Kimberly Shiroma carefully touched the paintbrush to the delicate vanes of the kite she was constructing.  It felt good to relax after the tensions of the past week.  It was rare that they had a lull in activity and Cassian had taken full advantage of it, ordering the entire team on vacation.  She glanced out at the rainy Washington sky.  It perfectly reflected her mood.  In a way the forced inactivity could not have come at a worst time.  This time of year was hard for her.  Usually, she tried to bury herself in work to escape the past.  Two years ago today was supposed to be her wedding day.  That was before her fiancé had ditched her to go running off to the jungles of Africa.  She couldn't stop the surge of anger that thought always brought.  She had come to terms with much of her grief and anger in the last year, but the one thing that still haunted her was why Alan had chosen Africa over her.  She understood his need to help people; it was one of the reasons that she loved him.  But there would have been other opportunities.  After meeting and working with Marcase, she understood Alan's desire to work on his team but to choose an expedition over their marriage; no it didn't make sense.  There was still a piece of the puzzle missing.  Alan had loved her, she was sure of that, only a matter of life and death would have kept him from fulfilling their pledge to each other. The outbreak in Africa didn't qualify, there was a team of highly skilled people handling the situation, one more doctor would not have been critical.

Shiroma's introspection was interrupted by a knocking on the door.  "Come in."  She chuckled as she remembered the look on Hailey's face the first time she had invited him in without knowing who was at the door.  He had threatened to come over with dead bolts and security alarms.  Putting away her brushes she entered the living room to greet her unexpected visitor.

Standing in the front hall, looking very confused, was a young woman.  Judging by the beautiful, decorative, hand made African shirt she wore; at least some of her family still lived in Africa.  "May I help you?"

"Are you Dr. Kimberly Shiroma?"

"Yes."

"Thank goodness, I was not sure that I could find you."

"Please, won't you have a seat?  I must confess that I don't recognize you, have we met before?"

Sinking gracefully onto the couch the young woman gave Shiroma a dazzling smile.  "Oh, no, we have never met.  Forgive me it was just finally meeting you, your fiancé talked about you so much I felt like I knew you.  My name is Jina."

"You knew Alan?"

"Oh, yes, that is why I have come.  My father is headman of our village.  While cleaning out a supply shed he discovered a journal of Dr. Alan's, somehow it had been accidentally mixed in with the supplies.  He sent it to me, we thought you might wish to have it."

"Yes, yes I would.  Thank you, that's a lot of trouble to go to for an old journal."

"Dr. Alan was a great man.  Many of my people would not be alive if it wasn't for him.  It is a small thing to do for someone who has given us so much."

"Thank you."  Shiroma could feel the tears threatening to fall.  Holding them in she took the battered field journal from the young woman and carefully placed it on the coffee table.  "Forgive my manners, would you like some tea?"

"No, thank you, I must be going.  I have to go home and pack, I'm going to visit my family for the summer.  With school it is the only time I can get away."

"You're in school here?"

"Yes, Dr. Edward arranged it for me.  I served as his nurse in Zaire.  He said it would be a shame to waste such natural talent and arranged for me to come here to school.  I hope to become a doctor.  Now I must go.  It was a pleasure to meet you."

"Thank you Jina, it was nice to meet you as well.  Please, thank your father for me."

After seeing her guest out, Shiroma stopped by the kitchen for a large cup of tea.  Then running out of excuses; she returned to the couch and picked up the journal.  Opening the faded cover she felt the tears begin as she caught sight of the familiar handwriting.

May 10, 1995

Today was one of the most difficult in my life.  I had to lie to the woman I love.  I told her that I had rather go to Africa than marry her.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  But sometimes the truth isn't necessarily a good thing.  If she knew the real reason I am going to Zaire, she would worry.  I love her too much to put her through that.  I would rather have her mad at me than to be afraid.  I am making this record so that if something should happen to me she will know the truth.

