Camp 16

Camp 16, Outside of Charlotte, NC
June 16, 2054

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Rachel's head snapped up; her eyes wide with surprise as the tent flap suddenly opened.

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Her body relaxed as Mark stepped inside, quickly closing the flap behind him.

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"Did you get it?" Rachel asked anxiously.

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Mark took a deep breath before answering.

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"Yes, but I had to lie to them."

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"Lie to them about what, Mark? She's sick. Really sick. What more do they need?"

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Mark took another deep breath, trying to quell the anger bubbling inside him.

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"They interrogated me about her symptoms. They wanted every detail. I knew if I told them the truth, they wouldn't give us anything."

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"But why? You told them she has malaria, right?"

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"Yes, but I had to hide the severity of her condition."

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"I don't understand," Rachel said, standing up and confronting Mark.

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"While waiting in line, I heard a boy two people ahead being denied medicine for his father in the same state as your mom," Mark explained. "They claimed he was beyond saving and that they couldn't spare any medicine."

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"Oh my God," Rachel whispered in shock.

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"That's why I lied," Mark confirmed.

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"But you still got the medicine, didn't you?" Rachel asked eagerly.

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"Yes, I have the Artemisinin tablets," Mark replied.

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"But how are we going to get her to take them? She's too weak to swallow," Rachel fretted.

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"When her fever comes back, she'll want something to drink. We can crush the pills and mix them into a drink for her then," Mark suggested.

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Rachel turned back to her mother, lying peacefully on her cot under a wool blanket. Her face was pale and still, barely moving with each shallow breath.

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"I'm worried, Mark. It's been over a day now and she hasn't improved."

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"That stubborn woman!" Mark cursed. "If only she had let us get help when this started two weeks ago. But no, she said it was just a fever and that she'd be fine soon."

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Rachel leaned against Mark's chest and began to cry.

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"I can't bear the thought of my mother dying in this god-forsaken refugee camp. She's been through so much already. Our home destroyed, our town washed away by hurricanes and floods."

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Mark wrapped his arms around her in comfort.

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"I know, honey. I know."

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"We can't do anything for her right now. Maybe she'll be a little better in the morning," Rachel sniffled.

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"Maybe," Mark agreed. 

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"I'll stay with her tonight,” Rachel said as she sat on a small stool beside her mother’s bed. “I want her to know we're here for her."

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* * *

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The next morning, as Rachel gently stroked her mother's cold face, tears streaming down her cheeks, she turned to Mark with a heartbroken expression.

"She's gone," she whispered.

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Mark grimaced, steeling himself for what needed to be done.

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"I'll hide the pills and then go get some help," he said calmly.

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Rachel looked at him with questioning eyes.

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"I'm not giving those pills back," Mark stated firmly. "If they are running low on medicine, we may need it for ourselves. I'm not willing to take that risk."

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Rachel slowly nodded, understanding the gravity of their situation as Mark left to carry out his plan.