And with that, she made her escape. Securing her mask and feeling guilty, she stepped around the line of military vehicles and met Pedro, pulling him a safe distance away from the soldier who’d stopped him.
“It’s pneumonic plague,” she whispered, switching to Portuguese while noting he was already wearing a mask. “You’ll need to start on antibiotics immediately.”
“I thought so. They’re staying pretty tight-lipped about the whole thing, but they’ve set up a quarantine area. Those who are ill have been kept separate from those who still appear healthy—which aren’t many at this point.”
“Any more deaths? How are Daniel and Cleo?”
“Who?”
“The two kids we found in the field.”
Daniel, the boy she’d taken samples from, had been lying in a grassy area, too weak to stand and walk. His sister, showing signs of the illness as well, had refused to leave his side. They’d carried them back to an empty house, just as the military had shown up and taken over.
“No change in the boy, although there have been two more deaths.”
“And Cleo?”
“She’s definitely got it, but now that we know what we’re dealing with, we can start them both on treatment.” Pedro slung his arm around her and squeezed. “Can I say how glad I am to see you? These soldier boys are some scary dudes.”
He said the last line in English, using his best American accent, which made Tracy smile. She glanced over at Ben, who was still glowering at her, and her smile died.
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