Chapter 34
THIRTY-FOUR
KASAVOA COMMAND
The room became completely still by the time Ford finished speaking. The storm outside hammered the metal roof, rain striking the windows in steady sheets. The projected weather display on the wall flickered softly, radar bands crawling slowly across the screen.
Eira inhaled sharply. It wasn’t subtle. Her hand came up to her mouth before she even realized she’d done it. “Is he telling us what none of you are?” Her voice was tight with disbelief. “That this is hopeless?”
The word hung in the room.
Kieran stood at the map table, one hand resting on the edge of the surface, his gaze fixed on the projected weather screen. He slowly turned toward the chief of island patrol. “Tell me the plan.”
The patrol chief stepped forward and studied the radar display. “We go by water.” He tapped the map of Tevenne. “Inflatable craft to and from the admin building.” His finger circled the elevation marker Ford transmitted. “Larger vessels stay offshore.”
“Anchor points?” Hunter asked.
“Exactly,” the chief said. “The inflatables shuttle people out to the patrol cutters and cargo boats waiting deeper.”
Kieran nodded. “And if we can get a larger craft close?”
The chief shrugged slightly. “Then we bring them straight to the wall.” He glanced toward the weather projection. “But we’re not flying anything in there.”
The chief shook his head then pointed at the radar display.
“Winds on our side are running sustained fifteen knots right now.” The map flickered with updated numbers.
“Gusting to fifty.” He moved his finger across the screen to the red band circling Tevenne.
“Over there, the tide is approaching full high.”
Tate leaned closer. “What’s the current doing? Fast and harsh.”
“Running southwest.” The chief exhaled slowly. “We’re going to have a hell of a time holding position near that island.”
The chief looked directly at Kieran. “If that second storm comes in while our boats are out there…” he didn’t soften it, “…we risk losing the boats.” His gaze moved briefly across the people in the room. “And the people inside them.”
The rain hammered harder against the windows. Finally, the chief straightened slightly.
“I’m former Navy. I understand the ‘no one left behind’ rule.” His voice was steady. “We will do our best. I’m issuing the order now.”
The radio crackled alive as he spoke into it. “All patrol units prepare for Tevenne extraction.” The airhorns went off.
He looked back toward the table. “Two patrol officers on every boat. And I’d suggest two medical personnel on whichever boat takes the twins.”
Eira spoke before anyone else could. “I’m going.”
Every head in the room turned toward her.
Dr. Sam Halstead stared at her across the table. “Eira.”
She didn’t look away from Kieran. “I’m going.”
Halstead stepped forward. “Doctor.”
She finally turned toward him.
His voice wasn’t angry, just firm. “I have two combat-ready neonatal nurses standing outside that door.” He nodded toward the hallway where the flight medical teams were organizing equipment. “They’re trained for transport under fire if they have to be.” He held her gaze. “You need to be here.”
Eira opened her mouth to respond, but Halstead shook his head.
“Kasavoa is about to receive over a hundred high-risk patients.” He gestured toward the clinic buildings beyond the rain-streaked windows.
“You’re the only obstetric trauma specialist on this island besides me and Mr. Marsh.
” His voice softened slightly. “They need you when those boats come back.”
The storm rattled the building again. Eira didn’t say anything. She looked at the map of Tevenne on the table and the long stretch of black sea between the islands.
TEVENNE – ADMINISTRATION BUILDING
Ford slid down the wall beside the double doors until he was sitting on the cold concrete floor.
For the first time in hours, he stopped moving.
The storm still roared outside, wind pressing against the building and rain rattling the metal roof, but inside the hallway there was a strange pocket of quiet between cries and voices.
His chest rose and fell hard. He didn’t realize how out of breath he was until he stopped moving.
A pair of boots stepped into his view. Without a word, Rourke dropped two protein bars and an electrolyte drink into Ford’s lap. “Eat.”
Ford looked up at him. Across the hallway, Davis knelt beside the twins, carefully squeezing the BVM bag again and again in a fast rhythm. The tiny mask sealed over and alternated on one infant’s face while the other twin lay bundled beside them.
Rourke nodded toward Davis. “I’ve got bagging covered.” He lowered his voice. “We’re down to the last two cases of hot packs.”
Ford did the math. “Each pack lasts about an hour. That’s two hours’ time at best. If we go longer here, we’re going to have to start a fire and boil some water.” He rubbed his face with one hand. “The water?”