I received a call from Rheinhart.  A week ago, a dear friend of mine led a team to a remote village in Zaire to fight an outbreak of Ebola.  Three days ago his entire team withdrew from the village.  He is there alone, trying to halt the spread of the disease while caring for the dying.  It seems that the vector for spreading the disease is the ritual preparation of the bodies of the dead.  In order to be allowed to treat the Ebola victims, the medical team was required to show honor for the dead by ritually preparing a body for burial.  Since this required cleaning the body cavity by hand, the team refused.  It is a risky procedure and the team saw no reason to risk their lives needlessly.  Only Edward completed the ritual, thus he was the only member of the team allowed to attend the patients.  Frustrated with the village Elders' insistence that they perform the designated ritual before being allowed to help, the medical team radioed for instructions from their superiors.  Angered by the villagers' unreasonable refusal to accept help, the authorities recalled the team back to Kikwit.   I know it seems harsh, but the epidemic in Kikwit is still raging and most of the casualties have been medical personnel.  The Zairian officials can not afford to waste precious resources on a village that refuses help.  Quarantining the village and shifting the resources elsewhere made sense.  Of course, Edward refused to go.

Kim I know you won't understand this, but Edward is like a brother to me.  I have known him for a long time, since we were both frightened youths at Wesley Hall.  Edward was from the streets and I; well I was the proverbial fair-haired son of wealthy parents.  What we both shared was loneliness.  Each recognized a kindred spirit in the other.  Over the years we have drifted far apart, I'm not even sure if he knows I'm engaged.  But somehow through the years and the miles, whenever one of us has needed help, the other appears.  Kim I can't leave him down there to die, and die he will, if someone doesn't do something.  The forces in Zaire are spread thin and there is no one else available for Rheinhart to send, even if they agreed to go under the conditions.  I know Edward, he's stubborn, he won't quit, not against Ebola, he'll keep going till he drops in his tracks.  Forgive me Kim, but I have to go, I have to be there with him.  I'm the only one who can help him now.

Shiroma closed the journal; she could no longer read through the tears.  Oh, Alan why didn't you tell me.  Who would have guessed Marcase and Alan boyhood friends?  She could picture the scene painted by Alan's words.  She had met his family; she could see him as a lonely boy far from home.  Marcase was a survivor; he had an inner strength that would have appealed to Alan.  Both were fiercely loyal, she could see them forming a friendship that after years of silence would still compel them to rally to the other's rescue.  Oh, Alan, you always were a white knight, charging at windmills.  Shiroma laughed through her tears, yes that sounded just like someone else she knew.  Drying her eyes she opened the journal again.
 
May 12, 1995

Edward Marcase is an IDIOT, a stubborn, hard headed, self-destructive idiot!  The man has the survival instincts of a lemming.  I've been here two days and the man refuses to let me help.  Says it's too dangerous, not worth the risk, baloney.  I didn't come halfway around the world to watch him drop dead from exhaustion.  Come to think of it, if I wait a little longer he's bound to keel over, once he's out he won't be able to stop me.  Hmm, I'd still rather hit him over the head with a heavy blunt object.  At least that would help me relieve some of this frustration.

Fortunately, things were not quite as bad as I feared.  Edward, the resourceful, has recruited some of the villagers and given them basic nurses-aide training.  So he only has to deal with the actual medical procedures.  Fortunately, the team left the supplies when they pulled out.  Edward has chosen good people, they are all following standard universal precautions and there have been no outbreaks among the staff.  However, Edward insists on personally preparing all the bodies, it's the only way to insure no new exposures.  The concept of protective gear is lost on most of the population.  Those few who grasp the concept have already been drafted as nurses.  Ebola's victims need constant care.  The villagers are doing an excellent job of tending the sick, but that leaves any casualties for Edward to deal with.  Things have the potential to get ugly real fast.  Almost half of the village has been exposed to infected persons, and most of them actually participated in burial preps.  We could be looking at 50-75 cases in the next week or two.  With a death rate of 90 percent it wouldn't take long for things to skyrocket.  There is no way one man can deal with that many bodies and still supervise patient care.  Currently, 10 people are down with the virus and there have been 6 deaths.  The village’s Elders are still holding to their position.  I won't be allowed to help with the patients until I prepare at least one body for burial.  Something has to give soon.  I think it will be Edward's body, it has more sense than his head.

Shiroma stared at the words in shock.  For the last two years she had blamed Marcase for Alan's death.  She had come to the conclusion in the last few months, that he wasn't the callous unfeeling man she had thought he was, but this, she would never have believed it.  Alan went to Zaire to protect Edward and Edward tries to protect Alan by sending him away.  Truth was indeed stranger than fiction.  Laying down the journal, Kimberly took a break to gather her scattered emotions.  However, moments later, a fresh cup of tea in hand, she found herself back on the couch reaching for the journal.  Even though she knew the painful ending waiting there, she couldn't keep herself from being drawn into the tale unfolding within it pages.  So much she hadn't known, so much she never suspected.  Making herself comfortable, she opened the journal.

