Chloe glanced back at him. “Not yet. I need more than speculation and secondhand accounts.” She adjusted her grip on the door handle as they hit another pothole. “My editor won’t run a story about a potential outbreak of whatever this is without solid evidence. Right now, all I have are symptoms that could be explained by contaminated water or food poisoning.”
“But you don’t think that’s what this is.”
“No, I don’t.” She watched the landscape change through the windshield—terraced hillsides giving way to denser jungle, the settlements becoming more sparse. “Like you pointed out before, the pattern is too specific, too contained. And the timing...” She shook her head. “Three separate villages, all within a fifty-kilometer radius, all showing identical symptoms within days of each other? I agree with you. That’s not natural spread.”
The truck bounced over another rough section, and Tobias braced himself against the seat. He shot a look at Malai before turning back to Chloe. “So what’s your theory?”
“Someone’s testing something. The question is who, and whether this is the test run or the real thing.”
He stared at her. “Wait. You think—” He cut his voice down. “You think this sickness is some sort of bioweapon?”
She glanced at Malai. “No. I just... I just wonder if it’s deliberate. Maybe the government trying a new tactic to take out villages. A new weapon in the civil war.”
His jaw tightened, and he shook his head, stared out the window. “Will man never cease his evil?”
Yeah. That.
They drove in relative silence after that as they traveled deeper into contested territory. Farmland gave way to jungle, the vegetation growing denser and more aggressive, vines curling around gnarled trees and bamboo clumps like prison bars.
The few people they encountered on mules or on foot, carrying bundles, didn’t look up to watch them. Tired, wary people.
“How long since the symptoms started in the village we’re visiting?” Tobias asked, pulling a water bottle from his pack. He offered it to her before drinking.
The liquid tasted flat and metallic from the heat.
“Three days ago,” Malai replied, never taking his eyes off the narrow track that barely qualified as a road. “Twelve families were affected initially. The latest report suggests that number has doubled.”
“Same pattern as the other villages?” Chloe wiped perspiration from her forehead with the back of her hand, the salt stinging her eyes.
“Identical. Rapid onset, neurological symptoms, respiratory failure within forty-eight hours.” Malai negotiated around a fallen tree that had been partially cleared from the road, the truck engine laboring in the heat. “The local medic requested immediate assistance, but official channels are blocked due to military tensions.”
The truck slowed as they approached an abandoned checkpoint—concrete barriers and rusted guard posts remnants of earlier conflicts and changing battle lines.
Wong’s voice crackled through Malai’s radio. “Border crossing ahead. Everyone out. We walk from here.”
The rangers secured the trucks in a grove of trees that provided minimal shade, the leaves hanging motionless in the still air. Medical supplies were redistributed into smaller packs for the rough terrain ahead. Chloe took her pack and noticed that Tobias integrated seamlessly into the group, his movements suggesting tactical experience that went beyond typical missionary work.
Or maybe that was just his history growing up in an impoverished village in Nigeria.
The jungle buzzed with insect life, and the air tasted of green growing things and rich earth, the sweetness from flowering vines competing with the sharper scents of decomposition and animal musk.
Wong gathered them in a tight circle for final instructions. “Radio silence from this point forward. Hand signals only until we reach the village.” His gaze pinned to hers. “Stay within sight of the person ahead. Don’t investigate sounds or movement I haven’t cleared. If we encounter hostiles, drop to the ground and remain motionless until I give the all clear.”
Familiar pre-mission adrenaline stirred inside her despite the oppressive heat. Her camera bag was impossibly heavy, the strap cutting into her shoulder.
Only ten miles to go.
On foot.
They began moving through the jungle toward Myanmar.
About ten minutes in, Chloe noticed Tobias stumble slightly ahead of her. His hands trembled as he gripped his medical bag.
“You okay?” she whispered, barely audible over the symphony of insects and the squelch of boots in mud that never quite dried despite the scorching temperatures.
“Fine. Just tired.”
But when he looked back, she caught something in his expression—a slight confusion, as if he wasn’t entirely sure where they were.