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Full Story: Hearts of Darkness (w. ShadowOfDesire)

The morning arrived and Miranda was already up and packed when Lee came knocking on her door. She let him in, blessing him for bringing coffee, which she'd desperately needed at that ungodly hour. As they had to reach the airport base before dawn, they'd both gotten up two hours earlier to give themselves enough time. Thankfully, traffic would be nearly non-existent at that time of the day, so they wouldn't have to worry about snarls on the highway. The power been on for the better part of the day, for which she was also thankful. Though she could have packed in the dark, she really hadn't wanted to.

In the end, she was extremely frugal about what she brought. There was fine line between providing enough aid and taking along too much to make one a target. Even if they were stopped by bandits, or had to pay a 'toll' to travel on some road, the thieves wouldn't get rich off of what they'd stolen. There wasn't much that one could do for Yellow Fever other than treat the symptoms, which usually included dehydration. They had plenty of IV fluids with them, vaccinations for the healthy so they might not get sick, and other basic supplies that they might need for other non-illness related cases.

When they arrived at the base, their credentials were checked and verified. They were waved through and directed to the staging area. Lee parked the vehicle and Miranda hopped out to grab their gear.

Lee Jensen was a tall African-American man with short black hair and a lean build. He didn't look terribly different from the native Nigerians, in fact, which had proven to be an asset when treating them. Both he and Miranda were dressed in civilian clothing (over body armor) that was suitable for the heat of the African sun when it would eventually rise to pound them with a hundred something degrees of misery. They each had a duffel thrown over their shoulders, but most of their supplies were housed in the two plastic crates that they unloaded between them and carried to the waiting vehicles, both marked with the MSF logo.

Miranda also pulled a small insulated container from the SUV while everything else was being loaded. She kept hold of that particular box, tucking it under her arm as she leaned on the car and nursed her coffee. She'd had a few hours of sleep, but had run herself ragged at the clinic the previous day, trying to finish everything she needed to complete before her trip. Those long nights were catching up to her.

As everyone made ready, she watched with great interest, taking mental notes of how the various soldiers interacted with one another. Her gaze finally slid to Jack when she spotted him, though his presence did elicit a slight twinge of guilt. "We're all ready to go," she reported.
 
After an early breakfast Jack went by the intel shop for a last minute update; nothing had come in overnight about Akanni or the route, so the mission was still on. Danny also added that they’d gotten the first report back from the team following up on the Doc’s info, which seemed solid and might even end up being actionable; that made Jack feel better and got him thinking about possible courses of action as he went to grab his kit and head out to the trucks.

Out in the motorpool Jack could see that the MAGs had already been mounted on both the Cobras they’d be using that day; a couple of his Privates waddled past carrying heavy cases of machinegun ammo and Jack said good morning as he sipped some of his coffee. Mikhail was over by truck two, waving a wrench around as he argued with the Maintenance Chief. The other driver, a muscular South African named Ian was checking the tires on truck one; Ian was also going to be their Medic for the day.

As Jack started towards the trucks a tall, lean Nigerian Captain walked up to him and saluted; the young officer was wearing crisply pressed battle dress and his kit looked brand new. “Okay, here we go” thought Jack.

“Major Grainger, Captain Kayin Olayinka reporting for duty Sir.”

Jack returned the salute. “Welcome to the team Captain. Sorry we couldn’t give you more time to get settled in, but the OC wanted to get you out into it right away. Nothing complicated, just a Civil Affairs mission to a village about 50 klicks west. You’ll be in charge of truck one and your driver can brief you before we head out.” As Jack pointed towards Ian he reflected on how Olayinka wouldn’t really be in charge of anything, at least today; the South African Medic was actually in charge of truck one and if Jack went down, Mikhail would take command. But there was no need to rub that in the guy’s nose. On the other hand … “Oh and Captain, remember no saluting when we’re in the bush. Makes it too easy for snipers, right?”

Jack dropped his kit over by his Cobra then went to see Miranda and Doctor Jensen; his first question to Doc Blake was to ask where her body armor was. When she answered that she was wearing it, Jack just half stepped around her and lightly wrapped his knuckles in between her shoulder blades; satisfied, Jack stepped back. “Okay, your own stuff will probably be a lot more comfortable. Do you have helmets? If not, you can wear one of those, just like the rest of us.” Jack gestured towards three sets of body armor that sat on a nearby wooden table. Then he called Ian over.

“So this is Ian. Besides driving truck one he’s also our Doc.” Jack paused, before seeming to go off on a bit of a tangent. “Jeez, three Docs today, that could get kind of confusing. Maybe we should give you guys call signs or something?” Jack could see Ian suppressing a grin out of the corner of his eye. “Anyway don’t worry, Ian isn’t here to get in your way; we always take a Medic with us when we head out of town, in case something goes bang or boom.” After Ian got Miranda’s blood type and asked her about meds and any pre-existing conditions that might affect trauma care, he escorted Lee over to truck one while Jack ushered Doc Blake over to his vehicle. “You two are going to ride separately, so we don’t lose you both if something really bad happens. Your outfit would never let us hear the end of it.”

Just then Aldo came riding up on an old motorcycle. The young stringer was wearing a military style helmet with a dark blue cover that said “PRESS” in faded white lettering; with his hair sticking out from under his headgear the kid looked like a goofball, but Jack was pleased to see he hadn’t been bullshitting about having armor either. Aldo unstrapped his vest and camera bag from the back of the bike then came rushing over to Jack, apologizing for being late; it was something about his girlfriend wanting to properly see him off and Jack just shushed him so he could brief the two civilians on how the trip would work.

“Alright, alright, you made it before we left, that’s all that matters. You’ll be riding in this Cobra with me and the Doc. You guys may have heard all this before, but you’ll hear it again anyway. We might roll if the truck is hit, or Mikhail drives the way he usually does …”

“Fuck you Jek” the Russian helpfully added from somewhere under the MRAP.

“… which is why you have to wear the harnesses. If we do roll you’ll end up on your back, on the ceiling or maybe hanging upside down. On your back isn’t a big deal, just unbuckle and help other people do the same. But the other two ways your own body is going to lock up the buckle, so you’ll have to try to take some weight off it with one of your arms or maybe your legs. Or just hang there and wait for someone to help you, unless you happen to have a seatbelt cutter on you.” Jack waited for Aldo to stop fidgeting around before he continued.

“Most important thing is this. The one and only reason for you to get out of the truck on your own is that the rest of us are all dead and the truck is on fire. In that case feel free to hop out and either try to get to the other Cobra or hide until they get to you, whichever seems safest.” Jack then showed them both how to use the combat lock on the rear hatch and also watched while they each operated it once for him. “Alright, if you don’t have any questions get the last of your stuff loaded and find a seat.”

Just before they left Jack climbed into the back to see if his passengers had put their harnesses on properly; as he checked on Miranda Jack grinned at her. “Sorry there’s no inflight entertainment Doc. It’s gonna depend on the traffic and road conditions, but we should get there in an hour or so, give or take. When we do let us check things out first okay, then I’ll come back and get you so you can do your stuff; that should only take us a few minutes. In the mean time try to rest if you can; you look beat already and the day’s just starting.”

With everything finally ready Jack climbed into the cab of his truck and called over to Ian, telling him to move out. Mikhail put their truck into gear and followed truck one as it rumbled around the base and then out onto Airport Road. As they cleared the main gate Jack could see the sun starting to peek over the shanty town just south of the airport; it looked like a big red crescent of fire rising above the tin roofs and smoke of breakfast fires. Glancing out of the truck that way Jack also noticed Mikhail fasten his helmet strap and then cross himself, just like he did at the start of every mission. The thought of giving the Russian vet a hard time about that didn’t cross Jack’s mind, even for a second.
 
