As the rain subsided, the quarantine zone inside the wooden barriers was beginning to take shape.

Grace trudged through ankle-deep mud between the makeshift shelters. The hem of her white dress was soaked with blood and grime, but she couldn't spare a moment to care. Even the herbal paste crusted at the corners of her mouth went unnoticed.

She jabbed a silver needle into a child's purpled fingertip, then squeezed out half a bowl of foul-smelling, dark blood. Without missing a beat, she poured a warm tonic down the child's parched throat.

"We still need 20 more stretchers for the third row of shelters," she shouted, her voice hoarse from hours of constant orders.

Nearby, Dustin was burning away infection from a patient's rotting wounds with threads of golden light. The glow danced across torn flesh, incinerating the squirming maggots as it passed.

The elderly man trembled in pain, but he bit down on a wooden stick to keep from crying out. When he saw sweat rolling down Dustin's fac