Free Ebola K: A Terrorism Thriller: Book 3 by Bobby Adair Page A

immortals.  Najid Almasi was such a man.  The Great Satan’s inability with its formidable military might and technology had been able only to wound, not even maim him.  All they’d given him were scars.  All warriors were scarred by their battles.
    Najid pulled himself up on his crutches and felt a dizzy rush in his head.  He willed himself to keep his balance.  The crutches were a necessity, but he would show no other weakness in front of Hadi.  Najid started across the room.  “Fetch your computer and meet me on the veranda.”

Chapter 14
    They sat on the roof of the hospital in Mbale.  Not the best place to get a view of anything, but it was one of the few places doctors could go on the hospital grounds for a respite from responsibility.  Dr. Littlefield said it reminded him of sitting on the porch at the old hospital in Kapchorwa.  Dr. Mills didn’t have an opinion on it, but Mitch had scrounged some bottled beer, and that was good enough for her.  Austin figured he couldn’t go wrong with a beer or two even if it were warm.
    “I won’t draw the samples from the patients until just before you’re ready to leave,” Dr. Littlefield told Austin.  “With no refrigeration, we’ll have to hope the plane they send has a little fridge or something.”
    Dr. Mills said, “Maybe they’ll send a container for it.  It is biohazardous material.”
    Dr. Littlefield laughed.  “There’s so much in the environment, does it matter anymore?”
    “It always matters,” she told him.
    Mitch stopped the discussion with, “Don’t you two start again.  You know how things are.  If we can get the samples to the CDC and the samples help, who cares about protocol?”
    “The protocols exist for a reason.” Dr. Mills took a big drink of beer and relaxed into her folding chair.  She wasn’t going to argue the point anymore.  “This is a going away party for Austin.” She smiled.
    Austin took a drink.  “Thank you, but I haven’t decided if I’m going home or not.”
    “You’re getting on that plane,” said Mitch.  “Your sister told us so.”
    Austin shrugged.  “I’m still thinking about it.”
    “Why?” Mitch looked frustrated.  “Haven’t you been through enough?”
    “Good point,” Dr. Littlefield agreed.  “You should go home and write a book about it.” He laughed.  “It might sell.”
    Dr. Mills leaned forward and looked at Austin.  “ Why wouldn’t you go?”
    Austin took a moment, putting his thoughts into words.  “Plenty of people here still need help.”
    “Plenty of people in the States need help, and plenty more are going to,” said Mitch.  “Things there are bad, but not as bad as they’re going to be if the cities I’ve seen are the rule.”
    Dr. Mills looked at Mitch.  “Let’s hope not.”
    “Hope.” Dr. Littlefield raised his beer. 
    The others joined the toast. 
    “Seriously,” said Dr. Mills to Austin.  “Why not get on that plane and go home?”
    “I should.” Austin rolled his beer between his palms.  “I’m not sure.  I guess I’d feel like I was running away from all the problems here.  I think that’s it, honestly.”
    “Don’t be stupid.” Dr. Mills stood up, put a hand on Austin’s cheek and said, “You’re young and still idealistic.  After everything.  That’s special.  Go home, make a difference there.  You’ve done enough in Africa.”
    “Somebody’s drunk,” said Dr. Littlefield.
    “You wish.” She turned to head for the ladder.  “I need to take care of a little personal business.”
    “Are you coming back?” asked Mitch.
    “Is there more beer?” She looked back at Mitch like she was interested in more than drinking.
    Mitch reached down and lifted a pair of unopened bottles.
    “See you guys in a few minutes.” She walked away.
    Dr. Littlefield leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees.  He locked Austin in a serious stare.  “Let’s be honest, when you were in Kapchorwa teaching those