The Noise Read online

“It’s not that simple,” Riley said.

  Lieutenant Colonel Fraser stared out at the empty village, his eyes darting from the structural debris to the ruined tents and destroyed military hardware. He looked over at the helicopters and then at the abandoned vehicles—several ATVs and a Humvee. He turned back to Riley. “You’re telling me every single person who was in this camp…is missing?”

  Riley reluctantly nodded. “We lost radio contact yesterday. Several teams were dispatched, and we lost contact with them, too. Frankly, I was told you and your team were missing as well.”

  He waved a hand absently behind him, toward the girls. “We were in the woods, searching for those two. Found them about eight klicks out hunkered down in a shelter. We…we lost contact, too, and assumed it was due to the terrain.”

  Fraser didn’t seem like the kind of person who got rattled easily, but he clearly was. He took off his helmet and ran his hand over his short hair. “What the hell happened here?” He said this last bit more to himself than to anyone else. Martha watched as he knelt and got a closer look at all the tracks, then turned and stared back in the direction they’d come.

  Martha shook her head and said, “I want those girls untied.” She started toward them, and a tall soldier with arms like tree trunks blocked her path. His broad chest might have been a wall. When Martha tried to go around him, he side-stepped. “Get the hell out of my way!”

  Without looking up from the footprints, Fraser said, “Those two may be the only survivors of this thing, and the younger one appears to be running a fever. She may be infected with a related condition. The older one drew a knife when we attempted to rescue them. She’s dangerous. I’m under orders to get them both back to quarantine.”

  “They’re children.”

  “Irrelevant.”

  Harbin had taken all this in without saying a word. He stepped closer to Riley and Lieutenant Colonel Fraser, the dosimeter still in his hand. “If you’re worried about a contagion, why aren’t any of your men wearing protective gear? They’ve made direct contact. A drop of blood, a sneeze, a brush against the sweat covering that feverish child…any one of those things can easily transmit a virus, yet you’ve taken no steps to protect yourself or your team. Why is that?”

  Fraser ignored him, continued to study the footprints.

  “You’ve already been told it’s not contagious, haven’t you, Lieutenant?”

  “We found no sign of a virus, or any contagion, for that matter, during our autopsies back at Zigzag,” Martha pointed out.

  Harbin held up the dosimeter. “And it’s not radiation.”

  With the barrel of his gun, Fraser traced the outline of a boot print in the mud.

  Martha couldn’t see his face. “I’m a medical doctor,” she pointed out. “At the very least, I can stabilize the sick one. If they’re the only two still alive from all this, you’ll want to keep them that way.”

  This seemed to give him pause. He stood, his back still to her. After about a minute, he turned to the soldier blocking Martha’s path. “Let me see the sat phone.”

  The soldier detached the phone from his belt and held it out to him, unwilling to move from Martha’s path.

  Fraser took the phone, extended the antenna, and walked off toward the helicopters as he dialed.

  Harbin gestured for Martha and Riley to step closer. “There’s a second elephant in the room,” he said quietly. “We’ve been here for nearly an hour. Unless someone understands Holt’s reasoning for two-hour windows, I suggest we board one of the helicopters and figure out our next step back at Zigzag, maybe examine the children there. I seriously doubt we’re the least bit safe here.”

  Riley eyed him for a moment, then looked down at her watch. She blew out a frustrated breath. “Give me a minute.”

  Martha watched as she walked over to Fraser, barely visible in the dark, the phone pressed to his ear.

  Harbin shoved the dosimeter into his pocket and looked nervously toward the woods, then seemed to study the debris around his feet.

  Around the side of the large soldier, Martha gave the older girl a reassuring nod. The girl stared at her, still as a statue. On the stretcher, the younger girl had twisted her head in their direction, watching Martha, Harbin, and all the others. Her face was covered in filth, lined with dried tears and trails of blood. Her lips moved in some silent conversation. When she noticed Martha watching her, her eyes narrowed. She seemed to speak faster, more deliberately, and a little voice deep in Martha’s mind told her she may not want to know what the girl was saying.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Martha

  “Why won’t he let me examine them?” Martha said over the helicopter’s communication system.

