“Two, including you. The other young man will likely pass before we leave.”

Elim exhaled and nodded. “Where will you go?”

“Dadaab. Then Nairobi. We’re setting up camps with military and health workers.”

In his mind, Elim could already see what would happen if they couldn’t contain the outbreak. The government would fail. Warlords would emerge. A new civil war would start, sparking an endless fight over land and resources. Bandits would rule the roads. This plague would set Kenya back a hundred years. And it had started here, in Mandera, in this very room.

“Before you came,” he said in labored breaths, “I was wondering how long I’d be able to keep this place open. I never imagined it would end this way. That I would be the last patient to die here. That it would die with me.”

“Have faith, Elim. It’s the best medicine. And you’ll need it even more if the medicine doesn’t work.”

Chapter 44

Chapter 44

In his study in Atlanta, Elliott Shapiro was growing increasingly frustrated.

“This is no time for politics. These are people’s lives we’re talking about here. Have you found them? Tell me. Please.”

He listened, then interrupted. “I don’t care what your orders are, listen to me—Hello? Hello?”

He set the phone down and rubbed his eyebrows. With each passing hour, he knew the possibility of recovering Peyton and her team was slipping away. It was like watching a family member die in slow motion. It was torture.

He hadn’t slept a wink last night. Neither had Rose. He had sat in the den, scanning news channels and websites, waiting for any news while he listened to Rose sneezing and coughing. He had brought her water and food from the kitchen periodically, sat by the bed, and asked her how her book was. Her symptoms had stabilized, but he was still terrified that the virus she and so many others had contracted was in fact the same virus that had already killed thousands in Kenya.

They had created a sort of makeshift quarantine in the house: Elliott’s son, daughter-in-law, and grandson had kept to the second floor, while Elliott and Rose occupied the first floor. His grandson was running around in the bonus room over the garage, having a great time, while his parents played with him. Each group was heating frozen food from the freezer and eating separately. It wasn’t the ideal Thanksgiving, but it would keep the contagion from spreading.

In the family room, Elliott turned on the TV.

“Despite growing concerns about the flu-like virus spreading across the US, many families chose not to alter their Thanksgiving plans this year.”

The video shifted to a middle-aged man standing in front of a brick colonial home.

“We figured everybody was sick, so, may as well be together. Tradition’s important to us—”

Elliott flipped the channel, scanning for more news.