Biowar

52

Keys stood before him in a surgical gown.

“You’re going to be okay, Charlie.”

“Keys — what do I have?”

“Fever. Fever!” Keys started to swirl around in the room. Dean blinked and he was in the middle of a basketball court, heading down on the left side of the court as Kegan dribbled ahead. Dean knew the ball would be coming a second before it squirted in his direction; he grabbed it and leaped in the same motion, laying the ball into the hoop.

Except it didn’t quite go in. It rolled and rolled around the rim. Dean stayed suspended in midair, watching it as it twirled and twirled.

Then his stomach began to tighten.

He saw Keys as a doctor again, standing before him, sweating himself. They were in the jungle.

“I can’t cure all these people,” said Keys. “I can’t cure them. They call me the Good Doctor, but I can’t cure them.”

“Cure me,” said Charlie, grabbing for him. “Cure me.”

Keys took a step back. They were sitting in his living room in Athens. The dead man lay on the floor behind the desk. Every so often Dean would glance over, but Kegan seemed oblivious to the body.

“That was the best time of my life. And the worst. They killed her. Changed everything for me,” said Kegan.

“Yeah,” said Dean. He knew what Kegan was talking about — and yet the exact memory stayed out of reach, back in his brain.

“You’d be amazed. These people had none of the basic medicines, nothing. We trained some good nurses, though,” said Keys. “She was one of the best.”

“Who?” said Dean.

“They killed her, though.”

“Who?”