  “He will, back at base,” Sergeant Riley replied from the bench opposite her. “He agreed to that much.”

  After disconnecting his call, Fraser spoke briefly with Riley, then rushed everyone into the choppers. Many checked their watches, trying to determine where they fell in Holt’s window—though none of them had a clue when that particular clock started ticking. Martha had Holt’s briefcase braced between her legs as she shifted her weight on the uncomfortable metal seat. She expected Fraser or Riley to try and take it from her. Neither had.

  They’d taken two helicopters—Riley and her team in this one with Martha and Harbin, Fraser’s team and the girls in the other. Martha had argued the girls should fly back with them, but Fraser wouldn’t budge.

  Harbin nodded at Riley. “Do you know him?”

  She shook her head. “Only by reputation. He’s one of the youngest lieutenant colonels in the Army. He comes from a career military family; that’s one way to move up the ranks fast. Many think he’s destined to be our next defense secretary, maybe the joint chiefs’ office. I know the president trusts him.”

  Riley seemed off, Martha thought. Shaken. “Who did he call back there?”

  At this, one of the soldiers glanced up, then looked back down at his weapon.

  Riley simply said, “Superior officer,” then closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the helicopter’s shell. A not-so-subtle end to the conversation.

  Harbin slipped a note into Martha’s hand:

  Give me Holt’s briefcase when we touch down. I’ll take it to Fravel and the others. Can’t let Army get it first. You see to the girls.

  Martha gave him a swift nod and crumpled the note in her palm.

  As they circled Zigzag and came in for a landing moments behind Fraser’s helicopter, the sun began to creep over the mountain peaks to their east. Martha couldn’t decide if it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen, or a mask, a funeral shroud inching over the dead beneath its folds.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Martha

  True to his word, Harbin took the case and disappeared off into the tent city that was Zigzag before anyone could give him a second glance.

  Riley ushered her team to one of the command tents to debrief.

  Martha went straight to Fraser’s helicopter—the girls were already gone.

  She spotted Fraser talking to the pilot and stomped over. “Where are they?”

  Fraser gave her an irritated glance, then turned back to the pilot. “Understood?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Martha punched Fraser in the shoulder. “Goddamnit, where are they?!?”

  “Whoa, calm down, Doctor. I told you that you could see them, and you can. We just need to lay down a few ground rules first.”

  “Ground rules?”

  Fraser dismissed the pilot and started walking away from the helicopters at a brisk pace.

  Martha did her best to keep up, but her legs were much shorter than his. She practically had to run. She’d be damned if she was going to ask him to slow down. “What ground rules?”

  “I don’t know you, Dr. Chan. You’re a thin file I read on a plane. Your actions will define who you are to me, whether I consider you to be valuable. This entire situation is obviously sensitive.
Anything you learn needs to be run by me before you share it with anyone, including those people Holt brought in with you. I want my own people to vet them first.”

  Martha had no intention of doing that. “Sure,” she told him.

  “Second,” Fraser said, “that other guy—”

  “Harbin,” she interrupted.

  “Harbin. He was right. Those two girls are the only known survivors of whatever is happening out here. I need to understand the whys and hows of that. Are they just lucky, or somehow immune?”

  “Immunity implies that this is viral, and I already told you—”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Not viral, not a contagion. I don’t want to hear what this is not. Don’t waste my time with theories. I only want to know what is. Facts. Nothing else. I let you in there to see those girls, and you have one sole purpose—determine why they are not dead. Once you know that, you tell me. I’ll pass the information on to people much smarter than you, who will decide how we keep others from being dead.”

  Martha stopped walking and glared at him.

