The nurse assisting him glanced at him, but he continued sewing up the girl’s arm.

“You’re being very brave,” he whispered to the young girl.

That made her smile. He didn’t ask how she had gotten the cut, but he had instructed the nurse to ensure she had a safe place to stay before discharging her.

The voice over the speaker was calling him again as he walked to his office.

The operator connected him to the Ministry of Health. Dhamiria’s voice on the line was music to his ears; they had both been working around the clock, and he desperately wanted to see her.

“Elim, the general’s staff just called.”

He sat up. The military was now the closest thing Kenya had to a functioning government.

“The UN has contacted them. They’ve made a deal with Greece and France to get a small number of doses of the cure to every nation. We’re going to get seven doses within two hours—a Greek jet is flying them here.”

“That’s wonderful.”

“The general wants all the doses, but we told him we needed at least one for research, in hopes of making more of the cure.”

Elim smiled. “That was very smart.”

The truth was, they didn’t have the facilities to effectively research and manufacture a cure. But he did have use for a dose of the life-saving medicine. It would help him fulfill a promise he had made. And repay a debt.

When the doses of the X1-Mandera cure arrived, Elim personally went to the military headquarters at the Ministry of State for Defence complex in Nairobi’s Hurlingham area. One dose had already been used for the general currently leading Kenya’s Defence Forces, and the general was using the other five doses to test the loyalty of those under his command and root out anyone who might challenge him. It was proving effective. Two other generals and three colonels had been assassinated that morning—all had been discontent with the current leadership. People were falling in line, and Elim could sense the change at the military complex.

As soon as he got the dose, he rushed back to Kenyatta National Hospital and raced through the corridors. He brought five of the survivors from Dadaab to protect him—and the cure. They were an intimidating presence in the hospital, but they were necessary.

Inside the patient room, he quickly administered the dose. He hoped he wasn’t too late.

He tried not to think about the patient as he conducted his rounds. Hours went by without word. He wondered if the cure wasn’t 100% effective.

He was diagnosing a middle-aged man with Hepatitis E when he got word that the patient was awake. That was a good sign.