Chapter 27 #3
Two more guards stepped out from cover. Their weapons clattered to the ground, and their hands went up.
“Don’t shoot!” a man with an Eastern European accent called out. “You have to help the girls.”
Ford didn’t look at them or at the burning fuselage. He turned back toward the clinic, toward whatever was inside. “Rourke.”
“I’m here.”
“Secure them.”
“Copy.”
Ford checked his weapon. “Let’s see what he left behind.”
Rourke suddenly raised his hand, and the team stopped moving. Voices were coming from ahead. Two figures appeared on the walkway, stumbling toward them through the dim garden lights on the side of the helipad.
Two women. Both were heavily pregnant and wearing masks. One supported the other as they moved, slowly and unsteadily, like each step cost more than it should.
When they saw Ford and his team with two security guards at gunpoint emerge from the darkness, they froze. Fear filled their faces.
Ford raised both hands slowly and stepped ahead of the pack. “It’s okay.”
They didn’t move. “You’re not security?” one asked weakly. She spoke English with a heavy Eastern European accent.
“No.”
“Who are you?” the other woman asked.
Ford stepped forward carefully, keeping his movements visible. “My name is Ford Cox. We came from Kasavoa.”
The second woman blinked. “You’re doctors?”
“Medical team.”
Her eyes flicked back toward the brightly lit entrance. “There are so many sick.”
“We know. What are your names?
“I’m Viktoria. She’s Raya. We had to leave.”
“Because we’re not sick yet,” Raya said, her voice shaking. “Dr. Blake told us to stay in the maternity wing, but people were coughing everywhere. Girls were collapsing in the halls. We snuck out.”
Viktoria nodded urgently. “We were afraid.”
Ford studied them. “Who’s taking care of the girls?”
She hesitated. “The doctors left.”
Ford’s expression sharpened. “All of them?”
She nodded. “Two days ago. All of them except Dr. Blake.”
Raya swallowed. “We saw Dr. Blake run to the helipad tonight.”
“He didn’t even look back. We saw the explosion. We thought it was safe to come out.”
Behind Ford, Rourke muttered, “Well, if Blake was on that helicopter, he’s gone now.”
Viktoria reached out, gripping Ford’s sleeve weakly. “You shouldn’t be here. The sickness is everywhere.”
Ford reached down, took a crate from Marino, popped it open and withdrew a case. He pulled out one of the antiviral dose packs. “We brought medicine.”
Both women stared at it.
“It’ll help protect you from the flu.” Ford’s gaze shifted past them, toward the entryway. “Now we need to get you inside.”
Up close, the strain showed clearly. Both women were breathing too hard. Their hands rested instinctively over their bellies.
“How far along?” Ford asked.
“Thirty-two weeks,” Viktoria said.
“Thirty-five,” Raya added, leaning briefly against a low stone wall.
Ford hated this. They shouldn’t have been outside. Not like this.
Behind him, Rourke watched the lit building. “How many girls are inside?”
Viktoria chewed her lip. “Seventy.” Her eyes flicked back, and her voice trembled. “Some early… some ready to deliver. Some already have.”
Davis shifted the crate. “And the babies?”
“In the nursery.”
Ford crouched slightly. “How many newborns?”
“Twenty… maybe more.”
Marino swore under his breath. Ford sealed the crate and returned to his full height, the numbers settling hard. Seventy women in various stages of pregnancy and more than twenty newborns. And a virus was moving through all of them.
“We’re here to help.”
Both women stared at him. “You really came here… for us?”
Ford nodded. “We came to find out what was happening and do what we could.”
A distant flash lit the sky, followed by a low roll of thunder. The wind pushed harder across the courtyard, tugging at clothing and bending the palms.
Rourke glanced back toward Ford. Both men knew Michaels wouldn’t make it back with the boat. He told the women, “Get us inside.”
Viktoria hesitated again. “There’s security like them.” She pointed to the group of flex-cuffed security guards. “But… they won’t go inside.”
Ford’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Why not?
“They’re afraid of getting sick,” the second woman said. “They stay outside.”
That told him everything he needed to know. Containment without care. Control without responsibility.
Ford nodded. “As you can see, we’ve already dealt with them.”
Marino stepped forward. “Boss, two have through-and-through gunshot wounds. Bleeding controlled. Two more are showing symptoms. All are masked. We will start them on antiviral meds as soon as we get inside. One of the men was the helicopter pilot. Blake ripped him out of his seat, threw him to the ground, and tried to fly away. But we took care of him in the explosion,” he confirmed.
Ford looked at the women. “Can you walk?”
They exchanged a glance. Fear was still there, but something steadier had taken hold.
“Yes,” the first woman said, straightening. She nodded toward the path. “We’ll take you to the others.”
Ford turned. “Garcia, you have point. Marino, left. Davis, stay with them.”
“Copy,” Garcia said, moving.
Rourke stepped in beside Ford as they fell into motion. “The guards didn’t push back once it was over. When they realized Blake was dead, they looked… relieved.”
Ford exhaled. “They took a contract without knowing what they were standing in.”
Rourke pointed his weapon at the guards. “Let’s go.”
Together, they moved toward the light, goggles up, respirators on.