  He went on several more feet before turning back toward her. “I’m sorry, did I offend you?” He paused for a second, then added, “Let me be perfectly clear. You see two girls, I see rats in a lab necessary to solve a problem. Do we understand each other?”

  There were a million things she wanted to say to him, but instead she only nodded.

  “Good.”

  He started moving again, crossed the barrack tents and led her to Medical. Three guards were posted out front now, and Martha noticed two others on the side of the tent installing another air-conditioning unit. When she started for the door, he held out a restraining arm. “This tent is off-limits.” He pointed to a smaller tent across from them, another guard posted at that one. “You’ll find them in there. Everything you need should be inside. If not, ask the guard, and he’ll see that you get it.”

  With that, Fraser stepped into Medical, leaving Martha alone, her head spinning.

  Chapter Forty

  Martha

  Unlike the tent across the path, with its prefab plastic sign labeled MEDICAL, someone had hastily written EXAM 1 on a strip of white tape and placed it above this tent’s opening. The guard standing beneath the sign offered Martha a soft “Ma’am,” and stepped aside, holding the flap open for her.

  Another guard was stationed inside, his gun loosely trained on the tent’s two occupants. Although it was cool under the thick canopy, his shirt was damp with sweat. He pointed the barrel at the ground as she came in, then raised the weapon after she passed.

  “Is that necessary?”

  “Orders, ma’am.”

  “Orders,” Martha muttered.

  The tent’s interior was only a fraction the size of Medical, maybe half the space of her sleeping quarters. Several black plastic crates lined the leftmost wall, their open lids revealing a wide assortment of medical equipment and supplies. In the center of the room was one of the aluminum examination tables she’d used earlier, freestanding halogen lights erected on each end bathing the shiny metal in harsh light.

  The younger girl, still secured to the stretcher, had been left on top.

  She twisted as Martha entered, a bob of matted blond hair moving with her and slapping against the table. Her fingers, arms, and legs all appeared tense—stretched as if caught in a jolt of electricity—the cords of muscles and veins testing her thin body and skin.

  From one of the plastic black bins, Martha retrieved a laser thermometer identical to the one Harbin had used earlier, pointed the device at the girl’s exposed forearm, and pulled the trigger.

  The display read 103.6.

  Not good.

  She was just a child, maybe seven or eight. Because she was positioned with her head nearest her, Martha couldn’t see her face, but she could hear her, mumbling softly, some incoherent babble. She appeared to be crossing back and forth between a delusional state and alert, each turn lasting only moments, oblivious to the pain brought on by her injuries. Not uncommon with a fever this high.

  The soldiers had wrapped the young girl’s extremities with cloth before tightening the plastic ties, and while those strips were soaked with blood, it became painfully clear she’d be much worse if the girl had been secured without them—tugging, pulling, twisting—this relentless movement making matters worse. She’d have to get the temperature under control.

  The older girl sat in a folding chair in the back corner, her bound hands in her lap. She had looked up as Martha entered the room but hadn’t said anything.

  Both girls were covered in bruises and scratches. They smelled as if they hadn’t bathed in days. Their clothing was frayed and worn, threadbare, the colors muted to nothing but dull beige and grays. Martha couldn’t imagine living out here, removed from civilization. The simplest of conveniences and medical care far enough out of reach, they might not even know such things existed. She wondered if these girls had ever set foot in a well-stocked grocery store, or a movie theater, or a school. Had they been out here their entire lives?

  As subtly as she could, Martha pointed the thermometer at her and pulled the trigger again. A little red dot appeared at the base of her neck.

  98.4.

  “The older one tried to jump from the helicopter right after takeoff,” the guard said. “Lieutenant Colonel Fraser caught her by the belt, one foot hanging out like she thought she could fly.”

  Martha set down the thermometer and went over to her. She crouched down to get to her eye level. “Have you ever flown before?”

  The girl shook her head.

  “It can be frightening the first time, but I assure you, you’re in good hands.”

