No One’s Coming

1. Phoenix Air: The Company That Says Yes

For over two decades Phoenix Air had been making its name by saying yes when everybody else said no.

Unconventional origins. Phoenix Air, founded by brothers Mark and Dent Thompson, carved out a niche by embracing missions others deemed too dangerous or impossible. Mark, a former Army pilot and skydiving enthusiast, initially built an air freight business that evolved into flying explosives. Dent, the meticulous salesman, transformed it into a family-run juggernaut by navigating complex regulations and seeking out the most challenging jobs.

Embracing the impossible. Their philosophy, "Never say no," led them to specialize in hazardous cargo, from dynamite and missiles to nuclear warheads. This willingness to take on extreme risks, combined with their ingenuity, established Phoenix Air as the go-to company for unique and high-stakes aviation tasks. Their reputation grew through missions like:

• Flying explosives globally for the oil and military industries.
• Managing Midway Island for the US government.
• Broadcasting to Cuba for the State Department (Radio Martí).
• Transporting Patriot missile warheads to Saudi Arabia.
• Delivering Russian smallpox vials to the US.
• Evacuating Muammar Gaddafi's nuclear weapons from Libya.

Assembly of characters. The company's success stemmed from its eccentric workforce, a blend of capable pilots, engineers, and medical staff who thrived on adventure and problem-solving. They were often underestimated by the establishment, but their self-reliance and unconventional approach allowed them to achieve what larger, more rigid organizations could not. This unique culture fostered a deep sense of loyalty and a shared commitment to tackling the undoable.

2. The ABCS: An Unproven Biocontainment Solution

Each of these bundles represented a capability unavailable anywhere else on planet Earth—the option to transport, by air, patients suffering from the most feared and deadly viruses ever discovered.

A critical gap. In 2007, the CDC identified a major problem: their infectious disease specialists were hesitant to deploy to global outbreaks due to a "treat-in-place" policy, meaning if they got sick, they couldn't return home until virus-free or dead. The CDC needed a way to guarantee immediate, safe evacuation for stricken staff, but no such capability existed. This led them to Phoenix Air.

Ingenious design. Phoenix's engineer, Rickey Smith, conceptualized the Aeromedical Biological Containment System (ABCS) – a negative-pressure, airtight tent small enough for a jet but large enough for patient care. Key innovations included:

• An exoskeleton frame for internal space.
• A custom-built, zero-leak filtration system.
• Reversed airflow in the Gulfstream III to prevent contamination of the cockpit.
• Rigorous testing, including extreme depressurization and emergency descents.

Ready, but untested. After years of development and government certification, the ABCS units were shelved, unused, as outbreaks subsided. Despite being thoroughly tested and approved for various pathogens, it had never been used for Ebola, nor had it faced a real-world scenario. This left Phoenix with a revolutionary but wholly unproven technology, waiting for the moment it would be desperately needed.

3. Ebola's Unprecedented West African Outbreak

Though she didn’t yet know it, Linda Mobula had stepped into the rapidly mushrooming epicenter of the deadliest Ebola outbreak in human history.

A new, terrifying chapter. The 2014 Ebola outbreak, originating in Guinea, quickly became the deadliest in history, spreading across porous borders into Sierra Leone and Liberia. Unlike previous outbreaks in remote areas, this strain found a perfect home in densely populated urban centers with mobile populations, defying the long-held theory that Ebola was a self-limiting threat.

Devastating impact. Liberia, still recovering from a brutal civil war and with a critically weak healthcare system (0.01 doctors per thousand people), was particularly vulnerable. The virus, with a 70-90% fatality rate, caused widespread panic, mistrust in authorities, and societal collapse. Hospitals were abandoned, morgues overflowed, and mass cremations became common, painting a grim picture of a nation under siege.

Misunderstanding and fear. The world's understanding of Ebola was dangerously limited, often reduced to pop culture horror. While not airborne, its unimaginably high viral concentration meant even a tiny amount of fluid could transmit the disease. This lack of clear information, coupled with the virus's brutal symptoms, fueled a pervasive fear that hindered effective response and led to tragic losses, like Joseph Gbembo's family losing seventeen members.

4. Frontline Doctors: Courage in Isolation

They were alone and no one else was coming.

