We got the boy, Alek, into the health center. Dr. Voss examined him quickly, listened to his chest.

  "Possible TB. Isolate him in the side room, door closed. We'll assume he's infectious until proven otherwise."

  They moved him to the side room. Dr. Voss followed, pulling on a mask. I stood in the main room, exhausted. Only five in the afternoon but it felt like days.

  Murin sat on a bench. "How many more people are dying because of that healer?"

  "We're going to find out," I said.

  Dr. Voss emerged, pulling off her mask. "Probable TB. Can't diagnose definitively without X-ray and sputum testing, but clinically it's classic. I'm starting empiric TB treatment tonight."

  She looked at the grandmother, who'd followed us in. "Your grandson will need to take medications for six months. Every day, no skipping. We'll give you the first doses here, but you'll need to continue at the district hospital. We'll arrange transport in three days when we leave."

  The grandmother nodded, tears running down her face.

  Dr. Voss turned to all of us. "This village is a disaster. We've been here six hours and found severe poisoning, probable TB, pediatric pneumonia. And those are just the people desperate enough to talk to us." She ran a hand through her hair. "We've got two and a half more days. Tomorrow, we go door to door. Every house. Blood pressure checks, basic exams, anything without labs. And we document everything. When we leave, we file a report about that healer."

  "What if they stop us?" someone asked.

  "We deal with it. But we don't back down. People are dying."

  Just then, we heard an engine outside. We looked out and saw a white van pulling up, university logo on the side. Dr. Voss frowned. "That's from our college. I didn't request backup."

  The van doors opened and students piled out, unloading boxes of supplies. And among them—

  "Oh God," Murin muttered.

  Tonny and Bonny. The twins. They spotted us and waved enthusiastically, grinning like idiots.

  Dr. Voss walked outside. "What's this?"

  One of the students from the van, a fifth-year I vaguely recognized, handed her a note. "Dr. Bennett sent us. Said you might need extra hands and supplies. Also sent those two," he gestured at the twins, "for educational purposes."

  Dr. Voss read the note, her expression unreadable. Then she looked at Tonny and Bonny. "Educational purposes," she repeated flatly.

  "We're here to help!" Tonny said cheerfully.

  "And learn!" Bonny added.

  "Right," Dr. Voss said. She looked at me and Murin. "You two know them?"

  "Unfortunately," Murin said.

  "They any good?"

  "They passed their Medicine rotation," I said. "Barely."

  "Wonderful." Dr. Voss folded the note. "Fine. You two," she pointed at the twins, "grab those supply boxes and bring them inside. Then find a spot here. Tomorrow you're on house visits with everyone else. Try not to screw up."

  "Yes ma'am!" they said in unison and started hauling boxes.

  I looked at Murin. "This is going to be a disaster."

  "Probably," he agreed.

  But we had more supplies now. More hands. And despite everything, the twins had managed to pass Dr. Bennett's exam. Maybe they'd actually be useful. Maybe.

  We ate rice and curry. Tonny and Bonny had claimed spots near the door, already unpacking their bags and chattering about the journey. After eating, I lay back and pulled out my phone. No signal, but I activated the System.

  That was it. The way it should be.

  I closed my eyes. Tomorrow would be harder. The headman's men would escalate. More people would refuse us. But we'd saved three people today.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  I woke up at 5:23 AM to the sound of someone retching outside. For a moment I couldn't remember where I was and then it all came rushing back.

  I sat up, my back protesting. Sleeping on a thin mattress on concrete wasn't doing me any favors. Around me, other students were still asleep, wrapped in their blankets.

  I grabbed my jacket and stepped outside to see who was being sick. It was one of the twins. Bonny, I thought, though honestly I still couldn't tell them apart most of the time. He was bent over near the side of the building, hands on his knees, looking miserable.

  "You okay?" I asked.

  He straightened up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Yeah. Just... something I ate yesterday didn't agree with me."

  "The curry?"

  "Probably. Or the water. I don't know." He sat down heavily on the steps leading up to the building. "My stomach's been killing me since about three AM."

  I sat down next to him. "You take anything for it?"

  "Not yet. I was trying to tough it out, but..." He gestured vaguely at the spot where he'd just been sick.

  "Wait here," I said.

  I went back inside, found my medical kit, and pulled out a packet of oral rehydration salts and some anti-nausea medication. When I came back out, Bonny was still sitting there, looking pale and sweaty despite the cold.

  "Here," I said, handing him the ORS packet and a bottle of water from my bag. "Mix this and drink it slowly. And take this," I gave him one of the anti-nausea pills, "and then try to sleep for another hour or two if you can."

  He took them gratefully. "Thanks, Ashru."

  "Don't mention it. But if you're not better by the time we start work this morning, you need to tell Dr. Voss. We can't have you passing out during house visits."