  “We need to go back. They won’t find us here.” She spoke with a strange accent; not quite Canadian nor the familiar sound of a typical northwest American. Her vowels were slightly more pronounced, drawn out. Other words sounded clipped. The word here came out more like her.

  “Is that your sister?”

  She glanced nervously over at the table, then down at her hands without a word. Her left knee began to bounce nervously. She had severe bruising around her nose and a noticeable break at the ridge line. Fractured within the past twenty-four hours. “Who set your nose? Was it her? Is she your sister?”

  She didn’t look up, didn’t answer.

  “If it was her, she did a fantastic job. I’ll clean it up for you and apply a bandage, but I don’t think I could have done better myself.” Martha gave her a reassuring smile. “I’d bet money the two of you are sisters—the way you’ve looked out for each other. After an experience like that, she must be grateful to have you. You’ve done an incredible job keeping the both of you safe, but you can relax now. I’m here to help. We all are. My name is Martha. What’s yours?”

  “Will you take us back?”

  Martha didn’t want to lie. She’d learned early on with her own kids that children saw through even the slightest half-truth, and she needed this girl to trust her. “When it’s safe,” she told her. “First, let’s get you and your sister cleaned up, treat your injuries, and get some food into you. I bet you’re tired, too. Maybe when we finish, we’ll get you some cots so you both can rest. She is your sister, isn’t she?”

  The girl hesitated for a moment, then looked up at her with tired eyes and nodded. “Can you help her?”

  It was Martha’s turn to nod.

  “Her name is Sophie.”

  Martha smiled at this. “That’s a beautiful name. What’s yours?”

  Again, she hesitated. She held her bouncing knee down with both hands, and finally said, “Tennant.”

  “And she is your sister?”

  Tennant nodded.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Tennant.” Martha placed her hand over the girl’s and tapped at the zip-tie. “If I remove this, do you think you can help me with your sister?”

  Tennant’s knee stopped bouncing. She nodded.

  Martha reached for a pair of scissors. Behind her, the soldier c
leared his throat but didn’t make a move to stop her.

  She clipped off both ties and examined the girl’s wrists and ankles. They were pink, but the plastic hadn’t been tight enough to break the skin.

  “Thank you,” Tennant said softly, rubbing her wrists.

  “Can you tell me how long Sophie has had a fever?”

  Tennant stood and walked over to the table. When she tried to take Sophie’s hand, she jerked away.

  Martha came up behind her, and for the first time got a good look at the younger girl’s face. Her skin was sickly, horribly pale beneath a sheen of grimy sweat. Her eyes were yellow with jaundice and lined with burst vessels. Like the bodies they’d autopsied, her tear ducts and ears appeared to be hemorrhaging. Not as bad as the others, but still evident. Most likely worsening. There was blood in the corners of her mouth, too. Between her teeth. She was breathing in short, shallow gasps, sucking the air in and letting it out quickly with a wheeze.

  When she realized Martha and Tennant were standing over her, she gave her bindings another frustrated pull, then went still. Her eyes narrowed, and she looked at the two of them. “Anna…anna…anna shim…anna shim.”

  “Who’s Anna Shim?”

  “I don’t know. She just keeps saying it. Can you help her?”

  Martha took her temperature again.

  104.1.

  Climbing.

  To the guard, she said, “I’ll need some ice and a vessel I can submerge her in. Like a bathtub.”

  “A bathtub?”

  “Just tell Fraser.”

  He nodded and spoke into his radio.

  Sophie’s back arched. Her arms and legs shot out, testing the limits of her bindings. Fresh blood appeared where they met her skin through the damp cloth. She held there for an impossibly long time, then collapsed back onto the stretcher, wasted and defeated, only to jerk back up a moment later.

  “Can you help her?” Tennant asked again in a voice that sounded much younger than her years.

  Martha nodded and quickly began riffling through the medications, bandages, and other supplies.