"We have helmets," Miranda assured Jack. He certainly was thorough. Though she'd heard the spiel before, she listened quietly for any additional information that he might be passing out. While she wasn't sure what experience Lee had in these circumstances, she knew from her own personal experience that Jack wasn't exaggerating. They were in a war zone, and it was more than a little dangerous outside of the city. Hell, it was dangerous inside of the city.

She loaded up with the rest in the Cobra that he'd indicated and strapped in, tightening the five-point harness around her slender form until it held her snugly in her seat. Not only would it keep her from bouncing around in case they rolled, but it'd keep her in her seat along the way so she could doze. Which she fully intended to do despite the rough and bumpy road.

Her long hair was braided and hung down her back in one long plait so that her helmet fit snugly without interference. Both the helmet and her armor were custom made to her body type. She'd felt Jack's testing thump, but only the vibration and not with any pain. The armor was rated for several types of high-powered firearms as well as stabbing instruments and edged blades, but she devoutly hoped she'd never have to test out its full capabilities.

When they were finally on the move, Miranda had plenty of time to think about the trip ahead. Jack was full of jokes, it seemed, but he was an efficient team leader. She couldn't fault him there. She threw a glance toward the cab of the vehicle where he'd strapped in next to the driver. So long as he does his job and keeps us safe, he can make all the jokes he wants to, she decided.

Her thoughts turned to all they'd need to do when they reached the first village, going through her mental checklist several times over before she realized she was obsession and forced herself to switch off that part of her brain. Feeling as tired as Jack insisted she looked (the cheeky bastard), Miranda finally tipped her head back until her helmet hit the head rest. After suppressing a yawn, she closed her eyes and dozed off for a bit.
 
The traffic had already started to pick up when the little convoy hit the main highway; headed out of town it was mainly lorry drivers trying to get an early start on their runs to Damaturu or points further west. Once they’d gotten clear of Maiduguri the inbound traffic dropped off for awhile though and they were able to start passing overloaded trucks to make up some time; the two Cobras were passed in turn by guntrucks from the 7th ID, headed out on morning route clearance patrol along the highway. “Better them than us” thought Jack as the sun followed the convoy westward and started lighting up the rest of Borno State.

About fifty minutes later Ian turned off the highway onto an unmarked road that led south toward their objective; at that point the ride got a bit bumpier and the shoulders narrowed as the surrounding terrain crowded in. After another five minutes they passed the spot where the attack had happened four months ago; a burned out 7th ID MRAP sat on the side of the road, scavenged and abandoned. As they rumbled past the wreck Jack turned back to make sure his gunner and Sergeant were doing their jobs and almost bumped into Aldo, who had unstrapped himself to lean forward and ask if they could stop, so the stringer could get some pictures; Jack just told the kid to get back into his seat. While looking back Jack also glanced at the Doc, who seemed to be asleep; with her face more or less at peace and a helmet on, he thought she actually looked kind of cute for once.

A short while later they turned onto the dirt path leading to Akanni and Ian soon called back to truck two, “Eyes sharp on the water bearer, left side of the trail.” Mikhail automatically swung their Cobra over towards the right shoulder and Jack was about to turn and alert the guys in the back when he saw the water bearer come into view ahead; “Fucking Ian” he thought with a laugh.

As the two trucks moved slowly along the dirt road towards the center of Akanni it proved to be a typical Borno State village; reed huts on the outskirts, tin shanties closer in and a few cinderblock buildings near the center. There were some young kids playing around here and there, and several older women with babies curiously watched the MRAPs trundle past; it all looked perfectly normal to Jack, which was a decidedly good thing.

The two trucks stopped in what had looked more or less like the village square on Google Earth and Jack unstrapped himself, pulled off his headset and turned towards the troop compartment; his Sergeant was already opening the back hatch and Aldo was fumbling with his straps. “Back in a minute Doc, Aldo you can jump out now with the Sergeant if you want.” Jack then dismounted, leaving Mikhail and their gunner in the still running MRAP.

A man who looked like he was in his fifties came out of one of the nearby buildings and walked up to Jack; he was small and lean, with close cropped graying hair and stubble, two missing teeth and bright eyes. “As-salam alaykum Colonel,” the older man said in passable English as he extended a bony hand “I am Sarki Jelani, leader of this village. Have you brought the Doctors?”

“Alaykum salam Emir” Jack replied; since the Sarki had decided to give Jack a promotion, he figured he might as well reciprocate. “We have indeed” Jack added as he shook the village leader’s hand, while thinking to himself “Aldo better have gotten a shot of that.” Out loud Jack continued “Is everything ready for them to start their work?”

“Yes, yes, it is all almost ready. I thought it wise not to announce their visit until they had arrived. But now we shall clear out one of the classrooms and I will send boys to gather the people from the fields. All shall be ready in a few minutes.” Jack knew enough to realize that “a few minutes” really meant “an hour or so, maybe” but he couldn’t fault the Sarki’s thinking; keeping the visit under wraps had been a smart move all things considered, and they still had plenty of daylight to burn. “Excellent Emir, shukraan. I will get the Doctors while you send the boys to the fields.”

Jack looked around the square one last time before he gave Ian a thumbs up and then climbed into the back of his Cobra. “Okay Doc, it looks fine. They’re sending kids to gather folks in from the fields and clearing out a classroom for you; the headman decided to wait until you got here before spreading the word, which is fine by me. Why don’t you grab your stuff and I’ll have a couple of the guys lug your crates in. Have fun.”

---Pictures---

Site of the attack four months ago.

The water bearer.

Some of the village women watch the convoy arrive.

The village center.

Some of the schoolkids emptying a classroom for the Doctors.
 
Miranda had woken as they turned off the main road, groaning and stretching as far as the harness would allow. She spent the few minutes to the village rubbing the sleep from her eyes and working at the crick in her neck that resulted from sleeping upright. As soon as they arrived, she shed her outer shirt, body armor, and helmet. Beneath the layers, she was extremely sweaty from sitting in the hot truck for an hour, but she'd worn a black t-shirt underneath to minimize the obvious stains. While waiting for Jack to give the all clear, she wrapped a headscarf around her hair, partly out of respect for the Islamic tradition and partly because it kept her hair out of her face. She was standing, bag over her shoulder and crate in her arms, when he finally returned to set her free. With a nod at his offer, she stepped out of the armored vehicle and into the village square. Lee emerged from the other MRAP shortly after, took the smaller crate she'd been carrying, and immediately headed for the classroom that was being converted for their use.

Miranda waded into the crowd of villagers that were beginning to arrive and singled out one of the older aunties. "Fever?" She frowned as the woman nodded. "Would you should me where?"

Several of the women set off with Miranda in tow, leading her to one of the nearby huts where they'd wisely quarantined those that had fallen ill. The room was dark and heavy with sickness and lingering odors of piss, vomit, and shit that seemed to cover the patients like a suffocating blanket. A dozen or so victims lay on thin pallets, each in various stages of distress and pain. Some looked beyond saving, already too weak to fight the fever that ravaged their bodies, likely the first to contract the disease. Even so, Miranda was determined to give them the best chance she cold.

After flinging open the windows to let in the light and circulate fresh air (primarily to disperse the pungent smell), she went to work, administering IV fluids to those with gastrointestinal distress and an oral electrolyte solution to those that were less likely to vomit it up. She left one of the women in charge with orders to bully the sick to drink as much as they could while the battled the disease, though made them each promise to visit the school room for a vaccination.

