Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
TEVENNE – MATERNITY WARD
An hour later, the storm hit the island with full force.
Rain hammered against the glass walls of the resort buildings, and wind tore through the palm groves hard enough to bend the trees toward the shoreline.
The power flickered twice before the generators caught again, and the lights inside the medical wing shifted to the dull glow of emergency systems.
Ford felt the change in the air immediately. Pregnant girls lay beneath thin blankets with fever burning through them. Others clutched their stomachs while contractions rolled through them in waves. The coughing never stopped.
Ford moved from one bed to the next with the antiviral dose packs and anti-fever meds open beside him, mask secure, gloves on. Quick exam. Medication. The next patient. And the next.
Several girls were so weak they could barely sit up long enough to swallow the tablets.
Behind him, Davis and Marino worked their way down the opposite side of the hallway. Both men stripped down their gear to the essentials and were moving with the efficiency of experienced medics.
Ford gave them an order the moment the cases opened. “Check every patient.
No one missed. Mark their foreheads.” He passed out sharpies.
Davis knelt beside one bed, checking pulse and temperature before handing the girl a dose of antivirals and fever medication. Marino followed two beds behind him, marking the treatment patients received on a clipboard they took from the nursing station.
Across the corridor, a nurse tried to keep pace with Ford. “We ran out of oxygen hours ago.”
Ford looked toward the far end of the hall where the nursery doors stood partly open. “How many ventilators?”
“Two units still working.”
He nodded once. “Keep those doors closed unless absolutely necessary.”
The nurse hurried off again.
At the center of the hallway, Rourke took control of the remaining staff. He stood near the nurses’ station speaking to three exhausted nurses while scanning the scattered medical supplies across the counter. “How many nurses total?”
“Six,” one of them answered. “And two aides.”
Rourke pointed down opposite ends of the corridor. “You and you stay here with medication distribution.” He pointed toward Ford and the operators working the beds. “You support them and keep antivirals and fever meds moving.”
He turned to the remaining nurses. “You two stay on labor and delivery support.”
A girl cried out somewhere down the hallway as another contraction hit. Rourke continued scanning the cabinets and supply carts. “What else are we short on?”
“Fluids,” one nurse said immediately.
“Antibiotics too.”
Rourke pulled open another cabinet and quickly inventoried the contents. “We ration what we have and focus on stabilization.” He closed the cabinet again. “Anyone crashes, call it out immediately.”
The nurses nodded and moved.
Ford stepped into another room where Aurelia and a nurse were guiding a young girl onto a delivery bed. “She’s crowning,” Aurelia said.
Ford changed his gloves and moved into position. The girl looked barely seventeen. Her eyes were wide with fear. “Please,” she cried. “I don’t want to do this here.”
Ford leaned close enough that she could hear him over the wind pounding against the building. “You’re not alone.”
The next contraction hit, and the room filled with movement as Aurelia and the nurse worked beside him. At Ford’s radio call, Garcia came out of the nursery ready to receive the new baby.
The storm fully claimed the island. Rain struck the glass walls of the resort buildings in violent bursts while wind howled through the palms hard enough to make the structures creak.
Lightning flashed over the dark ocean beyond the cliffs, and each thunderclap rolled across the compound like distant artillery.
Ford finished checking the next patient and stood when he felt a hand catch his arm.
“Cox.” Rourke’s expression was tight. “We have a problem.”
Ford followed him a few steps back toward the abandoned nurses’ station.
Rourke opened a cabinet and showed him the inside. Nothing but a few sealed packs of crackers and two electrolyte bottles. “No food.”
He tapped a nearly empty IV crate beside the counter. “We’re also short on diapers and formula. And if we lose power, we’re going to need blankets and sheets to keep the babies warm.”
Another gust slammed rain against the windows. Ford nodded slowly. “What are you thinking?”
Rourke glanced toward the glass doors that led out to the resort grounds. “The villas. And maybe there’s a centralized storeroom?”
Ford followed his gaze.
“They cleared out in a hurry,” Rourke said. “Which means the kitchens are probably stocked.”
Ford pictured the empty patios they crossed earlier. Suitcases by the doors. Half-finished drinks. People left in a rush. “You want to sweep them.”
Rourke nodded. “Food, bottled water, linens.” He paused. “And we need to clear the buildings anyway.”
Ford agreed immediately. “Marino and Davis?”
“They’re both medically trained,” Rourke said. “They’ll know what to grab.”
Another girl cried out from down the hallway. Ford looked toward the sound and then back at Rourke. “Send them.”
