Chris Ryan - Outbreak

He walked over to where a small group of Africans were standing with worried, uncomprehending looks on their faces. Every now and then, someone else would join them; but they were few and far between – most of the villagers were sent elsewhere. Where it was, Ben couldn't see.

Finally the man holding the clipboard approached. He walked straight up to Ben.

'Ben Tracey?'

Ben nodded. He didn't trust himself to speak.

'I'm giving you the news first,' he said flatly. 'The others will have to wait for an interpreter.'

'OK.'

'Samples have been taken from those infected with the virus so that we can isolate the specific antibody that fights it. You have been tested for that antibody.'

Ben wished the man wasn't wearing a mask – that way he might have been able to read something into his expression. But he couldn't.

'Only about one third of the population carry this antibody,' he continued. 'I'm happy to inform you that you are one of those.'

Ben felt his knees buckle beneath him with relief; it was all he could do to stand up straight. 'Thank you,' he whispered. It seemed inadequate somehow.

But then the man spoke again, and his robotic voice sounded softer this time, more sympathetic. 'Ben, I need to talk to you about your father.'

He felt a chill cover his body.

'He's very ill, son. You know that, don't you?'

Ben nodded silently. He wasn't sure if he could bear to have this conversation.

'We don't know what this virus is yet. But we do know that it attacks the vital organs, starting with the lungs, then the blood, then the brain. Even the strongest people have difficulty withstanding such an attack. It's random, who survives and who doesn't.'

Ben lowered his eyes. It was clear what the man was trying to say. Half of him wished he would just spit it out; the other half didn't want to hear it.

And then the man was talking again. 'You need to prepare yourself, Ben…'

Ben closed his eyes.

'… prepare yourself for the fact that he might not be the same again.'

Ben blinked. Had he heard him right? 'You mean…?' he faltered.

'It looks like your dad is going to pull through.'

Ben's breath left him like an explosion. ' But there's a possibility that he will be left severely disabled by his illness, Ben. The British Embassy in Kinshasa has been informed of his position, and they're sending transport back for you as soon as we've confirmed that neither of you are contagious any more. They've also contacted your mother, who is flying over to meet you both.'

'Can I see him?'

'Not yet. You both need to be isolated for a couple more days. But we're going to get you out of here as soon as we possibly can.'

Ben looked around him. 'What about everyone else?'

'They won't be so lucky, I'm afraid. The people who are immune to the virus will be kept isolated from the others. Those who succumb will be taken to the medical tent, where they'll receive our best attentions.

Most of them won't make it.'

Ben's face became severe. 'There's a girl called Halima. I need to know how she is.'

'I'm sorry, Ben. I just don't have that information and we're going to keep you away from everyone else – so you can forget about seeing anyone apart from your dad. But you need to prepare for the worst – it's going to be pretty rough here, for a few months at least. A lot of people are going to die. But if we hadn't closed down this village and blocked up the mine in time, it could have been a million times worse. Word is, we've got you to thank for that.'

Ben averted his eyes. It seemed a hollow victory. 'I had a lot of help,' was all he could think of saying.

'Whatever,' the man from the UN replied. 'If anyone deserves to get out of here, it's you.'

He put a gloved hand on Ben's shoulder.

'We're going to get you home, son. We're going to get you home real soon.'

Two weeks later.

The private hospital room in Kinshasa was stark and white, and the sun shone brightly in through a small window. Russell Tracey was covered in a sheet, his head propped up on three plump pillows as he slept lightly. His breathing was heavy and measured, but it carried none of the frightening rasp of a couple of weeks ago.

At his bedside were two people, a boy and a woman. Ben Tracey had not been in the same room as his mother and father for years. It was weird, the three of them being there together now. Weird but nice – it was just a shame it had taken all this to make it happen. Bel had flown over the moment news of her son and ex-husband had reached her ears, and since she arrived, she and Russell hadn't even argued. Well, not much, anyway. Bel hadn't been able to resist a few arch 'I told you so's; but even she, with all her prophecies of doom, could never have predicted how their trip to the Democratic Republic of the Congo would end.

Most of the time, they all sat quietly, waiting for Russell's strength to return. Both Ben and his dad had been interviewed by the Kinshasa police, and there was quiet satisfaction to be had from the knowledge that Kruger and his associates were being dealt with by the authorities. But he had seen the corruption of this country first-hand – justice had a different way of working out here, and Ben didn't know if they would end up paying for what they had done. At least they would no longer be able to make money out of the suffering of the poor villagers, but he had no idea how well they had covered their tracks. He hoped they would be brought to book; but now, more than anything, he just wanted to go home.

Today, as Russell slept, Ben kept noticing the way his mum looked at her ex-husband. It's amazing how being close to death changes the way you look at the world, he thought to himself, and he began fantasizing whether this might be the beginning of something. Maybe he'd have a family once again.

He was interrupted from his daydream by a knock at the door – another nurse, no doubt. 'Come in,' Bel called – just like her to take charge, Ben thought with a smile. And his smile broadened when he saw who came through the door.

When he had last seen Halima, she had been dirty and bedraggled after everything they had been through. Before being given permission to leave the village, he had tried to persuade the UN doctors to let him see her, but that permission was flatly denied. He had been in isolation for days, and they weren't about to let him go back into infected areas. They wouldn't tell him what the result of her antibody test was; they wouldn't even tell him if she was dead or alive.

Now her hair was clean and her skin shining. Ben shot up from his seat. 'Halima!'

'They told me you would be here,' she replied with a grin.

'How are you? I mean, I didn't know if you-'

'They say I will not fall ill,' Halima said seriously. 'One of the men from the United Nations allowed me to travel back in a helicopter with him. I am staying with my sister.' She looked at Russell. 'How is your father?'

'He's OK. He's going to get better. Um… this is my mum.'

Bel stood up and politely shook Halima's hand. There was a smile on her face and a twinkle in her eyes. 'I've heard a lot about you, Halima,' she said mischievously.

Halima's eyes lowered and Ben found himself wanting to change the conversation. 'You heard about Abele?' he blurted out. He had no wish to upset Halima, but poor Abele had been on his mind ever since he left Udok.

Halima looked up, directly at him, and sadness shadowed her face. 'He was a strong man, but not strong enough.'

Ben shuddered as the image of the canvas-covered corridor leading to the incinerator slipped into his mind. Even now, weeks after his death, it didn't seem right that such a strong person should be laid low by a mere illness. It was wrong. 'He saved my life,' Ben said humbly. 'More than once. I can't believe he's…' Ben couldn't bring himself to say the word 'dead'.