Why the bubonic plague suddenly arose out of China’s Gobi Desert during the Middle Ages and slew a third of the world’s population remains unknown. In fact, no one seems to know why so many plagues and influenzas of the last century—SARS, the Avian Flu—have arisen out of Asia. But what is known with fair certainty: the next great pandemic will rise again out of the East.

—United States Centers for Disease Control and Prevention,

                   Compendium of Infectious Diseases, May 2006

* * *

As the bus rolled past miles of Wuhan skyscrapers, Gabe Salvi rubbed his bloodshot eyes. After more than 30 hours of travelling, he was finding it hard to focus. The lights on the tall buildings began to blur. The blinking blue and crimson neon dissipated into the fog, creating a swirling orange haze. An ominous mist seemed to hang over the city.

Not many people outside of China had even heard of Wuhan, Gabe thought as the bus sped through the city. Certainly, the retired couple who had sat next to him earlier that day on the plane to Beijing had never heard of Wuhan.

The gray-haired gentleman on the plane had tugged at his beard, saying “Wuhan has 11 million people? Why that’s way more than New York City…”

“And it’s not even one of the largest in China,” his wife chimed in. “Amazing.”

The man looked over the top of his spectacles. “And these military Olympics! I guess that oughta put Wuhan on the map, eh?”

Gabe ran a hand through his sandy brown hair as he pondered the question for a moment. “Well, I’m not so sure,” he replied. “Over a hundred countries will have athletes competing, but I don’t think many people back home even know about CISM.”

“I know we never heard of it,” said the retiree shrugging. He looked at his wife and she nodded. “CISM, you say?”                           

“Stands for the Council of International Sports du Militaire, founded by the French,” Gabe tried to explain. “The CISM games are a smaller version of the summer Olympics, held every four years.” 

“And all the sports in the summer Olympics are in these military games?” the man asked.

“Yep, pretty much,” Gabe replied. “Track and field, wrestling, swimming, the triathlon and more. Twenty-seven sports in all. And some of the athletes are talented enough that they’ll be in the regular Olympics next year.”

“Maybe we should check it out after Shanghai?” the woman said as she patted her husband’s hand. “What do you think dear?”

“Maybe we can fit it in before Hong Kong,” he said as his eyes darted from his wife to Gabe and back again. “Or maybe we can skip Nanjing. Never heard much about that place either.”

*  *  *

           It was actually Gabe’s job to make the people back home aware of the games and the feats of USA athletes who were competing. So far, that was turning out to be no easy task.

           Gabe and his colleagues, Jay Lackley and Thomas “TJ” Hermani, had spent some of the past month at athlete training camps on military installations. They posted stories about the upcoming Military World Games on social media. They posted compelling photos of the USA teams practicing: volleyball spikes, basketball layups and airborne soccer kicks. Their postings had a dedicated following–mostly spouses and other athletes–but Gabe knew only one in a hundred service members even realized the games were taking place. And virtually no one in the American public had any knowledge of the games in Wuhan.

           And they never will, Gabe thought, unless the games are televised like the Olympics.

Gabe grew up loving sports, but never really excelled at them. He didn’t seem to have the natural athletic ability that some of his classmates had. Nothing came easy for him, but he always kept plugging away.

Gabe considered himself average in just about every way: 5-foot-8 and 165 pounds: too short for basketball and too slim for football. Then there was the issue of nerves. Under pressure, he would sometimes stumble or drop the ball. Or miss an easy shot. Gabe realized he could never be a sports star. So, he decided to be the next best thing: a sports writer.

He had covered the Military World Games four years ago in Mungyeong, South Korea, as a one-man operation. He spent the days at competitions and the nights writing and posting photos–working almost around the clock, until he became exhausted and light-headed. This time, however, Armed Forces Sports had sprung for a staff of eight other photojournalists to work with him, including a couple of videographers.

TJ, the lead still photographer, had gone out to San Diego for a week with one of the videographers to cover women’s soccer camp. They had flown from there directly to China, as some of the preliminary soccer matches were being played prior to the October 18th opening ceremony.

Gabe and Jay, however, had events to cover in Washington, D.C., just a few days before the opening ceremony. So, they had to depart directly from the Washington Convention Center, fly overnight to Beijing, and wait for a flight to Wuhan.

           In the Beijing terminal, Gabe and Jay filed behind a long line of passengers following glowing arrows on the floor to Customs. At kiosks, they scanned their passports. Then they had to place their fingers and thumbs on a scanner one by one.

“I can’t seem to get this,” said Jay, a bit frustrated. His finger had to be held still in just the right place for the blinking red light to capture his fingerprint. It took Gabe several tries as well.

“Hold your finger a little higher, and don’t move it,” Gabe suggested. When each digit was successfully scanned, a green light came on. After all ten were completed, they had to look into a viewer for a retinal scan. The flash was a little blinding, but the kiosk then printed out a slip of paper that allowed them to proceed to the immigration counter.

