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He did not have a good feeling about this.

Katie was glad to see civilization again, even if it was in tatters.

The first village they’d come to had been flooded and mostly destroyed, but a man there had directed them further inland, up the valley, saying the next village had fared better in the storm and most of the locals had gone there to take shelter. Furthermore, it had a health clinic that served the surrounding villages.

The hike to the next village wasn’t terrible. Locals had already cleared a foot path that followed what must’ve been a dirt road before the storm. It was steep in spots, slippery with mud in others, but passable.

The path headed west, topped the head of the valley, and then descended into forest that had been somewhat protected from Giselle’s wrath by the ridge they’d just crossed over.

This village had fared somewhat better. The flimsiest structures were still destroyed, but more buildings here were constructed of stone or cinder block covered with white stucco and had weathered the storm. The walls of the structures farthest down the hill were stained up to waist high with dark mud.

It wasn’t hard to find the health clinic. The fairly large cinder block building had a big red cross painted beside the covered front porch. A path had been shoveled to the front door through small debris and mud.

Ahead of her, Alex poked his head inside the front door and called cautiously in Spanish, “Who’s in charge, here?”

“That would be me.” The woman who stepped outside had strands of silver in her black ponytail. She was small. Sturdy. No-nonsense, even at a glance. She wore latex gloves that were bloody at the moment.

“I’m Sylvia Vasquez. Are you or the woman hurt?”

Alex answered, “We’re fine. Do you by any chance need a doctor?”

She snorted. “Are you joking? If you know how to get one here, tell me!”

“I’m a surgeon. What can I do for you?”

The woman stared at Alex for several long seconds. Then she shook herself a little and muttered something in Spanish about answered prayers. She said briskly, “This way.”

Katie trailed Alex and Sylvia into the building. The front area was a waiting room, and the back was split into four tiny examining rooms.

As Katie’s eyes adjusted to the dim interior—on account of the boarded-up windows—she placed Sylvia in her early fifties. Dark eyes. Tired-looking. Like she hadn’t slept in a few days.

The woman commenced stitching a nasty cut on a man’s shoulder in the first rooms, talking over her shoulder as she worked. “I’ve got a patient in the next room. Beyond my abilities. Take a look.”

Alex nodded and passed Katie his pack. “Show time,” he murmured, sticking to Spanish.

Katie’s high-school Spanish teacher would be so pleased to know all her hard work to cram at least a little of the language into Katie’s brain had finally come in useful.

A man laid on a plain canvas cot beside the wall, writhing in obvious pain. Alex knelt by the injured man’s side and lifted a blood-soaked pad off the patient’s belly.

“What have you got for medical supplies?” Alex called out tersely to Sylvia.

Katie knew that tone of voice. The trauma surgeon was in the house.

Sylvia called back a shockingly short list of supplies and equipment.

Alex grimaced and then glanced over at her. “The light’s as good in here as anywhere, so let’s sterilize this room as much as possible. Katie, you’ll assist me. Sylvia can handle any other patients who come in.”

Katie nodded briskly and quickly unpacked the plastic tarps they’d used for a roof last night. Pulling out the roll of duct tape they’d brought, she tacked clear plastic over the window frame while Alex sprayed the tarps, ceiling, and floor with bleach-laced water. She taped the second tarp across the top of the doorway, creating a curtain of sorts to help keep the space clean.

Makeshift operating theater in place, she and Alex scrubbed their hands and forearms in a bucket of dubiously cloudy water with the iodine-based soap they’d brought. Thankfully, the soap should take care of sterilizing the water, too.

They donned surgical gloves and masks Sylvia brought them. Grumbling about primitive medicine, Alex administered ether by dripping it onto a gauze pad over the man’s mouth.

Alex asked for tools tersely as he worked, and she passed them to him quickly. She was in charge of suctioning away blood so Alex could see to work and held retractors and clamps for him when he needed an extra hand.

It was the first time she’d seen him perform surgery, and she was impressed to death by how fast and precise he was. She’d worked with some excellent surgeons in the past, but he was arguably the best she’d ever seen. Not that she was surprised.

Alex stitched the man up as quickly and smoothly as he’d performed the surgery. As he snipped off the last suture thread, he commented, “This guy could use a pint of blood, but there isn’t any to give him.”