When Miranda finally joined Lee in the classroom a short time later, he'd already administered vaccinations to a couple dozen villagers. She swapped out her gloves before joining him and the two fell into a familiar routine. Each patient was checked for other ailments than fever. If treatment was available, it would be noted and given. If not, then they would only administer the vaccine. Any that showed signs of fever were given the vaccine and taken to be put in quarantine. The vaccination wouldn't work on an active infection, but the doctors had no equipment and no time to conduct the necessary blood tests that would tell them for certain which villager had already been infected. As they had serum to spare and didn't have to be stingy, they took a 'better safe than sorry' approach.

When the line of patients had dwindled, Miranda left the rest to Lee and struck out to find Jack. "Major -- I need your help with those." She pointed at one of the crates that his men had helped to unload. "The top one is full of mosquito netting. Can a couple of your men oversee their distribution? I don't want to see anyone get trampled trying to snatch one for themselves." Nigerians fought for food and survival. Americans fought over limited supplies of televisions during Walmart's Black Friday sell. Two different worlds, but the outcomes were often the same -- someone was bound to get hurt.
 
As Jack shadowed the Doc over to the fever hut he couldn’t help but notice the black t-shirt plastered to Miranda’s torso; he was a hetero guy after all and as far as Jack was concerned, Doc Frosty appeared to have a very nice figure. But what impressed Jack even more was the expression on Miranda’s face; he’d seen it before, on guys getting ready to kick in a door or climb into the ring. The time for worrying was over and the Doc was ready for a fight, ready to make shit happen; her versus whatever frigging disease was killing people in this village. That made Jack smile.

After Miranda moved over to the classroom to help with the vaccinations,Jack swapped out with Ian so he could chat with his new Captain for a bit. As the two wandered around the village center a bunch of the older local kids started following them; clearly the Doctors’ arrival had caused all of school to be suspended for the day. Through Olayinka, Jack asked the kids if they were brave warriors, ready to protect their village; of course this produced a chorus of affirmative answers. Then Jack asked to see the kids’ war faces, which made Olayinka laugh and caused the kids no end of confusion; most of them looked at Jack blankly, though one young boy motioned to Jack with his fingers as if to say “bring it,” while another dropped into a clenched fist pose that could have come straight out of an “Avengers” movie; clearly Hollywood had somehow made it to Akanni. It was Jack’s turn to laugh as he pulled a big bag of candy out of one of his trouser's cargo pockets. The two star posers each got two pieces, as did the bigger boys; after he’d shooed those kids away Jack gave the girls and the smaller boys three pieces each, and hoped they’d be smart enough to hide one when the older boys came to steal it from them.

Later, when Miranda popped out of the classroom to ask for help distributing some mosquito netting, Jack called over to Olayinka and told him to get the Sergeant on it. Then, as Jack turned back to Miranda to tell her she didn’t have to call him “Major,” a lean, tall local man walked right up to the two Americans; he looked like he was in his twenties and seemed to be almost vibrating with a sort of nervous energy. Jack immediately checked the guy’s hands and saw they were empty, but also noted some sort of weird rash covering most of the dude’s right forearm. Quickly eyeballing the rest of the guy Jack saw that he was wearing flip flops, loose faded trousers and a well worn Miami Dolphins t-shirt; Jack didn’t think the man had anything under his thin shirt, but what might have been tucked into his waistband was still up in the air. Looking at the guy’s face, Jack could see his clear, bright eyes were boring straight into Miranda.

“So” the newcomer said to the Doc, his level voice positively dripping with contempt “the great Doctors Without Borders is now hiring mercenaries, to help you prop up the murderers in Abuja …”

---Picture---

The brave young defenders of Akanni.
 
Miranda casually removed her gloves and then wiped a line of sweat from her brow with the back of her arm as the man approached. A quick glance at Jack told her all she needed to know about the newcomer -- he wasn't a threat... yet. Jack seemed tense, ready to pounce. Like a sleek, sexy, salt and pepper panther, she thought with amusement. It was short lived, however, as her attention shifted back to the local. He didn't seem to have a high opinion of doctors.

"Look, I don't know what's going on in Abjua, but we're not the least bit affiliated with anything there. I've been working in Maiduguri for the past couple of months. Besides that, MSF doesn't hire mercenaries or contract with the military." She hiked a thumb at Jack and his crew and cracked a rare smile, hoping to lighten the man's mood. "You think I'm paying these meatheads? They volunteered to come along just to make sure we don't get lost and eaten by the wildlife. We're here to help."

"You're from around here, yes? Then you'll know how sick some of these people are and how many more are going to get sick if we don't help. We're doctors... healers. We want people to get better and to stop the spread of disease." She pointed to his rash-covered arm. "Did you come for help with that? I can probably give you something for it if you let me examine you. We have vaccines, too, so that you don't get the fever. Will you let me help you?"

In her career, Miranda had come across many people that distrusted doctors, and many of them had valid reasons to feel the way they did. She tried to change their minds, to aid them when she could. Some were receptive. Others were too stubborn to let go of their prejudices. She couldn't force anyone to adhere to her treatments, but she at least had to try. She hoped the young Nigerian man was one of the former as she really didn't want to see him get gunned down in front of his entire village.
 
Jack considered his options while the Doc coolly responded to Mister Friendly. If the guy went for Miranda or his waistband it was going to have to be hand-to-hand at this point; he was just too close. That didn’t really bother Jack, except for the fact that’d leave the Doc on her own; he was pretty sure she’d be smart enough to get down or run, but you never knew. Then Jack saw Mikhail slide into his peripheral vision, standing behind a log pile with his rifle at the low ready; the Russian’s eyes were locked on Friendly. That opened up another option for Jack if the shit really hit the fan; knock the Doc down and roll on top of her, while Mikhail shot the guy to the ground.

Then Jack heard Ian’s voice through his earpiece: “Jack, the locals say your man is not a threat. Say again, supposedly not a threat. Olayinka asked one; the guy is the headman’s son, name’s Nweke. He’s a real hothead, but has lived here all his life. Copy?” Jack suspected the South African was somewhere behind him and the Doc, watching their backs, so Jack just nodded a couple of times to let the Medic know he’d gotten the message.

Before Nweke could respond to the Doc, Jack half turned his head towards her while he kept his eyes on the headman’s son. “You know Doctor, I believe this is the Sarki’s son Nweke. I’ve been told he can be quite passionate about the village he’s lived in all his life.” Jack hoped the intel might help the Doc decide how to talk to this dude. As Jack spoke to Miranda, Nweke’s eyes briefly flicked towards the bearded American and Jack thought he could detect just a hint of surprise, or maybe worry, in the local’s eyes. But then Nweke looked back at Miranda and laid into her verbally: “Help, oh yes, you are here to help. Help take my country’s oil for yours. Help the murderers in Abuja get rich, by coming to distribute your medicine once a year, so they don’t have to build a clinic here. Help you feel better about yourself, and whatever empty, decadent life you left behind in America.”

Spittle was flying out of Nweke’s mouth by the time he said “America” and he was breathing hard too; the headman’s son paused for a second to take a breath. Then after a moment’s thought Nweke just threw up his hands and shouted “BAH, what would a Western woman know of my people and our needs!” before he turned and stomped off. As the headman’s son departed Aldo came running up to Jack, camera in hand. “Grazie Jack, grazie. That was intenso, intense!”

Jack ignored the crazy stringer as he scurried off; instead, as his blood pressure settled, Jack turned towards Miranda, looked down at her, and asked “Meatheads?”
 
"Rude," Miranda muttered as the man left, though she immediately began to rifle through her bag.

Glancing sideways at Jack, the expression on his face made her chuckle -- probably the most genuine and freeing expression he'd seen from her since he'd first entered her office, however brief it seemed to be. "Oh, you caught that, did you? Just trying to diffuse the situation. Most hostiles hate the men with guns more than the doctors with needles. Seems that man was one of the exceptions. Do you know what he was talking about -- murders in Abuja? If there's news there, I haven't heard it, and I don't see how the MSF could actually be involved. They don't have the money to build clinics in every village, but that's not because they don't want to -- there simply isn't enough funding or resources for something of that magnitude."