A desperate call. Dr. Linda Mobula, a humanitarian doctor with experience in Haiti and the DRC, answered a desperate call from Dr. Lance Plyler in Liberia. Despite her own need for a break and the terrifying unknowns of Ebola, her personal history with conflict and disease compelled her to say yes, stepping into a situation far worse than anything she had ever encountered.

Overwhelmed and under-resourced. At ELWA Hospital in Monrovia, Linda found a small, improvised Ebola treatment center (ETC) staffed by exhausted local and foreign doctors. They lacked basic equipment like IV pumps and labs, providing comfort more than a cure, with a survival rate hovering around 5%. The staff worked grueling hours, constantly exposed, and felt abandoned by the international community.

Personal toll. The constant exposure, the helplessness of watching patients die, and the fear of infection took a severe psychological toll. Linda experienced vivid nightmares, waking convinced she had Ebola. The diagnoses of American colleagues Dr. Kent Brantly and Nancy Writebol, despite their meticulous adherence to protocols, amplified the fear, leading to the chilling question among staff: "Am I going to die here?"

5. Bureaucracy and Public Hysteria

You don’t bring the zombie apocalypse to a place that doesn’t have zombies.

A government caught flat-footed. When Kent Brantly and Nancy Writebol contracted Ebola, the US government was unprepared. Despite months of warnings from Samaritan's Purse, Washington had no plan for evacuating highly infectious patients. Dr. William Walters of the State Department's Operational Medicine, known for tackling "strange problems," became the unlikely point person, facing immense bureaucratic inertia and public resistance.

"No" from all sides. Samaritan's Purse's desperate calls to insurance companies, commercial airlines, and even other nations were met with universal refusal. No one wanted to risk transporting Ebola, fearing contamination or the political fallout. Even countries they only wanted to fly over said no, highlighting the global panic and lack of precedent for such a mission.

Public backlash. News of "The American Doctor with Ebola" went viral, igniting widespread public hysteria. Influential voices, pundits, and politicians vehemently opposed bringing Ebola patients to the US, viewing them as a threat rather than fellow citizens in need. This fear-driven narrative created a hostile environment, with calls to "KEEP THEM OUT OF HERE!" and even suggestions that they "suffer the consequences" for their humanitarian work.

6. The ZMapp Dilemma: Experimental Hope

The drug was drastic and more than a little dangerous but also, in light of everything going on around them, quite possibly their only choice.

A desperate measure. With Kent and Nancy rapidly deteriorating and rescue uncertain, Lance Plyler obtained ZMapp, an experimental drug with a 100% cure rate in monkeys but never tested on humans. The drug carried significant risks, including a potentially deadly anaphylactic reaction, making its use a profound ethical dilemma.

Ethical tightrope. The decision of who would receive the limited ZMapp doses was agonizing. Lance initially considered Kent due to his age and higher chance of survival, but Kent selflessly insisted Nancy, being older and sicker, should receive it. This mirrored a similar crisis at an MSF hospital in Sierra Leone, where doctors debated giving ZMapp to a national hero, Dr. Sheik Umar Khan, ultimately deciding against it due to ethical concerns about distributive justice and potential backlash if he died.

A leap of faith. Linda Mobula, despite her scientific skepticism about an untested drug, agreed to administer ZMapp to Kent as his condition worsened dramatically. This made her the first doctor in the world to give an Ebola-fighting drug to a human. The process was fraught with anxiety, from calculating drip rates by hand to the terrifying moment Kent began convulsing, leaving Linda to wonder if she was saving him or inadvertently causing his death.

7. The Perilous Rescue Mission

This was a mindset he’d developed over time and through repetition. Cut your teeth flying small jets packed nose to tail with heavy explosives and you learn very quickly to be cool.

The flight begins. On Thursday, July 31, Phoenix Air's Gulfstream III, N173PA, captained by Brian Edminster and copilot Henry Hiteshew, took off for Monrovia. The medical crew—Doug Olson, Vance Ferebee, and Jonathan Jackson—began practicing donning and doffing PPE in the ABCS, facing challenges like heat, exhaustion, and the confined space. Their initial attempt was aborted due to a critical pressurization issue, forcing them back to Cartersville.

