*DAMASCUS
Marcus wakes shivering in the coal-black dark. Kerry's arm falls across his chest. Her skin is like ice. His guts twist and heave inside him, and he barely has time to turn his head to the side before chips and milkshake and beer come pouring out of him.
"Sweet Jesus," he whispers when the spasm eases. His teeth are chattering. Kerry stirs, moves a hand to his forehead.
"Oh," she says. "Sorry."
"Sorry?" Marcus rasps. "What…"
"You've got it," she sighs. "Just like the others."
"The others?" Marcus asks, then turns aside again and heaves until a thin stream of blood and bitter fluid trails from his mouth. He falls back, panting.
"Well, yeah," she says. "You're not the only guy who was out hiking the AT this month. I keep hoping one of you'll be like me."
"Like you?"
"Right," she says. "You know. Immune."
She leans across him then, and kisses his forehead.
"I'm sorry," she whispers sadly. "You probably should have stayed in the woods."
