Lucas looked down at her hand holding his, seeming surprised that she was touching him. Peyton knew he was scared and had probably been treated with an abundance of caution—and rightly so. Still, it always amazed her how humanizing a touch could be. Seeing the hope that formed in his eyes at that moment made her proud of the work that she did—and more sure than ever that she was exactly where she was supposed to be, doing what she was meant to do.

She leaned closer and spoke softly.

“Lucas, can you hear me?”

He nodded.

“My name is Peyton Shaw. I’m a doctor with the CDC. We’re going to do everything we can to help you, okay?”

“Thank you,” Lucas said. The words were barely audible.

Peyton picked up the bottle of ORS from the side table. “Drink a little. I know it tastes bad.” She held it to his mouth, and Lucas drank, wincing slightly.

She set the bottle back on the table and waited for him to swallow.

“I read in Dr. Kibet’s notes that Steven got sick about seven days ago. Can you tell me where you all were then?”

Lucas closed his eyes, trying to think. He shook his head. “I’m sorry. The days run together.”

“That’s okay. Can you remember the last time you two were healthy? Maybe a time when you were happy?”

A moment later, he said, “Mount Kenya. In the park.”

“What happened there? Did you come into contact with any animals? A bat? Maybe a monkey?”

“No.” He paused. “No, definitely not. It was our last stop before going to the villages.” He smiled. “We had barbecue. And beer.”

Peyton bunched her eyebrows up. “A local barbecue? What kind of meat was it?”

“No. North Carolina barbecue. From home. And local beer. Brewed in Raleigh.”

“How?”

“A package from a sponsor.”

“A sponsor?”

“Icarus Capital. Desmond Hughes. He’s on our board.”

Peyton stopped cold. The idea that Desmond could be involved both shocked and scared her. She was reminded of his words from the call. I think you’re in danger.

She tried to keep her voice even. “Was anything else in the package?”

“Yeah, the food was just an extra. Mainly he was shipping us our video cameras. We had decided not to bring them in our airport luggage in case they got stolen along the way—plus we didn’t want to have to lug them around until we were ready to go into the villages. We weren’t even sure how many we needed. Desmond offered to ship them to us when we reached Mount Kenya. He sent the package to the lodge where we were camping. The barbecue and beer was unexpected. Desmond’s note said good luck, and here’s a taste of home.”

“That was it?” Peyton asked. “Cameras, barbecue, and beer?”

“Yeah.”