The process also involved claiming their luggage and carrying it to another terminal for the domestic flight to Wuhan. At the luggage carousel, an attractive young woman stood with a sign that read WUHAN 2019 and under that in smaller print: 7th CISM Military World Games. Gabe introduced himself and Jay.

“Welcome,” said the young woman, “follow me.”

“But we need our luggage,” Jay said, hesitant to budge from the carousel.

“No problem,” said the young woman. “We will help.” And with that she nodded to two young men in leather jackets standing along the wall and they stepped forward.

“Which is yours?” she asked as the young men eyed the luggage carousel.

Jay was a bit nervous about handing over his luggage to the Chinese men, but he obliged. The five of them began walking toward the exit. “Where are we going?” Jay asked, looking skeptically at the door.

“We must take car to Terminal Two,” said the young woman. “Don’t worry; it not far.”

In the parking lot, a tall young man stepped out of a minivan. He opened the hatchback and helped stow the luggage.

After about ten minutes of riding along the airport road, Gabe could see that Jay was looking around nervously. Seemed like they were now driving though a commercial district with office buildings. “How far is Terminal Two?” Gabe asked the driver.

“Don’t worry; it not far,” said the attractive young woman, who seemed to be the only one in the van who knew English.

Gabe thought about airport kidnappings mentioned in the routine security briefing that all government personnel had to take before traveling overseas. He asked “So, you all work for the Military World Games?”

“We are volunteers,” said the young woman, “except for Xian, our driver. Xian in army.”

“So, what do you do when you’re not volunteering for the games?”

“We are students,” the woman said, smiling broadly. “Many students volunteer for the games. Maybe ten thousand.”

“Wow! That’s a lot.” Gabe began to ask what university she attended when the van finally pulled into a parking lot.

“We here,” announced the woman as the van came to a stop by Terminal Two. Gabe could see Jay clearly exhale a sigh of relief.

By the time their plane touched down in Wuhan, the sun had already set again. At the luggage claim area, Gabe and Jay were met by another group of young volunteers carrying a WUHAN 2019 sign. They provided an escort to the airport entrance.

After waiting about 20 minutes, a bus pulled up to take them to the athlete’s village. It’s hard to believe such a huge bus is here just to transport the two of us, Gabe thought. There must be other passengers–maybe from other countries. After all, a group of Kenyan athletes had been on the same flight out of Beijing.

The bus was empty though. Gabe and Jay threw their backpacks in one row and sprawled out across the seats in separate rows. Since it was their first trip to China, even though exhausted, both stared out the window for a while as the bus rolled out of the airport.

 Gabe watched as the bus passed through a security check and a toll gate onto the S19 Expressway. As they went under an ornate archway and onto the Baishuihu Bridge, Gabe wondered out loud if this was the Yangtze River.

“This Lake Maija,” said the young bus driver, several rows in front of Gabe.

Surprised that the bus driver spoke English, Gabe moved up into the empty row of seats directly behind him. The bus driver turned his head and said “Wuhan is city of lakes. Almost a thousand here.”

“A thousand lakes in Wuhan?”

“Yes, almost.” The driver nodded. “Wuhan famous for lakes and rivers.”

“Your English is pretty good.”

“English language of business,” said the energetic driver, who introduced himself as Chen Chao, putting his family name first. “Most everybody at university knows English.”

“Ah, so you’re a college student?”

Chao nodded. “Wuhan University.” He smiled. “City also famous for colleges...  Hubei U, Hankou U, Huazhong U, many more.”

“It’s a big reason the games are here,” Chao continued as he shifted gears. “Many students here to volunteer and help.”

Soon the bus rolled past a cluster of tall buildings. A colorful laser light show lit up the skyscrapers in blue and crimson. On some of the buildings, lights spelled out ‘World Military Games.’ Below the blinking words was a cute blue animation that reminded Gabe of a Pokémon character.

The blue animal was running, carrying an Olympic torch. His big blue eyes gleamed from a porpoise-looking head. Around his neck was a five-pointed red star on a red ribbon.

“That’s Bingbing,” said Chao. “He the games’ mascot.”

Bingbing appeared in blue lights on buildings all over the city. Chao explained that the mascot was designed from the likeness of a Chinese sturgeon fish that lives in the Yangtze River.

“And the word ‘Bingbing’ means ‘Soldier,’” the driver said as he scratched his close-cropped hair. “Cute little guy, you think?”

“Yeah he is…”

“He will be loved by all from around the world,” Chao continued enthusiastically as he made a sharp turn. “He already loved here. My girlfriend, Ying, she adores Bingbing.”

“So, who is your girlfriend?” Gabe inquired.

“She a student who has job feeding bats.”

“Feeding bats?”

“Yes, at Wuhan Institute of Virology. They have bats in cages there, just like mice, to research disease, look for cures.”

The bus rolled across another bridge and past scores of skyscrapers. It seemed odd to Gabe, though, that no one was on the streets. It reminded him of Dallas at night, with everyone living in the suburbs. But here, high-rise apartment buildings dotted the city.

“Where is everyone?” Gabe asked the driver.

“Curfew,” replied Chao. “Everybody inside after ten o’clock during the games. Many businesses shut down for weeks. Big holiday!”

