Taeho said.
"If you save eight hundred and fifty people, General, you will become a hero. 'A leader who stopped an epidemic in cooperation with the international community,' 'A brave soldier who protected the people.' The Western press will report it that way."
Mbeki narrowed his eyes.
"Are you trying to persuade me with justification?"
"No."
Taeho smiled.
"I am giving you a choice. Lock down now and become a war criminal, or give me time and become a hero."
Mbeki did not answer. But his eyes were wavering.
He was not afraid of being branded a war criminal by the West. He lived like a king in his own territory, so he was satisfied with the present. However, he calculated that if he truly obtained a cure, as that Eastern doctor said, he could expand his dominion even further.
Mbeki slowly opened his mouth.
"What if the protocol fails?"
"It will not fail."
"Look. Just because I live in some backwater corner of Africa, do you take me for a fool? I know how terrifying that epidemic is. That is why all the doctors dispatched by the WHO ran away, is it not? If it fails, would I not simply be wasting time? What are you going to do if the epidemic spreads even further while I have missed that time?"
Mbeki narrowed his eyes and pressed him.
He was greedy, but not stupid. If he could not be made to believe here, Gihwan and Jean Paul, the medical staff from the UAE, and countless patients would die immediately.
Taeho thought for a moment and answered.
"Then I will take responsibility as well."
"Responsibility?"
"Yes. I will not leave Eungili. I will stay with the patients."
Mbeki raised his eyebrows.
"Are you saying you will die with them?"
"That is correct. How could I ask others to believe in a protocol I created if I cannot believe in it myself?"
Taeho said firmly.
Leclerc, and even Mbunga, opened their eyes wide in surprise and stared at Taeho.
"Mwahahaha! So you were a madman after all."
Mbeki laughed loudly. In that laugh, there was no ridicule, but a hint of acknowledgment.
"General Mbeki!"
Tshisekedi said from within the screen.
Mbeki glanced at the screen with an annoyed expression.
"What is it, Mr. President?"
"Let us give Doctor Gang a chance."
Mbeki stroked his beard with the back of his hand.
President Tshisekedi and General Mbeki were strategic partners. They acknowledged each other's domains and did not encroach upon them, which allowed them to maintain peace for a long time.
Had Tshisekedi ever demanded something of Mbeki so firmly?
Mbeki nodded as if he had no choice.
"Then I shall follow the President's will in this matter. Instead, please remember that you are indebted to me."
"Thank you, General Mbeki."
Tshisekedi looked at Taeho through the camera.
"Doctor Gang."
"Yes, Mr. President."
"I have heard that your skills are remarkable. I hope you will handle this matter well."
"Understood."
Tshisekedi carefully added.
"And Doctor Gang."
"Yes."
"You should probably contact Prince Faisal. To report the situation, that is. The Prince must be worried... Ahem."
Taeho immediately understood.
He wanted him to put in a good word with his in-laws.
"Do not worry, Prince Faisal will understand how hard you are trying to protect the people even in such a difficult situation."
Tshisekedi's face, which had been dark the whole time, brightened.
Even across the screen, relief could be felt.
"Mr. President. Time is quite tight, so please send the medicine at Kinshasa Airport as quickly as possible. Only then can I handle the work properly."
"As it happens, I was already furious upon receiving the report that WHO medical supplies had failed to clear customs. I will immediately look into what happened and take measures."
Tshisekedi made excuses, speaking with deliberate detachment.
Taeho nodded as if he understood.
Having accomplished all his purposes for coming here, he now had to return to Eungili and develop the cure as quickly as possible.
***
Masika opened her eyes.
It was still the dark hours before dawn. Faint light was seeping in through the gaps in the roof.
Beside her, Kasim was sleeping. Next to him, Yusuf was curled up in a small ball, sleeping with his thumb in his mouth.
A cramped house. The walls were wooden planks, the roof tin, the floor dirt.
The whole family huddled together sleeping on a single mattress in one corner.
Masika closed her eyes.
'Mom...'
Four days ago, Mom, who had returned from working in the fields, had started running a fever.
"Don't worry, Masika. It's just a cold."
Mom had said with a smile.
But the next day.
Mom vomited blood.
Seeing the dark red blood spilled on the floor, Masika had screamed.
The neighbor lady ran over.
"Good heavens!"
People took Mom away.
And she did not come back.
Masika waited for Mom to come back.
Kasim and Yusuf whined that they were hungry, but there was nothing to eat. They lived on the food Mom brought home from her daily labor.
Taking her younger siblings, she walked to the distant river, filled their stomachs with river water, and came back—that was the entirety of the daily routine. Since moving too much made them hungry quickly, she moved as slowly and as little as possible.
Then yesterday, the neighbor lady came.
"Your mom is in the tent the doctors set up over there. It's an epidemic. You children must not go."
"What about Mom? Is she okay? When is she coming back?"
Masika asked, but the lady did not answer.
Instead, she left two loaves of bread and left.
At that moment, Masika realized that Mom might not come back.
"Kasim. Wake up."
Masika shook her brother.
Kasim rubbed his eyes.
"Sis?"
"Wake up. We need to wash."
"I'm hungry."
"I know. Let's eat in a little while."
Masika picked up the water jug.
It was half full.
She wet a cloth with water and wiped Kasim's face.
She woke Yusuf too.
"Yusuf, wake up."
"Mmm."
"Wake up. We have to go see Mom."
At the word Mom, Yusuf opened his eyes.
"Mom?"
"Yeah. Mom."
Masika lied.
She did not know if they could see Mom.
But she had to give her siblings hope.
"Where is Mom?"
"At the hospital."
"When is she coming?"
"Soon."
Masika wiped Yusuf's face too.
And then her own.
The water was cold, but it cleared her mind.
