MJ looked up from the microscope when Moffitt walked into the tent.

Even though he knew the answer just from looking at her face, Moffitt asked the question anyway. ''So, how are they?''

''All four of them have evidence of the virus in their blood.'' MJ took off her gloves and scrubbed a hand across her forehead. ''You can come and look if you like.''

Moffitt took her place at the microscope. ''What am I looking for?''

Taking another slide out of the rack, MJ withdrew the one that was under the lens and replaced it. ''Here, look at this one. It's yours.'' She adjusted the lens for him.

Moffitt looked at it and marveled at what he could see. There were red open circles of varying sizes swimming before his eyes. ''That's my blood, eh?''

''Yep. Surprise, it's not really blue!'' MJ teased. ''Ok, now look at this one.'' She pulled the slide out and replaced it with another one. ''Can you see the difference?''

Moffitt could indeed immediately see the difference in the second sample, there was a decidedly different component in the blood, almost looking like dots and dashes. ''I imagine that the difference between the two samples is indicative?'' He looked up at MJ, fully realizing that whomever the sample belonged to was ill.

''You'd be right.''

''Whose blood is that?''

''Troy's.''

''I see,'' said Moffitt. ''So can you begin to isolate what you need from the samples that you took? To find a cure?''

''I'm certainly going to try. In the meantime, we're going to start them all on some antibiotics and see what happens.'' MJ shrugged. ''Maybe we'll get lucky and we'll find something that works. If not, I'll just need to get lucky in finding or creating something that does work.''

MJ opened a bottle of medication. She handed some pills to Moffitt. "We're going to start with this.''

He held them in his palm and looked at them.

''Take them,'' MJ ordered him.

''But, why? I'm not sick. You said so yourself.''

''Preventive medicine.'' MJ made a show of taking two of the tablets.

Shrugging, Moffitt did as she asked him. ''What is it?'' he asked, belatedly.

''Just a sulfa drug, prevents the multiplication of bacteria in your system. Allows your immune system to do its job while it controls how much it has to fight. I'm sure that you've taken it before.''

He was no stranger to sulfa and he was also no stranger to its side effects. Moffitt made a mental note to, if such a thing was possible in the bloody desert, limit his time in the sun. ''And this is what you'll be giving the others?''

"Yes, it is. For now, anyway.''

Moffitt thought that Sulfa hardly sounded like a magic bullet. He had been hoping for something a little more amazing. He realized too late that he must have looked as doubtful as he felt.

''You were expecting a miracle?'' MJ snapped.

Moffitt blinked. He supposed that from MJ, he had been.


The next few days did not pass pleasantly for any of them.

At first, Moffitt had divided his time between trying to keep Hitch and Tully's spirits up, doing what he could to assist MJ (which had unfortunately not been much) and visiting with Troy, Bader, and Dietrich.

After the initial twenty-four hours had passed, MJ had suggested that the two privates leave and go back to their base, giving them a clean bill of health.

It had not surprised Moffitt that they had declined. Neither of the boys was willing to leave Troy. Moffitt could sympathize. Nothing would have made him leave, if he had been in their shoes. With that in mind, he wasn't about to order them away.

At least, true to MJ's initial diagnosis, neither Hitch nor Tully were exhibiting any symptoms of the virus. Moffitt's luck, despite the amount of time that he spent in the quarantine tent had also continued to hold.

It had been two days into their exile when Bader had began to show symptoms of infection. Another four hours after that, Dietrich had begun to succumb. Fourteen hours later, Troy had also started to exhibit the beginning symptoms of the illness, which by that time had become all too familiar.

The only one, oddly enough, he did not seem to be suffering was LeFeurve. Moffitt put that down as another reason why he could not bring himself to believe that there was a god.


The majority of Moffitt's time became devoted to doing what he could for the sick men.

He had had enough medical training and enough real experience to know the basics of how to care for someone. In addition, his considerable experience as a patient had given him more than a little insight into what an ill man might appreciate. Also, MJ had given him some specific instruction on what could be done for his patients. Unfortunately, it had not been much. To Moffitt, most of her advice seemed completely ineffectual. Even while continuing to carry out her orders to the letter, he began to feel more hopeless and more discouraged.

However, for a lack of anything else to do and with at least some hope remaining, Moffitt continued on the best that he could.

It was, he thought, much like his experience with the war as a whole.


The initial symptoms of the illness had manifested themselves into a nasty approximation of an upper respiratory flu.

The sounds of hacking, sniffling and sneezing, and wheezing filled the tent that had transformed from a quarantine area to infirmary. What he had seen thus far reminded Moffitt very much of his father's stories about the Spanish Influenza epidemic. In addition, each infected man, much to Moffitt's surprise, seemed to bear the effects of the disease differently.

