Rick and Peña left the camp, and the green undergrowth of the jungle enveloped them. They moved swiftly and silently, and in about a hundred yards they walked out of the tree line and into the clearing at the edge of the village. It felt strange to traverse down the street without the weight of his weapon. Rick didn’t like the way it made him feel vulnerable. He might have to rethink his agreement with Doctor Myers.

When they arrived at the clinic, he glanced in the window before going to the door. Both of the beds that had been occupied last night sat empty, their mattresses bare.

The screen door squeaked as Rick opened it. They stepped into the building. No one sat at the desk. He slipped his rucksack off his back and set it on the floor against the desk. As he crossed the room, Doctor Myers came through a doorway in the back of the building, carrying a laundry bag. She paused when she saw him, then resumed walking.

“Good afternoon, Captain.” She glanced at Peña. “Lieutenant? Is that right?”

He smiled. “Yes. First Lieutenant Jorge Peña.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“Doctor,” Rick said by way of greeting. He paused at Ozzy’s bed. Doctor Myers set the laundry bag down and joined him. His medic lay with his eyes closed, not moving. “How’s he doing?”

“There’s infection setting into his leg. The oral antibiotics are not strong enough to combat it.”

He gestured at the rucksack. “Looks like your list got filled.”

“Oh!” She put a hand on Ozzy’s shoulder. “That will be a tremendous help.”

Something about the way she touched his medic softened the part of Rick that had reacted to her and made him argue with her yesterday. He could see her care for her patient, could tell that she had made him entirely her charge. The simple movement totally reversed his opinion of her.

He walked over to Sanders’s bed. Seeing his best friend lying so still and pale hurt his heart. Fresh anger coursed through his veins. “How’s Drumstick?”

Doctor Myers smiled at him, a smile that reached her eyes and transformed her face. “I heard about those names, Daddy,” she said.

Heat flushed his cheeks, and he was glad his beard covered the blush. Before he could reply, her face sobered again.

“He’s in a lot of pain, which makes sense. I powered up my laptop last night and sent an email to a colleague at Walter Reed, seeking confirmation of care. They’re six hours behind us, so I’m hoping to have an answer late afternoon.”

“Would a sat phone help?” Peña asked.

“That’s a thought.” She raised her eyebrows. “I can send him another email and give him a time I can call. I have one here that was given to me for emergencies, but I don’t think it’s charged.”