Blood Covenant (15 page)

“Forget what? That all these people have been ripped from their home and are now living in tents? Or forget that those who aren’t sick with cholera are probably infected with HIV/AIDS and TB?”

“I mean it Taz.” He wasn’t going to shower her with a load of guilt. All she wanted was to get back home where she could forget about all of this. “Let’s just check your blasted water system and get this over with.”

“Fine.” He hurried down the path, then stopped at the far edge of one of the tents. A little girl lay huddled on the ground in the shade of one of the tents. There were no adults or other children around. Instead, she lay alone in a fetal position.

Taz knelt down and felt her forehead.

“Taz?”

“She’s burning up with fever.” He picked up the girl and started running. “We’ve got to get her to the clinic. Now!”

TWENTY-NINE

TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 22, 4:08 P.M.
KINGANI REFUGEE CAMP

Samson stood beneath the umbrella of a gnarled acacia tree and gazed past the unending rows of white tents and groups of women gathered around small cooking fires. Beyond them, a billow of black smoke rose, marking the remnants of yet another village destroyed by the rebels. He’d listened to the radio reports where government spokesmen, speaking from their plush homes behind electric fences, assured the people that President Tau’s army had crushed the rebels and that there was no need for panic.

But this was not what he’d seen when the rebels appeared in the darkness, shooting their automatic weapon and waving their machetes while burning down his family’s huts. No doubt news traveled slowly to the ears of the fat government officials who seemed to care little about the precarious situation thousands now faced.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, wondering if there was a solution, or if this was simply how the rest of his life would play out. Perhaps his people had unknowingly angered the ancestors and were now cursed. What other explanation was there? Their own victory last night during the rebels’ surprise raid had been nothing more than a fluke because they hadn’t expected any resistance. It was only a matter of time before the rebels returned, and this time, they’d come with reinforcements.

He caught sight of a shadowy figure looming on the rise. He’d foolishly wanted to believe these Ghost Soldiers would disappear once they raided the camp, but instead camp guards had reported sightings of them everywhere. They lurked in the thick trees of the forest, stood guard along the banks of the river, and infested the nearby villages, turning this place of refuge into a prison.

He shifted his weight, wishing he could find relief from the hammering heat. He’d spent the past two hours circling the perimeter of the camp, ensuring that all volunteer guards stood in their place. Eight hadn’t shown up and another three had come to their posts drunk.

No, he was fooling himself if he thought the guards surrounding the camp could do anything to stop the rebels if—when — they decided to attack again. Two years working as a security guard in the capital had taught him that. Without armed backup or trained forces who could control and monitor the situation they were no better off than a group of tethered goats. And the threat of violence wasn’t limited to outside sources. He’d already dealt with clashes inside the camp as the stress of the refugees continued to rise.

And the stress had escalated when they’d watched the rebels dump the dead bodies onto the ground. Even the two dollars a day promised to those who volunteered to guard the camp wasn’t enough to hold back the fear or keep the guards in their places. He started for the clinic to check on Asim. His official watch didn’t start for another two hours, which meant Dr. Ryan would nag at him to rest until then, but sleep had become elusive. Instead he automatically scanned every shadow for Valina as he passed through the busy market where stalls had been set up in an attempt to create an economy. Goods were traded and temporary barber and sewing shops set up as people tried to supplement the provisions given to them by the aid organization. But how long could any of them continue living like this?

And how much time would pass before he discovered whether or not Valina was still alive? He studied the stacks of firewood lined up along the path, unable to bring himself to imagine what the Ghost Soldiers were doing to her. Better off that she had succumbed to the sharp edge of the machete the day he lost her than be alive and tortured in one of their camps. But he held onto hope, as small as it was, that he would see her again.

Familiar anger seared through him like hot coals. Like Dr. Ryan, Valina would tell him that God was still in control no matter what happened around them. But why hold onto the belief in a god who allowed such horror to occur?

A group of kids played soccer beside the line of women waiting for water. One woman walked by with a jerrican balanced on her head, her face partially hidden by a scarf that blocked the sun.

Samson paused, then turned back to look at her. There was something familiar about her gait, the swing of her hips, the curve of her waist … His heart pounded.

Valina.

He ran toward her, shouting her name, before grasping the woman’s shoulder and turning her around. Scared, brown, unfamiliar eyes looked up at him.