Dietrich's earlier desire to play games of strategy, in which Moffitt had found him a particularly apt opponent, had quickly waned. Soon Dietrich had given up doing anything but sleeping fitfully on his cot in between violent bouts of coughing. Troy had become listless when he had developed the blazing fever that made the day hours of the desert heat even more unbearable.

When Troy had stopped smoking, Moffitt had sincerely begun to worry about him.

Bader's chatter had slowed to a halt and within little time, he had appeared sicker than the others had. MJ had muttered something about it being because he was younger and had a better immune system, which again, made no sense at all to Moffitt.

The one thing that the victims did all have in common is that none of them complained. When awake and coherent, they continued to be in decent humor and relatively hopeful that either MJ would miraculously find a cure or, that through fighting, they would overcome the disease themselves.

LeFeurve, as Moffitt continued to curse him, seemed to be the healthiest of the group. When Moffitt had caught the man looking at him with what looked to be amusement as he had been changing Troy's cold compress, it was all that Moffitt could manage not to knock the man's teeth in.

Still healthy and still banned from the tent where the ill were laid up, Tully and Hitch had cooked and laundered and gone on supply runs without complaint. Mostly, they had just looked worried. The stress had aged the two lads considerably and Moffitt mourned for the loss of their jovial youthful good spirits.

MJ had worked continuously and tirelessly, seemingly day and night. She had continued to dole out combinations of pills when it became apparent that previous doses were not having the desired effect.

The stress and long hours were noticeably wearing on her, as well. MJ no longer looked as immaculately beautiful as she had once. She was sweaty and unkempt, with dark circled eyes peering over her mask. She spent all of her time writing in a notebook, staring down the lens of microscope, or even off into space as she contemplated her next direction.

Any attempt at perfection had now been replaced by a grim reality. Moffitt found that he actually almost liked MJ better as she appeared at that moment. At least he was relatively sure that what he was seeing now was real.

Hitch and Tully resolutely avoided MJ like the plague. Moffitt found it to be as if they blamed her for what had happened. He supposed that it was as a natural reaction as any that the two lads could have had. He couldn't fault them for that. If he had taken the time to think about it, Moffitt knew that he might have very well done the same. By contrast, Moffitt continued to visit MJ as often as possible. She was the only link to hope that he had. During his visits to her, Moffitt continued to receive MJ's instructions around what medication to administer to their patients. He also gave her detailed updates on each sick man's condition.

Through it all, he tried to remain particularly upbeat and optimistic. It had been easy in the beginning when MJ had herself had also been cheerful and optimistic. However, as the days passed, her good humor had quickly disappeared.

Along with it, a little more of Moffitt's hope slid away.


With four days had gone since they had set up their camp, nothing had improved.

Moffitt gave Boggs another daily update that really wasn't an update. Boggs had stopped asking many questions. Moffitt suspected that it was because the man was afraid to hear answers. Instead, he listened in silence as Moffitt talked. At any rate, it made their conversations easy and the daily transmission took little time. Moffitt signed off and powered the radio down.

For a moment, he stared off towards the horizon at nothing. Finally, shaking himself, he moved on to the next action on his agenda. Duty to their commanding officer done, Moffitt went to see MJ to see what cocktail of medication might be on the menu for the day for their patients. Moffitt himself had stopped taking anything she had given him. He had gotten rather good at sleight of hand and MJ had gotten rather easy to distract.

When he walked into the tent, he found her staring into space just as he had been earlier. ''Penny for them?'' Moffitt asked her softly.

Startled, MJ jumped. "I was just looking at LeFeurve's blood. He's not sick at all, you said?''

Moffitt shook his head. ''I think that I've heard him cough and sneeze, but only here and there. No fever to speak of, either.''

MJ frowned. ''That doesn't make a damn bit of sense. The infection rate for that level and type of exposure should be nearly one hundred percent.''

''It's interesting, isn't it?'' Moffitt himself had begun giving LeFeurve's health a fair bit of thought. "I'm reminded of a trip, many years ago, to an archeological dig site here in Africa. I was with my father, you see, and we were staying with one of the local tribes. The entire tribe fell ill, except for one man. No one could determine why.''

Looking thoughtful, MJ studied Moffitt. ''Go on, Jack. Did you eventually find out why he wasn't sick?''

''Well, yes, actually. He'd been exposed to the illness previously when with another tribe. A very mild case, but enough to give him immunity to the more severe disease. In the end, it's no different than being given a vaccine, is it?''