  "I'll be fine," he said, but he didn't sound convinced.

  I left him there and walked toward the health center. The sun was just starting to come up. The village was quiet at this hour, just a few early risers moving around, starting cooking fires or heading out to the fields.

  The health center was lit up, lights on in the back rooms. Someone was already working.

  I pushed through the door and found Dr. Voss in the main examination area, checking on Samuel, the first baby we'd admitted yesterday. She was listening to his chest with her stethoscope, and the baby was awake, looking around with curious eyes.

  "How is he?" I asked.

  Dr. Voss pulled the stethoscope from her ears. "Much better. Oxygen sat is ninety-seven percent on room air now. Lungs sound clearer. He's taking the breast milk his mother's been giving him. I think the antibiotics are working."

  "That's good."

  "Very good." She moved to check on Katya next, who was still on the examination table where we'd left her yesterday, IV still running. "Her vitals have been stable overnight. No significant changes. That's about the best we can hope for right now."

  I walked over and looked at Katya. She was awake staring at the ceiling. When I moved into her field of vision, her eyes tracked me, and her right hand moved slightly.

  "Good morning, Katya," I said quietly.

  Her fingers curled in response. Dr. Voss came to stand next to me. "It's going to be a long recovery for her. If she recovers at all. The liver damage alone..." She shook her head. "But we're giving her the best chance we can."

  "What about Alek?"

  "Still isolated in the side room. I checked on him around four AM. Fever's down slightly with the antipyretics, but he's still very sick. I started him on the standard TB regimen—rifampicin, isoniazid, pyrazinamide, ethambutol. Four drugs. He'll need to take them for at least six months, maybe longer depending on how he responds."

  "His grandmother knows that?"

  "I explained it to her. Whether she fully understands is another question. I wrote everything down for her—dosing schedule, side effects to watch for, when to come back for follow-up. We'll set up transport to the district hospital for three days from now. They have a TB clinic there that can monitor him properly."

  Dr. Voss walked over to the desk where we'd piled the fake medicines from Katya's house yesterday. She picked up one of the packets and turned it over in her hands.

  "I've been thinking about how to handle this," she said. "That healer—Boris. He's not going to stop just because we're here. The moment we leave, he'll go right back to selling this garbage. And people will keep buying it because they don't have other options."

  "What can we do about it in three days?"

  "Not much," she admitted. "But we can document everything. Take photos of these medicines, record the contents as best we can, get statements from Vera about how much they cost and how long Katya was taking them. When we get back, I'll file a formal complaint with the state health department. It won't be fast, but it's something."

  She set the packet down and looked at me. "You got here early. Couldn't sleep?"

  "One of the twins is sick. Vomiting. I gave him ORS and anti-nausea meds."

  "Which twin?"

  "Bonny, I think."

  "Keep an eye on him. If he's got gastroenteritis, we need to make sure it doesn't spread to the other students. Last thing we need is half the team down with diarrhea and vomiting." She checked her watch. "It's almost six. We're starting at seven today. Door-to-door health screenings. I want everyone in pairs, same as yesterday. You and Murin together again. Each pair gets a section of the village to cover. We'll aim to see as many people as possible before it gets dark."

  "What about the headman and his men?"

  "We'll deal with them if they show up. But we're not letting them intimidate us into doing nothing." Her jaw set in a hard line. "People are suffering here. That's not acceptable."

  By seven AM, everyone was assembled in the courtyard outside the health center. Eighteen students total now with the arrivals from yesterday, plus Dr. Voss and Dr. Okafor, plus three interns. Dr. Voss had divided the village into sections and assigned pairs to each one.

  "Remember," she said, addressing all of us, "you're doing basic health screenings. Blood pressure, temperature, heart rate, respiratory rate. Ask about chronic symptoms—cough, fever, weight loss, pain. If someone's clearly sick and needs immediate care, bring them here. If they refuse, don't force them. Just document it and move on."

  She held up a clipboard with blank assessment forms. "Fill these out for every person you screen. Name, age, any symptoms, your findings. We're collecting data. When we leave, this data goes to the district health office."

  Tonny raised his hand. "What if people won't let us in their houses?"

  "Then you move to the next house. We can't help people who don't want help. But make sure they know it's free, no strings attached. Some people will be suspicious at first and then change their minds after they see their neighbors getting checked."

  Bonny was standing next to his brother, looking better than he had two hours ago but still pale. Dr. Voss noticed.

  "You," she pointed at him. "You feeling okay?"

  "Yes ma'am," Bonny said quickly.

  "You look like death warmed over. If you need to sit out today, say so now."

  "I'm fine. Really."

  Dr. Voss didn't look convinced, but she moved on. "Pairs, take your sections and get started. Check back here every two hours to drop off completed forms and grab more supplies if needed. Any questions?"

  No one said anything.

  "Go."