Chris Ryan - Outbreak

'Tell me what's happening for a start.'

'We're sealing the village. Everyone who may have come into contact with the virus is being placed into quarantine.' He paused. 'We were warned that you would be here, Ben, but I'm afraid my orders are very explicit. There can be no exceptions.'

'I know that,' said Ben urgently. 'But you have to listen to me. I know things about the virus – information that you have to have. I know where the virus is coming from.'

'OK, son. You'd better tell me what you've got.'

'It's the mine. You've got to seal it. My dad's a scientist and he thinks the reservoir – that's the organism that's harbouring the virus – is down there. It started off just killing bats in the cave, but now it's killing humans. There's no point simply sealing the village – you've got to make sure nobody else ever goes down there and that the infected bats don't fly out.'

Ben couldn't tell if the masked man had taken anything on board. 'Is there anything else,' he simply asked in his American drawl.

'Yes,' Ben stated fiercely. He pointed in the direction of where Suliman was walking to the processing area. 'When you picked us up, that man was trying to kill us, and he's been trying to kill us pretty much since we arrived. He knew about the virus, and he knew I might alert people. Put us in quarantine if you have to, but keep us away from him. He's a psycho.'

'What do you mean, he knew about the virus? Why would he put himself in danger like that? From what I can tell, everyone here thinks it's down to some sort of supernatural mumbo-jumbo.'

'Not Suliman,' Ben insisted. 'You have to believe me.'

'Excuse me, sir,' the guard who had accompanied them in the chopper interrupted.

'Go ahead, soldier.'

'It's true that the men we just picked up were armed, but they claim it was because the kids stole a Land Rover that they were trying to get back.'

The boss looked back to Ben and Halima. 'This true, son?'

'Yes,' Ben said with a sinking feeling, 'but-'

'I don't blame you trying to escape the village, son, but that's not going to happen now.'

'I wasn't trying to escape the village!' Ben shouted. 'I was-'

'OK, I've heard enough,' the commander overruled him. 'Our directions are clear: everyone's to be kept in quarantine. Nobody in there will be armed, so you should be perfectly safe.' He turned and walked away, leaving the guard to push Ben and Halima in the direction of a small group of villagers who were being organized by another of the faceless peacekeepers.

'Just shut down the mine!' Ben shouted over his shoulder. 'Whatever you do, shut down the mine!'

Seething with frustration, they started trudging to where the man had indicated. But Ben was hardly concentrating on where he was going, his attention diverted by the sight of more sick people being stretchered into the canvas tent. He knew perfectly well what he was looking for.

A white face.

He was halfway to the processing area when he saw it. Instantly he ran towards his father, doing his best to keep tears from welling up in his eyes; but before he had run even a few metres, he heard shouts from all around him. Appearing as if from nowhere, two armed peacekeepers stood between Ben and his dad. 'Stand back!' they shouted.

'No,' Ben snapped at them. 'It's OK, it's my dad.'

'No cross-contamination,' the peacekeeper insisted in an emotionless American accent. 'If you do not stand down, I will be forced to shoot. There will not be a second warning.'

Ben stood still. All eyes seemed to be on him. He looked past the guards to where his dad was being carried. Russell Tracey's face was still and pale; Ben watched in desperation as he was carried into the tent. Then he looked back at the peacekeepers, who still had their assault rifles aimed at him. Reluctantly he turned and trudged back to Halima.

'Maybe he is all right,' Halima said without much conviction. Ben didn't reply.

Ahead of them was a disturbance. Ben saw without surprise that Suliman was arguing with someone giving him instructions. Immediately he too was surrounded by two more armed peacekeepers, and eventually he moved, with a surly look but without further complaint, towards a group of people milling around waiting for yet more instructions.

As Ben and Halima approached, they realized that males and females were being separated. Distraught and tearful mothers were being forcibly removed from their sons; and fathers of daughters stood alone and confused as their families were taken away from them. Ben felt a sudden pang. He had been with Halima non-stop for days now; they had gone through such a lot together. Now he was to be separated not only from his father but also from the one person who had helped him through all this. He didn't want to leave her.

They stopped walking and turned to look at each other. 'We have to keep telling them to shut the mine,' Ben said quietly.

'I know,' Halima replied.

There was an awkward stillness between them, as they both searched for the right words to say. 'You will be all right,' Halima managed finally.

Ben tried to wear a brave smile. 'Hope so. Look, they can't keep us separated for ever. I'll probably see you before-'

But Halima had put a finger gently to his lips. 'You have done all that you need to do here, Ben. But you do not belong in this place. Promise me you will persuade them to let you go home as soon as possible.'

He looked into her eyes. 'I'll see you before then.' He glanced towards the medical tent. 'If I'm OK, I mean.'

Halima smiled. 'Perhaps. Perhaps not.' Her gaze lingered. 'But I will not forget you, Ben Tracey, or what you have done.'

And with that, she turned and joined the other women, not looking back to see Ben watching her leave, his face expressionless and his jaw clenched.

He took a deep breath to steady his raging emotions, then stepped towards the male villagers.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Ignored by the African men around him, Ben followed as they were led into yet another tent. There they were instructed to remove their clothes. Ben did as he was told, standing awkwardly with the other naked, skinny, bedraggled men while their clothes were taken to the incinerator – in fact more of a huge bonfire – to be burned. They were then led outside again where plastic bottles full of stinking disinfectant were poured over their heads. When it dried, they were handed clean clothes – simple cloth trousers and T-shirts that made them look more like a group of convicts than anything else.

They then lined up to have their blood tested. The men ahead of Ben looked deeply scared as they waited for the American doctor – also masked and suited – to slide the slim, sharp needle into their veins. Many of them looked like they wanted to run, but they could not do so as they were being held at gunpoint. Eventually it was Ben's turn. The doctor looked at his white skin in surprise. 'You OK, pal?' he asked through his mask.

Ben shrugged. 'Kind of.' The doctor started dabbing an antiseptic wipe on his arm. 'Have they shut the mine down yet? It's really important.'

'Not my area.' He picked up a needle. 'You must be the guy that alerted us to the virus.'

'Yeah.' Half of Ben wanted to go into detail, but he was overcome with exhaustion now. He winced as the sharp needle punctured his skin. His blood slowly filled the syringe. 'What's the blood test for?' he asked.

'Antibodies,' the doctor explained. 'Some people are immune to viruses like this – that's why not everyone has fallen ill. I'm afraid you won't be able to leave the quarantine area until we've been able to confirm that you're not a carrier.'

Or that I am, Ben thought to himself. 'How long will that take?'

'Couple of days. The samples have to be flown back to the lab in Kinshasa.'