Masika took out a loaf of bread. Of the two loaves the neighbor lady had given them, they had eaten one and a half; half remained.
Masika broke the hard, palm-sized bread into three pieces.
"Eat."
Kasim and Yusuf took the bread.
The bread was like a rock, so they had to put it in their mouths and slowly dissolve it with saliva.
But even that was something to be thankful for. Any day they could put something in their mouths was a lucky day.
"Tasty."
Kasim mumbled.
Masika slowly chewed her share.
"Sis, water."
When Yusuf spoke, Masika handed over the jug.
She gave Yusuf a drink, and Kasim too.
When Masika took a sip, the jug was nearly empty.
'I have to fetch more from the river today.'
Masika thought.
"Let's go."
"Where?"
"The hospital."
"If we go to the hospital, can we see Mom? Can we bring Mom back?"
"I'll try."
Masika took Kasim and Yusuf's hands.
Kasim in her left hand, Yusuf in her right.
Holding her younger siblings' small hands tightly, she went outside.
The village of Eungili was quiet.
People were hiding inside their houses.
Because of the epidemic, there was no one on the streets.
Masika walked holding her two brothers' hands tightly.
Two kilometers to the hospital.
Thirty minutes at an adult's pace, an hour at a child's.
"Sis, it's hard."
Kasim said.
"Just a little further. We're almost there."
"My legs hurt."
"I know. Mine hurt too. But we have to see Mom, right?"
Kasim nodded.
They kept walking.
Yusuf followed without a word.
Though he was only four, he knew something was wrong.
That Mom was gone.
That his sister was sad.
But he did not ask.
He simply held her hand tightly and walked.
In the distance, the hospital was visible.
No, it was where the hospital had been.
Now it was surrounded by three-meter-high barbed wire.
Armed soldiers guarded the place.
Masika stopped.
"Sis, I'm scared."
Yusuf hid behind Masika.
"It's okay. We didn't do anything wrong."
Masika walked again.
As she approached the checkpoint, a young soldier looked down at them.
"What do you kids want?"
"We came to see our mom."
"Mom?"
"Our mom is inside there."
Kasim pointed inside the barbed wire.
The soldier sighed.
"Not now. Go back."
"Please, just a little. We'll just check if our mom is there and leave."
Masika pleaded.
"I said no! Go back right now!"
When the soldier shouted, Masika flinched and stepped back.
Yusuf started crying.
"Hnng..."
"Quiet!"
The soldier raised his gun. He was not aiming it, but it was threatening.
Masika hugged Yusuf.
"Shh, it's okay. It's okay."
But Masika was trembling too.
***
Taeho took off the protective suit he had been wearing for four hours and came outside.
His stamina had reached its limit and his body staggered.
"Director!"
Gihwan handed him a water bottle.
Taeho gulped down the water.
After drinking 500mL in one breath, he felt his mind clearing.
"You have pushed yourself too hard. Please sit here and rest for a moment. I will watch Patient Seven."
Gihwan unfolded a folding chair.
"Thank you, Gihwan."
Taeho sat in the chair and closed his eyes.
The sunlight was stinging, but refreshing.
It was likely because he was feeling the real wind, not the hot, humid air inside the protective suit.
Then a soldier's shout was heard.
"Go away! I said go away!"
Taeho opened his eyes.
By the checkpoint, three children were standing in front of the barbed wire.
A small girl was standing holding the hands of two boys even smaller than her, one in each hand.
She looked to be about seven or eight years old. Her thin arms and legs made her look malnourished.
"Can't you hear me? Get lost!"
The soldier shouted.
But the girl did not step back. With a fear-stricken expression, her large eyes rolled as she stared at one spot.
Taeho followed the girl's gaze.
The isolation tent?
Taeho got up from the chair and went to the checkpoint.
"Can't you hear me?"
The girl hid her two younger brothers behind her.
"Just a moment, please."
"No!"
The soldier shouted.
The two younger brothers started crying.
"Waaah..."
"Waaaah..."
Taeho approached.
"Wait a moment."
The soldier turned around, recognized Taeho, and quickly saluted. He knew Taeho was an important figure. Because he was the doctor whom even his superior, Lieutenant Okeke, could not afford to cross.
"Doctor Gang. How do you do?"
Taeho nodded to the soldier, then knelt on one knee in front of the girl to meet her eye level.
Large eyes filled with fear looked up at Taeho.
"What is your name?"
When Taeho asked in English, the soldier beside him interpreted in Lingala.
The girl hesitated for a moment and answered.
"...Masika."
"Masika. That's a pretty name."
Taeho smiled.
The girl seemed to hesitate over whether she could trust Taeho.
"How old are you?"
"Eight years old."
"Your brothers?"
"Kasim is six, and Yusuf is four."
Masika pointed to her two younger brothers.
Kasim stopped crying and stared at Taeho. His face was covered in tears and snot.
Yusuf was still sniffling. The corners of his eyes were chapped, perhaps from how much he cried even on ordinary days.
Taeho pointed at the tent and asked.
"Who is inside there?"
"Mom."
"What is Mom's name?"
"Rose."
"I see. Your mom is receiving treatment right now. She is sick, so she needs to rest well. But why are you three walking around by yourselves? Where is Dad? Is there no other adult?"
"Dad left. Last year, with another woman. Mom lives with us. There is no other family."
"I see. You must be very worried about Mom. Your mom will get better soon."
"Really?"
Masika opened her sunken eyes even wider.
Taeho smiled and nodded.
The soldier beside him lit a cigarette.
"There are many kids like this here. If their mom dies, they end up dead too."
The soldier exhaled smoke.
"If relatives take them in, they're lucky, but usually they starve to death begging on the streets."
"Please keep these children here for a moment."
Taeho entered a container used for supply storage.