It was a long drive through pot-holed flooded roads. The tyres frequently skidded on the mud and crashed into holes. It was a route Bodie had taken many times before. The hot African sun burned the back of his head. He had a Kalashnikov across his knees and a gunner in the rear seat watching his back, his eyes peeled for the raiders who were always skulking in the bushes waiting in ambush. Bodie had insisted that, if they couldn't vary their route - there was only one road in this godforsaken place - they could at least vary their timing from the pickup point to try not to be a sitting target. So sometimes they'd leave the airstrip in the early hours of the morning, sometimes nearer noon, and set off with vital supplies for Unhura Hospital a 4-hour drive away. The chat with the crew at the airfield was a relaxing interlude but, once in the jeep, Bodie was on full alert as was his mate in the back. This bloke, Lucky, was quite new. That last one, Providence, had copped it during an ambush that Bodie was fortunate to have escaped from - and with the supplies in tact, too. As he neared his destination, his heart grew lighter. The nuns and 'civilians' were always glad to see them, whatever time they turned up. The months had turned to over a year now. Bodie couldn't believe how much time had passed and how many miles he must have covered providing much needed food and medical supplies to this little hospital. He accepted their hospitality and sometimes stayed over.

This latest run was an early morning pickup. Half way along their route to the hospital, Bodie noticed a sudden movement in the bush. He was skilled enough to know the difference between man and beast. Something was lobbed towards them. "Grenade!" Bodie screamed as he slammed the jeep to a halt and threw himself out of the vehicle. He hit the ground hard, still clutching his rifle. He rolled and aimed towards the thrower. The ground exploded on the other side of the road. Rocks and dust were hurled in all directions. Bodie kept his head down, protecting his eyes from the worse of it. He recovered at about the same time as the opposition. Then he heard the slap, slap of their sandals rapidly running towards the jeep and the precious supplies. "No you don't," Bodie thought angrily to himself and curled round towards the sound. He saw them through the haze of dust and let rip with his rifle. Three bodies soon lay on the road as Bodie risked raising himself off the ground. He looked round for Lucky, but he was nowhere to be seen. He called out for him, and looked under the jeep and in the ditch on the other side of the road. It was unfortunate that the bodyguard had chosen that side of the road to leap towards when the jeep came to its unexpected stop. Bodie shook his head sadly at the body parts. There was nothing he could do but get back on the road. He revved the jeep and was pleased that it started first time. He felt very vulnerable as he covered the last miles on his own.

The hospital was unusually quiet. There was some sign of life around the canteen buildings, and a sweeper was busy at his endless task of keeping the worst of the dust from inside and out. Bodie, as usual, unpacked as much as he could carry from the vehicle and headed for the main reception area, being careful not to trip up the verandah steps. He called out and was surprised that no-one answered. They usually heard his jeep well before he arrived, however early it was. Bodie laid the goods on the counter and went into the nearest office where most of the admin was done. He saw a woman lying on the floor covered in blood and flies. Bodie's first thought was that there had been an ambush, a massacre. He went cold at the thought. The coldness turned to a hot anger. He knew these people; they had somehow become friends - though Bodie shunned close contact. He approached the body and knelt down, waving the flies away. As he reached for her pulse just below the jaw, his eyes were raking the immediate area for clues. He saw a knife nearby and slits on the girl's wrists. Bodie began to re-evaluate. He turned her on her back and she moaned softly. Still alive then. Bodie let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. There were no other injuries on her. This was no massacre; this was self-inflicted. He knew the woman, Clair (he hadn't wanted to encourage her by asking for a surname). She was his main and first contact at the hospital. They passed the time of day and she was rather flirty with him. Although he was flattered, Clair wasn't his type. He sensed that she was a needy person and if he made a move towards her she'd cling like a limpet. No. Bodie liked his affairs free and flowing; ones he could easily walk away from.

He rapidly tore open the bandages he had brought as part of the supplies and applied them tightly to both wrists. He laid her in the recovery position and ran for help. He headed for the nearest ward and bumped into a sister - both of the medical and religious variety.

"Clair," he said breathlessly. He didn't need to say more.

Sister Monica turned Bodie around and allowed him to lead her. In a moment they were both by Clair's side.

"You've been taking first aid lessons," she admonished, though a smile played around her lips. She was trying to make Bodie feel a little better about this. "Get a stretcher. There's one in the supply room opposite …"

"I know where it is," Bodie replied already on the move.

Between them they lifted the light body onto the stretcher and headed for a ward. Soon a doctor arrived and curtains were drawn around the bed as Clair was attended to. A bewildered Bodie was escorted to Matron's office. They passed the admin block and Bodie saw that, already, Clair's blood was being mopped up.

"Now, Bodie," Matron started off. "Sit down and have a cup of tea."

She offered him the strong, sweet black brew that was endemic in these parts. Her broad shoulders filled out the nun's outfit and made her look very manly and stern. Matron, Mother Superior, call her what you will, she would be obeyed.

"What the hell - sorry Matron - happened?"

The elderly nun smiled gently. "You haven't a clue have you, dear."

Bodie's bewilderment turned to anger. She saw this flash across his beautiful eyes.

"Clair was infatuated with you. She lived for your visits. On the days, or even weeks, when you couldn't come, she'd be like a love-lorn teenager. We'd have to poke her several times a day to get her to focus on her work. It's fortunate that we put her in admin - she was less likely to kill patients that way!"

"I never knew."

But some part of Bodie suspected that what Matron had said was all too true. That's why he backed away from Clair. He saw the passion in her eyes and knew he'd never be free of her if he responded to her desperation. He was the drug she could never have. He understood her need. He'd been close to that himself. His first exciting forays into Africa had brought him into Angel's orbit. She was the most beautiful, exotic woman Bodie had ever met. He was intoxicated by her. His very skin felt alive. She enjoyed the power she held over him. She also made a play for the head of the small mercenary unit that Bodie had attached himself to. She enjoyed the power game of pitting Krevas and Bodie against each other. What fun she had at their expense. Then things got serious - deadly serious. Krevas didn't share. When she emerged from the hut she and Bodie were sharing that evening, Krevas was waiting for her. Bodie heard a large bang - bigger than a pistol shot - a rifle of some kind. The only person with a rifle of that calibre was … God, no. He rushed out of the hut and found what was left of Angel spread out in the dirt. He looked from her body to Krevas. He stood with the rifle in his hands, legs wide, a broad grin on his face. He slowly aimed the gun at Bodie, who refused to move. Krevas lowered the gun and disappeared into the night, leaving Bodie with his dreams shattered. There was nothing he could do now but walk - and keep on walking.