He jerked his arm back. “I’m sorry, I …”

The blue canopy of sky spun above him. He shook off the wave of dizziness. He had been so sure. Certain it had been his wife, and that tonight he’d hold her in his arms …

Samson shook his head as the woman walked away. Perhaps the doctor had been right and he needed to sleep. But how could he? A plan began to form in his mind. Staying here was doing nothing to find his family. If he could find the camp of the Ghost Soldiers, he might be able to find Valina and his girls. Then together they’d escape the terror of this place and start a new life.

He stood at the edge of the camp, his mind at odds with what he should do. Except he knew he couldn’t leave. He’d made a covenant to help protect the doctor and the people of this camp, and he would not go back on his word.

A flutter of commotion caught his eye. Taz ran past him with a young girl in his arms, the American woman from the mountain trailing behind him. How many more would die, trapped in this camp?

Something snapped in the recesses of his mind. He ran forward. “Wait, please.”

Taz turned toward him. “What’s wrong?”

He took in the familiar pink dress, bare feet, and long braids. There was no mistake this time. “Please, stop. That’s my daughter.”

THIRTY

TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 22, 4:29 P.M.
KINGANI REFUGEE CAMP

Paige held up the finished origami for Asim and smiled. “Elephant.”

“Elephant.” Asim repeated the word in broken English, but his grin transcended all languages.

So far, no infection had set into the wounds. She prayed that the extra boost in calories she’d ordered for him would help quicken the healing process, because while his malnutrition wasn’t severe, the high-energy peanut paste provided protein along with an antibiotic treatment and vitamins.

Scarce rains had translated into thin crops and less food for those living outside the cities. On top of everything else, they needed a therapeutic feeding center for the entire camp, but until supplies were trucked in, there was little she could do to fight the need.

Instead of worrying about what she couldn’t do, she tried focusing her attention on Asim. She tousled his kinky black hair. “A few more days, and you’ll be able to leave this tent.”

And go where?

The question haunted her. Little boys didn’t belong in refugee camps where there was nothing but long hot days and nights. But while most humanitarian agencies advocated maintaining education services in order to preserve a sense of normalcy, the resources simply weren’t here. Which reminded her of the reality of her question. Until things were resolved with the rebels, no resources were coming in, none of them were leaving … and she wasn’t going home.

A wave of homesickness torpedoed across her heart. But she wasn’t the only one longing to go home. Or the only one wondering if she was going to survive this nightmare.

Brandon called to her, pulling her from her thoughts. “Do you have a minute?”

Paige patted Asim on the head and nodded. “Of course.”

She followed him across the room, out of earshot of Jodi’s bed.

“I’ve been sitting with Jodi. She’s in a lot of pain.”

“I’ve given her everything I can. Any more and her respiratory status could be compromised.”

“I don’t understand what’s wrong. You said the gunshot wound is healing, but she seems to be getting weaker by the hour.”

“Her body is fighting something, and we’re still trying to pinpoint what it is.” Paige ran over Jodi’s symptoms in her head for the dozenth time. So many of the diagnoses Paige was now being forced to make were nothing more than gut instinct. Even the lab technician who’d come with them on the plane was severely limited beyond anything but the basics. Which brought her back to Jodi. And the fact that she had no idea what was wrong with her.

While the gunshot wound seemed to be healing as expected, Jodi had developed other complications that seemed unrelated. The hives had spread from her ankles and wrists and her lungs were filling with fluids. Paige had already run through the list of possibilities with her nurses, covering every exotic disease she could think of, but nothing they’d discussed completely fit the symptoms.

Paige picked up Jodi’s chart from her desk and tapped her finger against the top. There had to be something she was missing. “I don’t know where else to look. She’s not been sick until now?” They’d been over it all before, but it wouldn’t hurt to go through it again.

“No.”

“Anything that had symptoms of an amoeba or parasite-like diarrhea or flu?”

“No. The only thing she complained about was a couple headaches, and of course her leg bothers her some. She has a pin in her ankle, but it was something she never let slow her down.”

“Where else did you visit before the RD?”

“Morocco for a couple days, then a cruise down the Atlantic Ocean along West Africa. When we were on land, we tended to skip the local tourist magnets and head for the bush, but we also tried to be smart as to where we went and what we ate. We arrived in the RD last Wednesday, spent a couple days at the game park outside of Ngamoli, then headed for the base camp.”

Which meant it could be anything.

She pointed to Dayo, her local lab assistant, wishing he had the resources that would in turn make her job easier. But he was limited to testing for basic issues like pregnancy, malaria, TB, and HIV.

“As primitive as our lab might be, we’re still able to diagnose a few things. Unfortunately, every test he’s been able to run on Jodi has come back negative.”

Brandon blew out a sharp sigh. “I understand your position, but I need answers. I can’t handle watching her suffer, especially when there is nothing I can do.”

