Biowar

54

“I’m not saying there’s no fig trees here, but if there are, I can’t find them,” Karr told Chafetz as he walked through the camp.

“Kite packed away?”

“Yup.”

“Have you killed all the pigs?”

“All but the one we’re taking back.” He’d also taken blood and tissue samples from each for analysis.

“Buried ’em?”

“You know, you’re starting to sound a little like my mom before going on a camping trip.”

“I’ m just tired.”

“Hey, that was a compliment,” said Karr. He could definitely sympathize with her. He hadn’t slept now for more than twenty-four hours. His normally robust body was turning against him, weighing him down so badly his fatigue felt like a physical thing clamped over his head and chest.

Sourin and his men were waiting at the far end of the camp, near where they had launched the assault. The Thai major had gotten over his earlier crankiness and hadn’t objected to the burial of the men and pigs they’d found.

The promise of an unspecified “burial bonus” might have had something to do with his heightened spirits, but Karr preferred always to look on the brighter side of human nature, and put it down to the fact that the major and his men were glad to be going back to camp with the satisfaction of a job well done.

“Your helicopter’s en route. It’s a replacement — the Special Forces units had to punch over east,” added Chafetz. “Things are heating up over near Cambodia. Replacement is a Thai military helicopter. Sorry.”

“Not a problem,” said Karr. “As long as it comes.”

“It will.”

Sourin ran scouting parties and had teams flanking them as they walked to the landing zone. Karr tried looking for fig trees, though it was becoming a struggle to keep his eyes open. He felt incredibly cold — odd, because the others were stripping off their vests and seemed to be sweating.

“What do you think about a pig roast when we get back?” asked Gidrey.

“I’d love to, but not with that pig,” said Karr.

“Why not?”

“Doctors want to see if it’s growing bacteria or a virus or something,” said Karr.

“You don’t think the guerrillas kept it around for food?”

“Doesn’t matter what I think. It’s what they think that counts.” Tommy smiled at the Marine.

“Who is ‘they’ anyway?”

“The Big They,” said Tommy. “The They above all other Theys. They.”

“You ever stop joking around?”

“When I’m sleeping. Which I hope will be pretty soon.” Karr could hear the harsh beat of the Chinook as it chomped through the air. “Here comes our taxi.”

Karr slid down into a crouch as they waited at the edge of the clearing.

“Tired?” asked Foster.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“You don’t look that good.”

“Just tired. It’s cold for the jungle.”

“Cold? Hell, it’s got to be close to ninety,” said the Marine.

The wind from the helicopter felt good for a moment, but then the grass and grit formed into a kind of paste covering Karr’s face. He started to trot with the others, but by the time he reached the rear ramp of the big air-going bus, he had slowed considerably. His legs felt shaky.

The rotors whirled up, the helicopter shuddering. They did a slow orbit around the camp, then began angling back toward the border. Karr tried to think about the other camps he had to inspect, but he couldn’t focus.

“I think I’ll take a nap!” Karr shouted to Foster, who was sitting next to him on the long bench. “Wake me up when we’re home.”

As he turned to hear Foster’s reply, something exploded above him.

“Uh-oh,” said Karr, grabbing for the seat as the helicopter lurched sickeningly and began to rotate.