“How many bottles have you been drinking per day?” Hannah asked.

The woman just shook her head.

“You need to stay hydrated. Can I get you anything else?”

After a labored breath, the woman said, “No, Doctor. Thank you.”

Glancing around, Hannah noticed that on one wall someone had written the letters A through F to mark the rows, and along another wall, the numbers one through twelve marked the columns. She made a mental note that A1 was not taking enough fluids and that she had no other requests.

She took out another test kit, lifted the cooler, and moved to A2.

Twenty minutes later, Hannah exited the hospital. She was so hot she felt like clawing the PPE off. It clung to her sweaty skin, a hot plastic film that felt like it was melting onto her. But Dr. Shaw’s warning was fresh in her mind. She took her time doffing the suit, then hurried into the tent where an EIS agent was testing her samples from row A.

The agent looked up. “All negative for Ebola.”

Hannah nodded. Dr. Shaw had told her to expect that. But even though the Kenyans had already tested the patients and found them negative for Ebola, the prudent course of action had been to run their own tests with kits from another manufacturing batch, just to be sure.

Hannah also knew that Dr. Shaw had likely planned this as part of her training. Hannah would be testing more patients in the field soon, in the villages around Mandera. She’d be on her own. And she was thankful for the opportunity to learn the procedure here, where she had help close by.

Nia led Jonas and Peyton to the back corner of the large treatment room, where a middle-aged man was propped against the yellowing plaster wall. His eyes were closed, and he wore a sweat-soaked tank top. A folded white coat lay by his side.

“Doctors Shaw and Becker, this is Dr. Elim Kibet, Chief of Physicians here at Mandera.”

Dr. Kibet opened his eyes, looked up at his visitors, and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He smiled weakly. “In the interest of full disclosure, I was the only physician here at Mandera.” He focused on Peyton. “We did everything we could for the young Americans. I’m sorry. It was not much.”

Peyton squatted down, bringing herself close to eye level with the doctor.

“All of us appreciate your efforts, Dr. Kibet. The CDC, the American government, and especially those boys’ parents.”

Dr. Kibet reached under the white coat and brought out a spiral-bound notebook. He handed it to Peyton.

“Before the ministry arrived, I talked at length with Mr. Turner.”

Peyton ensured her gloves were dry, then flipped through the notebook, scanning the ruled pages filled with neat handwriting. Dr. Kibet had been extremely thorough. Peyton hoped his notes might contain a clue that would lead them to the index case.