Normally, they might hesitate to administer cholera vaccines to pregnant women, but these weren’t normal times. The risks to a woman’s fetus or her pregnancy from cholera far outweighed any risk from the vaccine.
It had been a long, wet rainy season, and Nigeria was in the midst of a cholera epidemic that had already left hundreds of people dead of dehydration and electrolyte imbalance. Rural areas in Kaduna State had been hit especially hard. Kristi was here with four others from her mobile medical unit and a group of Nigerian public health volunteers to vaccinate as many villagers as they could and to provide whatever medical care might be needed.
Rural parts of the country often lacked access to basic medical care, so their team came prepared for everything, complete with a van equipped as a mobile operating room. Kristi, as one of only two registered nurses, spent most of her time assisting Dr. Adamu. So far today, she had treated several people for malaria, tuberculosis, and HIV, and assisted the surgeon in removing a teenager’s inflamed appendix.
Still in her blue surgical scrubs, Kristi was filling in for Chinara, one of the Nigerian volunteers, who was taking a very late lunch break. The long line snaked out of the tent, proof that the village health coordinator had done an excellent job getting out the word. They’d brought eight hundred doses of the vaccine, but now Kristi worried that it might not be enough.
“Hey, there.” Kristi smiled at a young boy, who opened his mouth for her like a baby bird. She emptied the vial onto his tongue. “Well done.”
She worked as quickly and efficiently as she could, keeping the line moving while still doing her best to make each person feel seen. Every vaccine she delivered meant another person who wouldn’t become a victim of this epidemic. She loved being a nurse, loved knowing that her work made a real difference in people’s lives. Though she fell into bed exhausted every night, the nine months she’d spent in Nigeria had been the most rewarding of her nursing career.
Antarctica was a close second but for reasons that had nothing to do with nursing and everything to do with a certain sexy operative. She hadn’t heard from Malik since the day he and his team had flown off, but then they had agreed to no strings. Kristi had wanted to ask Samantha for his email address—her fiancé, Thor, worked with Malik—but each time, Kristi had stopped herself.
If Malik wanted to get in touch with you, he would have done it already.
It was then she noticed him—a tall wiry man in a red T-shirt, a green vest, and tattered jeans. He watched her as she worked, his gaze never leaving her. Maybe she was the first person of East Asian descent he’d seen, though Nigeriadidhave a small Chinese minority. Focused on her work, she put him out of her mind until he stood before her.
He was much taller than she was, so she handed him the vaccine and told him what to do, letting him squeeze it into his mouth. He dropped the empty vial into the trash bin. “Are you a doctor?”
“No, I’m a registered nurse.” She twisted off the top of the next dose, expecting him to step aside.
He remained where he was, something in his gaze making her uncomfortable. “You take care of the sick?”
“I care for patients and help the doctors.” She stepped back, glanced over at the entrance toward the security guard. “If you need medical help, you can find that in the next tent. This tent is for vaccines only. Excuse me.”
He raised two fingers to his mouth and gave a sharp whistle that made her jump.
Rat-at-at-at-at! Rat-at-at-at-at!
Gunfire exploded outside the tent, women and children screaming and dropping to the ground. Adrenaline hit Kristi’s bloodstream in a rush. She would have gotten down like the others, but a strong arm encircled her neck, cutting off her breath.
He spoke directly into her ear. “Where are your tools and supplies?”
They were being robbed.
She’d been told not to resist in case of an attack, so she pointed, choking out the words, “Next … tent.”
The bastard shouted something in a language she didn’t know and dragged her toward the door, arm still around her throat.
Was he abducting her?
Oh, hell, no.
Enraged and terrified, Kristi clawed at his arm, tried to bite him, tried to twist away, her pulse pounding in her ears.
“Come with us, or we will kill all these people!”
She fought to answer him. “I … can’t … breathe!”
He loosened his grip but didn’t release her, muffled sobs following them outside.
Bodies. Blood.
The security guards lay dead in the dirt, men whose faces were hidden behind balaclavas and bandanas pointing large rifles at the terrified crowd.
Were they Boko Haram?
No! Shit. Shit. Shit.