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So where had they gone?

The tent flap opened. A soldier walked in, s.h.i.+rtless, wearing boots, fatigues and a white bandage around his left shoulder. In his right hand, he carried his M4.

“Speak of the devil,” Corporal Cope said. “Dustin, how you feeling?”

“Fine,” Dustin said. “I’m here to see the colonel.”

Ogden put down his coffee mug. “You’re wounded, son, and you’re out of uniform. I told Doc Harper I’d come see you.”

“That’s okay, Colonel,” Dustin said. “I came for you. You’re the one we need.”

“You get your a.s.s back to bed, Private Climer,” Ogden said. “I’ll talk to you there. I don’t want you out of Doc Harper’s sight, understood?”

Climer stood tall and gave an exaggerated salute. “Sir, yes sir! Doc Harper is right outside, sir!”

The kid was acting strange. Painkillers? Climer walked closer to Corporal Cope. The tent flap opened again and two men entered: Doc Harper and Nurse Brad. Doc Harper’s nose was broken, white bone jutting up from a red gash. And yet he was smiling. Nurse Brad was smiling as well, his mouth hanging open at a strange angle. Drool dripped from his jaw, swinging in a long, glistening strand when he moved.

“Sir!” Climer screamed. “We are here on a recruiting trip, sir! We want you to be all you can be!”

It all clicked home. How could he have been so stupid? Roznowski had let Climer live. The gunshot to the shoulder had just been camouflage to keep Climer under the radar as the disease took him over. That meant the disease was now contagious.

Charlie Ogden reached for his sidearm.

Nurse Brad and Doc Harper rushed forward.

Dustin Climer whipped his M4 in a horizontal arc, catching the slow-reacting Corporal Cope in the throat. Cope fell off his stool, coughing.

Ogden fired two shots. The first one went wide. The second one hit Doc Harper right in the forehead just as Brad connected with a flying tackle. Nurse Brad was a big, strong, young soldier, and the hit rattled Ogden’s middle-aged body. As they crashed to the ground, Ogden heard Climer rus.h.i.+ng toward them. Ogden tried to bring the gun around, but Brad grabbed his wrist with both hands. With his free hand, Ogden jammed his thumb into Brad’s right eye. The eyeball popped, spilling clear fluid onto Ogden’s hand.

Nurse Brad didn’t let go.

He didn’t stop drooling.

He didn’t even stop smiling.

Another hand tore the gun free and pinned Ogden’s arm to the ground. Something slammed into his stomach, and he suddenly found himself unable to draw a breath. Ogden tried to kick, tried to pull, but he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t fight against the two young soldiers pinning him down.

Climer’s face seemed to float over his own, backlit by the tent’s lights.

“Sir, yes sir!” Climer said. “I want you to get your mind right, sir!”

Ogden felt hands on the sides of his head, holding it so he couldn’t turn in either direction. Climer straddled his chest. His right hand held Ogden’s forehead, pinning his head to the ground. Climer’s other hand grabbed his chin—hard—and pulled his mouth open.

Then Climer leaned forward, leaned close.