Rourke didn’t waste a second. He called in Marino and Davis and explained what they needed from the villas.
Marino nodded immediately. “Looking for kitchens.”
“And bottled water,” Davis added.
Rourke nodded. “Anything useful comes back here.”
Lightning flashed again outside the windows. The storm seemed to be gaining strength. Ford looked down the overcrowded hallway once more and said a prayer under his breath for the two men moving through a typhoon, trying to keep them alive.
THE VILLAS
The storm turned the resort pathways into rivers. Rain slashed sideways through the palm trees as Marino and Davis pushed their way across the grounds. Wind tore at their clothing, and the beams of their flashlights bounced wildly across the stone walkways.
They started with the farthest buildings first. Each man carried two large garbage bags slung over one shoulder.
Villa 10 stood dark at the edge of the property. Marino forced the door open, and both men stepped inside, shaking rain from their jackets.
The villa looked abandoned in a hurry. A half-finished drink still sat on the table. Clothes were scattered across the couch, and a suitcase lay open on the bed.
Davis went straight for the kitchen. “Water.” He opened the refrigerator and cabinets quickly. “Ginger ale too.”
Marino moved down the hallway and opened the linen closet. “Sheets.” He pulled them down and tossed them into one of the bags. “Blankets. Towels.”
Davis began stacking bottled water into another bag. “Protein bars,” he added. “Crackers.”
Within two minutes, both garbage bags were heavy.
Marino keyed his radio. “We’ve got bottled water, ginger ale, protein bars, crackers. Linens too.”
“Copy,” Rourke said. “Keep moving.”
Marino clipped the radio back to his vest. “Next one.” They pushed back out into the storm and ran for the neighboring building, Villa 9. The door was unlocked. Inside looked much the same as the last one. Guests clearly left fast.
Davis moved to the kitchen again. “More water.”
He opened the refrigerator and let out a low whistle. “Fresh fruit.”
Marino stepped beside him. A large platter sat on the counter. Cheese. Crackers. Fruit already cut.
Davis slid the entire tray into one of the bags. They grabbed more ginger ale from the refrigerator and filled another bag with water bottles. Within moments, the bags were filled.
They stepped back into the rain and pushed through the wind toward the next building,
Villa 8. Marino kicked the door closed behind them once they entered. The room smelled faintly of fresh flowers. A wicker basket sat on the coffee table. He stepped closer and read the card: Congratulations on your baby.
They opened the basket. Diapers. Tiny onesies. Receiving blankets. Pacifiers. Formula.
Marino let out a breath. “Paydirt.”
They emptied the basket straight into their bags along with anything else baby-related they could find in the villa.
Soon, they stepped back into the storm again. By now, the wind was fierce enough that they had to lean forward to walk. They fought their way toward the next structure near the center of the resort. This one was larger. More industrial.
Marino pushed the door open. A sign read, Administration Building. Inside, the lights were still on. Davis moved down the hallway to the left of a centralized desk and pushed open a door to an office.
Marino stepped inside and glanced at the desk—a brass sign with the doctor’s name. “It’s Blake’s.” He grabbed the radio. “Rourke.”
“Go.”
“We’re in an admin building. Found Blake’s office.”
“Any computers?” Rourke asked.
Marino scanned the desk. “Laptop.”
“Take it,” Rourke said. “If you can find a server, pull the hard drive.”
Marino grabbed the laptop, sliding it into one of the bags. He opened a closet. “Server.” He yanked the storage drives.
While he worked, Davis kept moving through the building. A moment later, his voice echoed down the hallway. “Marino.”
Something in his tone made Marino look up. “What?”
“You better get in here.”
Marino followed the voice.
Davis stood inside a storage room just off the main kitchen. Shelves lined the walls. Cases were stacked floor to ceiling. He pointed. “Diapers.” Another shelf. “Onesies.” Next stack. “Formula.” Below that were boxes of baby bottles still sealed in plastic.
Marino stared. “Holy hell.”
Davis turned toward the kitchen area. The refrigerator units still hummed. He opened one. Fresh fruit. More bottled water. Bread, cheese, electrolyte drinks.
Davis cut an unmarked case open. Inside were sealed IV fluid bags. He looked at Marino. “Real paydirt.”
Marino nodded quickly. “This is their central supply. Why didn’t the nurses know about this? Rourke and Ford are going to lose their minds.”
“This should buy us some time.” Davis looked through the glass doors toward the storm outside. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers. “Golf carts.”
Marino blinked. “What?”