Monrovia's ghost town. Upon landing at Roberts International Airport, the crew found a desolate, eerie scene, reflecting Liberia's collapse under the virus. The airport was a ghost town, with minimal staff, and the drive to their hotel was filled with "War of the Worlds" radio broadcasts detailing the epidemic's spread. The Kendeja Hotel, their temporary base, felt like "The Shining"—isolated but surreal, as they ate pizza on the beach before their critical mission.

First contact and transport. Kent Brantly, severely ill and melting in his PPE, was brought to the airport in a pickup truck. Despite his weakness, he insisted on walking up the plane's steps, supported by Vance and Doug. The loading process was tense, with the plastic drapes inside the plane repeatedly falling due to condensation. Vance, connecting with Kent, took his hand and promised, "We're going to take you home," transforming the abstract mission into a deeply human act.

8. Navigating Public Fear and Bureaucratic Resistance

People eventually come around to reason.

Airport closures. As the Gray Bird flew towards the US, Dent Thompson faced a new crisis: every airport on the East Coast, including their planned stops in Bangor and Atlanta, refused to allow the Ebola jet to land. This was a direct result of the escalating public hysteria and political pressure, leaving the aircraft with a critically ill patient nowhere to go.

John Nadeau's stand. John Nadeau, Port Director at Bangor International Airport, became the unlikely hero. Despite intense pressure from state officials and local politicians, he defied orders to stop the flights. He argued that as federal land, his customs circle was not subject to state authority and that refusing the landing would condemn Americans to die. His resolve secured Bangor as the crucial re-entry point.

Ground transport chaos. The arrival of Kent Brantly at Dobbins Air Reserve Base in Atlanta was met with a media frenzy. Gail Stallings and John Arevalo of Grady EMS, whose Special Operations Team had been recently disbanded, were the only ones capable of ground transport. Their ambulance, carrying Kent, became the focus of a live, televised chase, complete with news and police helicopters, FBI escorts, and even threats of sabotage, highlighting the extreme fear and irrationality surrounding the virus.

9. The Human Cost and Ethical Burden

The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Stigmatization and threats. The public's fear of Ebola quickly turned into hostility towards Kent, Nancy, and anyone involved in their rescue. Phoenix Air employees faced ostracization, with neighbors shunning them and businesses refusing service. Emory University Hospital staff, including Dr. Bruce Ribner, endured protests, death threats, and even refusal of food deliveries, as the public blamed them for bringing the "plague" to America.

Internal dissent. The intense pressure and fear began to erode morale even within Phoenix Air and Emory. Dent Thompson held an emergency meeting to address employee concerns, acknowledging their fear but appealing to Phoenix's core value of service. Similarly, Ribner conducted multiple information sessions to reassure his hospital staff, who questioned the safety of treating Ebola patients and feared contamination.

The weight of responsibility. The medical teams, both in Liberia and the US, carried an immense burden. Linda Mobula grappled with the ethical implications of ZMapp, while Doug Olson worried about accidental exposure and starting an outbreak at home. Gail Stallings and John Arevalo faced the grim reality of performing CPR on an Ebola patient, knowing it violated standard protocols but was necessary to avoid public condemnation.

10. Legacy: From Lifeline to Official Ebola Airline

We’re not doing any more Ebola flights. Not unless we have a partner to take us to the dance.

Recovery and advocacy. Kent Brantly and Nancy Writebol made miraculous recoveries, both testing virus-free within weeks of arriving at Emory. Kent used his newfound celebrity to advocate for a stronger international response to the Ebola crisis, speaking before Congress and meeting with President Obama, emphasizing that the "vast moat of the Atlantic Ocean" would not protect the US from global pathogens.

Phoenix's new role. The success of the initial evacuations solidified Phoenix Air's unique capability. Recognizing the unsustainable burden on a private company, Dent Thompson demanded the US government take full control of future missions. This led to an emergency contract, making Phoenix Air the official Ebola airline of the US Department of State, ensuring continued evacuations for medical professionals.

A new normal. The Ebola outbreak, and Phoenix Air's response, fundamentally changed global health preparedness. The ABCS became a critical tool, and the experience highlighted the need for rapid, coordinated international action against emerging pathogens. For individuals like Darrin Benton, the missions brought unexpected personal turns, while for Gail Stallings, it meant a new public identity as "the Ebola woman," reflecting the lasting impact of their extraordinary service.