The driver drops Alana off at the familiar entrance of the Ospedale San Martino. There are only a few reporters and cameramen left outside to circumvent. She suspects the others must already be staking out the hospitals in Naples where the crisis has deepened.

As soon Alana enters, she spots Nico and Byron talking heatedly just beside the exit to the decontamination station. Nico is angrily gesturing, while Byron’s arms are folded and his expression is fixed in one of his defensive smiles.

For an embarrassed moment, Alana wonders if they might be arguing over her.

“He’s just going to let my patient die!” Nico cries as she nears. “Talk some sense into him!”

“About what, Nico?” Alana asks, relieved their disagreement doesn’t involve her.

“I have a forty-year-old woman in the ICU dying of antibiotic-resistant Yersinia. And this one”—Nico thumbs dismissively at Byron—“refuses to release the only medicine that could save her life.”

Byron’s smile softens briefly as he glances over to Alana, but his posture is unwavering. “I told you, Nico. We’ve only got the one dose of the antiserum ready to use. Could be days before we have another. And there are at least two other patients who need it just as urgently as yours.”

“How can you say this with certainty?” Nico demands. “What is certain is that my patient—a mother of three—will not survive the night without the antiserum.”

“Dr. Montaldo says the exact same thing of a six-year-old boy at the children’s hospital,” Byron counters. “And there’s another woman in the ICU here who is almost as sick. They can’t all split a single dose.”

Alana empathizes with both of them. Such life-and-death rationing reminds her of missions with the WHO where she was also forced to play God due to limited resources. “Why not share it, Byron?” she suggests. “At least between Nico’s patient and the little boy?”

“Yes!” Nico nods rapidly. “Maybe even two-thirds for the woman and one-third for the boy.”

“And what if they both die, having been underdosed?” Byron asks.

“Then at least you will have given both of them a chance!” Nico cries.

Byron uncrosses his arms. “All right,” he finally agrees.

“Thank you,” Nico says, and then turns to Alana. “Come to the ICU, Alana. You can meet the patient.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t have time.”

“Ah,” he says, looking warily from Byron back to her. “You’ve come to see him?”

“Yes. We’re going to see Sergio Fassino.”

“I better get back to my patients, then,” Nico says as he begins to turn away.

“Do you have a moment, Nico?” she asks.

Byron tilts his head but doesn’t comment. He pulls his phone from his jacket. “I’ll meet you outside, Alana. I have to sort out the distribution of the antiserum to both hospitals.”

Alana pulls Nico over to a quiet corner of the lobby by the elbow. “I’m leaving Genoa tonight.”

“For where?”

“Naples.”

“I see,” he says quietly.

“The outbreak is stabilizing here, Nico.”