The Gemini Virus by Wil Mara Read Free Book Online Page B

airborne particles needed positive airflow to move from host to host, but in a negative-flow environment, they were essentially sucked away before they had the opportunity. The positive-pressure atmosphere of connected areas further served to keep the infectious agents trapped within the AIIRs by surrounding it with what was essentially an invisible force field.
    Then they caught the odor; even through the respirator, it was awful. A musky blend of fluids, pungent and sour and miserable. It reminded Porter of unwashed laundry and school locker rooms and mold-spotted food in the back of her apartment refrigerator.
    For Beck, however, it conjured unwanted memories of a very different species. He tried to fight them off, but that wretched scent pulled him back, over seas and across borders and beyond the safety buffer of time. He began to recall his own words, as clearly as he had written them on the pages.…

    Sunday, April 12
    We all arrived in Yambuku today. Our single-engine plane landed in an open field near the village just as the sun was going down. I was hoping the heat would taper off in the darkness. But it has to be ninety degrees at least, and the humidity hung on us like a wet blanket. No sooner had we unloaded our gear than our pilot, a bone-skinny Kinshasan named Oudry, jumped back into the cockpit with profuse apologies and zoomed off again. Ebola is killing the Congolese by the thousands right now, and this is one of the hottest of the “hot zones.”
    We stood there in the middle of the jungle with our gear around our feet, and I wondered if I’d made a mistake by asking for this assignment. No—begging for it. I pleaded until Maurice gave in and wrote me the recommendation. Like any good professor, he never wants to let go of his students. He prefers to keep them under his wing, like a protective parent. That’s because he’s an academic at heart, in love with classrooms and laboratories and libraries, whereas I want to get out there and start doing it instead of eternally studying it. He was disappointed, but I think that came more from fear than anything else. He thinks I’m going to make a mistake and kill myself. But what’s the point of all that training, all that education, all those years of hard work, if I can’t go out and make a difference? I’ve tried to tell him this a thousand times, but I don’t know if it ever sank in. In the end, he gave me the green light, and that’s all that matters now. Here I am, in one of the most neglected parts of the world. Our job is to study the outbreak in this area and see what we can do to get it under control. I’m feeling very confident of our success. I’m eager to show dear Maury what I’m capable of.
    We picked up the bags and cases and walked the two hundred yards to the village. It lay at the base of a wooded hill, and the lights from the huts were pretty from a distance.

    Monday, April 13
    Very few of the adults are over the age of forty. Life expectancy here is around fifty-two, and that’s under normal conditions. The village leader is an elder named Guychel. He greeted us yesterday in a distinctly businesslike manner. The strain has drawn deep lines around his eyes, eyes that have seen too much suffering already. He’s missing two fingers on his left hand, and he walks with a slight limp. His voice, high and unsteady, speaks broken but understandable English. I already knew he had attended the Université de l’Uélé in Isiro but was unable to finish his degree. He returned to this village to care for ailing relatives who then died. Since the rest of the villagers knew of no one else with a formal education, they asked Guychel to stay.
    We put on our protective gear in the morning as he led us to the makeshift hospital: nothing more than a mud-brick hut. Many eyes were upon us now, and, to be completely honest, I got a charge at being regarded like some kind of savior. Relatives loitered about, some of them crying, others so battered