Liza. Nadine. Marc.
They are dead.
Kelvin. Hilda. Kelsey. Nasir. Luke.
They are also dead.
The names of her close colleagues at the clinic kept coming back to Thalia's mind.
Liza. Nadine. Marc.
They are dead.
Stop!
The sharp voice in her brain added to the numbness throughout her body. Thalia suddenly became conscious of her surroundings. The water splashing against the hull of the boat. A strong gust of wind that split the big waves. And the overcast sky added to the chill of the weather that morning.
She was sitting on the splintered deck, huddled next to Dean, who'd slung a strong arm around her and urged her to get some sleep.
Sleep? She thinks it's impossible if she can sleep now. Because every time she closed her eyes, she could always picture the huge fire that engulfed their entire clinic. Even though she didn't see the death of her colleagues, she still took pictures of their burning bodies.
It's just death, Thalia. There is nothing new there. You always see dead people.
She almost laughed out loud. Right, it was just death. And that is not new to her. During her residency in Oregon Hospital's emergency room, she'd dealt with death on almost a daily basis.
She should do the same now. This is not the right time to mourn. She had to get rid of the shocking image of her colleagues in her mind. She can't mourn now. If she wants to live.
Swallowing the pain, she stared at the light beginning to gather at the horizon line. Without a word, she watched the sun greet the dawn, wondering how such beauty could follow all the ugliness she'd witnessed tonight.
"It's a beautiful sight," Dean said.
She couldn't stop the tears that spontaneously fell from her eyes. "Yes, so beautiful," she whispered.
His strong arm tightened around her, and she found herself resting her head on his shoulder. She was very tired, but she still couldn't sleep. She couldn't even close her eyes. She turned to the deck of the ship, and she saw the pair of deckhands smoking cigarettes by the railing. Their cigar smoke drifted in Dean's direction, and for the first time in years, she seemed to be intoxicated by its smell.
Stumbling to her feet, she caught the eye of one of the men. "Usted tiene un cigarillo addicional?" she called.
A minute later, the man was lighting a cigarette for her. Dean stood up and joined her at the railing, apparently shocked by the reaction on her face. "I didn't know you smoked," he commented.
"I'm not. Just now." She said.
Dean didn't make a smartass comment about her again, which was damn fortunate for him, because she really doesn't want a meddlesome man. She was very angry at that moment. Terrified and cold.
She just focused on the sea water before she looked at Dean. "Maybe custom officials in El Salvador will arrest me if I can't show them any identification," she said flatly.
"We will not go through their port."
If she asked why it was so much effort, she just moved on to the next issue. "I can't leave the country if I don't have a passport. Everything I own is in the tent behind our clinic."
But it looks like her equipment was also consumed by the fire.
Dammit, you can mourn everything later, Thalia.
"Your passport is useless now," Dean replied. "It's undoubtedly been flagged, meaning if you try to take a flight in any country, airport security will be all over you. Same with credit cards. If you pay for the train or plane ticket with your credit card, they can find you through that. You are officially wanted for them, Doc."
She felt shivers in all her muscles at what he said. "Why? What those soldiers need from me?"
"You know what they want from you - to silence you."
"Is it because I caught them unloading the dead bodies of the villagers in Esmeralda?" She sighed. "But this is nonsense. I can go to the American embassy and ask for help. This conspiracy or whatever it is can't be government-sanctioned. Those men are obviously involved in something shady."
Dean laughed. "And the government can't be shady? Wake up, Thalia. Didn't you think that someone authorized the general to do those cleanup protocols. Someone dispatched all those soldiers."
"Who?"
He shrug. "I have no clue."
She smoked a cigarette again. "I don't understand all this! What am I supposed to do? If I can't go to the embassy, how can I go home?"
"You're not going home. And you don't have to go home," he said in a deadly voice. "Your life is now in danger. You know that what killed the villagers of Esmeralda was the virus that was deliberately released by the American government or the government of San Jose, either both. Chances are, if there is news about this, they will probably blame it on the cholera outbreak or the rebel massacre, just like they did in Catalina."
"Catalina? Wait, is that the village that Victor Ortez burned?"
"That's what they want to show. But it wasn't really the rebels who killed the villagers of Catalina. They died because of the virus, just like what happened today to the villagers of Esmeralda."
"So you're saying they're tiniest among unsuspecting people in a remote village in Esmeralda?"
"That's what the evidence seems to suggest."
She studied Dean's face, noting the hard set of his jaw. The truth is, even though he looks tired but he still doesn't look haggard.
After taking one last drag of cigarette, Thalia threw it into the water and turned to meet Dean's eyes. "I think I need your explanation now. Who are you, Deanver Magallon?"
Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on the rusted steel railing and fixed those deep eyes on the calm waves beyond the boat. "I'm a soldier. Special Forces."
Her eyes widened. "Active duty?"
"I was until my own government decided they preferred me dead."
*****
