had flown from Washington, DC—where she’d been visiting with her sister, Caro—to Japan, where she had to wait for the long-haul military transport helicopter to bring her to Guam. She’d been traveling for twenty-three hours and fifty-three minutes straight.
Shrugging, she settled for a nonchalant. “I was delayed.” What she didn’t say was that she’d come close to being discharged from the PHS for defying orders to board the first transport to Guam. It had taken a call from the surgeon general’s assistant with a plea from the SG himself to get her on board. She was the only PHS officer who spoke Chamorro.
“Well, get changed and meet me back here, we have a lot to do.” Dr. Tucker turned and bent over the newly arrived cardboard boxes, efficiently slicing through the tape. Anna handed her papers to the clerk, a young man with a pockmarked face who looked pained to be there.
Anna scanned the tent while the clerk typed her details into the computer. The tent looked like every other medical command center she’d seen. Every available inch of space was being put to use. Corners were stacked with cardboard supply boxes, the center dominated by U-shaped desks cluttered with laptops and assorted materials. A large fan blew in fresh air from a makeshift window, but the heat was still oppressive. She ran her finger under her collar and twisted her neck, trying to get some air between her sticky skin and the wilted cloth of her once-starched khaki uniform. She scanned the faces in the room but quickly stopped and chided herself. Why would he be here? Nico would be out in the community, helping people defy the odds of survival. If he’s alive. Closing her eyes, Anna took a breath. She’d have to go to the house in Tumon Bay to check on him, find out for sure. From what she’d seen in the air, the roads weren’t passable by car, so she’d have to walk the five miles there. At her typical walking speed, she could do it in an hour and fifteen minutes, but given the condition of the terrain, she figured she’d have to budget at least four hours to get there and back.
“I’ll show you to your tent. That way you can get changed while I process your paperwork,” the clerk said suddenly. Anna turned to see Dr. Tucker motioning to him to hurry things up.
“I need you to get to work.” She bent over the boxes again before Anna could ask when she might be able to go check on Nico.
Anna followed the fast-walking clerk out of the tent and down a narrow pathway. No matter where she went, the sounds of the aftermath of a disaster were always the same. Moans of people in pain, shuffling of fast-paced boots, generators and battery-powered machines rumbling to life, the smell of wet earth and the incessant buzzing of insects.
Nico has to be okay. I’d know if he wasn’t. Wouldn’t I?
The clerk led her to the tiny tent that would be her living quarters. She groaned inwardly at the paper sign in the plastic sleeve on the door-flap indicating she would be sharing the tent with Linda Tucker. So she wasn’t going to get a reprieve on this deployment.
She changed quickly and found Admiral Tucker waiting for her outside the tent. She motioned for Anna to follow. “We don’t have enough wound care supplies or topical and IV antibiotics, so we need to ration them. I understand this isn’t your first deployment?”
“No, ma’am, I’ve been through twenty deployments in five years. My last one was in Brazil for the Zika virus after I returned from Liberia, where I was dealing with the Ebola outbreak.”
The rear admiral’s eyes widened with respect. “Good, then I don’t have to orient you. Feel free to call me Linda.” She continued her brisk pace, weaving through the narrow gaps between tents, dodging pieces of machinery and carts carrying supply boxes from one tent to another.
“The locals are just now mobilizing, so we get about ten new patients an hour. Tent space is at a premium. Anyone who doesn’t need to be monitored gets sent to the high school, mall or the hospital, where they’ve set up shelters.”
Anna’s throat closed. “Is the hospital operational?” she choked out. The last time she’d been at the Guam General Hospital, she’d lost everything she ever loved. She hadn’t used her pediatrics training since then, staying as far away from children as she could.
Linda shook her head. “Not as a medical facility, but the building is still standing so they’re using the space to house people.” Linda slowed and turned to make sure Anna had heard her.
“A local stopped by a few hours ago to say someone’s managed to set up a field hospital in one of the newer buildings. A local physician is helping them, but they have over a hundred people there. If we get through our current patients, I’d like you to go. They can’t get those patients to this side of the island.”
Anna nodded. It would give her a chance to go to Nico’s house, her old house, and make sure he was okay. “Did they tell you where on the island?”
“Talofofo. It’s on the Pacific side, so I’m not sure how well it fared.”
A brick fell through Anna’s stomach. Talofofo. That’s where Nico had bought land. Right after they’d buried Lucas, the piece of herself that would forever be in Guam. Nico had tried to convince her it was the way to heal, a desperate attempt to get her to stay. What happened to his plans? Had they washed away like the rest of their life together?
“Dr. Tucker, I have a request.” Before she could continue, Linda stopped abruptly and Anna almost bumped into her. One of the patients had come out of a tent screaming at her.
“I’m going to die!” A man scarcely over five feet tall stood in front of Linda, his chest puffed out.
“Sir!” Linda’s voice was firm and laced with annoyance. “I’ve told you already—you’re not getting pain medication, so stop the racket.”
Linda turned to her. “He’s yours. Sixty-some-year-old male, leg laceration, five stitches, prior undiagnosed first-degree heart block. He’s been having arrhythmias, which is why he’s still here. Not even close to the worst of the wounded.”
Anna took in the broad, wrinkled forehead, the firm purse of the man’s lips, the gray in his hair and the slight stoop to his back. He was an elder, a man used to getting what he wanted. She stepped up to him and bowed slightly, making her frame smaller so she wouldn’t tower over him, then spoke softly in Chamorro. “We don’t have supplies, the hospital is damaged, we’re saving the pills for people who are badly hurt.”
The patient nodded, thanked her, then went back to the tent.
Linda shook her head. “He speaks English. I heard him talking to the others. These people!”
Anna bristled. “He needed to know that you weren’t making a judgment call in denying him pills. People here understand shortages and rationing...” She muttered under her breath, “They understand it all too well.”
Linda pressed her lips together tightly, and Anna reminded herself that the woman was a superior officer. While Anna wasn’t interested in climbing the career ladder, she had to work and live with Linda for the foreseeable future, and she still had to ask her for a favor.
“He should be grateful we’re here to help him,” Linda said irritably. “But I’m glad you speak Chamorro. Follow me—I think I’ll put you in this tent.”
Anna opened her mouth, then shut it. Linda had already resumed her purposeful walk. Most of the doctors she worked with didn’t appreciate the local cultures. They were adrenaline junkies who went into deployment to feed their hero complexes
