At some point, she wasn’t sure when, she turned away from him, onto her side, to make more room. Shortly after that, she felt his arm wrap around her stomach, pulling her close.

When Jonas’s lips were six inches from Peyton’s face, she turned her head.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking away.

“No,” she said quickly. “It’s not that. I heard something.”

“What?”

Peyton paused. “Helicopters.”

She rose, pulled her clothes on, and dashed outside the tent. Two black helicopters were landing just beyond the village. Seconds later, soldiers armed with assault rifles were running toward her.

Chapter 29

Chapter 29

As the helicopters landed, Colonel Magoro’s soldiers fell back to the tent complex, forming a protective ring around Peyton, Jonas, and the other health workers. Magoro raced out of his tent, barking orders into his radio as he ran.

When the dust cleared, Peyton could just make out the insignia of the Kenyan air force on both helicopters.

“What’s happened?” she asked Magoro.

“It’s spread. They’ve asked for both of you. It’s urgent.”

Peyton headed back to her tent to pack.

“Take some food and water,” Magoro said. “It may be a long trip.”

In the dark of night, the helicopter flew over the loosely populated region of eastern Kenya along the Somali border. Occasionally, thanks to the headlights from a truck or car, Peyton caught a glimpse of arid, rocky terrain and rolling hills below.

She was dead tired, but she wanted to discuss what had happened—or had almost happened—with Jonas in the tent. Yet she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. She didn’t know where to start. She told herself it was because she was so tired and because of the low hum in the helicopter and because she didn’t want to pull the headset on and allow the pilots in the front to hear them talking. But none of those were the actual reason.

Instead, she let her head fall back to rest on the back of the seat. The slight vibration in the helicopter slowly became soothing. Within minutes, she was asleep.

When Peyton awoke, her head lay on Jonas’s shoulder. A small pool of slobber spread out from her lips. She reached up and tried to wipe it away.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” His voice was barely audible over the helicopter’s rotors.

They were losing altitude, descending toward a large, sprawling city. Lights twinkled below. Dozens of fires burned, some quite large.

Peyton checked her watch. They had been in the air for hours. If the disease had spread this far—to a population center—everything had changed.

As the helicopter descended, Peyton saw that the streets of the city were laid out in a grid pattern. Very few cars moved about, only military trucks, but throngs of people had gathered in the streets, pushing at barriers and shouting.