May 13, 1995

Well, the inevitable finally happened.  Edward collapsed early this morning outside the medical tent.  He went for coffee and just keeled over, a case of the immovable object finally meeting the irresistible force.  I was right, his body is smarter than his brain.  Now I'm on my own and the moment of truth is here.  I have never been so scared in my life.  Kim, I know the risk I'm taking but if I lose my nerve now, I'll never get another chance.  Edward will see to that.  There is so much work to do here, and there is no way one doctor can do it all.  There is no chance of outside help either.  The authorities have already sent in one team, they won't send a second.  Resources are too scarce.  I love you, but I have to do this.

Success!  A village Elder who speaks English walked me through the procedure.  It is a painstaking and laborious task.  Everything has to be just so and no modern tools allowed.  I wore triple protective gear; they at least let me do that.  It took me over 2 hours to prepare the body, but I did it.  The Elders gave me their approval and I am now cleared to enter the hospital tent.  Speaking of which, I have to go.  There are a lot of sick people that need care.  I just hope I hold out till Edward wakes up.

May 15, 1995

Edward finally woke up late this morning and he is not very happy with me.  You could hear the shouting clear to the other end of the village.  I'd forgotten what a temper he has.  Maybe he'll talk to me by next year.  Got to go, I have hospital duty.

Well, it took him 4 hours, but Edward's temper finally cooled off.  He even told me thanks for coming.  Imagine that?  He knows he's in way over his head, he just hates to risk anyone else's life.  His own yes, others, no.  He hasn't changed all that much, he always was the overprotective type.  We have a tentative truce, he'll handle the bodies and I'll run the hospital.  Of course, there is no way one man can keep up with the current number of bodies we have, but one battle at a time.  Wear them down little by little is my philosophy.  It's only a matter of time before he sees reason.

May 19, 1995

Damn!  We have 5 new cases.  Seems like one of the older gentlemen of the village didn't want the foreigners caring for his beloved daughter.  So he and his wife convinced the village holy man to help them prepare the body.  Now all three of them plus the couple's three-year old son are infected.  Goes to show stupidity and prejudice are universal.  We lost three more patients last night, one of them a ten-year old child.  I can't stand this helplessness!  There is absolutely nothing that we can do for these people except try to keep the healthy from becoming ill.  I don't know how Edward stands it.  He told me that everything we do makes a difference.  That our job is to keep the healthy well, and to help the dying die with as little pain and as much dignity as we can.  At the very least we can assure that they not die alone.

May 21, 1995

The inevitable has arrived. The epidemic is reaching its peak.  We have a total of 55 infected and over 30 dead.  Edward and I had a long talk.  He wants to shield me from risk but he can't.  We are all at risk, its part of the job.  He may be immune to Ebola but there are a lot of other killers running loose in this jungle that can kill you just as dead.  Maybe not as quickly but they can kill you none the less.  Like HIV for instance.  This part of the country is rife with HIV carriers.  Edward is just as much at risk as the rest of us.  Then there are the possible mutant strains, just because he survived one type of Ebola that doesn't guarantee immunity against a mutated virus.  I think he finally understands that he can't do this alone.  But most importantly, he finally respects my right to make my own decisions.  He's not happy about it, but he is treating me as a colleague, someone who has the right to be here and the right to choose his own destiny.  God, I just hope I've chosen the right one.  Some good news, word of the quarantine has reached the surrounding villages and help has been poring in for the last few days.  Most are former residents who have moved away.  They still have family here and are anxious to help.  Since they are by definition still part of the village, there is not a problem with them helping with the patients.  Our nursing staff has tripled and not a moment too soon.  We have worked out a system, Edward and I clean the body cavities then the villagers finish the rituals.  We have hand picked the burial teams and they are well versed in the necessary precautions.  Even with the extra help the task ahead is daunting.

Shiroma threw the journal across the room.  No.  She knew what came next.  Alan deliberately placed himself in harm's way and paid for his foolishness with his life.  The villagers deserved what was coming to them.  They refused the offer of medical help, clinging to their stupid beliefs and causing good men to risk their lives needlessly.  Anger turned into sorrow and this time she didn't even try to stop the tears.  Giving in to her emotions she cried for a man long since dead and for another man who was tormented by guilt at the death of a friend that he had been powerless to prevent.  And she cried for herself, for the fear, anger, grief and pain that she had never let herself truly express.  When all of her tears were finally spent, she was exhausted.  She hadn't realized she was so bitter.  Alan had died doing what he loved best, helping people and making a difference.  She owed it to him to see this journey through.  Crossing the room she retrieved the journal and returned to the couch.

