The Genesis Plague (2010)

needles. Involuntarily, his fingers went limp. The gun slipped out from his ruined grip and skittered to a stop, close to the edge of the platform.
    This time, Hazo found it impossible to catch his breath. He looked down and saw a black handgrip, buried to the hilt, sticking out beneath his right clavicle, close to the shoulder. When he tried to move towards the gun, bolts of pain shot down his arm and over his chest, making him see pure white. He screamed out in agony.
    Then he could hear Crawford’s boots clanging up the ladder rungs.

79
    It hadn’t taken much effort for Jason to persuade Crawford’s disenchanted marines to step aside so that he and Meat could get into the tunnel.
    After squirming through the opening above the debris pile, they’d progressed quickly through a series of interconnected tunnels. Tight winding passages had widened into a subterranean corridor with a lofty ceiling joined at a point, which in turn, fed them through a tunnel that looked as if it had been dug by a huge gopher. Halfway through the gopher hole, where a sharp bend yielded to a lengthy straightaway, Jason abruptly dropped to one knee with his M-16 directed straight. He immediately signalled to Meat to halt his advance.
    With no words exchanged between them, Jason leaned sideways and shone his light low to the ground less than ten metres ahead to emphasize a contorted body in desert camouflage blocking their path. The dead man was on his stomach in a pool of blood that looked purple against the dark limestone. Though the face was turned away from them, a glinting gold crucifix dangling from the corpse’s neck left little doubt as to the marine’s identity.
    ‘It’s Ramirez,’ Jason whispered softly to Meat.
    Meat’s face gnarled with disgust.
    Jason eased back to a standing position, listened intently for any activity. He turned to Meat. ‘Hear that?’
    Meat nodded. ‘Sounds like rusty wheels.’
    Jason proceeded forward and Meat followed close at his heels. As he stepped over the body, he caught a glimpse of the dime-sized red hole drilled through Ramirez’s temple.
    Crawford, you bastard. You’re going to pay for this. All of this.
    The tunnel curved yet again. After cautiously rounding the bend, Jason saw the slightest trace of light softening the darkness. He also heard screaming over the growing din of tinny squeals. One of the voices belonged to Crawford; the other, tinged with an accent, unmistakably Hazo. The exchange wasn’t pleasant. It sounded as if the two were arguing about something.
    Jason looked back at Meat and said in an urgent tone, ‘Let’s do this.’

80
    Hazo was amazed how quickly Crawford had made it up to the platform. It seemed like mere seconds had elapsed since the colonel threw the knife into his chest. Not enough time for Hazo to muster the strength to make a play for the gun. But even the slightest movement tweaked the blade against nerves and zapped him like a taser.
    Sneering and wild-eyed, Crawford gave the handgun a swift kick and it sailed off into the darkness to disappear below the rats. ‘Nice try, Haji. But your aim was lousy.’
    Hazo’s gaze burned with contempt. ‘You are an evil man,’ he said. Wincing, he tried to prop himself up against the reactor.
    ‘Don’t be such a bad sport. You’re no match for me. None of you Arabs is a match for me.’
    ‘I am a Kurd ,’ Hazo couldn’t help point out.
    Crawford shrugged. ‘You all look the same to me - Kurds, Saudis, Egyptians, Palestinians, Kuwaitis, Jordanians, Iranians, Afghanis … Call yourselves whatever you want. But you all popped out of the same fucked-up mould.’ He reached out and gave the knife a good twist and Hazo screamed out. ‘Don’t take my word for it, though. That virus inside you knows the difference … only likes A-rab DNA. And it looks to me like you’re one dead A-rab.’
    Just when Hazo looked ready to pass out, Crawford relinquished his grip on the knife’s hilt. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a foot-long plastic zip-tie. Tugging at the Kurd’s limp arm, he strapped the wrist snugly to the rail.
    Hazo screamed in agony, coughed up a wad of mucus and blood.
    ‘Sounds like you’ve got a hairball in there. Oh, sorry … that’s just the plague. Same plague these rats are going to spread to every one of your Arab brothers.’ Crawford stood and eyed the huge generator. ‘You aren’t as stupid as most Arabs, I’ll give you that. You see, this sure is a nuclear reactor.