lifted in challenge. “What is the illness, then?” Maybe he was bluffing.
“I’m not at liberty to say. But my commander would like to speak with Dr. Almeida over the phone.” He gave Tracy a pointed stare. “Alone.”
A shiver went over her. Alone. Why?
What if the government doctors had come to a different conclusion than Ben had? What if they were assuming it was something other than the plague? People could still die … still pass it on to neighboring towns. And São João dos Rios was poor. How many people would lose loved ones due to lack of information?
Just like she had. She knew the pain of that firsthand.
She’d lost her mother. Her grandmother. Her sister—although Vickie’s illness hadn’t been related to a genetic defect. The most devastating loss of all, however, had been her unborn child. Ben’s baby.
All had died far too young. And Tracy had decided she wasn’t going to waste a second of her time on earth waiting around for what-ifs. Movement, in her eyes, equaled life. So she’d lived that life with a ferocity that others couldn’t begin to understand.
Including Ben.
Genetic code might not be written in stone, but its deadly possibility loomed in front of her, as did a decision she might someday choose to make. But until then she was determined to make a difference in the lives of those around her.
Or maybe you’re simply running away.
Like she had with Ben? No, their break-up had been for entirely different reasons.
Had it?
She pushed the voice in her head aside. “Why does he want to talk to Dr. Almeida alone?”
“That’s not for me to say.” The guard nodded towards the bag. “Those samples must be destroyed.”
“We’ll take care of it.” Her husband’s voice was calm. Soothing. Just as Zen-like as ever. Just as she imagined it would have been had she told him about the life-changing decision she was wrestling with.
And his icy unflappability drove her just as crazy now as it had during their last fight.
How could he take everything in his stride?
Because it was part of who he was. He’d grown up in Brazil … was more Brazilian than American in a lot of ways.
As Ben stripped the tape from around the door and sanitized his hands before stepping into the hallway with the guard, Tracy sighed. She never knew what he was thinking. Even during their marriage he’d
