Jeff Carlson - Plague Zone

Jia clamped his good hand down on the calf wound. Mastering the pain in his other arm, he took off his gun belt and wrapped it twice below Bu’s knee before cinching the buckle tight. Then he turned and began to open his lover’s shirt.

“The roof,” Bu groaned. “What…”

“Quiet now. Breathe. Listen to me. Just breathe. The base was hit, but we’re going to be okay.”

Bu’s collarbone had come through his skin. His lung was surely punctured, perhaps in several places. That was why he couldn’t get enough air, and Jia was unsure if mouth-to-mouth resuscitation would help. What can I do? he thought, when really there was a different question he needed to ask himself.

What have I done?

All of his certainty from last night gave way to blame and guilt. He had been so aggressive in lobbying to attack the Americans. Perhaps it wouldn’t have happened without him. There were other men with ambition, but his circumstances were unique. Perhaps another officer wouldn’t have rushed to prove himself. What if they’d waited until the mind plague was even more virulent? The Americans might never had survived long enough to fight back, and the war would truly have been one-sided.

Jia grimaced through a mask of tears. Then he leaned down to Bu’s dazed, pale face. He didn’t want this kiss to be farewell, but, more than anything, he didn’t want Bu to die without feeling their love again.

Bu was still very confused, but his lips opened to Jia’s. They shared this tiny warmth. There was a rattle of someone’s boots in the debris and Jia jerked his head up from the other man.

Dongmei stood on the other side of the gray dunes. Her uniform was cleaner than either Jia’s or Bu‘s, and she held a canteen and a small pouch of medical supplies. She was lovely, like an angel. Her readiness was only what Jia would have expected — but while her broad hips were poised to continue forward, the rest of her body seemed unsure. She leaned slightly to one side as if to turn and run.

She gaped at them, open-mouthed.

Jia stared back at her, not believing his bad luck. The women’s barracks were set away from the basement. Dongmei had escaped the bombing. Then she’d either climbed into the pit or even jumped down to help. She was a good soldier. She might have run into danger entirely by herself without an officer to direct her.

Jia saw his own choice as other people shouted behind Dongmei. There was no way to silence her without the risk of being discovered, not even if he used his hands instead of his pistol. First he would need to chase her, and Dongmei was thirty meters away. It also sounded as if more troops were entering the pit to look for survivors.

They would need leadership. His role would be even more essential now than ever, especially if the command center was gone. That responsibility was greater to him than anything else and Jia scrubbed at his damp eyes, smearing one cheek with his grime-ridden hand.

“He can’t breathe,” Jia said, pretending he had been trying to give Bu mouth-to-mouth. “His neck. His ribs.”

“I, I,” Dongmei stammered.

“Is there a bag and mask in your kit? His leg is cut, too. Are there medics?”

The fear in her round face was disarming, even juvenile. It was the look of a young woman confronted with monsters she’d never believed were real. Could she genuinely be that innocent? Or was she so scared because she admired him and didn’t know how to process his homosexuality?

“Lieutenant Cheng!” he barked. “Are there medics?”

Dongmei seemed to grasp at the familiar tone, recovering herself at last. “No, sir,” she said. “Not down here. Captain Ge told some of us to help—”

They probably sent only the weakest ones, Jia thought, the women and the walking wounded. Let the injured take care of the injured. It was cruel, but he approved. If there were still operational crews overhead, they would be impossibly busy as they tried to meet the American offensive.

Who was in charge? General Zheng? How many officers had been killed when the base collapsed?

“Sir,” Bu groaned. “Sir, I can’t…”

“Come here,” Jia called to Dongmei, drowning out his lover’s voice. What if Bu Xiaowen said the wrong thing? “Take over,” Jia said. “Keep him stabilized. I need to get upstairs, but we never leave one of the People’s Heroes behind. This man deserves all the help we can give.”

Dongmei nodded, and Jia thought he saw a new uncertainty in her expression. She was beginning to doubt what she’d seen. That was good. But it wasn’t enough.

He couldn’t leave her alone with Bu.

As she picked her way through the rubble, Jia bent down to the other man again. He’d made his decision. There had always been two of him, the soldier and the man, and it was the soldier who must win over his secret, more gentle self.

“I love you,” he murmured.

Bu misunderstood, groggy with pain and shock. “Sir?” he rasped. Then he smiled. “Sir, we shouldn’t…”

Jia clamped his good hand over Bu’s nose and mouth, hiding this action as best he could from Dongmei with his own face. Bu stiffened beneath him. He was too weak to fight. His hips moved but the injuries throughout his chest must have been an agony even worse than smothering. He tried to bite, too. Jia clamped Bu’s jaw shut, smashing his lips. Bent close to Bu’s face, Jia shut his eyes to block out the sight of his lover’s bulging eyes.

Dongmei hesitated again a few paces from them. Jia had forgotten to pretend to be lifting his head for air and exhaling into Bu’s mouth. Maybe she’d also seen Bu’s face, blotched red from popping capillaries.

Then it was done. Jia didn’t look at the body as he stood up. He was afraid he might start crying again if he did.

“He’s dead,” Jia said, putting too much emphasis on his first word. It might have sounded like an innocent thing to say, except that she’d just seen him commit murder.

“I… Yes, sir,” Dongmei said. Her eyes were solemn and clear, but was there a quaver in her voice?

Jia could not wait or give her a later opportunity. He needed to trust Dongmei, so he said everything he knew to prove himself to her. “The most important thing is to bring everyone together again and take command. We need to be sure we’re protected against more attacks, and our team will be critical in following the nanotech. Show me how you got down here. Is there a ladder?”

“Yes, sir. We used ropes, sir. I think I got down over there,” Dongmei said, pointing back to her right. She wouldn’t confront him now.

But would she eventually betray him?

Jia strangled her, too, throwing himself on top of the young woman in a grotesque masquerade of intercourse, driving his legs between hers and shoving his arms up through Dongmei’s flailing hands to her neck, using his weight to hold her down against the rubble. She was his friend and an excellent soldier, but China needed him. It was the best he could do for his country. It was his duty.

When she was dead, Jia surveyed the wreckage. He dragged Dongmei away from Bu and pulled judiciously at a length of rebar, bringing an avalanche across her face and torso. If there was an autopsy, her neck wounds would be obvious, but Jia knew the survivors were too busy to make time for a criminal investigation.

He stalked away. And when he found his way through the dust and carnage to the rescue teams, no one questioned the bloody slash she’d left on his forehead or the cold, seething fury in his eyes. They helped him up a rope ladder to the second floor. Two medics tried to assess his wounds, abandoning more badly wounded soldiers in favor of him, but Jia brushed them off. “Tend to our Heroes,” he said.