Chapter 33
THIRTY-THREE
KASAVOA – AIRSTRIP
Three hours later, the storm was finally moving.
The wind didn’t stop, but it shifted. The violent sideways blasts that bent the palms nearly flat earlier were easing into strong, steady gusts.
Rain swept across the runway in gray sheets, but visibility improved enough that Eira could finally see the far end of the strip through the floodlights.
She stood just outside the hangar, arms folded tightly against the cold rain, watching the runway come to life.
Half the level-three security team was already out on the tarmac.
Five of them dragged debris off the runway while two others secured loose equipment that blew out from the hangar doors earlier.
The debris was stacked along the edge of the strip as quickly as it could be cleared.
Everything and everyone moved fast. Eira’s eyes tracked Kieran Chase’s movement as he stood near the center of the tarmac with the Eagle’s Talon XO and the chief of island patrol. The XO jogged the final steps toward Kieran. Runway’s clear.
The asphalt shone under the floodlights. Even from the hangar, she could see the shallow pooling of water across the surface. Kieran said something to the XO. She couldn’t hear the words over the wind, but the XO nodded.
The radio crackled loudly enough to cut through the storm. “Kasavoa Tower, this is Nairobi Rescue Flight 1. Beginning descent.”
Every head on the airstrip turned toward the sky. Eira’s chest tightened as Kieran stepped forward slightly. She couldn’t hear the entire exchange, but she caught pieces.
“Wind speed?”
“Twenty-five knots… dropping.”
Kieran nodded. “Let them land.”
The radio answered again.
Kieran’s voice followed. “…runway has one inch of water… Winds gusting twenty-five knots… Godspeed.” The words hung in the storm.
Eira realized she’d stopped breathing.
The entire airstrip seemed to pause. Seven level-three operators and their team leader stood silently near the far end of the runway. Kieran. Tate. The patrol chief. The XO—all of them were watching the sky.
For several seconds, nothing appeared except the gray clouds and rain. Then, she saw lights. A shape broke through the thinning storm ceiling. A black jet descended toward the island.
Hunter jogged from the clinic building and came to a stop next to Kieran. She read his lips: “They made it.”
Even from the hangar, Eira could hear Kieran’s reply, “Shhh. They’re not on the ground yet.”
The aircraft roared over the tree line and dropped onto the runway hard. Water exploded up from the wheels as the engines reversed. The jet screamed against the wet asphalt, slowing in a long spray of white water before finally rolling to a stop near the hangar.
For a heartbeat, nobody moved. Then the rear cargo ramp dropped, and the aircraft exploded with motion. A medical team poured out with stretchers, portable ventilators, neonatal transport units, and crates of supplies.
Eira watched as Kieran, Tate and Hunter ran toward the hangar. A tall man in soaked medical gear jogged straight toward Kieran. They shared a quick handshake and some words. “Good to see you, mate,” the doctor said, his voice faint under the wind.
Eira caught the name when Kieran answered, “Thanks for coming, Sam. This is Dr. Eira Montgomery. The clinic is her baby.”
“Montgomery?”
“Brother.”
“Sister.”
Both answered at once.
Hunt ran a protective arm over Eira’s shoulders after pulling up her hood. “Eira’s recovering from this double flu.”
The doctor looked around the compound quickly. “Dr. Montgomery, I’m Samuel Halstead. I’ve got eighteen providers among us. I hope it takes some stress from you. How bad is it?”
Kieran gestured toward the clinic buildings behind them. “One hundred twenty-four patients here. Five pregnant women. Four newborns. Four in labor.”
Eira watched the doctor’s expression tighten.
Kieran pointed across the dark ocean beyond the runway lights. “Another island’s waiting.”
The doctor followed his gaze. “How many there?”
Kieran didn’t answer right away. Eira knew exactly why. Because the numbers were changing all night. “At least sixty pregnant women.”
Eira swallowed. “Twenty-five or more postpartum.” Her stomach tightened. “And at least thirty-one newborns.”
The doctor blinked. “Jesus.”
Kieran kept going. “Thirty-one-week twins. And one baby delivered by a field C-section… done by a combat medic.”
Hunt pulled her tightly to his side. More lights were appearing through the clouds. The second aircraft.
“Rescue Flight 2, Kasavoa Tower. Runway clear of debris with one to two inches of water. Winds twenty-three knots. You’re good to land.”
The aircraft descended through the rain, breaking through the cloud layer. For the first time in hours, something in Eira’s chest loosened. They weren’t alone anymore.
The jet roared over the trees and slammed onto the wet runway. Water sprayed behind it as it slowed.
Behind that aircraft, another pair of lights appeared through the clouds. A third plane.
Medical personnel continued pouring from the first two aircraft, pushing equipment toward the clinic. Neonatal units. Trauma carts. Crates of medication.
The airstrip turned into a floodlit storm of motion. Eira stood in the rain, watching it all happen. Help had finally arrived. But her eyes drifted past the runway lights, toward the invisible shape of Tevenne somewhere out there in the storm.
The knot of worry tightened again because this rescue wasn’t finished. Not while Ford and the others were still out there, holding the line against the sea.
KASAVOA – COMMAND OFFICE
The command office smelled like wet gear, coffee, and salt air. Eira stood inside the doorway, rain still dripping from the edge of her jacket as she watched the room come alive.
The storm still battered the island outside, but inside the small concrete room, the atmosphere shifted from waiting to planning. A large table was cleared in the center with
maps of the surrounding islands spread across it, weighed down by radios, flashlights, and medical kits.
Kieran Chase stood at the head of the table.
