7th Sigma Read Free Page A

anything, she added, “If you do not understand, I will explain further.”
    He shook his head in the dark. “I understand, Sensei.”
    â€œGood. Now go brush your teeth.”
    He snorted, “But you just said—”
    â€œYes. What’s the last thing I ‘told’ you?”
    It had been the night before, their first on the road. “Don’t drink water that hasn’t been boiled, treated, or filtered. Not if you can help it. Not unless you’re dying of thirst.”
    â€œGood. Now go brush your teeth.”
    *   *   *
    IN the middle of the morning it was Kimble who issued an order: “Down, Sensei!” He grabbed the wheel of the travois and jumped to the slight ditch on the high side of the road, where it tucked into the hillside, and crouched.
    Ruth pulled the handles over and joined him, swiveling her head around, looking for the danger. “What are we—”
    The first bug zoomed up the road, then another, and Ruth pulled herself into a ball beside the travois. Then they heard the yelling and pounding feet, and even more bugs buzzed through the air, about three feet off the ground. A figure rounded the bend, a man, and he was yelling, “Get it off! Get it off!” He was reaching behind him, one arm high, one arm low, trying to reach something on his back.
    â€œGrab him!” Kimble said, issuing his second order.
    Ruth snagged the man’s feet, tripping him, and he slammed down hard. His yelling stopped as the breath left him. Kimble scrambled forward on all fours and together they pulled the man back to the ditch.
    His back was covered in blood.
    Kimble grabbed the man’s t-shirt collar with both hands and ripped it down the back.
    There was blood pouring out of a hole to the left of the man’s spine, just below his shoulder blade. Ruth slapped her palm across it, pressing it to stop the bleeding, but Kimble said, “No. Gotta get the bug.” He shoved her hand aside and reached his thumb and forefinger down into the hole.
    The man screamed and thrashed. Kimble’s finger and thumb were a good two inches below the skin. “Ah, ah, dammit! I felt it, but it’s too deep.”
    The man yelled, then screamed and coughed. Blood fountained from his mouth, astonishingly red. His entire body convulsed once, twice, and then he went slack.
    Ruth turned him on his back. “CPR!” She tilted his head back to clear his airway but his throat was full of blood. “Oh, God, oh God.” She felt for a pulse on his neck. There was nothing.
    â€œLook out, Sensei,” Kimble said.
    Ruth turned her head, looking around.
    â€œNot out there. That bug is going to come out of him somewhere.”
    Ruth pulled her hands back, almost flinching away.
    There was less blood when it came out of his chest, but the blind black snout of the june-bug-sized creature came right through the remnants of the shirt as if it weren’t there. It crawled up and out, wet and red. It stood up high on its legs and spread its wings. It buzzed them and the blood splattered off in a pink mist. Then it lifted off and Ruth threw herself back as it passed over her and flew back the way it had come.
    â€œHuh,” said Kimble. He pointed at the shirt. The shape of the bug was outlined in droplets of blood, as if someone had spray-painted over the bug while it sat on the shirt. He looked at his own outstretched finger, then at both hands, covered in blood.
    â€œYuck.”
    They moved away from the body, still clinging to the bank of the road. There were other bugs in the air and the body was still in the ditch, a potent reminder of the need for caution. Ruth broke out her emergency reserve of water and a bar of soap and they scrubbed until it hurt.
    â€œI wonder if he was traveling alone,” Kimble said.
    Ruth stared at him. “Are you all right?”
    â€œSure. I just touched the tail end before it dropped into the lung