[b]DAY 1: Sunrise[/b]

Carol was once again exhausted enough to lay down and pass out. She and the others who were capable of doing so had been running up and down the beach or in and out of the destroyed C-130's fuselage for almost 3 hours, [i]rescuing[/i] as much cargo as they could before either the flames, the storm, or the surf got to it.

They'd strung up a plastic tarp between four tall coconut trees just off the beach and stacked what needed to be out of the rain there. Other supplies had simply been hauled up from the surf to the forest's edge for proper tending later on. Tents were filled with the injured and exhausted, of which there were plenty.

In the end, there were 38 survivors:
[list]
[*]28 of the original 36 Aid Workers. (Some were injured but not mortally.)
[*]4 of the 6 Cargo Crew. (The 3 pilots had all died.)
[*]1 Documentary Filmmaker
[*]1 Camera Operator.
[*]4 of the 5 Tongalese (who had been in New Zealand and who obviously wouldn't be making it home).
[/list]  

Carol checked with the Medical Staff regarding the injured. There were a number of broken bones and plenty of cuts and lacerations. They were dealing with them professionally, and Carol found herself very impressed. 

"I, um ... I need to speak to you," the Senior Doctor said.

They moved to the entrance of another tent, which the Doctor pulled aside to reveal a single patient laid out comfortably in bedding arranged to support and secure her length. Carol knew Yolanda Gregerson from a previous mission; she was an Emergency Housing Specialist with more than 30 years of service. Yolanda smiled weakly to Carol and the Doctor but otherwise made no movements.

The Doctor closed the opening again and explained that the woman's back was broken in two places and that there was no [i]fixing[/i] it. "She will be paralyzed until she dies ... which likely won't be long ... days ... weeks on the outside. I have her on strong sedatives for now, but ... well--" 

The Doctor had already had this conversation with Yolanda, but the next conversation was for Yolanda and Carol. Stepping back a bit, the Doctor said, "I think the two of you should talk ... in [i]private[/i]."

Carol entered the tent and moved to sit on the floor near Yolanda; she could feel the cool sand through the thick, reinforced fabric. The two women traded greetings, during which Carol took Yolanda's hand; she noticed immediately that the other woman showed no sign of knowing that the contact had been made, let alone returning the squeeze that Carol herself had offered.

"How you doing, [i]Yolo[/i]?" Carol asked, using the [i]You Only Live Once[/i] nickname that the Team Leader had found so appropriate for the adventure-seeking woman.

Yolanda laughed weakly. "Doc says there's nothing to be done for me. I'm going to die. Today. Tomorrow. Next week."

Carol had been holding in her emotions but now felt a tear stream down her cheek. She reached up to caress Yolanda's cheek and saw that at least [i]this[/i] was felt by the injured woman. Yolanda continued, "I'm not going to live like this. I need you to help me [i]not[/i] live like this."

Carol knew exactly what the other woman was asking. She'd never objected to Assisted Suicide, but then she'd never been asked to be a participant in it either. As she considered the issue in silence, Yolanda continued, "Doc won't take part. Ethical bullshit and all that. But options were offered. Behind you ... under the towel."

Looking under the indicated towel, Carol found a bottle of morphine and an already loaded syringe. She looked back to Yolanda, asking with a tremble in her voice, "Are you sure about this?"

"Abso-fuckin'-lutely," the injured woman answered. They stared at each other a moment, then Yolanda said, "I would like to be outside, though. I want to see the ocean. They tell me the storm passed."

"It did," Carol confirmed, smiling. "It's a beautiful morning."

"Take me outside," Yolanda asked. "Lean me up against a tree. Bury my feet in the sand. Give me a daquiri if you can scrounge one up."

Carol laughed, feeling another tear streak down her cheek. "If this is what you want, Yolo."

"It is," the other woman said. 

Carol departed the tent, quietly found some volunteers, and -- using the bedding under her -- inconspicuously carried Yolanda down the beach away from the rest of the group to the trunk of a giant coconut tree. There, Carol -- and two others who'd worked with the injured woman in the past -- sat in the sand and partook of some airline bottles of booze that someone had [i]unsurprisingly[/i] smuggled onto the mission; one was Rum, the closest they were going to get to a daquiri under the circumstances. 

They watched the sun as it continued its rise into the sky and the surf as it pounded harshly in the aftermath of the fierce storm. Eventually, Yolanda looked to Carol and nodded. One of the other Medical Team members who'd joined them down the beach had volunteered to [i]do the deed[/i], but Carol had reminded them of her position and responsibility as Mission Leader.

"Why don't the rest of you head back to the camp," she suggested. After the others traded farewells with their coworker and, in some cases, close friend, they departed. Carol asked again, "You sure about this, Yolo?"

Yolanda only nodded, after which the injection was administered. Carol moved closer, putting an arm around her friend and caressing her face with soft fingertips. They talked about their first UNHCR mission together in coastal Sudan. Each morning, they'd gotten up in time to watch the sun rise from beyond the Red Sea. It was beautiful and inspirational, and for a moment it made them forget why they were there and how the rest of their day would progress. After which they'd say in synch, "It's all downhill from here", then laugh and get to work.

Sometime during the conversation, Yolanda went silent. Carol continued to sit with her friend for another hour or so, only then gesturing to one of the others who'd remained a few dozen yards off, waiting to help. They wrapped her in a white sheet and put her with the other dead who were awaiting burial for later in the day.

"Okay, so..." Carol said when she was back with the others. Wiping away another tear before it threatened her cheek, she asked the grouping of team leaders who were anxiously awaiting her leadership, "Whatcha got for me?"