She sighed. "I need to speak with his father, regardless. Can you ask the voices in your head where I might find him?"

Across the way, Jensen emerged from the classroom and take a seat on one of the crates. The village children immediately clustered around him to pepper him with questions now that he was free. Laughing at some of their notions, he corrected their assumptions and offered them his own truth, talking of his time with the MSF and living in America. Obviously a patient man, it was clear he enjoyed their company, even if they were only searching for another bit of candy from the foreigners. In time, he produced a bag of Dum Dums and made sure each child got one for being so brave when they'd gotten their shots.

Miranda watched for a minute, her expression wistful and unguarded, but the momentary lapse was fleeting and her intense expression returned. There was something in her severe, professional manner that didn't invite in friendly conversation or the open curiosity of children. "Jensen, you all done?" Lee gave her a thumbs up and then resumed his discussion with the village children.

"Nothing left to do here," she reported to Jack. "After I talk to their leader, we can pack up and go."
 
Jack had figured Miranda’s comment was part of her effort to defuse the situation with Mister Friendly – but that didn’t mean he was going to let her off the hook for it so easily, even if he did like how she looked when she laughed. “I dunno Doc,” he mused out loud “editorializing to the locals about us wasn’t exactly part of the deal. I think you’re gonna owe me one for that ‘meatheads’ comment;” Jack’s tone was light and he grinned at Miranda, in hopes of letting her know he wasn’t really angry and was (mostly) just kidding.

“And the whole Abuja thing? A lot of the folks up this way blame the south and the Federal government for everything wrong here; the powers that be are all crooks, murderers, whatever else, to blame them for not fixing all of Borno State’s problems. Can’t say I completely disagree, though the Sarki’s kid does seem to really have it in for the government. Anyway sure, I’ll see if I can find Jelani if you’re done.”

As word spread that the Doctors were getting ready to leave many of the villagers came drifting back towards the MRAPs. The kids were playing around, probably hoping to get a little more candy and some of the older women began softly singing in the background, as a way to thank the Doctors and wish them a safe journey home; various other people who’d been vaccinated or treated throughout the long day took a moment to personally thank Miranda and Lee once again for their help. Then Sarki Jelani appeared, followed by the village elders. The women singing quieted as the headman delivered a very sincere speech of thanks to the two Doctors, which Jelani emphasized was on behalf of all his people; the Sarki’s closing words were “And so Doctor Miranda and Doctor Lee, please accept this gift from me and my people, for everything you have done for all of us today.” As the Sarki finished his speech the elders behind him parted and a smiling older woman came forward bearing the village’s gift, which she presented to Miranda.

Captain Olayinka was standing behind Miranda and Lee as the woman came forward, and the Nigerian officer quietly said “This is a very great honor Doctor Miranda; the Sarki is also trying to apologize for his son’s behavior, which has shamed him and his village.”

Mikhail was standing next to Jack and the Russian vet just began muttering “No way, no way …”

---Pictures---

The older local woman, bearing Akanni's gift to Miranda and Lee.
 
"I'm sure you've called us NGO-types worse," she retorted to Jack. "I'm sure you've called me worse." She didn't seem bothered by it, however. People could think what they like, so long as they didn't interfere with her medical practice.

She packed up her things, doing her best to placate the well-wishing villagers, and trying not to be annoyed by the interruptions. It was natural for people to feel gratitude toward those helping to save their lives, but Miranda had always been uncomfortable with those that gushed over her and her efforts. Every doctor found it hard to talk to the family of a patient that they couldn't save, but Miranda found it even harder to talk to the family of the patient she had saved. They always wanted to hug her and cry on her shoulder. She preferred people who kept their emotions in check or whose gratitude was a bit less enthusiastic.

At Olayinka's explanation, she bit back a sigh. Her first instinct was to refuse the goat as it was completely impractical for her clinic and their journey. However, as it could be sold in the city and the money used toward helping others, she did not wave it away. She didn't want to insult the people she'd just helped, even if the gesture did make her uncomfortable.

"I am honored," she said to the chief with a stiff bow. "I gladly accept on behalf of my clinic." She took the goat from the woman and immediately passed it to Lee who was standing by, holding in his laughter at the unorthodox gift. She shot him a warning look, and he did his best to smooth away the amusement. He offered the village woman a slight bow and then carried the animal back to his Cobra to be packed up with the gear.

Miranda stepped forward to close the distance between her and Sarki. She had a small tube of cream in her hand, which she offered to the chief. "Please, give this to your son for his arm. If he uses it once a day, it will help. I do not blame him for his opinions. He is not wrong in some ways. There is much that I wish we could do to help, both here and all across your country, but we are small and limited. I wish you and your village well, and hope the sickness that inflicts your people will dissipate quickly."

She left them then, offering a slight wave to the villagers out of pressured obligation, and then moved to check on their supplies. After ensuring everything was loaded, she climbed into her designated MRAP and pulled the scarf from her hair. Like her t-shirt, her hair was soaked with sweat and plastered to her head. She used the wrap to dab at the sweat on her neck as she rested her head back against the seat. The air conditioning in her hotel room was a distant dream. It was the only place in the entire country that she'd found herself moderately comfortable, and she still had hours yet before she'd get back there. Still, suffering through a bit of discomfort to help stop a deadly virus was well worth it.

After a moment, she began to pull on her armor and helmet, though both felt heavier now. She strapped in and sagged in her seat, feeling drained. Wisely, her personal store of water was close at hand in her bag, which provided some relief.
 
As Lee carried the goat back to truck one Mikhail turned to Ian and said “Today you are not so lucky my friend;” the South African Medic’s reply was a simple and heartfelt “Bloody hell …” But then the two drivers noticed that Jensen was actually loading the goat into truck two; they never did find out if that was because Lee was simply tired, or confused by the throng of villagers surrounding the MRAPs, or if he’d purposely deposited the beast into Miranda’s truck as a little prank. But Ian did turn to Mikhail with a smile as he remarked “Looks like my luck’s just taken a turn for the better …”

And as Miranda headed back to truck two, Jack couldn’t resist teasing her a little. “Hey Doc congrats, it looks like you’re a Mom now. Was it a boy or a girl?” But later, when Jack climbed into the back of the Cobra to make sure the Doc and Aldo were ready to go, he thought Miranda looked exhausted so eased off her as he checked her harness; “You did great today Doc, you helped a lot of people.” Then he turned to Aldo and added “And you, stay in your seat on the way back.”

---

As the little convoy pulled out of Akanni, Jack decided truck two should lead the way; the other Cobra had led on the way in, so switching around was only fair. As they were headed back north towards the main highway Mikhail and Jack were having a philosophical discussion:

“Why do you play with that thing? It is a toy for children.”

Jack twirled his fidget spinner around a few times before replying; “Why do you drink vodka that tastes like paint thinner?” Before the Russian could answer they both heard a rather distinctive “tink, tink, tink” over the sound of the engine.

By the second impact Mikhail had floored the Cobra; by the third the gunner up top had opened fire with his MAG. Even though the machinegun was outside the MRAP, its muzzle blast echoed off the gunner’s armored shield and the ears of anyone inside not wearing hearing pro started ringing; spent cartridges started tumbling down into the troop compartment like brass rain.

In the back the Sergeant dropped his phone, grabbed his rifle and shoved it out a firing port; as he also started firing into the bush, more spent brass began flying across the troop compartment. Aldo started awake, grabbed his camera and began trying to take pictures of everyone and everything all at once.