To his left was Tate Webster. To his right was Dr. Samuel Halstead, already scanning through a clipboard of incoming medical reports.
Beside him stood Hunter. Across from them, the XO of the Eagle’s Talon security team leaned forward over the map.
His name patch read Cole Maddox. Near the wall, the level-three team lead spoke with two members of the medical response unit who came off the aircraft.
Eira moved closer to the table. Everyone in the room looked tired.
Sam Halstead tapped the edge of the map. “Let’s focus. You’ve stabilized the one hundred twenty-four patients already here. We moved the labor cases into the clinic ward.”
Hunter nodded. “Flynn’s still running triage.”
Halstead looked up. “When the Tevenne group arrives, we’ll need the neonatal units staged immediately. Medical team assignments stay here on Kasavoa. We stabilize incoming patients the moment they land.”
Maddox folded his arms. “Level three secures landing zones and keeps the runway operational.”
Another operator spoke from the wall. “My team can escort transfers from the harbor to the clinic.”
Hunter nodded. “Good.”
Tate frowned. “I hate to be a downer, but we know the helipad on Tevenne is covered with fuselage, and the way the island is being battered, I don’t think their runway will be much better.”
The room was quiet except for the steady hiss of rain hitting the roof. The chief of island patrol stood near the doorway with two of his officers.
Kieran looked directly at him. “Alright. When can we get to Tevenne?”
The patrol chief leaned over the map, his finger tapping the small island shape marked TEVENNE.
“That depends. We need updated conditions on the dock first.” He pointed to the harbor symbol.
“If their pier’s still standing, we can land patrol cutters and load quickly.
” His finger slid along the shoreline. “If the beach is still usable, smaller boats can run shuttle transfers.”
Finally, he tapped the long, flat mark beside the island clinic. “And if there’s any chance the runway is still intact, we can attempt an air pickup.”
Eira felt the room tighten as Kieran said, “The dock was already failing before the storm.”
The patrol chief nodded. “Then we need confirmation. Once we know…then we figure out how to get your people off that island.”
Outside the command office, the storm continued to move east.
TEVENNE – ADMINISTRATION BUILDING
Ford’s lungs burned. He leaned one hand against the concrete wall of the administration building entrance, trying to slow his breathing while the storm howled around the structure.
They finished the last push uphill. The path from the flooded maternity clinic turned into a river halfway through the move. By the time they reached the admin building steps, the water already swallowed the lower courtyard completely.
Inside the building behind him, lanterns and emergency lights cast dim yellow pools across the floor. Mothers sat wrapped in blankets along the hallways and offices. Newborn carriers were lined carefully along the walls. The smallest cries came and went with the wind.
Ford wiped rain from his face and tried to steady himself. When his radio crackled, he grabbed it immediately. “Kieran.”
Static cracked across the line. “Ford, give me a sitrep.”
Ford took a breath. “We’re in the administration building now.” He stepped out onto the landing long enough to glance down the slope toward the clinic grounds. What he saw made his stomach tighten again. “I’m sending you coordinates.”
He read them off carefully. “Admin building elevation point… that’s where we’ve consolidated. We’re running on emergency power.”
Kieran acknowledged the numbers.
Ford continued, “The south side of the island is gone.” He looked out toward the harbor where waves now surged across what used to be the lower campus. “Storm surge has completely flooded the southern half.”
Another swell rolled through the trees. “Waterline is now two steps below the central patio. The surrogates and children ward is fully flooded.” He turned toward the dark slope below. “Villas one through five are underwater.”
Another gust rattled the admin building roof. “The dock is gone.” He didn’t soften it. “Completely gone.”
Kieran’s voice came back, “And the beach?”
Ford shook his head even though Kieran couldn’t see it. “Gone too. Surge ate it up to the tree line.”
“What about the runway?”
Ford let out a breath. “Blocked.”
“How blocked?”
“Flooded sections, debris everywhere…” He paused. “And two downed trees across the strip.”
Inside the building behind him, a baby began crying. Ford glanced back through the doorway. Nurses were already moving to check the infant.
He turned back to the radio. “We’re doing what we can to keep the babies warm.”
Another pause, then he added the part he hated most, “We have no oxygen.”
Inside the building, Rourke knelt beside two tiny carriers. The thirty-one-week twins. He squeezed a manual BVM bag, slowly alternating pushing air into the tiny mask with careful rhythm.
Ford continued, his voice cracking, “The twins are being ventilated manually.” He closed his eyes briefly. “Bag valve mask.”
Kieran said, “Understood.”
Ford forced himself to focus as lightning flashed somewhere over the ocean. He gave the current numbers: sixty-five pregnant, four in labor, twenty-eight postpartum mothers, thirty-six newborns, eight staff total.
Kieran asked the next question immediately, “Infection status?”
Ford looked at the page again. “I’ve got two pregnant and two postpartum currently without symptoms.” He shifted the notebook. “Two staff also fever-free. The fever-free patients and four of us are on prophylaxis.”
Inside the building, one of the nurses called out softly for another blanket. Ford looked through the doorway again. Lantern light flickered across the room. Mothers huddled together. Newborns wrapped tightly in layers. Rourke was still working the BVM bag for the twins.
Ford keyed the radio again. “Kieran.”
“Go.”
“We’re holding.” He glanced down the slope where the water continued creeping higher. “But the island’s disappearing. Tell Eira… tell Eira not to let guilt or grief run her life.”
Another long pause filled the radio.
Finally, Kieran spoke, “Stay with them.”
Ford nodded into the wind. “We are.”