2086 UNPC universal calendar.
Horn of Africa, CBRN deployment.
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Their heavy footsteps carried their presence, massive shapeless masses in CBRN oversuits atop their ECA. The puffed up forced air suits were heavy, and another layer of protection atop their already heavy armor.
Kugler had told the duo (Being A9 and C7) to scout ahead, and mark any bodies for incineration, he'd follow up and destroy any contaminated forms of life to quell the spread of the virus. If it were up to the UNPC, every one of them would have a XE-84 incendiary device, but Kugler wouldn't have it. They had a functionally infinite amount of time to do what they needed to do, as it would be a long, long time before people would return.
The UNPC had set up roadblocks, and faceless soldiers in gas masks were ordered to shoot on sight.
It wasn't of military origin, and it didn't have a name yet. The augments were only sent to stop it from spreading, at any cost.
The two were largely silent, with only the HEPA filtered ventilation fans of their oversuits, and their footsteps being heard, the village they were in largely barren, and devoid of life. Like a skyscraper without electricity, where all appliances and electronics sit unpowered and unused.
The village was somewhere between a shantytown and a cityscape, the look nearly all UNPC supported 3rd world nations adopt after they're given large amounts of funding in a very short time. Some areas were well developed, some less so. This was one of the latter areas, where roofs were tin or plywood more often than stone or concrete.
A wordless cry caught their attention, and Anton veered off, hoping it was just an animal that would meet a swift end with his 10mm pistol. He always hated killing dogs, but it must be done.
Inside a small shack, with a sheet metal roof, baking in the African sun, a woman laid on the ground atop a thin, dingy, nearly see through blanket. Her face was streaked with two rivers of mucus from her nose, putting reddened irritated furrows across her face. Her lips were parted, dry and cracked. She made the same wordless cry again, but softer.
Kate followed, stooping into the shack along with Anton, who crouched beside the woman.
Her face was pale, her eyes glazed, bloodshot and yellowed, covered in sweat and shivering. They both knew that the affliction caused the eyes to form a sort of cataract, drastically worsening ones vision.
Anton licked his lips, his mouth having suddenly gone dry. There was a swift moment of fear that he might've been infected, a feeling he often got during operations such as this, and a feeling most shared, but it quickly passed.
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"She's still alive" Kate said, her tone somber, and her speech slow.
"Yes, but she won't be for long" He replied softly, reaching down and grasping her hand, and holding it softly.
"Do you speak English?" Kate asked softly over her external speakers, knowing they must look like astronauts to the woman. Well, what little she could see of them.
The woman didn't reply, just blinked with red flaking eyelids like bad sunburn, staring up at them.
"Is there anything we can do to make her more comfortable?" C7 asked, looking up at Anton, who slowly shook his head, still holding the woman's hand.
"If there is, I don't know it" He told her. "I'd give her water if I could"
The woman started convulsing, and Anton went down on one knee, supporting the woman's head with a hand under her upper neck.
She stopped seizing after 14 seconds, which C7 counted in her head, an old habit, one drilled into her during her medical training. She didn't know it then, but she wold go on to remember that number for the rest of her life. Every time she would see the number from then on, she'd remember the woman's face.
"Her pulse is weak" Anton said, looping his thumb around her neck to press softly against her carotid as he laid her down on the ground. There was a sliver of hope in him that said it was just all of the layers he was wearing on his hands, but he knew better.
He put both of his hands over hers, and grasped them as softly as he could, the ECA gauntlet underneath a thick layer of rubber.
A single tear came from her left eye, and streamed down her temple the dry skin scarcely absorbing moisture, and soaking into her mess of matted hair.
Kate watched on, wanting to help, but not knowing how. Having a terminal patient of any type was like that. The only thing you could do was be there for them in their last moments. Moments like these were different than combat medicine, where if your fallen comrade lacked a pulse, you moved onto the next one.
Eventually, the woman's breathing got shallower, and the gaps between breaths became longer. Anton remained impassive, his younger partner less so.
"She's dying" C7 said, looking to A9, as if to will him to do something to help her. They both knew what he could do, but the last thing Anton wanted was for this woman's dying moments to be in the terror of having a pistol aimed at her head.
He nodded slowly. "There will be more, just like this."
The woman took another breath, the gaps between them becoming longer and longer. This one was very shallow, and almost a sigh.
He shifted his grip of her hand to feel her pulse at her wrist. He shook his head again, feeling a slow, weak heartbeat.
The woman's dry, cracked lips parted, and she let out her final breath, staring up at C7, who started to sob.
Anton moved both of her hands to lay atop her stomach, and closed her eyes before standing up.
"Come on" Anton said, patting Kate on the back as he moved past her.
She followed him out of the shack, and back into the oppressing African heat, the flare reduction of her helmet's optics reducing the brightness of the sun in the sky, making sure her low light vision was preserved.
"We don't even know her name" Kate sniffled, a sound not often heard over their team comm.
"No, we didn't" Anton told her, putting up a single finger before moving to the communication channel where Kugler was.
"Hey, Kugler, we found another, I'll ping you our location" He said, doing just that.
"Understood, we'll need to meet soon, I need the fuel you have for me." Kugler replied, Anton suddenly felt the two huge tanks attached to the frame on his back get heavier. He could hear the telltale sound of Kugler's flamethrower in the background of the transmission.
"Affirmative, we'll start heading your way now" Anton said, switching back to the channel with C7.
"We need to keep moving, keep your head up" he told her. She nodded jerkily.
How many more hands am I going to have to hold?