Up front Jack’s eyes flicked from the road, to the shoulders, to the surrounding terrain, looking for anything that might kill them, stop them or roll them, more or less in that order. But he knew enough not to distract Mikhail with useless suggestions, since the Russian vet had done this many, many times before; Jack’s main function at this point was really just to grab the wheel in case something punched through the armor and took out Mikhail. They were doing about 35 when they hit a deep rut in the road, but the Russian had squared them up for it and even though the seven ton vehicle flew half a foot into the air, they only swayed a bit after slamming back onto the road. Everything not strapped down went flying as the truck's suspension creaked and groaned; that included the goat.

Jack was going to call back to Ian about the rut when he heard the MAG stop firing; “Fucking jam” he thought, as he turned back to tell his Sergeant to check on it. Then he saw the gunner dropping back down out of his hatch, clutching at his arm; Jack didn’t see blood spraying everywhere, so he hoped the hit wasn’t a bad one. “Doc!” Jack yelled, “Doc, check the kid’s arm!” Then he pointed at the Sergeant; “Sarge, get up on the gun! Up on the gun, now!”
 
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Miranda didn't respond to Jack's teasing, though she did shoot him a deathly glare when his back was turned. Her jaw clenched tightly, loosening only a fraction at the compliment he paid her, but she said nothing in response to that either. More than anything, she just wanted another nap on the way back to the city and to be rid of her sweaty clothes. Not even the soft bleating of the goat could disturb her as she settled in.

She'd just started to doze off when all hell broke loose. The plinking sound on metal didn't really register, but the sudden lurch of the vehicle jarred her awake. She slapped her hands to her ears to block out the deafening sound of gunfire. As they hit the rut and went airborne, someone was screaming. It took her a moment to realize the sound came from her, though the goat that was now being bounced about the MRAP came a close second in volume. She caught the animal with her foot as it slid past and shoved it beneath the seat, wedging it in with her legs. It was still screaming in fear, but at least the poor thing wouldn't be completely battered to bits.

Miranda saw the injured gunner drop before Jack's warning. Swearing under her breath, she had to unhook her harness to grab the man and drag him backward into a seat. His pained scream told her that he wasn't yet in shock.

"Strap in!" She yelled at him, helping as he tried to maneuver the seat belt with one hand. Once he was in, and she was sure he'd not fall out, she clambered back to her own chair. Somewhere outside, something exploded, hitting the vehicle with concussive force enough to make it swerve. Clutching the seat for dear life, she struggled back into her harness, working the buckles and straps with shaky hands.

When she finally manged to secure herself, she forced herself to take a calming breath. Her heart was hammering and her body coursed with adrenaline, neither truly ideal for patching up wounded during the middle of a firefight. Looking now to her patient, she examined his arm and found he'd been shot through the bicep. The entry hole was small and bled sluggishly. Removing her hand, she saw blood on her fingers from the back of his arm and ripped his uniform open to view the exit wound, which was slightly larger. Neither wounds were spurting, which meant the bullet hadn't severed any major arteries. Miranda jerked the MET from his belt, though she didn't apply it above his wound. Rather, she wadded up the shirt she'd worn over her armor and tied it about his arm, then used the tourniquet to cinch it down tight, putting pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding without cutting off the circulation.

The man was babbling rapidly in Pidgin, far too quickly for Miranda's limited vocabulary to sort out. Still, the sentiment was a familiar one as she'd heard the same from many patients, Nigerian and otherwise. She gripped his arm tightly in her version of assurance.

"Grainger! Just a through and through. He'll be fine!" she shouted at Jack over the thunderous report of gunfire.

Under her seat, the goat was still screaming.

----------------------------------

MET - Military Emergency Tourniquet
 
From the audio commentary to the Director’s Cut of Hearts of Darkness:

greybishop: “So this is where I screwed up and introduced a minor continuity error to the original story. Shadow was of course a complete pro and just rolled with it, but some fans noticed so I decided to fix the mistake in the DC. Of course I’m referring to the big “Where is the goat?” question. By redoing my last post everything now makes sense and we can just get on with the story; that’s the magic of the editing room at work. (Laughs.) And so look, I don’t think this is as big a deal as say the controversy over whether “Han shot first” – boy did Lucas take a lot of heat for that one – but if this change also upsets some fans, well they can send their ticket stubs to me via my producers at Blue Moon, and I’ll be happy to refund their purchase price. (More laughter.)”

Deep Voiced Announcer Guy: “And now back to Hearts of Darkness, already in progress …”

---

Jack acknowledged Miranda then turned back to the front after he saw his Sergeant finally moving to man the truck’s roof mounted machinegun; they were coming up on a bend in the road fast. Mikhail braked hard and slowed the MRAP just in time for them to make the turn, which put a low wooded hill between them and the kill zone; Jack could see the highway in the distance, maybe half a click away. As Mikhail gunned the Cobra, Jack grabbed the radio and also leaned forward to look into one of the side view mirrors; truck one came lurching around the corner behind them and their gunner was still firing, turning the vegetation on the hill into confetti and matchsticks.

About halfway to the highway Jack figured they were in the clear, so he told Mikhail he could ease off a bit; there was no need to push their luck any further. After verifying that the gunner was their only casualty Jack called back to truck one; it turned out they’d done a lot better. The IED that just missed the lead Cobra had only starred the other MRAP’s armored windshield and their gunner had been down behind his armor when the roadside bomb went off. Jack changed frequencies and then called into the TOC to let them know what had happened; when they asked about launching the QRF, Jack just waved that off and told them his convoy was still mobile and had no serious casualties.

As they neared the highway Jack turned back again to see how his Private was doing and ask Miranda whether they should try to find a safe place to stop, so Ian could look at the kid’s arm. Right about then was also when the screaming goat decided it’d had enough, and emptied its bowels and bladder all over the truck’s floor ...

------The Official Blue Moon Roleplaying Goat Icon ------

🐐
 
She turned toward Jack and yelled, "Yes, for hell's sake, find a damned place to stop! The man just took a bullet to the arm. If we're not getting shot at, we need to see how bad it is!"

As if the MRAP didn't all smell bad enough from being packed with sweaty bodies, it was now swimming with goat piss and shit, too. Thankfully, goats shat pellets, which made for easier cleanup, but they were still rolling around the floor just waiting to get stepped on. "Christ. I'm going to kill Lee," Miranda muttered.

Miranda kept her heel wedged against the animal, primarily so it wouldn't hurt itself, especially because she didn't know if there would be more fighting to come. However, most of her attention remained on the wounded solider beside her. The tourniquet worked to stave the bleeding, but the hole in his arm was going to have to be sewn up, and there was always the possibility of infection. Something about the damned place harbored infectious diseases. One would think the repressive sun would kill everything outright. Too bad Earth didn't work that way.
 
As the lead Cobra bounced onto the highway Jack saw a big open space on the other side; it looked like lorry drivers had been using it for years, to pull over and check their trucks before heading south towards Damboa. Jack had Mikhail cross the highway and stop in the field well away from a couple of lorries already there, and Ian knew enough to pull his truck in to form a little V-shaped formation, with the opening facing east towards Maiduguri; that way the armored bodies of the MRAPs provided some protection for anyone outside. As Jack unbuckled his harness he turned to call into the back. “Aldo, get the rear hatch open, then help the Doc get our casualty out the back. Sergeant, stay on the gun for now; when it’s clear you’ll help me get the goat out.” Before he dismounted Jack turned to look at Mikhail, but the Russian spoke up first as he lit a cigarette. “Da, da, I will call headquarters to let them know we have stopped. And when all is clear I will get the shovel. But it is one of the Privates who will use it. Such a life of glamour we live.”

