The Hot Zone by Richard Preston Read Free Book Online Page B

into buying diesel Cadillacs with red-leather interiors. He had sharp brown eyes and a sharp nose, like a hawk’s, and he understood her better than anyone else on earth. Nancy and Jerry Jaax had very little social life outside of their marriage. They had grown up on farms in Kansas,twenty miles apart as the crow flies, but had not known each other as children. They met in veterinary school at Kansas State University and had gotten engaged a few weeks later, and they were married when Nancy was twenty. By the time they graduated, they were broke and in debt, with no money to set up a practice as veterinarians, and so they had enlisted in the Army together.
    Since Nancy didn’t have time to cook during the week, she would spend her Saturdays cooking. She would make up a beef stew in a Crock-Pot, or she would broil several chickens. Then she would freeze the food in bags. On weekday nights, she would take a bag out of the freezer and heat it in the microwave. Tonight, while she thawed chicken, she considered the question of vegetables. How about canned green beans? The children liked that. Nancy opened a cabinet and pulled down a can of Libby’s green beans.
    She searched through one or two drawers, looking for a can opener. Couldn’t find it. She turned to the main junk drawer, which held all the utensils, the stirring spoons and vegetable peelers. It was a jam-packed nightmare.
    The hell with the can opener. She pulled a butcher knife out of the drawer. Her father had always warned her not to use a knife to open a can, but Nancy Jaax had never made a point of listening to her father’s advice. She jabbed the butcher knife into the can, and the point stuck in the metal. She hit the handle with the heelof her right hand. All of a sudden her hand slipped down the handle, struck the tang of the blade, and slid down the blade. She felt the edge bite deep.
    The butcher knife clattered to the floor, and big drops of blood fell on the counter. “Son of a bitch!” she said. The knife had sliced through the middle of her right hand, on the palm. It was a deep cut. She wondered if the knife had hit bone or cut any tendons. She put pressure on the cut to stanch the bleeding and went over to the sink, turned on the faucet, and thrust her hand under the stream of water. The sink turned red. She wiggled her fingers. They worked; so she had not sliced a tendon. This was not such a bad cut. Holding her hand over her head, she went into the bathroom and found a Band-Aid. She waited for the blood to coagulate, and then she pressed the Band-Aid over the cut, drawing the sides of the cut together to seal the wound. She hated the sight of blood, even if it was her own blood. She had a thing about blood. She knew what some blood could contain.
    Nancy skipped the children’s baths because of the cut on her hand and gave them their usual snuggle in bed. That night, Jaime slept in bed with her. Nancy didn’t mind, especially because Jerry was out of town, and it made her feel close to her children. Jaime seemed to need the reassurance. Jaime was always a little edgy when Jerry was out of town.

PROJECT EBOLA
1983 SEPTEMBER 26
    The next morning, Nancy Jaax woke up at four o’clock. She got out of bed quietly so as not to wake Jaime and showered and put on her uniform. She wore green Army slacks with a black stripe down the leg, a green Army shirt, and in the cold before sunrise she put on a black military sweater. The sweater displayed the shoulder bars of a major, with gold oak leaves. She drank a Diet Coke to wake herself up, and walked upstairs to her study in the cupola of the house.
    Today she might put on a biohazard space suit. She was in training for veterinary pathology, the study of disease in animals. Her speciality was turning out to be the effects of Biosafety Level 4 hot agents, and in the presence of those kinds of agents you need to wear a space suit. She was also studying for her pathology-board exams, which were coming up in