could ask when she might be able to go check on Nico.
Anna followed the fast-walking clerk out of the tent and down a narrow pathway. No matter where she went, the sounds of the aftermath of a disaster were always the same. Moans of people in pain, shuffling of fast-paced boots, generators and battery-powered machines rumbling to life, the smell of wet earth and the incessant buzzing of insects.
Nico has to be okay. I’d know if he wasn’t. Wouldn’t I?
The clerk led her to the tiny tent that would be her living quarters. She groaned inwardly at the paper sign in the plastic sleeve on the door-flap indicating she would be sharing the tent with Linda Tucker. So she wasn’t going to get a reprieve on this deployment.
She changed quickly and found Admiral Tucker waiting for her outside the tent. She motioned for Anna to follow. “We don’t have enough wound care supplies or topical and IV antibiotics, so we need to ration them. I understand this isn’t your first deployment?”
“No, ma’am, I’ve been through twenty deployments in five years. My last one was in Brazil for the Zika virus after I returned from Liberia, where I was dealing with the Ebola outbreak.”
The rear admiral’s eyes widened with respect. “Good, then I don’t have to orient you. Feel free to call me Linda.” She continued her brisk pace, weaving through the narrow gaps between tents, dodging pieces of machinery and carts carrying supply boxes from one tent to another.
“The locals are just now mobilizing, so we get about ten new patients an hour. Tent space is at a premium. Anyone who doesn’t need to be monitored gets sent to the high school, mall or the hospital, where they’ve set up shelters.”
Anna’s throat closed. “Is the hospital operational?” she choked out. The last time she’d been at the Guam General Hospital, she’d lost everything she ever loved. She hadn’t used her pediatrics training since then, staying as far away from children as she could.
Linda shook her head. “Not as a medical facility, but the building is still standing so they’re using the space to house people.” Linda slowed and turned to make sure Anna had heard her.
“A local stopped by a few hours ago to say someone’s managed to set up a field hospital in one of the newer buildings. A local physician is helping them, but they have over a hundred people there. If we get through our current patients, I’d like you to go. They can’t get those patients to this side of the island.”
Anna nodded. It would give her a chance to go to Nico’s house, her old house, and make sure he was okay. “Did they tell you where on the island?”
“Talofofo. It’s on the Pacific side, so I’m not sure how well it fared.”
A brick fell through Anna’s stomach. Talofofo. That’s where Nico had bought land. Right after they’d buried Lucas, the piece of herself that would forever be in Guam. Nico had tried to convince her it was the way to heal, a desperate attempt to get her to stay. What happened to his plans? Had they washed away like the rest of their life together?
“Dr. Tucker, I have a request.” Before she could continue, Linda stopped abruptly and Anna almost bumped into her. One of the patients had come out of a tent screaming at her.
“I’m going to die!” A man scarcely over five feet tall stood in front of Linda, his chest puffed out.
“Sir!” Linda’s voice was firm and laced with annoyance. “I’ve told you already—you’re not getting pain medication, so stop the racket.”
Linda turned to her. “He’s yours. Sixty-some-year-old male, leg laceration, five stitches, prior undiagnosed first-degree heart block. He’s been having arrhythmias, which is why he’s still here. Not even close to the worst of the wounded.”
Anna took in the broad, wrinkled forehead, the firm purse of the man’s lips, the gray in his hair and the slight stoop to his back. He was an elder, a man used to getting what he wanted. She stepped up to him and bowed slightly, making her frame smaller so she wouldn’t tower over him, then spoke softly in Chamorro. “We don’t have supplies, the hospital is damaged, we’re saving the pills for people who are badly hurt.”
The patient nodded, thanked her, then went back to the tent.
Linda shook her head. “He speaks English. I heard him talking to the others. These people!”
Anna bristled. “He needed to know that you weren’t making a judgment call in denying him pills. People here understand shortages and rationing...” She muttered under her breath, “They understand it all too well.”
Linda pressed her lips together tightly, and Anna reminded herself that the woman was a superior officer. While Anna wasn’t interested in climbing the career ladder, she had to work and live with Linda for the foreseeable future, and she still had to ask her for a favor.
“He should be grateful we’re here to help him,” Linda said irritably. “But I’m glad you speak Chamorro. Follow me—I think I’ll put you in this tent.”
Anna opened her mouth, then shut it. Linda had already resumed her purposeful walk. Most of the doctors she worked with didn’t appreciate the local cultures. They were adrenaline junkies who went into deployment to feed their hero complexes and left with little understanding of the place. They were dispassionate about the very people they supposedly came to serve. While people like Linda annoyed her, at some level Anna understood the need for emotional distance from the patients they were serving. She had come to Guam and ingrained herself in the community. If she’d treated her time here for what it was, a temporary medical rotation, she never would have married Nico, never would have had Lucas.
Linda went through the open doorway of one of the tents, talking as she went. Anna pushed her attention to Linda. She needed to stop thinking about her past and snap into the present. This could be Liberia, or Sri Lanka, or Thailand. The tents all looked the same, the misery around her was no different. Pretend you’re not in Guam.
“...but I need someone who has a background in pediatrics,” Linda was saying. The sound of crying babies and high-pitched little voices made Anna freeze. Filled wall-to-wall with children of all ages, the tent suddenly spun around her. Older children were sitting on cots, while younger ones played and crawled around on the dirt floor. Mothers held tiny babies and stared at her as she took it all in. She shivered. The flash of a sweet face burned her eyes, and she jolted at the memory of a cold little body in her arms. No. No, no, no, no!
Linda kept talking. “I have my hands full. No one has evaluated these children since they were brought here, and most of the—”
“I...can’t.” Is that my voice? “Listen, I’m not sure what you were told, but I don’t treat children. That’s the only thing I won’t do. You can assign me to the burn unit, send me out into the field to do body recovery... I’m game for anything else, but I don’t treat children.”
Linda put her hands on her hips. “Dr. Atao, you’re a pediatrician! Need I remind you that we’re in the middle of a disaster here? You don’t get to pick where you work, and we have a tent full of children who need attending to.”
Anna’s chest tightened, but she forced herself to meet Linda’s eyes. “I have an understanding with the PHS that I don’t treat children anymore. I—”
“Are you refusing an order?”
A child’s wail pierced through her. Her muscles tightened. Technically her understanding with the PHS was just that, an unwritten agreement. Her boss knew what had happened with Lucas, and her orders usually had a note attached about not assigning her young children to work with. It had never been an issue, not once in all her deployments. And perhaps in another place she could have handled it... But not here on Guam.
She shook her head. “I’m really sorry, I’ll do anything else. I just can’t...”
Linda wasn’t listening. One of the staff in the tent had handed her a writhing infant. “The paramedics are a little concerned about this