MJ was silent.

When she made no move to acknowledge his previous statement or even his presence, Moffitt cleared his throat. 'Would you like to hear about what happened after that? It is the one of the most remarkable finds that we ever made.''

Finally, MJ looked at Moffitt, but still did not say a word.

Moffitt took her lack of a response as encouragement. ''The area was rumored by the local tribe to be a burial site containing . . .''

''Jack?'' MJ interrupted.

''Yes, MJ?"

''Go get me LeFeurve.''

''Sure, but really, this story is remarkable.''

''I'm sure that it is. But Jack?''

''Yes, MJ?''

''Shut up for once about your oh so fascinating past and go get me LeFeurve!''

It took Moffitt a moment to overcome his shock that MJ had yelled at him. He felt as though she had slapped him. ''I say. You want LeFeurve right now?''

''Yes, Jack. Go! Get! Him!'' She pointed at the flap of the tent as she bit out the words. ''Now!''

Moffitt backed out of the tent as quickly as he could. He literally ran into Tully, who was standing just outside with Hitch.

Tully caught Moffitt as he stumbled and righted him. "Everything okay?" Tully asked.

''Yes, I believe so.'' Moffitt shook his head, unable to get the image of MJ, red faced and screaming like a fishwife, out of his head.

''What the heck was that?'' Hitch asked, trying to peer inside the flap.

Moffitt sighed. ''Proof that Tully's pappy is always invariably right.''

A slow grin spread across Tully's face. Smothering it quickly, he managed to look concerned. "Well, I'm real sorry to hear that.''

''So am I, Tully, so am I. But it's hardly the first indicator that we've seen that you've been wiser than me in this current situation, is it?''

Reluctantly, Tully shook his head.


When Moffitt went back to the infirmary tent, he was almost surprised at what he found.

Dietrich was out of bed, taking a swing at LeFeurve. Troy was making his way, slowly but surely, from his bed to assist Dietrich.

''I say, what is going on here?'' Moffitt asked. He quickly stepping between Dietrich's week attempt at a blow and the counter attack from LeFeurve that was decidedly stronger.

LeFeurve sneered. ''Herr Hauptmann is certainly protective of his young leutnant. But there is nothing that he can do to protect him now, is there?''

''You bastard,'' spat Dietrich, breathing hard and then coughing. ''You were going to harm him.''

Moffitt looked sharply at LeFeurve. ''What? How?''

''It's true, Moffitt,'' said Troy, wheezing. ''I think that he was going to try to suffocate Bader.''

''Is that correct, doctor?'' Moffitt noticed that LeFeurve was holding one of the small flat pillows from one of the cots. ''I certainly hope that it's not.''

Looking directly into Moffitt's eyes, LeFeurve dropped the pillow and held up his hands. ''Why would I do such a thing? It's the fever. Your friends are hallucinating, Sergeant. I was merely checking on the boy. You can see, he is in a bad way. As a doctor, I thought that I could help him.'' LeFeurve clucked his tongue and was suddenly the picture of concern. "If he does not get help soon, I will be the least of his worries. We may already be past that point.''

Moffitt did not disagree that Bader looked awful, and that he sounded even worse. But the boy's condition hardly looked any direr than it had over the past day.

''You were doing no such thing! And I am not delusional!'' Dietrich yelled. A sheen of sweat had broken out on his forehead and there was an unchecked wild look in his eyes. From his bright eyes to his high color, it was evident to Moffitt that Dietrich continued to suffer from a raging fever. Moffitt had witnessed the normally calm and reasonable Dietrich to be less than lucid more than a few times since he had became ill. Moffitt looked to Troy who at least still seemed to have possession of most of his faculties.

''What Dietrich is telling you is what happened,'' Troy confirmed with a confident nod.

Moffitt's patience was rapidly failing him. ''Don't we have enough problems without you trying to visit intentional harm on young Bader, Dr. LeFeurve? What is wrong with you?''

LeFeurve said nothing.

''I demand that this man be restrained if he is going to continue to be quartered with us, Sergeant Moffitt!'' Dietrich managed to convey a surprising amount of authority given the fact that he was swaying unsteadily. ''Actually, I would prefer that the man not be in the same tent with us at all. He cannot be trusted!''

Moffitt did not disagree, but there was no other option. ''I'm very sorry, Captain, but you know that this, the tent that Dr. Knight is using as a lab, and the one where Hitch and Tully are sleeping are the only tents that we have. The good doctor here would have to bunk out in the open, if not in here.''

Dietrich nodded , indicating that it was an acceptable solution. ''Fine.''

