Jeff Carlson - Plague War

“Up!” Newcombe yelled, but Cam chopped his arm at Ruth’s legs when she staggered away. She was on ‚re — and the heat and the concussion had accomplished exactly what he’d hoped, shriveling the mass of ants beneath them. So he tripped her. He pushed her up and shoved her down again. They thrashed across the ground together, banging elbows and knees, both to put out the burning spots on their clothes and to crush the ants inside.

The colony wasn’t done. Another red mass skittered toward them from the left and Ruth wailed, bashing her forearm against Cam’s ear as she scrambled to her feet.

Newcombe leaned over them and shot into the dirt with his assault ri†e. The weapon was deafening. He squeezed off a full magazine in seconds, using the bullets like a shovel to rip up the wave of ants. It only bought them an instant. The ants swarmed right through the broken earth, but it was enough. They ran. They were alive. And yet above them, the smoke was like a rising †ag.

* * * *

“We can’t stop,” Newcombe said, gasping. He tugged at Ruth and Cam, leading them downhill, and then Cam grabbed him, too, when he put his shoulder into a †exing pine branch and rocked sideways. “The smoke cloud,” Newcombe said.

And our guns, Cam thought, but his head was a blur and he didn’t even try to speak. The nano infections in him had quickly spiked. The ant bites had ‚lled his skin with †ecks like scalding water. It was gone now, after a short eternity, but the pain had cost each of them badly. They moved like drunks. Their feet dragged on the earth and Ruth bumped against Cam and then Newcombe, swooning. Her jacket had charred open on her upper left sleeve. Dirt and ‚re-black clung to them all.

Then she collapsed.

* * * *

The valley ‚lled with shadows as the sun went below the close horizon of mountain peaks — and a sheet of grasshoppers lifted up into the last rays of daylight, swirling out from a gray, ravaged stretch of forest a few miles across from them. There were enemy troops passing through the area, or maybe only more refugees.

“Go as far as you can,” Newcombe said. “I’ll ‚nd you.”

Cam’s attention was elsewhere. Ruth was conscious but still dazed. When he pulled back her hood and jacket to drop her body temperature, she moaned and said, “The senator. Two o’clock.”

He could only hope they were out of the concentrated drift of the plague. Hyperthermia and dehydration would kill her just as well, and her delirium frightened him. He didn’t think she was capable of more than a few hundred yards. He knew he couldn’t carry her.

Newcombe planned to buy Cam and Ruth as much time as possible. They knew it was possible to use the bugs in their favor, so Newcombe would set out the last of their lard and sugar across the mountainside. A new frenzy of ants and other insects might divert whoever was coming. If not, he would try to lead them away, sniping at them with his ri†e. Both men had one of their little radio headsets, and they’d divided the spare equipment and batteries evenly.

“Here.” Newcombe weighed the two thin packets of Kool-Aid mix in his palm before passing one to Cam. “Eat this. Give most of it to her, but you eat some, too. It’ll help.” Then he stood and slung his ri†e. “I’ll catch up tonight,” he said.

Cam roused himself in time to stop the Special Forces sergeant before he’d gone too far. “Hey,” he called, thinking of all the things that should have been clear between them — the things he’d seen and meant but hadn’t spoken of. “Be careful,” Cam said.

Newcombe nodded. “Just keep going.”

* * * *

The two of them came to a road suddenly and Cam hesitated, looking up and down the smooth blacktop. The road made a small two-lane corridor through the forest and the temptation drew him sideways despite Ruth’s weight. She nearly fell, sagging against him. Cam looked at the road again. They could walk far more easily on the †at, open surface, but it was also a good place to be seen. They had to stay in the brush and the trees.

“Fast as you can,” Cam said, dragging her forward. Their boots clocked on the asphalt. They were across in seconds and then he glanced back at the sky. Twilight was giving way to full night. His guess was they’d gone no more than half a mile, which was more than he’d expected. The slope helped. Ruth moved like a broken doll. He didn’t even think she could see where they were going. She just leaned against him and wheeled her legs as best she could, kicking at him.

They blundered on until Cam smashed them into a tree. It was like waking up. Enough, he thought. That has to be enough .

He angled uphill again into a clump of saplings that might hide them from anyone else heading down the mountain. Maybe he would hear them on the road, too.

Ruth fell onto her back, heaving for air. Cam dropped his pack and tried to ‚nd water. There was none. He still had one can of soup left, though, and found the can opener. Some of the precious juice slopped out when he wrenched off the lid.

“Ruth?” he said. “Ruth.” He took off his own goggles ‚rst. The cold night felt amazing and strange and he breathed it in to be sure he’d feel a nano infection before her. Then he stripped her goggles and jacket. Body heat leapt from her like a phantom.

He helped her drink, cradling her cheek against his shoulder. Maybe ten minutes passed that way. A small peace. He ruined it himself. He thought to kiss her. It was a simple thing. She was the only softness in his world and he’d ‚nally worn through his own defenses.

He studied her lips, still smooth and perfect despite the sweat, dirt, and creases left by her armor. She reacted. Her eyes shifted to his and he saw her recognize the intent in his face, the one spark of desire inside all his exhaustion and hurt. He turned away.

“Cam.” Her voice was a murmur and she put her good hand on his leg. “Cam, look at me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No.” Ruth moved her glove to his rough, bearded cheek. “Please, no. I owe you everything.”

I don’t want it to be like this, he thought.

“Just once,” she said. “Please. For luck.”

Then she did exactly the wrong — or right — thing. She lifted her face and gently leaned her nose against his cheekbone, showing him what her skin would feel like.

Cam pressed his mouth to hers and it gave him new energy. It changed the long tension between them. All around them, things were worse than ever, but this one small act was sweet and right.

He arranged her pack for her like a pillow and set their guns on the ground beside them. Ruth was quickly unconscious. Cam brie†y watched the stars through the trees overhead. Once he brought his bandaged left hand to his ruined lips and the concave on one side where his missing teeth had been.

* * * *

She kissed him again in the morning without saying anything ‚rst, tugging her mask down and then reaching for his, a quick kiss with her mouth shut. Maybe it was fortunate that they had so many more pressing needs.

“We have to ‚nd water,” he said.

“Yes.”

Ruth kept close as he dug the radio out of his pack and he looked sideways at her, distracted. They were both faceless again in their goggles and hoods, but Ruth touched his shoulder and nodded. Sunlight played on their ‚lthy jackets, rocking down through the trees. They needed to get moving, but he dreaded it. His knee had stiffened, his back, his neck, and his feet were battered and raw.

The radio was full of voices on seven channels. Maybe it had always been that way, but they’d been blocked from the noise by the mountains and the jamming of Leadville’s forward base. Neither of those obstacles existed anymore.