“Really?” asked Gabe, a bit surprised. “So the games are a big deal here?”

“Yes, very big deal!  Wuhan put much into games—people, money, lots of security.”

“Why so much security for a sporting event?”

“Government want safe games for you—no problem from terrorists.”

“Terrorists? Do you have problems here with terrorists?”

“Ahh, we have groups, like Uyghurs and Mongolians; they like to make disturbances at big events. No problem, though. You will be safe.”

 As the bus drove past cluster after cluster of skyscrapers, Gabe felt his eyelids getting heavy. He began drifting away.

After a while, the bus slowed and Gabe popped an eye open. Chao announced they were at the MAV–Military Athlete’s Village.

Behind the Welcome Center, dozens of new high-rise apartment buildings lit up the sky. The huge complex had been built specifically for the Military World Games. Impressive, Gabe thought, much better than the barracks that house athletes for most military sporting events.

After the bus stopped, a tall American stepped aboard and yelled “all right folks, time to dismount. Grab your gear and let’s get checked in.”

Gabe shuffled a few rows back to grab his backpack and camera bag. Then in the front of the bus, he stumbled going down the steps. At the bottom, a young Chinese woman smiled from behind thick bottle-lensed glasses and cheerfully exclaimed: “Ni Hao! Nee-How!

“How!” said Gabe as he raised the palm of his hand like the Indians in old western movies.

The tall, square-shouldered American frowned. “The phrase means ‘Hello’ or ‘Welcome.’ And the young lady who offered you the greeting is Miss Hu Yun, our team’s liaison. We call her Daisy. And I’m Matt, operations officer for the U.S. delegation.”

 Gabe reached out and shook the hand Matt extended, and introduced himself.

“I know who you are, Gabe,” Matt said. “I’ve been waiting for you. We need to talk. First things first though, here’s the ID badges for you and Jay.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out two large laminated passes with mugshots on them.

“You two will need to wear these wherever you go,” Matt continued as he handed over the IDs. “You’ll need to scan your ID as you enter the athlete’s village and scan it when you leave. It will get you into any of the sporting events. It’ll be your meal ticket in the dining hall. It will even get you free travel on the subway.” Matt quickly looked around. “And it will also let our host-nation friends know exactly where you are at all times.” 

“OooKay, we must go,” said the young Chinese woman in thick glasses. “Must check in now!”

“Go ahead, take care of business,” Matt said. “We’ll talk more in the morning.” He jumped in a golf cart and sped off across the compound.

Gabe grabbed his luggage from the compartment under the bus and began wearily pulling it toward the Welcome Center with a carryon slung over each shoulder. He stared down at the walkway, wondering about Matt’s tone of voice and whether there was any cause to worry.

Still a bit sleepy, Gabe didn’t even notice the two stern guards of the People’s Liberation Army standing on each side of the building’s entrance. The soldiers were frozen in place, barely blinking, staring straight ahead like the Beefeaters at Buckingham Palace.

Looking down as he approached the door, Gabe didn’t see the guard on the left until it was too late. The luggage he was pulling rammed right into the sentry’s leg. The guard almost fell over, but he recovered his footing quickly without ever turning his head or altering his gaze.

 “Sorry!” Gabe said, finally looking up. “Are you OK?”

The guard didn’t answer; he didn’t even look at Gabe or acknowledge his presence. He continued staring straight ahead without blinking.

Other uniformed personnel just inside the glass doors did look at Gabe though, and their expression was none too pleasant. One of the two women working the metal detector grimaced in his direction. A guard behind a bank of monitors, watching via security cameras, popped his head up and frowned at the American.

           Gabe started to apologize again, but realized it was futile. He shrugged. Oh well, he thought, this is going to be interesting…

           At the corner of the building, an officer watched from the shadows. He was frowning at this impertinent American who seemed to have no respect for the PLA Honor Guard and their time-honored traditions. The self-absorption of this westerner was typical, the major thought. He hated decadent Americans and their narcissistic sense of entitlement, but his hatred went far beyond that.

Major Lijian Longwei had recently been passed over for promotion. It was a wrong that irked him greatly. Ever since his co-workers had found that he was half Mongolian, things had seemed to go poorly for him. There had been one slight after another.

           The Han Chinese these days had no respect for Mongol warriors like Genghis Khan, Lijian knew. For years, the major had successfully hidden the fact that his mother was Mongolian and he had instead bragged about his father’s Han heritage. Secretly though, he had admired the strength and leadership of the great Mongol khans. No one had ruled China better than Kublai Khan, Lijian thought, and he had studied the golden age of that Mongol dynasty. He had read about how a plague had weakened the empire. And as he had browsed through the archives of the Yuan dynasty, he had come across a prophesy by a dark shaman: that only another such plague could restore the era of Mongol glory.

 Major Lijian longed to restore that glory and at the same time get revenge on the self-righteous bastards who had slighted him. These Military World Games might be an opportunity, he thought, with thousands of athletes visiting from more than a hundred nations. What better opportunity could there be to spread a plague around the world?