Chapter 23 #2
He looked at Flynn. “You take the neonates as soon as we confirm they’re alive.”
Flynn nodded. “Got it.”
Ford turned to Rios. “You run medical screening.”
She opened her case. “Thermal scanner, pulse oximeters, rapid flu swabs.”
“Perfect.”
Rourke signaled to his team, and six Eagle’s Talon operators spread along the dock. Their presence alone changed the atmosphere.
Ford stepped to the edge of the pier and raised his voice toward the boat. “This is Ford Cox with the Kasavoa medical response team.”
A man appeared near the bow wearing a mask and keeping his hands visible. “Thank God,” he called back.
Ford continued, “No one leaves the vessel until we complete medical screening.”
The man nodded quickly. “Understood.”
Ford gestured toward the patrol officers. “Bring them alongside slowly.”
The patrol boat engines rumbled softly as the vessel eased toward the dock.
Four crew, four passengers, and two bundled shapes cradled in the arms of a woman sitting near the cabin door—the babies.
The boat bumped gently against the dock.
Rourke stepped forward with two operators and secured the lines.
Ford climbed onto the deck first. “Everyone stay where you are.”
Dr. Rios followed behind him. Flynn stayed close to the woman holding the infants.
Ford looked around at the group. “Alright. Let’s start with names.”
One of the passengers raised his hand weakly. “Please, the babies need help.”
Flynn crouched beside the woman. “May I?”
She hesitated only a second before handing him the first bundle. Flynn carefully opened the blanket. A tiny newborn stared up at him. The second baby cried softly beside it.
Dr. Rios scanned the passengers with the thermal reader. “Temps are stable so far.”
Ford nodded. “Good.” But he didn’t relax—because the boat came from Tevenne.
Flynn didn’t waste a second. He pulled the blanket back just enough to see the infant’s face. The baby’s skin had that unmistakable translucent look of prematurity, chest fluttering with shallow breaths. “How old?”
The woman who was holding the babies looked exhausted. “Two days.” Her voice shook. “Born on Tevenne. They induced our surrogate to give us the babies. Twins.”
Flynn checked the baby’s breathing again. “Weight no more than four pounds on Baby A. Baby B is very small.” He looked at Ford. “We need to move them.”
Ford nodded immediately. “Go.”
Flynn turned to one of the patrol officers. “Get me to the clinic now.”
The officer nodded and moved quickly to help. Flynn gathered both babies carefully, one tucked against each arm, shielding them from the wind as he stepped toward the dock ramp.
“Rios,” Ford called.
“I’ve got the rest.” She lifted the thermal scanner. “Everyone stay where you are.” She moved from person to person.
Forehead scan. Beep. “98.6.”
Next. Beep. “99.1.”
She glanced at Ford. “So far so good.”
Ford kept watching the group carefully. “Any coughing? Fever? Shortness of breath?”
The passengers shook their heads quickly.
One of the crew spoke up. “We left before they started getting sick.”
Ford’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Left where?” He knew the answer but wanted to hear it.
“Tevenne.”
Rourke and the Eagle’s Talon operators remained positioned around the dock, watching every movement. Alpha squad had already secured the shoreline and surrounding path.
Rourke stepped closer to Ford. “So far, this is clean.”
“Maybe,” Ford said.
Rios finished the last scan. “No fevers.”
“Alright,” Ford said. “Now we talk.”
The passengers looked like wealthy travelers at first glance. Clean lines, tailored cuts, expensive luggage stacked neatly by the cabin door.
Ford took a second look. The details shifted. The accent when one of them spoke to the crew. The cadence. The clipped vowels. South African.
The brands leaned that way too. Not just expensive, but specific. Safari-luxury cuts. Neutral palettes meant for heat and dust, not cities. Even the way they carried themselves gave it away. Relaxed, but used to control. Used to being somewhere that did not belong to them and acting like it did.
Ford filed it immediately. South African. High net worth. Comfortable in remote environments.
One of them, a middle-aged man with silver hair, stepped forward slightly. “You’re the medical authority here?”
Ford nodded.
The man exhaled in relief. “Thank God.”
“Why?”
“Because that island is falling apart.”
Ford kept his expression neutral. “What happened?”
The man rubbed his face. “People started getting sick.”
“How many?”
“I don’t know. Staff first. Then, some of the women.”
That familiar pang tightened in his chest. “The women?”
The man nodded. “The surrogates.”
Ford kept his voice steady. “Surrogates?”
“Yes,” the man said. “There are dozens of them.”
Another passenger spoke up. “More than dozens.”
Ford looked at him. “How many?”
The man swallowed. “Fifty at least.”
Silence settled across the dock. Ford didn’t react outwardly. “And the babies?”
The woman who had been holding the infants answered, “There’s a nursery.” Her voice trembled. “So many babies.”
Ford glanced briefly at Rourke then back at the passengers. “And the girls?”
The silver-haired man hesitated. “They’re not letting them leave. If they had, we would have taken our surrogate and not let her be induced.”
“Why can’t they leave?”
The man shook his head. “The doctors there won’t let them.”
Rourke stepped closer. “Won’t… or can’t?”
The man looked toward the dark horizon where Tevenne sat beyond the water. “I think they’re afraid to be found out. They don’t seem to have a plan.”
Ford followed his gaze.
Behind him, one of the Eagle’s Talon operators spoke into the radio, “Dock secure.”
KASAVOA CLINIC
The hallway outside Eira’s room was quiet. Hunter sat beside her bed, reviewing her chart while the fever monitor blinked steadily—104.2 He didn’t like that number.
Eira stirred slightly against the pillow. “You’re staring at it again.”
Hunter didn’t look up. “I’m monitoring.”
“You’re worrying.”
Before he could answer, urgent footsteps pounded down the corridor. Hunter turned just as Liana appeared in the doorway. Her breathing was tight, her gloves still on. “Hunter.”
He was already on his feet. “What happened?”
“One of the kids,” she said. “Her breathing’s getting worse.”
Hunter didn’t hesitate. “Which one?”
“Véronique.”
Behind him, the hospital bed creaked, and Eira’s eyes snapped open. “Véronique?” she croaked.
Liana glanced toward her. “Yes.”
Eira pushed herself upright despite the fever. “What’s her oxygen?”
“Dropping.”
“How low?”
“Eighty-three and falling.”
Hunter grabbed his stethoscope. “When did it start?”
“Five minutes ago. She was stable and then…” She made a sharp downward motion with her hand.
Hunter was already moving toward the door. “Possible viral pneumonia.”
“Or fluid buildup.” Eira swung her legs off the bed.
Hunter turned immediately. “No.”
“I’m coming.”
“You’re not even close to stable.”
“It’s Véronique.”
Hunter’s voice hardened. “Exactly why you’re staying here.”
She tried to stand, but her legs buckled. Hunter caught her easily and pushed her back onto the mattress. “Eira.”
Her breathing quickened from the effort. “You don’t understand.”
“I do,” he said. “She needs you.”
Eira looked at him desperately. “She’s scared of hospitals.”
Hunter stepped closer to the bed. “I promise I’ll take good care of her. Let me assess her, and I’ll report back to you.”
Eira swallowed. “Deal.”
Hunter turned to Liana. “Let’s move.” They rushed down the hallway together.
Behind them, Eira collapsed back against the pillows, every muscle burning with fever. Her heart pounded because, somewhere down the hall, Véronique was fighting to breathe.