Gregg Hurwitz - Minutes to Burn

"Johnny Hopkins Hospital? In Baltimore? What for?"

Samantha smiled. "To visit a friend."

"A friend?"

"Dr. Martin Foster. Don't worry, I'll be home soon."

Hanging up, she fiddled with the radio until she found an oldies station. The Carpenters came on, and she sang along with them, zoning out and watching the trees fly by at the edge of the highway.

Finally, she reached the hospital, parked the van near the Ross Building, and found her way to the Infectious Disease Offices. She stopped outside the door, suddenly nervous. Looking down, she realized she was still wearing scrubs, and she cursed herself for not going home first to shower and change.

She entered and greeted the receptionist, a heavyset woman whose computer was framed with family pictures. "Hello, Samantha Everett here to see Dr. Foster."

"Is he expecting you?"

"No," Samantha said. "Not at all."

"Well, he's in with a patient right now. He's booked pretty solid for the next few hours."

"That's all right," Samantha said. "I'll wait."

She sat down and picked up a People magazine. She tilted a brass lamp over so she could fix her hair in the reflection.

"Ms. Everett," the receptionist said, trying not to smile. "Or is it Dr.?"

"Either," Samantha said. "Whatever."

"I think I can free him up for a few minutes at the end of the hour." She scanned the appointment book. "But I'm not certain. Maybe you'd like to wait somewhere more comfortable?"

"Sure." Samantha shrugged. "Where would you suggest?"

The receptionist smiled shyly. "Maybe it's the mother of four in me, but I always like the nursery."

"Huh," Samantha said. "Actually, that sounds nice."

She left the office and crossed the street to the Nelson Building, riding the elevator up to the second floor. A row of chairs was arrayed outside the long window where expectant mothers and fathers could see their infants for the first time. Samantha sat in an orange plastic chair, tilting it back on two legs. She stared at the rows of gorgeous, smiling babies.

Closing her eyes, Samantha thought of the Darwin virus, safely frozen in the Revco freezer back at Fort Detrick. There were still many tests to be run so that they could better understand its etiology and pathogenic-ity. Maybe some of the infected dinoflagellates had survived and were out there now, floating around in the ocean, the virus ready to find its way into another species if circumstances allowed. She prayed silently that it wouldn't again rear its head. In her mind, she sorted through the events of the past week, searching for any mistakes she may have made, any errors in judgment. It was the heaviest burden of her job-making tough decisions when lives hung in the balance. Complete accountability was difficult, but she wouldn't have had it any other way. She wondered how long she had before another deadly virus found its way to her from the Kenyan jungles, the Amazon basin, the scrubby plains of Australia.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and she opened her eyes, seeing Dr.

Foster's reflection in the nursery window. He stood behind her quietly. She felt the warmth from his hand. They stayed silently like that for a few moments, Samantha sitting and Martin Foster standing behind her. Without turning around, she reached up and took his hand.

The peace was broken by a tray clattering to the ground somewhere out of sight. Iggy's voice sailed loud and clear around the corner. "Is this where the fat lady said mommy was?"

Kiera's voice followed. "It's not nice to say fat, you idiot. She was big-boned."

Samantha heard Danny laughing and Maricarmen trying to shush all three children, and a broad smile spread across her face. She leaned back in the chair, admiring the healthy newborns laid out before her, the warmth of Martin Foster's hand on her shoulder, the noise of her chil-dren growing closer. This is how it's supposed to be, she thought. This is really how it's supposed to be.

For the first time she could remember, she reached down and turned off her pager.

16 Feb 08

Gorged with fruit, the wicker cornucopia seemed to stare back at Cameron and Justin from its perch on the table in the waiting room. The glass tabletop had broken in a recent tremor; it had been replaced temporarily by a piece of plywood. Next to them, a new mother bounced her baby on her knee, its little hands opening and closing, grab-bing at nothing. The baby hiccuped and giggled as the mother leaned forward. They rubbed noses.

Justin held Cameron's hand as they waited side by side, his shoulder bandage bulky under his shirt. Cameron shifted a little in the chair, ignoring the pain in her hip. Toying with her necklace absentmindedly, she noticed that the clasp had worked its way around to the front. Justin extended his hand, wiggling his fingers and flexing, testing out his muscles. The reconstructive surgeries had restored to him full control of his arm. Using cutting-edge technology, the doctors had even managed to repair the plexus of nerves that ran down the arm.

Fiddling her wedding ring on her finger with her thumb, she gazed blankly at a Child magazine sitting under the curved brass reading lamp. On the cover, a pudgy, grinning boy of about two sat with his legs kicked wide out in front of him. He smiled proudly at the tower of colorful blocks he had stacked between his legs.

Despite her apprehension, Cameron forced herself to stare at the dark, solid door to the right. The door without a peephole. She thought of the choice before her should the fetus turn out to be healthy. When she turned back to the yellow door, she felt better, almost empowered.

The Darwin virus had not appeared in her or Justin's bloodstream, and Rex, Diego, and Ramoncito had been cleared as well. Because Cameron was pregnant, Samantha had asked that she have a full workup six weeks after the end of the mission, including a prenatal intake, chori-onic villus sampling, and a set of ultrasounds. The results awaited.

Diego had returned to Sangre de Dios, further sanitizing everything that had been in contact with the virus-the specimen freezer, the ves-tiges of the two camps, the areas where the mantids and larvae had been burned. He'd also set three more GPS units, finally completing the net-work.

Next to Cameron, the mother whispered lovingly to the baby as she burped him. Evidently he had spit up, because she dabbed at her blouse with a little white towel. The towel was decorated with cabooses.

Some footsteps sounded down the corridor, shoes clicking on tile.

The mother gazed at the cheerful yellow door ahead, then turned a kind smile to Cameron.

"So exciting, isn't it?" she asked.

Cameron looked at her, expressionless.

The door swung open, and the stocky Italian nurse filled the doorway, hunched slightly at the shoulders. The rings under her eyes looked dark, even darker than Cameron had remembered. Her hair stood out in graying wisps.

"Kates," the nurse said, her teeth discolored and crooked. "Cameron Kates. Your results are in. The doctor would like to discuss them with you."

Cameron felt Justin squeeze her neck reassuringly. She rose calmly. Justin kept his hand on her back to steady her as they followed the nurse back.

The room was small and claustrophobic. Cameron slowly undressed, put on the gown, and slid up onto the exam table, crinkling the paper. A small notch of a scar crested her deltoid where her transmitter had been removed.

When she heard the doorknob turn, Cameron felt panic spreading through her, but she fought to quell it. Dr. Birnbaum entered, a bearded man with kind blue eyes. He glanced down at a chart, scratching his cheek with a pen. Cameron and Justin stared at him, eyes wide, too nervous to speak.

"I just got off the phone with Dr. Everett at the NIH," he said. "And together we concluded that your results are totally normal. It looks like you have a healthy baby on your hands." His smile lessened when he looked at Cameron. "Should you elect to keep it."