As Jack climbed down from the cab he could see Ian already hurrying over with his trauma bag; Olayinka came around the front of the other truck and Jack had him and the one spare Private keep an eye on the open side of their V for starters. Everything looked pretty clear and quiet to Jack so he went over to Ian’s truck and called into the back, to let Jensen know it was safe for him to dismount if he wanted to help out Ian and Miranda. Then Jack went back to his Cobra and had the Sergeant help him get the goat down; it took a little manhandling, but they finally had the beast on the ground and tied to the MRAP. Once their traveling zoo was taken care of Jack told Olayinka to send the spare Private over to Mikhail, so the kid could get started on what Privates do in every army around the world – shovel shit.

With security set and some cleanup started Jack checked out the two vehicles next. Besides the starring on truck one’s windscreen, it also looked like one of the thick front tires on Ian’s Cobra had also been hit by a little frag, but Jack could faintly hear the MRAP’s internal system working away to keep the thing inflated; it looked to him as if they’d be able to make it back to base without having to change the tire, but Ian’d be the final judge of that. With nothing left to do Jack finally turned towards the open space between the vehicles, to see how the Docs and his wounded gunner were doing …
 
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With the report tucked under one of the private's arms and Miranda beneath the other, the two of them helped to ease him out of the MRAP. They settled him in the shelter of the two vehicles. Miranda had her own back with her and knelt down beside the wounded man to remove the tourniquet, though she left her bloody shirt tied about his arm until Ian arrived to check on him. As she'd already made her assessment, she rose to her feet while the medic checked on his man, leaning against one of the vehicles until she was needed. She doubted the medic would want to do any sort of field surgery, not with a wound like this one, but he might throw in a few staples to help stop the bleeding.

As she waited, she removed the headscarf from her pocket and wiped away the sweat trickling down the back of her neck. With the heat of the sun beating down on her, she really wanted to take off her armor and helmet to lighten the load and cool down, but she knew better. They were only just out of a firefight and may still be in danger. Multiple ambush points were always a possibility.

Jensen joined her after a few minutes, looking a bit shaken. She threw him a sideways glance. "First time being shot at?"

"Um... yea. Now I know why I mostly stay on the compound. You been through this before?"

Miranda nodded. "Few times. This one wasn't that bad. Nobody exploded."

As she wasn't known for her sense of humor, Lee took the revelation as sincere fact and simply nodded. It definitely could have been worse. His head tipped at the private being examined. "He okay?"

"Should be. Bullet went through his arm. Missed the brachial. Lucky, that."

"Yea, lucky," Lee agreed.

Miranda glanced at her MRAP as the goat was hauled out of the vehicle. She cut her eyes at Lee again, studying his reaction. He was pointedly not looking at her or the goat -- a very telling sign, in her opinion. She snorted and returned to the scene. Jack's approach caught her attention, and she pushed off the Cobra to meet him halfway.

"Vehicles in good enough shape to keep going?"
 
Jack had noticed Miranda looking over at the goat, so he didn’t answer her question right away; instead he asked one of his own. “So when are you going to get that kid of yours potty trained Doc?” Then, just to push his luck, Jack glanced down at Miranda’s footwear and saw that, as he’d suspected, they seemed to be stained with something, though he couldn’t tell what; maybe it was blood, or it could have been goat piss. Looking back up Jack grinned as he added “Good thing you didn’t wear your Jimmy Choos today, huh?” With the obligatory teasing out of the way Jack finally answered the Doc’s question. “Yeah, the other truck is dinged up a bit, but should be able to make it back just fine as is.”

As Jack turned towards the wounded gunner he could see a bunch of empty gauze packets on the ground around him, a pressure dressing on his arm and Ian fitting the kid with a regular sling; it looked like the round had missed the Private’s bones as well as his artery. Jack crouched down next to his gunner and looked him in the eyes; while the kid still seemed a bit shaky he was definitely focused and responsive, which was another good sign. “You did well today Private, good job. You definitely deserve a few days off, to take care of that scratch you got. Just take it easy, and we’ll have you back to base in time for evening chow.”

As Jack stood Ian and Lee helped the wounded man back to Ian’s truck; the Sergeant followed and Jack could see the NCO was carrying not only their casualty’s gear, but his own as well. “Ah well, Rank Has Its Privileges” Jack thought, also considering that the Sergeant had done okay during the ambush as well. But then Jack saw Aldo carrying his stuff over to truck one and had to call out to the journalist. “Uh, uh you’re staying in the truck you started in.” Aldo held up his camera and raised his eyebrows, but Jack simply shook his head and gestured back towards truck two as he added “You’ve gotten plenty of pictures today and the kid deserves to be left alone on the ride back.” The young Italian journalist just turned and plodded back to Jack’s truck, a sulky expression on his face.

When Jack walked over to check his Cobra he could immediately tell why people were abandoning it. The Private with the shovel had been able to clear out all the goat crap, but even though he’d used a case of water to sluice out the back too, it still reeked of urine. The other healthy Private trudged up carrying two sets of gear and the two of them did their best to line the ridged floor plates of the troop compartment with cardboard from the water cases, in an effort to cover or soak up what was left of the piss. Once they’d gotten that sorted out and loaded up the goat, the two then started arguing; Jack figured it was over who would “get” to be the gunner up top on the way back, which was normally not a highly sought after job.

With departure imminent Jack went over to lean on the side of the MRAP next to Miranda, though he was careful not to actually touch her. Looking out across the field Jack quietly said “You did great during the ambush. Thanks for taking care of my guy.” Then Jack turned his head and looked down at the Doc. “We have to get going. I can have Jensen switch vehicles with you if you want. So you can stay with your patient.”
 
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Miranda didn't comment on the goat, but glanced his way at his other topic of teasing. "I prefer Prada," she shot back. Her expression didn't change, so it was difficult to tell if she was joking. After giving him a long speculative look, which included an entire sweep of him from head to toe, she glanced back to the patient.

Lee waved her off as she moved to help with the wounded private, so she merely nodded and went back to leaning, giving the soldiers time to clear out the mess from the MRAP before returning to her vehicle. Ian was a decent medic, she'd decided, having watched every step of his field dressing. Medic or not, she would have stepped in had he made a single wrong move, but she was well satisfied with his work. By the time he'd finished, the private's wound had been sufficiently cleaned and dressed. With the added pressure and immobilization, it'd probably stop bleeding by the time they reached the base. He was going to need surgery, of course, and would sport a wicked scar on both sides of his arm, but he'd be able to keep the limb. Any day they could save a limb and keep another soldier from turning beggar on the street was a good day.

Her attention shifted again to Jack as he moved about the convoy, checking on all assigned tasks. He seemed capable and organized. She hadn't heard any backtalk save for the friendly banter between soldiers, so it seemed that he was respected in the company of his men despite the fact that he was a white westerner. Her thoughts turned for a moment to the conversation she'd had with Carson, which irked her greatly. Still, she had a job to do and couldn't come back empty handed.

As Jack resumed his lean, she opened her posture a bit, letting her crossed arms fall to her sides so she could put her hands her pockets. "I don't mind the smell," she replied. "I've been elbows deep in rotting bowels. Goat shit doesn't really scratch the surface. Dr. Jensen is capable of helping your medic if he needs it. I'd prefer to be in whatever vehicle you're in, so I'll stay put, thanks."

Turning to look up at him, she offered a one-shoulder shrug. "And you don't have to thank me. You wouldn't be out here risking your lives if I hadn't requested it, so it is my duty and obligation to help your men however I can. The kid didn't do too bad. I didn't hear him yell for his mother once. How badly did you cry when you got shot the first time?"
 
