He pushed open the door to the room. Hannah was sitting up in bed. Her eyes were sleepy; black bags hung under them. Moving her limbs seemed to take immense effort. Elim remembered vividly the wasting away the deadly virus had brought with it. He had been forced to almost start over: to learn to walk again and to use his muscles. He knew she would have to travel the same road. But he saw strength in her eyes.

“They tell me I have you to thank for my recovery.”

Elim shook his head. “I was just a delivery man.”

“But you made the decision.”

“I did. It’s the hardest decision any person will ever make: whose life to save. It’s especially difficult for physicians.”

“And you chose me.”

Elim answered the question she was really asking—why. He knew what she would go through next: survivor’s guilt. Hannah was a physician and an epidemiologist; she had dedicated her life to saving others. Now Elim had put her before them, at the front of the line.

“A couple of weeks ago, a group of very brave strangers came to help my people. We were dying. They put their lives at risk to help us. They brought what they believed was a life-saving cure for the virus. ZMapp. They brought it for their own people, but they agreed to give a single dose to my government, who gave it to me. That dose saved my life.

“I felt guilty about it at first, wondering if they had made the right decision. I asked why. They told me that mine was a life worth saving.”

“And you think mine is?”

“I know it.”

“Why?”

“You were one of those strangers who came here, risking your life to help us. But most of all, I know it because I know what you’re thinking right now.”

She looked away from him.

“Right now you want to get out of that bed, walk out into this hospital, and start helping people.”

Her eyes told him he was correct.

“The world needs people like you, Dr. Watson. It’s a difficult choice, but sometimes we have to save the people who can help others. I realized the wisdom of my government’s decision when I traveled to the refugee camp, and when I came here.

“A brush with death changes a person. For good people, it changes them for the better, makes them more thankful—and dedicated to the things that matter.

“Your recovery will take time. You’ve been bedridden for days. But it will happen. And when it does, we will welcome your help. Rest for now.”

Chapter 111

Chapter 111

The moon lit their way. The boats were nearly silent, the passengers clad in black, their faces painted in jungle shades of green and brown.