I turned to him. He was spotted all over with blood. “Can you get more?”

“I can make more, but there’s not time. And besides, it’s not enough. They need something stronger, decongestants and antibiotics.”

My eyes went wide. “Medicine from the North.”

He nodded, grimly.

We both knew that was impossible. It wasn’t that English doctors weren’t compassionate toward Kongo people, but a sick Kongo man was of absolutely no use to America. Which was to say, he was of no use at all—just another mouth to feed. An English doctor would be obligated to put the sick worker down, for the greater good.

Suddenly, I stopped walking.

Hosea traveled on a few steps then looked back at me. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

I bit my lip, testing the train of my thoughts. “I just had an idea.”

He came back. “What is it?”

“A few sick workers are in danger of being put down. But, at this stage, the fever is an epidemic. It’s already killed hundreds, and it’s spreading.” My eyes searched his. “Do you see what that means? If we don’t save them, who’ll finish the planting? Who’ll bring in the harvest? At this point, medicine is the greater good.”

He caught on quickly. “I see what you’re getting at, but no one would—”

“I can talk to Jones!” I said, not letting him dissuade me. “She’ll intercede in the Assembly! Explain the logic! I can make her understand!”

He scoffed. “Jones doesn’t care about logic or the greater good. She cares about herself. I doubt she’ll even listen, unless there’s something in it for her.”

I thought of the black book in my desk—my ticket, my currency. “I have something she wants,” I said.

“What is it?”

I couldn’t meet his eyes. “Information. She trusts me to spy for her.”

He looked appalled. “You would work with Jones again? Spy for her, even now? Arika, listen to yourself.”

“I am listening!”

His mouth curled in disgust. “If you go to her, I’ll leave today, at first light. With the pyres going all night, she’s sure to know about the fever. But, as you can see, she’s done nothing to help. If you go to her now, you’ll be no better than her—worse! You’ll be a—” He broke off.

Workers gathered on their porches to watch our argument.

“Go ahead, say the word!” I shouted. I pushed at his chest. “Say it!”

“Say what?”

“Say I’m a traitor! That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it? That’s what you all think. But you’re wrong, my information is going to buy medicine—and save the people!”

“Don’t do it, Arika. There are other ways.”