A look of surprise crossed Jack’s face. Not because of the question Miranda had asked, though it was kind of personal, but instead because Doc Frosty actually seemed to be talking to him, instead of at him. So Jack just laughed and answered her. “Nah, I just went straight into shock. I couldn’t believe I’d really been hit. And it wasn’t even half as bad as the wound the kid took today.” Jack shook his head and looked across the field, remembering that night and the person he’d been back then. Then Jack looked back down at Miranda. “So you’re a Prada gal, huh?” he asked. It was kind of hard, given the helmet and body armor she was currently wearing, but Jack could still somehow picture Miranda in heels. Then Mikhail walked up and handed Jack his fidget spinner as he said “The other machine is good. We are ready to go.” Jack sighed as he watched the Russian turn away and climb into the Cobra’s cab, before he looked back at Miranda. “Time to get this show on the road Doc. Hop aboard.”

---

While smelly, the rest of the trip back to the airport was uneventful. As the two MRAPs rolled into the motorpool they were met by a team from the aid station at Jack’s base, who carried the wounded gunner away on a stretcher; Ian hustled off after them, so he could fill the unit’s Surgeon in on what had happened. Captain Olayinka got the guys moving on offloading the guns and gear from the trucks, and Jack told him they could turn to on cleaning the machineguns after they’d eaten. Mikhail was immediately accosted by the Maintenance Chief, who seemed to be outraged that combat vehicles had actually been damaged in combat; Jack knew that was all for show and that the Chief would have the vehicles repaired by morning, provided he had the parts he needed. And as Aldo rushed over to his bike to get back to his girlfriend, Jack called to him. “Remember our deal! Ten tomorrow at the Pinnacle.”

With everyone else gone or busy Jack found himself standing next to truck two, holding the rope that served as the goat’s leash. He suddenly felt very tired, which was pretty typical for him after a mission. The goat bleated at Jack and he looked down at it. “You and me buddy. You and me.” Jack led the goat over to where Miranda and Lee were getting ready to go; he figured he should say something witty to close out the day, but just didn’t have the energy. So he simply handed Miranda the leash and said “Here’s your goat. Stay in touch Doc.” Then Jack shook Lee’s hand, picked up his kit and went to go get some food himself.

---

After chow Jack found Danny and gave him a data dump on how the mission had gone; when that was done the intel officer briefed Jack on another positive report they’d gotten during the day from the team following up on Miranda’s information. The two agreed to meet the next day to discuss options for the next phase of this operation.

After a shower Jack was sitting on his rack in shorts and a t-shirt, trying to decide whether to go down to George’s for a drink, when there was a knock on his door. It turned out to be Valeriy, who was holding a bottle in one hand and two glasses in the other. The former GRU man started talking as soon as the door opened. “Jack, welcome back. Daniel told me your mission was a success, congratulations. I know you must be tired, but I hope you’ll indulge me; I come bearing gifts.” At this Valeriy held up the bottle; Jack had figured it wouldn’t be the cheap swill Mikhail preferred, but was surprised to see it wasn’t vodka at all, but an almost full bottle of Lagavulin instead. “Now where the hell did he get that?” Jack thought, as he invited Valeriy in and offered him the small room's only chair. The Russian intel officer poured them both a couple of fingers of the single malt, and as he handed Jack a glass asked “So, tell me all about Akanni …”
 
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When they returned to Maiduguri, Miranda was glad to be off the transport and back on her feet. The pungent smell of goat piss hadn't been pleasant, but she'd gotten used to it after a short while. Her main complaint was the rumble of the truck themselves and being bounced about on the uneven roads.

As their gear was unloaded, she removed her helmet and armor, dumping them both in their car. She was a sweaty mess, but it was nothing that couldn't be remedied by a long hot bath. Jack's arrival with their goat was met with a sigh. She accepted the beast with a nod, thinking the animal more trouble than it was worth.

As Jack walked away, she bent down to address the goat. "You'd better not piss in the car, hear me? Else you're going to end up in someone's stew."

Jensen laughed at the threat as he helped her load the animal into the back seat. "I'll take it to the compound. I'm sure I can find a buyer through the usual contacts."

Miranda nodded, knowing it was the best option. She certainly wasn't taking the goat back to her hotel room.

The drive back into the city wasn't terrible, though she had to admit she wasn't too fond of the traffic snarls. Jensen dropped her off just as the sun was starting to set with promises to find her at the clinic the next day to help update their records. Her hotel room was unoccupied, for which she was most thankful. She'd half expected Carson to be waiting for her, demanding every small detail of the day's events. Stripping off her soiled clothing, she climbed into a blissfully hot bath and sank down into oblivion, spending more than an hour washing away the grime of the day and reflecting on the journey.

Working double shifts in the trauma surgical unit had desensitized her to gunshot wounds and other horrific injuries. What it hadn't prepared her for was seeing someone shot right in front of her. The first time she'd found herself in the middle of a combat situation, her mind had blanked and she froze, the shock and horror of what she was witnessing too much for her brain to comprehend. It had taken her a long while to recover from the experience, though the next time she'd been a little more prepared. Today's outing hadn't been horrible, despite the firefight. Only one man had been wounded and it hadn't been a fatal shot. Given how many people they'd helped and how many lives they'd saved, she counted that as a roaring success.

-------

The next morning was like any other during her time in Nigeria. She rose early, dressed for the clinic, and ate a quick breakfast. The clinic was busy, but not overwhelmed. Isioma gave her a succinct account of what she'd missed. Miranda recounted her tales of the trip to the village, which amused the Nigerian woman greatly -- especially the bit about the goat. She'd grown angry, however, when Miranda told her of the tribeman's son and his accusations.

"Talking out of his ass, that one," Isioma spat. "Put blame on the woman come to help them? Foolish boy. He brings disgrace on his entire village."

"He was just passionate about his people. I don't really blame him. He doesn't see the work we're doing here. All he's heard about are the bad things. Maybe, when he sees how many people the vaccines have saved, he'll think differently."

"His father should have given you two goats."

"Heavens, no! One goat pissing on my shoes was bad enough!" Miranda had to smirk at the woman's hearty chuckle as she retreated to her office.

As promised, Lee visited the clinic that afternoon to help her wade through the variety of reports they had to file while she attended to her patients. Between the two of them, they had the paperwork sorted before the end of the day. He took the packet with him when he left, though Isioma called out that he could have much more for the taking if he wanted it. As he was accustomed to the plump woman's flirtatious ways, he left the clinic grinning.

As the day was drawing to a close and the last of their patients had been tended, the clinic grew quiet and still. Miranda enjoyed those times when the chaos of the day drifted away, allowing her to decompress and finish her paperwork without any distractions. Isioma was the last to leave, locking up as she left, leaving the doctor alone in her office. After an entire day away from the clinic, Miranda had a mountain of charts to complete and she was determined to make a dent in the pile.
 
Jack woke the next morning with another mild hangover; while he and Valeriy had definitely sipped their single malt, he’d still been mildly dehydrated from the trip to Akanni and the two had also gone through about half the bottle of Lagavulin before calling it quits. After just making breakfast, Jack attended the morning staff meeting where he answered a couple of Dieter’s questions about the previous day’s mission and also where things were headed in general. The staff meeting ran long which made Jack late for his coffee with Aldo at the Pinnacle, even though the hotel was nearby; that ended up not really mattering, since the young Italian photojournalist was even later. Aldo was in high spirits and babbled on about how happy his editor had been with the pictures he’d taken on their trip, and how even “happier” his girlfriend had been that he’d survived the ambush; Jack didn’t mind listening, since even though the kid could be kind of goofy he seemed way more sincere than some of the vultures and frauds Jack had seen pretending to be “war correspondents.” More importantly though Aldo also gave Jack a thumb drive with copies of all the pictures Aldo had taken, which was part of their deal and a requirement for Jack to ever again let the Italian embed with his team. Before they parted Aldo also invited Jack to an expat house party going on that weekend in town, and said Mikhail could come along too if he wanted – apparently Aldo’s girlfriend had been “happy” multiple times the previous evening.

