Chapter 29

We still posted lookouts that night, but only two. None of us believed the enemy assault team would be back. Two burned-out tanks and a charred Humvee decorated the open area in front of our building. Scattered bodies littered the grounds.

The area was secure, and the enemy bodies could have been recovered, but none of us was in a hurry to pick them up. One of the peculiar results of the coming of the Virus was that random dead bodies didn't have quite the emotional impact that they once had.

The evacuation helicopter crew had delivered a message from Commander Prentice. Before daylight, two squads of infantrymen would arrive via ground transportation to escort the remainder of our party to safety. It was suggested that we bring with us all the supplies and equipment, foodstuffs, medicines and fuel reserves, that our vehicles could carry. It was specified that we load up and bring with us the Bradley Fighting Vehicles.

A large portion of the remainder of the night was spent at hard labor, reloading our tractor-trailers with the supplies we had previously carried into the hospital's upper floors. Dr. Montoya was also stocking medical supplies from the hospital's stores.

Our machine gun emplacements were left intact, for the moment. Those guns would be taken with us, but only when we were ready to depart the premises.

Except for our posted guards, around 4:30 a.m. we all collapsed, sleeping soundly for the first time in days.

All except me. I was lying awake, suffering from a high fever.

The two squads from New Start arrived very early in the morning, but except for one man being dropped off in front of Brooke to explain their presence and their plans, the remainder of them fanned out into the area of the battle, looking for survivors, prospective prisoners, or signs of continued aggressive activity.

That morning, two more injured enemy soldiers were captured and placed under guard.

Several intact pieces of military equipment were recovered and stored, to be taken back to New Start.

Despite a wide-ranging search, no signs of continued resistance were found. We warned the cleanup squads about the sniper. He had never been found, and if he was still out there, he would be a source of constant danger.

But, then, if the sniper had a brain, he figured to be long-gone, or lying very low.

When there had been time for Dr. Montoya to be up and about, I asked Janice Pennington -- the first person I saw this morning -- to find him and summon him to my room.

"What is it, Carter?" he said.

"I'm pretty sick, Doc."

Dr. Montoya was a research scientist, still trying to perfect his bedside manner as a GP. His facial expressions were not always difficult to read. Right now, he was alarmed.

"People... still get sick, Carter," he said. "The last few days -- well. To say they've been stressful... Well..."

"Those people in Monterrey, Doc... How long did they... y'know... last, once they took sick?"

"Carter, you don't necessarily have..."

"Dr. Montoya, please! If I've just got a touch of the flu, nobody will be happier to find it out, a week from now, than me... But I don't think I got the flu, Doc. I think I got the Virus."

"I don't know how to treat it, Carter. No one knows. But I'll give you anything and everything at my disposal, that I think could possibly help."

"If it is the Virus, how long have I got?"

"Carter, the people in Monterrey -- they were gone in two days. It was, for them, much slower-acting than the initial Virus had been. Evidently, it was a weaker strain, by that time. And you! You've been alive and well for... for months! By now, it's entirely possible that -- even if you do have it -- it won't prove to be fatal! Don't assume the worst, Carter!"

"OK. OK, Doc, I'm not gonna assume. But, Jeez, Doc. I really feel just rotten as hell!"

"I'll be back. I'm going to prepare an injection of Interferon, Carter. Sit tight!"

The remaining members of our group were going to be traveling overland -- accompanied by the two squads of professional soldiers from New Start -- to the unidentified place, north of San Antonio, where the New Start people had established their field operations center, the place to which the Kazners, and the children, had been evacuated earlier. The Apache helicopter, we were told, was still on-station there, ready to come to our aid again if necessary.

The New Start people were being thorough and cautious. But no one thought the Apache would be necessary.

The Brooke garage doors were flung open -- possibly for the last time for years to come -- and our little convoy of vehicles slowly emerged. For the most part, the drivers were now our military escorts. Our party -- most of whose members had worked through the night and slept for three hours or less -- was going to be making this trip as passenger-guests.

But, at almost the last minute before we left Brooke forever, the transport helicopter arrived again and settled atop the building.

There had been a change of plans. I was going to be flying to New Start. Bridgett and Dr. Montoya would accompany me.

The New Start soldier who strapped us in for the flight combined military bearing with a sunny disposition. He introduced himself as "Sergeant Markey," and he was talkative and upbeat. "You're really gonna love our town!" he said. "... And you people -- man, you are real VIPs!... Everyone else, before they come to New Start?... First, they gotta spend time at our halfway house. It's a place -- a secure location -- more than 200 miles from home! It's where we check folks out, for security.

"But you? No halfway house for you folks! By direct order of Commander Prentice himself, we're taking you -- all of you -- straight on home! Your other folks, they'll be coming back on the ground. But us -- we'll just be stopping once, to refuel, and then we're goin' -- flyin' -- all the way home!... We got us the Famous Carter Johnson on board, here!"

My fever was still very high, and I was starting to have a little trouble, now, just breathing. When we were airborne, Dr. Montoya unfastened my harness and let me lie down on the metal floor of the aircraft. He gave me a pill to swallow. Bridgett came out of her own chair and harness and joined me on the floor. She lifted my head and shoulders up, and kind of cradled me in her arms.

"Tell us some more, Sergeant," Bridgett said, "about your town. About New Start."

The young soldier was more than eager to comply. "It's in the Ozarks, Ma'am," he said. "There's beautiful lakes, all around! And hills! Heck, they're really mountains, almost! Good farmland nearby, but mostly, it's got some big ol' hills, there. I'm from western Nebraska, myself. We didn't have nothin' to compare to it! The town of New Start, why, it's just all steep hills and valleys! It used to be called "Eureka Springs" in the old days -- before the Virus. Oh, it's beautiful there!"

"How many... people... are there?" I croaked out my question. I felt worse than I'd ever felt in my life, but I was listening, hard, to Sergeant Markey's rhapsodic description of New Start.

"Not countin' all you new folks, we got 322 people -- men, women and children!" he said proudly.

Damn! That wasn't a town. That was a city!

"And we're still growin, ' real fast," Sgt. Markey bragged. "And we got security! We are like the Israeli settlers, back when they had to tame their country?... And make it grow and prosper? We got a couple folks, who was actually there! Old folks! Raised in a Kibbutz! Oh, my! Those people! Let me tell you -- when those folks talk, we listen!