Biowar

66

Gidrey had managed to find what passed for a doctor in the Burmese outback: an old woman who seemed to have been trained as a nurse or maybe as a witch doctor. She and another man in the party that had come out from the small hamlet seemed to know a few English words, including Red Cross. Between that and their gestures, they made it clear that Foster’s wounds had to be cleaned. Karr brought them with him to the field, where he waved his arms and made sure the Puff/1 got a good visual on him and the group so the Art Room knew these were friends. Then, drained and tired and sick, he let the others help him to the village.

With one exception, the huts were made of some sort of straw or vegetation. The lone exception was a metal shack with a Buddhist statue at the front; it served as a temple and a common building, and it was there that the Americans were brought. The old woman pulled a small piece of shrapnel from Foster’s leg, then prepared to pour liquid on it. Gidrey stopped her, taking a whiff from the bottle to see what it was.

“Smells wicked,” he told Karr. “What do you think?”

“I think if they were going to kill us they would have been a hell of a lot more direct about it,” said Karr. He shrugged. “She seems to know what she’s doing.”

Gidrey nodded. The woman poured the liquid, which had an immediate effect — the Marine practically jumped from the bed where he’d been laid.

“Nothing like ol’-fashion’ medicine,” said Karr.

A bedroll was laid out for him on the floor. He lay down, gazing at the odd mix of items near the wall — carved drinking gourds and an empty television set, its picture tube gone.

The woman bent over him and started talking in rapid-fire Burmese. Karr shook his head. She repeated what she had said, a little slower and louder. He smiled, then held up his hands. She put her hand on his forehead.

Karr put his hand over hers, gently removing it.

“Thanks. I’ll be okay,” he told her.

She pointed at his stomach.

He looked down. “You telling me to lay off the nachos?” He glanced up at Gidrey. “Man, these doctors are all alike.”

The woman disappeared for a few minutes; when she came back she had a small bottle, which she obviously wanted him to drink. When Karr didn’t take it, the woman began talking very quickly again, no doubt urging him to be a big boy and swallow it down. She reminded him of his Scandinavian grandmother, whose words were similarly indecipherable yet just as obvious.

“How much?” he asked, taking the bottle.

She put her finger on the bottle. Karr took a slug. The taste of the medicine — if that’s what it was — nearly killed him.

“Whoa,” he said. His throat constricted and his eyes watered.

There was gunfire in the distance.

“What the hell?” said Gidrey.

“Wait,” said Tommy. “That’s just the Puff, taking out the guerrillas.”

“I’d better go check.”

“Not unless I go with you. They may not know it’s you.”

“I think you ought to rest.”

Karr tried to push up from the seat, but there was no way he was moving.

“All right, listen — take my handheld computer,” Karr told Gidrey. “Keep it out where they can see it.”

“Where who can see it?”

“The Puff — the UAV gunship. Or the Kite they took over or there’s a satellite overhead or something. They’re watching us, believe me.”

“All right,” said Gidrey reluctantly.

“Make sure they can see the computer clearly. And don’t try turning it on,” added Karr. “If you do, it’ll check your thumbprint and it’ll blow itself up.”

“Really?”

“Really.”