Sighing, Moffitt looked again to Troy to be the voice of reason. Troy was no help as he looked as though he agreed with Dietrich.

Bader continued to sleep, oblivious to all of the drama surrounding him.

LeFeurve shook his head. "Not surprisingly, these two are too ignorant to appreciate my help. But then, what would one expect of a Nazi and an American?''

Troy growled loudly in response to the insult before he began coughing.

''What about me? Do you have a higher opinion of the English?'' Moffitt could tell by looking at LeFeurve that the answer was no.

''I have no good opinion of someone that would assist Dr. Knight willingly,'' LeFeurve said.

''Pity. I'll chain him to his bunk, if that makes you both feel better,'' Moffitt told Troy and Dietrich.

''Infinitely, Sergeant. '' Satisfied, Dietrich went back to his bed to collapse. "Thank you.''

''If you could gag him while you're at it, that would be great too, Moffitt. He's made some pretty nasty comments to Dietrich and Bader since we've been here.'' Troy began coughing again. It was a moment before he could finish his thought. "Maybe you should just take him out and dump in him the desert if he doesn't like our company. ''

"Yes!'' Dietrich's agreement was enthusiastic. ''Good riddance to him. Let the sun and the sand accomplish with him what the virus has not!''

"And leave your side? At your time of need, Herr Hauptmann?'' LeFeurve asked, surveying the room. ''There is nowhere else that I would rather be, gentlemen. I would not miss seeing this for the world.''

"Shut up!'' Troy bellowed. He made another clumsy but determined move to go after LeFeurve.

"Save your strength, Troy. I understand.'' Moffitt caught Troy and patted him on the back. "He's not worth you wearing yourself out over.''

"Moffitt, I'm warning you, either keep him quiet or get him out of here.''

''I'll see what we can do. I think that at a least a temporary reprieve can be arranged.'' Moffitt looked at LeFeurve. "For the love of god man, you're a doctor. That must mean something to you! You may not like any of us, but we're in a situation that should allow you to put that behind you. ''

LeFeurve gave Moffitt a small smile. "I am rather enjoying your 'situation.' It is turning out exactly as I had hoped.''

It was all that Moffitt could do to stop from strangling LeFeurve himself. Instead, he took Troy's arm and steered him back to bed. After he had settled Troy back in, a calmer Moffitt came to stand before LeFeurve. ''You really are a right bastard, aren't you?"

"And you are a fool, Sergeant, who is fighting a war that he will not win.''

Moffitt snorted. "I've had better men than you tell me that. Anyway, you need to come with me. Dr. Knight wants to see you.''

''I do not wish to see her.''

''Too bad.'' Moffitt reached out and caught LeFeurve's arm. ''You heard what I said. It's not a request, doctor. Either willingly or by force, you're coming with me. Trust me, Dr. Knight is in no mood for non-cooperation.'' Moffitt rather hoped that MJ might take some of her frustration and ire out on LeFeurve. He was sorry that Dietrich and Troy were not going to get to see that.

''I am not coming with you.'' LeFeurve jerked against Moffitt's hand. "It seems as though you will have to make me, Sergeant Moffitt.''

Despite any effort that he had been making to act like a civilized man, it had all finally gotten the better of Moffitt. His vision clouded and he no longer saw the smirking Frenchman before him. All that he saw was red. With a strength that Dietrich and Troy both likely wished that they possessed, Moffitt punched LeFeurve squarely on the chin. The man fell backwards and Moffitt caught him, turned him, and then pinioned both of LeFeurve's arms behind his back.

Moffitt could have sworn that he heard Dietrich mutter ''gut gemacht'' while he was manhandling LeFeurve out of the tent.


''As requested, I brought you a present, MJ,'' said Moffitt, pushing LeFeurve into MJ's tent. ''Wish it could have been something nicer.''

MJ barely looked up from the book that contained what Moffitt knew to be her notes. ''Exactly what the doctor ordered. What the hell took you so long, Jack?''

Moffitt opened his mouth to tell her, but then thought better of it.

MJ didn't seem to notice that Moffitt hadn't answered her question. ''I never thought that I'd say this, Dr. LeFeurve, but I'm very glad to see you. Won't you sit down? I have a few questions that I need answered.''

When LeFeurve didn't move, Moffitt roughly pushed the man onto the stool. He dug his fingers into LeFeurve's shoulders to discourage any additional uncooperative thoughts that LeFeurve might be having.

''I have no answers to your questions, Dr. Knight,'' LeFeurve said. ''Which is unfortunate, because you do not seem to have any, either. I do not think that you are quite as good at your profession as you would like everyone to believe. You make a better thief than you do a scientist.''