On his way back to base Jack stopped at a row of shops on impulse and, after a little browsing around, picked up a couple of small things for Doc Frosty; one of them was a gag gift for the next time they met, something to commemorate their trip to Akanni. Then the rest of Jack’s day was consumed by doing an AAR with Captain O. and his men on how the previous day’s mission had gone, meeting with Valeriy and Danny to consider future courses of action, and playing around on a workstation for a bit; Jack breezed straight through lunch and just managed to squeeze in a workout at the end of the day as well.

Sitting on his bunk after a shower trying to decide on how to spend his evening, Jack picked up his burner cell and sent Miranda a text:

Hey. I have something for the clinic & U. Can stop by to drop it off, but if U don’t want me coming by, could meet U for happy hour somewhere else if U want, since it’s Fri. Let me know.

---Picture---

Entrance to the Grand Pinnacle Luxury Hotel.
 
Miranda had just finished up with her files when she heard her phone notification alert her of a new message. Lifting the phone, she read through the text with mild surprise. "Something for me and the clinic? It had better not be another goat," she muttered. Typing out a quick reply, she shot it off to Jack.

Not here. I'll meet you. Pick a place and time. I'll be free after 6pm.

The last thing she needed was Jack and his security team showing up at the clinic to scare off her patients again. If he'd come alone, it wouldn't be so bad, but she couldn't count on that. Better if they met someplace else, away from prying eyes. Glancing at one of the reports she'd just finished, she wrote down several of the names mention in the patient's account, intending to give them to the mercenary when they next met. Regardless of her other orders, she was still going to keep up her end of the bargain with Jack.

The hour was late when she finally left the clinic, locking and securing the iron gate over the door. An unmarked MSF car was waiting to take her back to her hotel. It was a perk of working for the organization. They didn't have armed security to protect their volunteers, but they did have certain protocols to help keep their people safe. Miranda adhered to them as much as she possibly could, but only because failing to do so could have her ejected from the program. It wasn't a foolproof system, but she wasn't going to take any risks that she didn't have to.

Her hotel room was empty when she returned, though a flash of something yellow against her mirror made her pause. She pulled the note free, read through, and then crumpled it up and tossed it into the trash. The only words written were 'tomorrow morning'. Two seemingly innocuous words, but the meaning behind them gave it sufficient weight to make her anxious. Carson wanted another meeting.
 
Jack grinned when he saw the Doc’s reply and texted her back:

Sounds good. Pinnacle hotel at 7 or 730? If that won’t work 4 U, just let me know.

Jack figured that would probably work, so he got up to check his rather limited civvie clothing selection. His eyes immediately settled on a particular green shirt; it was an oversized, short sleeve button down with a collar, just like all his other civvie shirts. But the green of this one garment was quite a bit brighter than all his other dual use, “I can also wear this to work” shirts. When he’d been in the Sudan, Jack had noticed that a lot of the shop doors were colored bright green and had asked why; he’d been told that that color green was popular among Muslims in general and considered lucky by shopkeepers in particular. So when he saw a shirt that same shade he snatched it up and now kind of considered it to be his “lucky shirt.” Jack completed his ensemble with a pair of dark brown cargo pants and his brown ankle boots; “Not exactly GQ material, but it’s the best I’ve got” he thought as he got dressed. Then he grabbed his pistol, radio and go bag, picked up the couple of small things he had for the Doc and went to get a set of pickup keys.

---

Over at the Pinnacle, Jack waved at the guys behind the front desk before he sauntered across the lobby into the little gift shop and picked up a two day old copy of the International Herald Tribune, which they were now calling the International New York Times. In the restaurant and bar the greeter smiled at him brightly before she said “Nice to see you again Sir” and began to steer Jack towards an empty table by the bar. Jack smiled back at the the young gal and told her he’d prefer to sit over on the side of the room tonight; not that the meeting with the Doc was going to be clandestine or anything, but he thought it’d be best for them not to sit right in the middle of the restaurant. As they walked that way Jack said hello to a few expats he knew from around town who had already settled in for happy hour, and got a nasty look from one Swedish guy who wasn't a big fan of private military contractors.

Since he was a regular known to tip well, a waiter immediately came over to Jack’s table; the server already had the little form which affirmed a customer wasn’t Muslim in his hand. After he quickly scribbled his name Jack ordered a Castle lager and then settled in to check out his old fashioned newspaper. The markets seemed to be doing well and the world news was just the usual mix of depressing crap, so Jack read the small sports section before he turned to the even smaller comics page to see what “Calvin and Hobbes” were up to today. After that there was always the Jumble, if the Doc ended up running late …

---Pictures---

A row of shops with green doors in the Sudan.

An entire shop painted that same shade of green.

The entrance to the Pinnacle at dusk.

The front desk, complete with pictures of the President and Governor on the wall.

Some of the expat crowd in the restaurant/bar.
 
See you at 7:30, came the texted reply.

-------

Miranda suffered through the following day with as much dignity as she could muster. Her morning meeting with Carson had not gone well. She was reluctant to give him everything he wanted, and he could sense her hesitation. It led to another round of threats and warnings. In the end, she told him all he wished to know and more, though she did not divulge her planned meeting with Jack that evening. She'd eventually have to give that information to the spook, she knew, but it was a small victory that he didn't already know (or he never mentioned) her evening plans. It made her feel a bit more in control, though she clearly was not.

The clinic was busy, but that never changed. There was always another person in need, another wound to mend, another disease to heal. The highlight of her afternoon was helping a new mother deliver two healthy baby boys. The clinic filled with the pitiful cries of two new sets of lungs and the women rejoiced. Miranda passed each child to the nurse as soon as she could, and then left the mother to nurse her newborns as soon as she could. She ensured that they were in good health and had notated their measurements and weight. Isioma was the only one that noticed that Miranda wanted little to do with children, and usually let the other doctors or nurses see to their care. She was far more comfortable with her adult patients, and as there were many more of those in the clinic, no one though to question her behavior.

When the day finally drew to a close, Miranda left the clinic earlier than usual, allowing the others to finish cleaning and lock up. With a though to her rumpled appearance and how badly she must smell, the first order of business was to shower and scrub herself clean. Wardrobe selection was an issue. She wished to look nice without attracting too much attention. While she had a few dresses with her that were more suitable for a nightclub and clung to her like a second skin, she elected for something far less flashy than sequins and lace. The cropped blouse and skirt were both patterned in a pale stripe in a light, breathable fabric, which was perfect for a muggy Nigerian night. After doing her makeup and hair, she slid on a pair of simple, strappy heels and headed out the door with a light jacket and her clutch in hand.

Her car pulled up to the Pinnacle Hotel around 7:15pm, which suited Miranda's anal sense of punctuality. She vehemently disliked arriving late and disliked those that disrespected her by being late even more. Traveling through the lobby, she headed directly to the bar, pausing to order a Chapman with gin. Her fingertips rested lightly on the counter as she turned to survey the restaurant, dark eyes scanning (and ignoring) the others in her search for Jack. Spotting him, and secretly pleased that he'd been early, she gave the bar tender a quick word as to where she'd be seated. Narrowly escaping one of the regulars attempting to capture her attention, she made her way to Jack's table, head tilting slightly to catch his topic of interest in the paper.

One delicate eyebrow rose. "Calvin and Hobbes? I thought you'd be the Beetle Baily type."

----------------------------------

Mother with newborn twins

Miranda's attire

Popular Nigerian Cocktail - The Chapman
 
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