Traces

When the gunfire died, a hush settled over the roadside. Shock, grief, and relief hung together in the air, none of them quite willing to give way to the others.

I could picture it as if I had been standing there — the lonely instant when the dead man, with nothing prepared and no one beside him, had thrown himself into a desperate escape.

He was another victim, nothing more. But before he was a man, he was a carrier of lethal radiation, as dangerous to my people as a zombie that could infect the entire pack.

And I knew this would not be the last time. The moment a vague, nameless threat became real, my mind went to work. I snatched up the radio.

A moment later I saw Jed running toward us from up the road, a radiation meter in one hand. I raised a palm to stop him and keyed the radio.

Jed only looked exasperated and bellowed back.

"What are you doing? You're the ones in more danger, standing around over there!"

At that, the Division operators and I eased carefully off the scene and gathered ahead of Jed, putting distance between ourselves and the body.

Without hesitation, Jed brought his meter close to each of us in turn, his face grave.

"No direct contact? I mean touching him, searching him, anything like that."

I looked over the operators. They shook their heads.

"We held this position. No further approach."

"Whew. That's a relief."

Jed let out a breath and asked again.

"So that spot back there — that was as close as anyone got?"

"That's right. But the reading spiked close to ninety microsieverts at one point."

"Well, long as there was no direct contact, that level's about the same as a few X-rays in a row at the hospital. You can rest easy for now. Come on — let's get a little farther back."

We moved to about fifty meters from the exposed man's sedan, near the armored vehicle and my truck. That was when Chloe came running up, a medic bag in one hand and another bag in the other.

"Where is the exposed individual?"

I met her eyes and said it plainly.

"I shot him."

Chloe's eyes wavered, wide for an instant. She opened her mouth as if to speak, then took in the silence around her and the hard set of every face, and closed it again.

Chloe started toward me, worry written across her face. I raised a hand and stopped her.

"Stay there, Chloe. Don't come any closer until decontamination is finished. Prep what we'll need instead."

Then I turned to Gunner.

"Gunner, grab the kimchi-wrapping plastic from my dry van."

"The what? Kimchi wrapping?"

"The PE roll sheeting, I mean. It should be up on the kitchen shelf. And on your way, pick up a few heavy-duty trash bags and the red spray paint."

I looked to Mike next.

"Mike, would you bring combat uniforms and boots for those operators to my trailer?"

"Ah, got it."

Jed had said we were safe enough. But I had seen the shaken look in the eyes of the operators who had found the irradiated man first, and I knew I had to do something. I also knew I could not set a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠precedent of walking away from a situation ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠like this with no measures taken at all.

CBRN decontamination procedure. I had had it drilled into me until my ears rang, in the Korean military and again in the Foreign Legion. I called up every scrap of that memory and began.

When Gunner came back with the supplies, I told him to set them on the ground and step away. Then I pointed to two of the Division operators beside me.

"You two. Use that spray paint to write RADIOACTIVE CONTAMINATION ZONE in big letters on the ground, thirty-meter radius from where he was. If there's anything nearby you can use as a signpost, put up a warning marker too."

While they moved, I tied off one end of the roll sheeting, rolled the other end inward, and set it on the ground in the shape of a great open jar.

That was when the radio crackled with Bravo Echelon's departure, and Charlie came up behind them.

While decontamination prep was still underway, Chloe came forward, set down the bag of medical supplies, and held up each item in turn.

"First, potassium iodide. Take one tablet immediately. It will keep radioactive iodine from accumulating in the thyroid."

I said nothing.

"And this is Prussian blue. It helps the body excrete cesium. Take it when I tell you to. Last, high-concentration alcohol wipes. Use these on any exposed skin."

When the operators who had marked the contamination zone came back, I opened the radio channel again.

"Someone's gotta drive the truck. I'll stay."

Gunner's answer was short. The moment Mike finished leaving the change of clothes in the trailer and stepped back out, Charlie Echelon's departure call came over the net. I looked at Mike.

"Mike, take Delta column, if you would. We'll catch up as soon as we're done here."

"Understood."

Mike met my eyes, nodded, and headed back to his vehicle with Jed and Chloe.

I called over the three operators who had encountered the irradiated man. I wiped my own hands with an alcohol wipe, placed a potassium iodide tablet in each of their mouths, and handed them a bottle of water.

Then I gave each of them a plastic bag.

"If you've got a family photo, or anything you can't throw away, it goes in this bag first."

I took an old photograph from my own pocket, along with a dog tag that had never been snapped in two, and sealed them in a bag.

"From this moment, every piece of clothing and every piece of gear we were wearing goes onto this sheeting. Then everyone showers and changes into clean clothes."

I unbuckled my pistol belt first and tossed it onto the plastic.

"Weapons too."

The operators hesitated for a beat, then threw their firearms onto the sheeting without a word. I felt a brief pang as I unfastened the leather harness Smith had made for me, but I set it down without lingering.

"Gunner, once they get into the trailer, have the showers ready to go."

"Got it."

I pointed to one of the operators.

"You first. Strip everything, but turn it inside out as you take it off so the outer surface doesn't touch your skin. The moment you're undressed, move to the trailer, wash down, and put on a fresh combat uniform. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"And take your boots off before you climb into the trailer."

"Yes, sir. Understood."

While the operators stripped in turn, I tossed a few of the alcohol wipes Chloe had left behind up to the vehicle commander in the armored vehicle's turret.

"Wipe down the external radio and any exposed equipment with these."

A naked operator, clutching his plastic bag in one hand, ran shivering toward my trailer. I called after him.

"Wash your hair. Thoroughly!"

Once I had confirmed the last of them were inside, I gathered their combat boots, threw them onto the sheeting, and stripped off every piece of my own clothing and threw it on the pile. The cold air cut like a blade.

When I pulled off my boots and set my bare feet on the ground, I felt the temperature of the frozen earth itself.

I shouted to Gunner, who was watching from the truck, and ran for the trailer.

"Gunner, you handle the rest!"

By the time I stepped inside, one operator had already finished his shower and was pulling on the fresh uniform Mike had brought. I tossed him a pack of alcohol wipes.

"Anything you couldn't throw away — any handle or surface you might have touched — wipe it all down with these."

A short while later, Gunner came back from disposing of the contaminated material and shut the trailer door.

"Let's move."

Our little Echo formation climbed slowly back onto the road, chasing the main body.

Inside the rolling truck, the operators finished their showers one by one. I washed myself down with hot water and changed into clean clothes.

Then I headed for the cab, and as I did I casually turned the radiation meter toward Gunner. He snorted.

"Don't worry, Boss. I didn't sleep through the training either. I followed procedure. It's clean."

When I came through to the sleeper, Wolf, who had been curled up there, came over wagging his tail. I stroked his warm head and asked, half to myself, as Gunner drove.

"How the hell did he make it this far?"

"Probably someone who ran in the first hours after the blast, before Nevada or Utah even started locking down."

Gunner paused, then added,

"Jed said it was about the same as a few X-rays. Wasn't all that a bit much?"

"You can't trust every reading a hundred percent. And inconvenience doesn't belong in the same conversation as radiation."

"Fair point. Though now that I think about it, your junior enlisted must've done a hell of a lot of complaining while you were in. Hahaha."

"Well... they did. But I never got the feeling they hated me for it."

"That's even worse. Being the guy who's a real pain in the ass but you just can't hate him. Heh."

"The hell are you talking about?"

"Anyway. There's stuff about you that you don't even know. Haha."

"What matters right now is that all of us needed a psychological decon. And we did it."

We had washed away the invisible traces of death. But a deeper question was carving itself into me.