Hepatitis, Cholera, Yellow Fever, you name it. The armory had a globulin freezer and we used it all before it went bad. All vets, cadre, everyone I could justify before the globulin ran out. We kept shot records, too, in case we could be restocked by our upstream command. It seemed brutal, but I had everyone's blood type tattooed inside their wrist along with their SSN. When you can't talk seconds count. Then I got smart. Instead of depending on military staffing models and ASVAB tests, we sat everyone down and found out what they'd done. Naw, not their criminal records, WORK records. Who'd poured concrete? Who had done summer house construction? Who did time on a summer road crew? Who rebuilt cars? Who helped Uncle Ed rebuild a tractor? Who sewed? Who baked? Who did cowboy action shooting? Who hunted for the table? Who had butchered cattle or elk or deer or moose? We found plumbers, electricians, shoemakers, tailors, draftsmen, toolmakers, press men ... the list went on and on. We. " I looked at her again. Same brown hair, if a little longer, same eyes, same... What kind of trick was this? "You look a little like me," I granted, "me when I was a little girl. But you can't be me, I was never a little girl." "Weren't you?" She smiled and put her arms behind her, when she brought them back in front of her again she was holding a doll. "Do you remember her?" I took a deep breath. "Yes." "You took this from the trash when you were five, your sister didn't want it and she threw it away." I wiped tears from my eyes. "Why are you doing this?" "Is it so painful to remember?" She asked, her face sad. "Yes." "I know, but we have to talk." She sat down next to me, the doll somehow gone. "Why?" "Do you remember this place?" She asked with a wave of her hand. "Do you remember how you used to love coming out to the dessert? So peaceful, so quiet. You could imagine yourself being totally alone in the world." "I remember," I said with a sigh. "Do you remember how you wished you.
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