The Ebola Wall by Joe Nobody, E. T. Ivester, D. Allen

Greyhound’s window – Anna vigorously waving, Paige blowing kisses.
    Their itinerary involved a stop in Branson, Missouri, Anna dying to see her favorite Country and Western star perform live. After an overnight stay, they planned a stopover in Indianapolis, Mr. McMillian discovering that the local Dallas Mavericks were playing the Indiana Pacers in a professional basketball game. Paige was a huge fan of the sport. The tickets would be waiting at the will-call booth, not three blocks from the bus station. A hotel on Market Square would provide the last evening’s rest before their final leg to Washington, DC.
    The girls were giddy, the parents concerned. Anna didn’t have a permit to carry a concealed handgun, yet wouldn’t part with the weapon. Given her demonstrated jumpiness, there was good cause for worry.
    Yet, both of the elder McMillians could understand. The girls had been through an experience that rivaled hardcore, extended combat. In a way, both suffered symptoms not so different from a returning soldier’s Posttraumatic Stress Disorder. Professional help was out of the question, however, any answers addressing the source of their affliction likely to land both girls back in some sort of prison. 
     

Chapter 4
     
    The fever was unlike anything Captain Norse had ever experienced, the pain racking his brain giving the officer an entirely new perspective of the word “unbearable.”
    His body couldn’t seem to settle on any single hell. The shivering waves of cold came from inside his core, as if a surgeon had inserted a block of dry ice in his gut. About the time his tortured mind began to adjust to that anguish, the captain’s chest began to scorch with a fire from deep within.
    The wild swings between hot and cold weren’t the worst of it, however. Every joint in his body felt like it was hinged with sandpaper. Any movement, from breathing to vomiting, was pure torture. He wanted to die and mentioned as much to his doctor.
    Upon hearing the request, Dr. Herald nodded her understanding. Without a second thought, the physician unsnapped the .45 caliber pistol on her belt. “I’ll make this as painless as possible,” she said without emotion, using a slingshot action to chamber a round in the big weapon.
    Norse couldn’t believe his eyes; his pain-scrambled mind thinking it was some sort of joke. “Head or chest?” she asked calmly.
    “Seriously?” he managed to croak. “You would seriously shoot me?”
    Tilting her head, Elissa seemed puzzled by his question. After a bit, her robotic expression changed, a dim flush of anger in her eyes. “Why, of course I would. What do you think I am, some sort of animal?” she protested. “Why do you think I carry such a heavy, big caliber? I don’t want my patients to suffer, and the .45 has proven to be the most efficient, at least in the few hundred or so euthanizing procedures I’ve had to perform.”
    Her statements were so shocking he was distracted from the pain. Still, it wasn’t lost on Norse that he was entirely at her mercy. But the surprise wasn’t over. “Most of my patients wait until they’re too weak to hold the gun themselves,” she stated. “If you feel strong enough to hold this weapon with a steady hand, I can let you do it.”
    The captain’s mind tried desperately to reconcile the dichotomy being presented by the woman at his bedside. Here was a healer, a trained physician who had taken an oath to do no harm, and a young female to boot. Yet, her cold eyes and tone left little doubt that she would indeed kill him without a second thought.
    It then dawned on him how the troops manning the wall had dealt with the guilt of gunning down escapees. More than once, he had mentally justified such action with a claim of “ending human suffering.” But he was a warrior. He was indoctrinated to fight and kill the enemy. What on God’s earth had this doctor experienced to reach such a place?
    She seemed to sense his thoughts. Shaking