Ebola K: A Terrorism Thriller Read Online Free PDF Page B

want to help.”
    “Rashid, you’re only here because your father
wants you to learn about life in the real world.”
    Rashid put on a brave face. “I’ve learned
enough. I’ll help.”
    Mary-Margaret shook her head. “You boys are
fools.”
    Austin looked at Rashid then back at the
nurse. “What do you want us to do?”
    “I want you to go home and sleep. Talk about
what you think you’re doing, and keep reminding each other that you
could be dead in two weeks if you do this. Come see me in the
morning if you still want to help.”

Chapter 9
    Austin woke when the nightmare of a pygmy
pounding on his skull with a hammer became too painful to be just a
dream. He sat up in his bed and every part of his body ached. The
room was hot. The barest sliver of early morning light came in
through the window.
    He put his hands to his temples and groaned.
Nearly stumbling as he got up, he knelt down beside the bed and
pulled his bag out from underneath. He let his face fall on the
mattress under the weight of a wave of pain behind his eyes, a
throbbing strong enough to take his breath away.
    “Jesus Christ, that hurts .”
    He found a bottle, made out the aspirin
label, and struggled with the childproof cap. Another hammer of
pain interrupted the effort. He turned and sat on the cool floor,
turned his attention back to the contrary little cap, and managed
to remove it. He took out four aspirin and put them in his mouth,
knowing he had no water. He and Rashid hadn’t boiled anything the
night before and he couldn’t bring himself to drink anything still
in the house.
    He chewed and grimaced at the bitterness,
telling himself over and over again that the taste wasn’t as bad as
tequila. He was unable to swallow. His mouth was too dry.
    He chewed and chewed, grinding the bitter
pills to powder, then mud, as he slowly generated some saliva.
    Up on his knees again, Austin propped himself
on the bed and rested before standing. Moisture was working its way
into his mouth. He chewed some more, managed to swallow the
aspirin’s crumbs and decided that standing at just that moment was
a bad idea. He eased himself down onto the hard floor, then laid
his belly, his chest, and face on the cold tile, and closed his
eyes.
    After a while, his breathing stabilized, his
head pounded less, and he tried to think of what he’d drunk to give
himself such a monster hangover. The fragments of memory slowly
fell into place in his mind. He was in Mbale. He’d ridden on the
back of a boda for hours. The deserted town. The hospital.
    “Crap.”
    Austin reached up and put a hand on his
forehead. He felt hot.
    “Crap.”
    He sat up and leaned back against his bed.
Across the room, Rashid was sleeping on his narrow bed, on his
belly with an arm dangling over the side. His hand lay on the floor
by a puddle of his last meal, spilled from his stomach.
    “Oh, no.”
    Despite the headache, Austin sprang across
the room and shook Rashid’s shoulder with one hand as he put the
tips of his fingers on Rashid’s jugular, feeling for a pulse.
Rashid was alive. At least he hadn’t choked to death in his sleep.
But his skin was on fire. Austin rolled him onto his back. Reeking
vomit was all over Rashid’s face, down his chest, and on the thin
mattress.
    “Oh, shit. Oh, shit.” He shook Rashid again.
“Wake up. Wake up.”
    Rashid didn’t respond.
    Austin shook again. “Rashid!”
    Nothing.
    Austin heaved a few deep breaths. He had to
get Rashid to the hospital. The specter of Ebola and bodily fluids
screamed at him to step away, but in that moment it didn’t matter.
Anyone too sick to wake up was too sick to be at home. He needed a
doctor. Austin pushed his arms under Rashid and with all the effort
he could muster, he hauled Rashid up.

Chapter 10
    Kapchorwa. In the local language, it meant
“friendly people.” And they were. Big-hearted, smiling people.
    Were.
    Thinking about that and starting to feel
hopeless, Dr. Littlefield sat on the porch of the