Rourke glanced toward the entrance. “Still high. But the wind… feels like it’s dropping a little.”
Ford unscrewed the bottle and lifted it to his mouth. The drink was warm and metallic, but he forced himself to swallow anyway.
The radio on the floor beside him crackled. Both men looked down at it.
“Chase Command to Tevenne.”
Ford grabbed it immediately. “Kieran.”
The connection hissed with storm interference. “We launched.”
Ford felt something inside his chest release slightly. “Copy.”
“Boats are moving soon,” Kieran said. “You need to stage your people.”
“Understood.”
“Lead boat has your radio codes.”
“Copy that.”
Kieran’s voice steadied on the line. “Roughly one hour.”
Ford exhaled slowly. “We’ll be ready.”
The radio went quiet. Ford leaned his head back against the wall.
He finished the rest of the drink in three long gulps and opened the protein bar.
It tasted like cardboard. He shoved the entire thing into his mouth anyway and forced himself to chew.
Across the hallway, Davis squeezed the BVM in a steady rhythm.
Ford stood, scratched his head, and lifted his mask down from his forehead. “Nurses, we need to get them ready.”
Everyone looked up.
Ford pointed at the infant carriers. “Those baby carriers have holes in them.”
Several nurses immediately turned toward the plastic shells.
“I want bins.” He pointed down the hallway. “Check every closet in this building. Storage rooms, janitor closets, supply cabinets.”
“If we don’t have enough,” he grabbed a plastic liner from a supply box, “we line containers with plastic bags.” He crumpled one in his hand. “Pack it down so the bag can’t move.” His voice hardened. “I don’t want any baby suffocated in transport.”
The nurses nodded and began moving immediately. Everyone had renewed energy.
Ford kept going. “Find every pair of scrubs in this building.” He pointed toward the mothers wearing thin hospital gowns. “Those gowns are going to be freezing on the water.”
Rourke nodded and headed toward the back hallway.
Ford continued, “If we run out…” He gestured toward the dark hillside beyond the windows. “Villas uphill are still above water. Check them for clothes. Anything dry.”
Another nurse stepped forward. “What about food?”
Ford lifted the empty protein wrapper. “Every woman eats a protein bar.” He looked around the room. “I don’t care if they’re not hungry. Make them eat.”
He pointed toward Davis and the twins. “Babies first when the boats arrive.” He held up two fingers. “Twins are primary.”
The BVM hissed again as Davis pushed another breath.
Ford looked around the room one more time. “Kieran says one hour—and we need to be ready before that.” He stepped into the center of the hallway. “Everyone!” Heads turned. Lantern light flickered across tired faces. “Boats are coming.”
A ripple of movement moved through the room. “We are staging for evacuation.” He pointed down the hallway. “Babies first.” Then toward the mothers. “Mothers next.” His voice steadied. “And we start lining up now.”
The storm settled into a low growl. The wind still moved through the trees, but it no longer screamed the way it did earlier. Rain fell straight now instead of sideways, and somewhere beyond the darkness, the tide reached its peak.
Inside the administration building, the hallway was in motion.
Nurses moved from mother to mother, handing out protein bars and tightening blankets around newborn carriers.
Plastic bins lined with bags were packed carefully and padded with folded receiving blankets.
Each one was tamped down until the liner could not shift. Hot packs were tucked into blankets.
Lantern light flickered along the walls. Across the room, Davis continued working the BVM on the twins, slow careful squeezes while Rourke monitored the tiny chest movements.
Ford moved constantly between each patient, checking carriers, checking mothers, counting again and again. And he checked for the thing that gave him pause—any of the women in labor.
The radio on the table suddenly crackled. Everyone froze.
He grabbed it. “Ford.”
Static washed through the speaker. “This is Patrol Lead 1.”
Ford’s heart jumped.
“We’re approaching your coordinates.”
Ford moved to the doorway and pushed it open. Cold, wet air rushed inside. Outside, the hillside was dark except for rain, and off the second step was the white churn of waves just below the building.
Suddenly—lights. Red on the starboard. Green on the port side. A search light weaved from side to side, moving between the trees near the flooded lower campus.
Ford lifted the radio. “Confirm visual.”
The voice came back over the storm: “First inflatable is in the water approaching admin building wall.”
Ford stepped out onto the landing and waved his flashlight. Below the slope, the water flooded the lower grounds completely. What used to be pathways and courtyard steps was now a black moving surface of storm surge.