of the population.”
“But you’ve stopped the spread, right? You’ve got it under control.”
“We’ve got the last few identified victims quarantined and for now we’ve convinced the villagers to steer clear of the local bat population,” she admitted. “But it’s incredibly contagious, Ken. Not like anything I’ve seen in my lifetime. Even casual contact with someone who’s sick comes with over a fifty percent infection rate. But the worst thing is how long the virus seems to be able to survive on surfaces. We have credible evidence of people getting sick after touching things handled by a victim seventy-two hours before. What if someone infected with this went through an airport? They could push a button on an elevator or touch the check-in counter and have people carry it all over the world. How could we stop it?”
“We stopped it last time,” he said in an obvious reference to the SARS outbreak in the early 2000s.
“It’s not the same thing and you know it! SARS is an order of magnitude less contagious and it broke out in Asia. We had time to mount a worldwide response in countries with modern medical systems. This is Yemen. They don’t have the resources to do anything but stand back and pray. We could be talking about a pandemic that could kill a hundred million people. Are you a doctor or a politician, Ken? We—”
“Shut up, Vicky! Just shut your mouth for one minute if that’s possible.”
She fell silent at the man’s uncharacteristic outburst.
“Do you have any idea what’s happening in the rest of Yemen? Outside your little world? We’re dealing with a cholera outbreak that’s now officially the worst in modern history. NGOs are backing out because of the bombing and growing violence. Local medical personnel are either sick themselves or haven’t been paid in months and are moving on to figure out how to feed themselves.”
“Ken—”
“I’m not done! About a third of the country is slowly starving. We’re seeing infections that none of our antibiotics work on. And there are rumors that there’s going to be a major attack on Al Hudaydah. If that port closes, most of the imports into the country are going to dry up. No more humanitarian aid. No more food or medicine. No more fuel. On top of everything else, the country’s going to slip into famine.”
“But—” she tried to interject.
“Shut it!” he said and then continued. “All this and I can barely get governments or private donors to take my calls. Why? Because no one gives a crap about Yemen. They can’t find it on a map and they’re bone tired of pouring money into Middle East projects that get blown up before they’re even finished. And that’s leaving aside the U.S. presidential election that’s already consuming every media outlet in the world. If an alien spaceship landed in Yemen tomorrow, it’d be lucky to make page nine in the Times.”
“Ken—”
“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” he said. “Now, where was I? Oh, yeah. So, after all that’s said, you want me to divert my almost nonexistent resources from the thousands of people dying in the cities to a little village of fifty people surrounded by an impassable sea of desert?”
“Screw you, Ken.”
When he spoke again, his voice had softened. “Look. I really do understand what you’re saying to me. Remember that before I sat down behind this desk I spent years doing exactly what you’re doing. I want to help you. What you’re dealing with terrifies me—”
“But you’re going to do nothing.”
“Oh, ye of little faith.”
She perked up. “What does that mean?”
“I wish I could take credit for this, but in truth I had nothing to do with it. A couple weeks ago, a Saudi businessman I’ve never heard of contacted me. He said he’d seen something about you in a university newspaper and wanted to help. It kind of took me by surprise, so I just threw a number out there.”
“What number?”
“Two hundred and fifty grand.”
“And?”
“Long story, but he said yes.”
“What?” Victoria stammered, unable to process what she was hearing after months of fighting for castoffs and pocket change. “I . . . I don’t even understand what that means.”
“It means that I’ve got a team putting together a drop for you. Equipment, food, medicine. I might even have someone from the University of Wyoming who’s willing to look at your bats. We’ll lower the supplies down to you from a cargo chopper so we don’t have to get anywhere near your patients. I’m working