She was taking him back home. He was injured. Far, far beyond the capabilities of medical care in the remote African village where he had been filming. In fact, with the sepsis that was setting in, he was far sicker than the capital city of Lilongwe’s best hospital could even handle. He was just plain lucky that she was in the country. She was probably the only nurse with true Western critical care experience in the nation of Malawi at the moment. She was there with a UN humanitarian mission helping the refuges that had fled Mozambique to a nation that was only slightly larger than her home state of Tennessee.

She knew him from a science fiction television show that had never been shown in her home country. She doubted that he was conscious enough to register who she was through the sedatives she had given him. She also knew he was openly gay, but to mention that in this country would probably get him killed.

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