“For now, all I can do is treat the symptoms and try to make her comfortable, hoping her immune system and the antibiotics can fight off whatever this is.”

“Could the lab in the hospital in the capital diagnose her?”

“I can’t make any guarantees, but I would think so. Even in this part of the world, they’d have much greater access to supplies than I do.”

Brandon’s gaze shot to the door. “Then I’ve got to get her there.”

“Brandon, wait. I realize your urgency to find answers, but leaving the camp carries with it its own risks. You saw what happened this morning to those three men who tried to leave. They’ll do the same thing to you if they have the chance. And Jodi needs you alive.”

“There’s a jeep. If I could get past them, then outrun them — ”

“Brandon, look at me.” Somehow she had to convince him that running at this point wasn’t the answer. “I know you’re worried about Jodi, but right now she’s in stable condition and isn’t running the risk of dying. If you try and mess with the rebels, her odds of
not
making it out of here alive will rise substantially.”

“I’ve got to at least consider the possibility.”

“You’ve also got to consider the reality.”

“My wife has run the Boston Marathon eight times. She’s climbed the Canadian Rockies, Mount Whitney, and Mount Kilimanjaro. Coming here was a chance for her to prove that she hadn’t lost everything important to her in the accident.”

Her concern for Jodi ran deep, but her patient wasn’t the only one she was worried about. “When’s the last time you ate?”

Brandon shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“I want you to go to the food tent. They have beans and rice fixed for the staff. Get something to eat. Then go talk to Nick if you still think planning an escape is what you need to do.”

Brandon hesitated, then nodded. “Okay.”

Dayo set another stack of charts on her desk as Brandon left the clinic. “What did you tell him?”

“What could I tell him besides the truth? That I have no idea why his wife is sick. I’ve thought of every scenario I can, but whatever it is, it simply doesn’t fit into any normal pattern. I’ve looked at Rocky Mountain tick fever, meningococcal infection, even the measles.”

Dayo tapped Jodi’s chart. “Maybe you’re on to something.”

Paige shook her head. “What do you mean?”

“Measles. We know the typical symptoms of measles — fever, cough, red eyes, and eventually spots in the mouth. But what if this isn’t a typical case of the measles?”

He had her attention. “Explain. Except for a handful of cases I’ve had to treat in the past couple of months, measles isn’t exactly a disease I’m used to facing on a day-to-day basis.”

“I worked with a Canadian volunteer three years ago who talked about a patient he’d treated with atypical measles. It occurs in people who are incompletely immunized against measles with a killed measles vaccine, then are exposed to a wild-type measles virus. That specific vaccine was only used from 1963 to 1969, and it sensitized the patient to the measles virus and didn’t offer any real protection.”

“What are the symptoms?”

“Exactly what we’re looking at. Fever, the build-up of fluids, pneumonia, swelling of the extremities, with a rash that is atypical in measles.”

“It’s more like hives.”

“Exactly. And it appeared first on her ankles and wrists.”

Paige considered the diagnosis. Measles presented a new problem. In a perfect scenario, most people who contracted measles would recover with few, if any, complications. But with the cholera crisis, conditions in the camp were far from perfect. Which meant the disease could be a death sentence for dozens if allowed to spread.

“If you’re right, we’re going to need to set up a separate isolation tent. We can’t handle an epidemic of measles going through the camp.”

“Do you think it has spread?”

“We have no way of knowing at this point. But we better be prepared. Because if it does spread, we’re going to have another disaster on our hands.”

A commotion in the waiting room interrupted their conversation. Taz rushed through the crowded area, carrying a small child in his arms.

Paige grabbed her stethoscope and jumped into action.

“Put her there.” She pointed to the only empty bed, then felt the child’s forehead. She was burning up with fever. “Where did you find her?”

“Out among the tents while we were checking the water.”

“Do you have any idea where her parents are?”

This young girl wouldn’t be the first child to have been separated from her family during the chaos of one of the raids, or to have lost parents due to the cholera. In the past twenty-four hours, she’d already treated a number of children who would carry emotional scars from their experiences. And no pink origami animal could bring a lasting smile to their lips after the horrors they’d witnessed.

Samson stepped forward. “Her name is Raina. She … she’s my daughter. Which means my wife and other children are here.”

A gnawing sense of worry stopped Paige from celebrating with Samson. The telltale marks were clear. Fever … red eyes … tiny spots on the inside of the mouth.

“Jodi can’t be the source, but it’s definitely measles.” Paige glanced up at Dayo, who stood at the end of the bed. “And it’s already started to spread.”