The private was very young. I met him in the middle of the road. We stopped on opposite sides of the road's yellow line. He couldn't have been a day over eighteen. He was gawky, with a plump, pink zit on his cheek. He was obviously nervous.

"Your papers, ma'am?" he asked politely, avoiding my gaze.

I thought about Morgan. I thought about the young girl with the vacant green eyes who had passed me on the highway.

"What would you do to me, Private," I asked quietly, "if I was positive?"

"Just your travel papers ma'am," he mumbled. "Then you can be on your way."

"You didn't answer my question," I said. "What would you do?"

The private's face was flushing deeply now. I was staring right at him, practically breathing on him, and he still refused to meet my eyes.

"My sergeant's orders are to shoot any known or suspected positives on sight," he recited.

One of the rangers called out, "Shit, Gomer! I think she's kind of into you! Work your Gomer magic! Maybe you'll get a hand job out of it!"

The squad laughed.

"I didn't ask you what your orders are," I said softly. "This is a test, Gomer. Your answer's important. What would you do if I was positive?"

"Yes, ma'am. I would shoot you," he said briskly, embarassed, but also as if speaking to a superior officer.

"You sure about that?" I asked. "Is that your final answer?"

"Yes, ma'am," he stammered.

"Do you know what I'm going to do, then?" I whispered.

"Show me your travel papers? Ma'am?"

"No. I'm not going to show you any travel papers. I'm going to shoot you. Right in the chest." I gently tapped his sternum. "Not because I have any orders. But because it's just the right thing to do."

The private stared at me dumbly.

I pulled Chris's pistol from my scrubs, jammed it into the private's chest, and pulled the trigger.

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