Near the end of Millen’s shift, an operator notified him that he had a call on a CDC landline.

The voice on the other end of the line belonged to someone Millen had thought he might never hear again: Elim Kibet.

His tone was serious. “I’ve got news, Millen.”

When Elim finished speaking, Millen simply said, “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Millen waited outside Phil’s office door for him to finish his phone call, then stepped inside.

The senior CDC employee didn’t look up from his laptop. “What can I do for you, Millen?”

“I need a favor. A big one.”

Millen didn’t know who was called or what favors were traded, but he got word a few hours later that a deal had been made.

In the BSL-4 lab, he found Halima and Tian, both watching TV.

“Get your stuff together.”

Halima raised her eyebrows, fearful.

“You’re going home.”

They ran to him, and Millen hugged both of them.

“I didn’t know—” Halima began.

“When you agreed to come with me, I promised you I’d take you home when this was over. I honor my promises.”

They flew to DC first, then to Ramstein Air Base in Germany. The plane was filled with personnel who weren’t very chatty, which made Millen curious. About half the tight-lipped operatives disembarked at Ramstein, and were replaced by people boarding from the base and from Landstuhl Medical Center. From there, they flew through the night to Incirlik Air Base in Turkey, and a smaller plane took Millen and the villagers to Kenyatta National Airport.

Elim and Dhamiria were waiting for them. They had brought presents for the two villagers: a soccer ball for the boy and a beaded Maasai necklace for the girl. The two seemed overjoyed by the gifts—and by the fact that Elim and Dhamiria had been thinking about them while they were gone.

Instinctively, Millen knew they would adopt the two children. The thought made him very happy. He believed the four of them would be a wonderful family, despite the tragedy that had brought them together.

At the hospital, Millen walked the halls with Elim. The place was packed, a madhouse, but things were getting done; Elim was seeing to that. The Kenyan seemed to know everyone by name, and what they were doing. This was Elim’s passion. In Mandera, when he was recuperating, Elim had told Millen that his own hospital was on life support; its decline had taken the wind out of the Kenyan’s sails. Now the man’s energy was back. In a way, the pandemic that had almost taken his life had actually restored his purpose and vitality. Millen thought it was a strange twist of fate, but he couldn’t be happier for the man.