Moffitt waited hopefully for MJ to bite the man's head off. He was disappointed. MJ merely smiled faintly at the insult. Picking up a slide, she slotted it under the microscope. ''This is your blood sample, Dr. LeFeurve. The virus is present, but you have no symptoms. Why is that?''

''Luck, perhaps?'' LeFeurve tried to shake himself out of Moffitt's grip. "Clean living and a pure heart?''

Moffitt continued to hold him firm, but allowed himself a vague smile as he thought about a time when he had uttered a similar line.

''You should, by all rights, be just as sick as everyone else is.'' MJ squinted down the eye piece of the microscope. ''But yet, you're obviously not. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you had created a vaccination for the virus.''

''Well, that would be unlikely, wouldn't it?''

''It would be unlike you.'' MJ regarded LeFeurve thoughtfully. ''That's why you ran back into the building before it blew up. You wanted to retrieve the vaccination. And perhaps you also have a cure?''

''It hardly matters now, does it?'' LeFeurve narrowed his eyes. ''You and your friends here . . .'' He gave Moffitt a pointed look. ''Were only interested in the virus. Of which you now have plenty of samples. Ironic, no?''

''You created a vaccination and a cure.''

''I did. And both of them, '' he looked again at Moffitt with increasing contempt, ''your heavy handed Allied lackeys blew to the heavens, right along with all of my other work. They effectively signed their own death warrants."

''You are going to recreate both the cure and the vaccine here. Now.''

LeFeurve shook his head.

MJ walked over to where LeFeurve and Moffitt were standing. ''Do you not understand? Do I need to translate it into French for you?''

''No need, I understand. I hope that you understand that there is nothing that you can do to change my mind.''

''No? How sure of that are you, Dr. LeFeurve?''

Moffitt thought that MJ had an odd glint in her eye.

''My intention is to kill every German in Europe, Dr. Knight. Not to give you the means to save them. I do not care if your Allied friends die, either,'' LeFeurve said. "Good riddance to you all.''

Moffitt was thinking that the man was an incredible piece of work when he saw MJ move closer to them. Occupied with making his hold on the doctor as uncomfortable as possible, Moffitt barely noticed when he felt MJ brush up against his side.

''Dr. LeFeurve, I am hoping that you will cooperate. If not, I am going to have to change your mind,'' MJ said. A dull metallic click followed her words.

That sound created a reaction in Moffitt that could not have been stronger if he had been one of Pavlov's dogs. Adrenaline began flowing freely through his blood. That noise always meant trouble, with a very real possibility of death. It was not something that he had expected to hear nor could he determine exactly why he had heard it, but there was no mistaking what it had been. The noise was the safety being slid off a Webley. While the sound was instantly recognizable to him, it took a few more moments for Moffitt to realize that MJ had nicked his gun and was holding on LeFeurve.

Not that he cared much if LeFeurve lived or died, but Moffitt felt that he really should say or do something. He cleared his throat. ''Dr. Knight, could you please return my gun? Nothing will be gained by shooting Dr. LeFeurve.''

MJ leveled the gun at LeFeurve and her gaze at Moffitt. ''You think not, Jack?'' Her smile was chilling.

The sound of the shot to registered in Moffitt's brain. He looked open mouthed at MJ who was still smiling and holding the gun.

''Salope!'' howled LeFeurve, in shock and pain.

''You actually shot him,'' Moffitt breathed. In his surprise, he loosened his grip on LeFeurve.

LeFeurve doubled over and fell off the stool, clutching his knee. From looking at LeFeurve's leg, Moffitt decided that MJ had done a rather neat job of it. A shot calculated to cause the maximum amount of pain with the least serious injury. He was hard pressed not to admire her handiwork as he watched LeFeurve's pant leg quickly grow dark and wet.

''Sarge?'' came Hitch's voice from outside of the tent. ''Is everything all right?''

''Just fine,'' Moffitt yelled back over his shoulder. Fine, he thought, as long as one wasn't LeFeurve.

"If you agree to help me, we'll treat your leg. If not, a nasty infection could set in. And then there's the blood loss. What do you say, Dr. LeFeurve?'' MJ reengaged the safety and handed Moffitt his gun. "Are you in the mood to cooperate now?''

''I believe that you really would kill me, no?'' LeFeurve asked through gritted teeth as he bound one of his shoelaces above the wound.

''I would. As his friends get sicker, so might Sergeant Moffitt.''

Moffitt thought about that.

He couldn't disagree with MJ's predictions of possible future outcomes if the situation didn't rapidly improve.