Feed: The Newsflesh Trilogy - By Mira Grant Page 0,124

they will not offer direct physical assistance until you?ve been tested again on the CDC field units they provide,? the man cautioned, some of the warmth leeching from his tone. Two bodies and a lot of hot blood on the road outside Memphis could spell an outbreak much larger than our little team. We both knew it. Now we had to contain it.

?Understood.? My PDA started beeping, signaling an incoming call. ?Sir, may I ask, what is your name??

?Joseph Wynne, Ms. Mason. Stand tight; our team will be there soon.?

?Thank you, Joe,? I said.

?God be with you,? he said. The line clicked off.

Shifting my PDA to my other hand, I pressed the Receive button. ?Georgia.? Shaun was running toward me, the field kits clutched against his chest. I raised my free hand, and he lobbed one at me. It was more than a simple game of catch; there are a hundred small tests and checks for infection that don?t depend on medical science. If he could throw, and I could catch, the odds were better that we were both clean. I saw him relax when I caught the kit, even though he didn?t slow down.

Senator Ryman?s voice came through the receiver, made sharp and tight by panic: ?Georgia, what?s this I?m getting on the scanner about an accident? Is everyone all right out there??

?Senator.? I nodded to Shaun. He put Rick?s testing kit down next to him, and the two of us popped the lids off our respective kits in comforting unison. Routine is the most reassuring thing there is. ?I?m afraid I have to answer in the negative, sir, but the CDC is dispatching a biohazard team to our location. Once we have an all-clear, we?re going to need a fresh truck and a team to move the equipment.? I hesitated before adding, ?We?re also going to need a new driver. Rick doesn?t have his Class A license, and I don?t want to leave my bike behind.?

There was a long pause, during which I tucked my PDA between my shoulder and my ear, freeing my hand, and mouthed a silent ?one, two? at Shaun. On two, we both rammed our forefingers down on the unit the other held. The prick of the needle puncturing my thumb made me wince, nearly dislodging the PDA.

Finally, while the lights were blinking red to green and back again, the senator said, ?Georgia is Chuck ??

I closed my eyes, blocking those ever-hateful lights, and said, ?I?m sorry, Senator.?

He paused again. ?Georgia ?

?Yes, Senator??

?Buffy. Wasn?t she ?

?I?m afraid that when the truck rolled, we were unable to save either of the occupants.?

?Oh, Christ, Georgia, I?m sorry.?

?So am I, sir; so am I. Can you arrange for another truck and driver to be sent to our location, and alert the rest of the convoy that we?re being unavoidably delayed? We?re just outside Memphis. You should be able to pull us up on the team GPS.?

?I?ll have someone on the way inside the next ten minutes.? The third pause was longer than the other two, and when he spoke again, he sounded more exhausted than I?d ever heard him, even after we received the news of Rebecca?s death. ?Georgia, have the rest of you have you ?

?The tests are running now. If anything changes, we?ll call you.?

?Thank you. I suppose I should let you get to it.?

?That would be best.?

?God save you, Georgia Mason,? he said, and ended the call before I could say good-bye.

Lowering the PDA, I opened my eyes, looking to Shaun?s face and avoiding the lights entirely. ?He?s sending help,? I said.

?Good,? he replied. ?We?re not infected.?

I allowed myself to glance down to the field kits, whose lights had settled on a steady green. I took a single shallow breath, followed by another deeper one, and nodded. ?Better.? Turning, I looked at Rick. ?Rick, we need a blood test.?

?What?? He raised his head, eyes wide and blank.

?A blood test. The field kit is next to you. The biohazard team won?t approach until we?re either checked out clean or dead.? I pulled my finger free, feeling the antiseptic tingle in the pinprick wound, and shook my hand briskly before depressing the signal button at the base of the kit. That would activate the built-in wireless transmitter, uploading the results into the CDC mainframe. A manual upload is only necessary in the event of a negative; the CDC doesn?t care, under normal circumstances, about the fact that someone isn?t about to turn into a zombie. Buffy?s