May 30, 1995

Yes, the Ebola is contained!  We have had no new cases in 5 days.  The death toll has been high; out of the 87 infected, 56 have died, 10 have recovered and 21 are still ill.

June 1, 1995

Kim, I don't know how to tell you this but...there's been an accident.  Yesterday while working on a body, I..I tore open my glove. God, this is hard to write.  I'm not exactly sure how it happened.  Maybe the fact that it was a child, the body cavity is so small, or maybe I was just tired and got clumsy.  I just don't know.  We immediately disinfected the area and Edward gave me antibodies from an Ebola survivor.  I think it was more to make us both feel as if we were doing something than any real belief that it could help.  We both know that Ebola is cured at the cellular level, antibodies have little to do with it.  Poor Edward, I didn't think it was possible for him to get any paler.  He insisted that I return home immediately but I refused.  If it turns out that I do have Ebola, I don't want you watching me die.  I've seen men and women sitting at the bedsides of those they love helpless to do anything but watch as life slowly fades from their loved-ones.  I can't; I won't put you through that.  Edward has finally accepted my decision.  We sat up most the night drinking and talking.  I won't be alone Kim.  I hate to put him through this, Edward has watched too many of the people he loves die.  But there is nothing I can say that would make him go.  He is my brother in every way except blood and he will stay by me to the end.  I hope it won't come to that.  After all it is highly possible that I'm not infected, but just in case, this will be my last entry.  If I do have Ebola I don't want to contaminate this record of my adventures.  Hopefully, in a week or so I will be able to return to these pages and tell you of my triumphs.  If not well...know that I love you Kim and I will always be with you whether it is in this life or the next. My Spirit will always be near you.  I want you to promise me that whatever happens, you will go on with your life.  You deserve to be happy Kim.  Please forgive me, I never meant to hurt you.

                                             Love always,
                                                Alan

Closing the journal, Shiroma hugged it tightly to her chest.  She had thought she had exhausted all of her tears but she was wrong.  Clutching the journal she cried herself to sleep.  The sun was already high in the sky when she awoke the next morning feeling surprisingly rested.  She had experienced the strangest dreams, her rational mind shied away from the thought that they could have been more than ordinary dreams.  Alan had been there and they had talked about all that had happened to them over the last two years.  She had finally forgiven him for leaving her.  Whatever, had happened last night whether a ghostly visitation or simply her subconscious working out the last of her trauma, she didn't really want to know.  For the first time since Alan's death she was at peace.  Oh, she still missed him and probably would for the rest of her life but bitterness and anger no longer consumed her.
 
After a long shower and a hearty breakfast she was ready to face the day.  She was just trying to decide if she wanted to continue working on her kites or maybe go exploring when the phone rang.

"Hello."

"Hi Kim, it's Edward, are you busy?"

"No, what's wrong?  Do we have a case?"

"Kimberly, I'm crushed.  You mean the only time I can call you is if I have some new yucky bug for you to study?  Can't a guy call just to say, hi?"

"Of course, I'm just not use to it.  What do you have on your mind?"

"Hailey and I were planning on playing tourist today and we were wondering if you wanted to join us.  The sun is shining, the birds are singing and if I don't get out of this apartment I'm, going to go nuts.  So how about it, want to paint the town?"

"I'd love to.  After all, someone should go along to make sure you two don't destroy anything."

"Ooh, I'm not the only one going stir-crazy.  I assure you, Michael and I are harmless.  Well, I am at least.  We'll pick you up in 20 minutes."

"Twenty minutes.  I'll be ready.  And Edward, make sure you don't let Michael drive that sports car of his, I'm not sitting in the backseat."

"Oh, ye of little faith.  For you only the best, the Caddy is out of the shop.  Today you ride in style.  See you in 20."

"Bye, Edward."

Hanging up the phone Shiroma couldn't help but smile.  Sightseeing with those two should be highly entertaining.  Hurrying to the bedroom to change her clothes, she noticed the journal lying on the floor by the couch.  Carefully picking it up she crossed the room to lock it safely away in the desk.  Gently caressing the worn cover she murmured a silent "Thank you" to the long dead writer, before carefully put it way.  The past was behind her.  With a light heart she went to get ready to join her friends and partners for a day of fun in the Washington sun.