Blood of the White Bear

by Marcia Calhoun Forecki

  Osborne was not interested in Calvin’s mercantile business just now. He said nothing when Eva Yellow Horn told the Public Health official that all the pottery she collected from the Antiquities Reclamation Initiative was in the RV they impounded. He knew she squirreled away the old pots containing her colored sand. She never let them out of her possession during their travels. She carried an old leather saddlebag into the hotel each night, but it was gone when the RV was impounded. It was almost a sure bet that Eva gave the bag to Calvin to hide in one of the caves. Osborne wanted to keep his eye on the pots, because he had his own use for them.

  It was late dusk when Osborne saw Calvin emerge.

  “Thank you, young Calvin,” Osborne whispered to himself, as he watched the nimble young man climb down the rocks. If he had been much later, Osborne could not have seen him. He would have had to climb the rocks himself and search the caves for the saddle bag by flashlight. Now, the search would be easy. Osborne treated himself to a sip of tequila as he dialed the number of the public health lab. The number only cost him a cup of coffee with a nursing student in the university cafeteria, and a few minutes of flirting. Even with the threat of a major pandemic looming over the nation, the road to Dr. Rachel Bisette had, so far, been embarrassingly easy.

  “This is Dr. Bisette.”

  “John Osborne. We met, most recently, at the police station.”

  “Yes, I remember you, not just from the police station. You didn’t give me a chance to thank you.”

  “I had places I needed to be, and you seemed to be in good hands.”

  “I see.”

  Rachel had observed Osborne’s way with the ladies years ago, and apparently little had changed. She smiled when she thought that she was a little older than the girls he usually charmed. Well, if she had to play seductress to get the contaminated pots, she was prepared to do so. She could explain it all to Ted later, when she had what she needed from Osborne. Interesting turn of the tables on the old professor, she thought.

  “Any news on the rest of the pots?” Rachel asked. She put a little pout on the word “pots,” and regretted it, immediately.

  “You mean from the Antiquities Reclamation Initiative?” Osborne had not expected Rachel to be so well-informed.

  “Ms. Yellow Horn has not been very forthcoming about the whereabouts of her pots.”

  “No, she wouldn’t be. They are sacred to her, part of her ancestors’ heritage. You’ll never find them if you have to rely on her.”

  Rachel knew what Osborne was up to, and it annoyed her that he would try to use something so important as infected pots to attract her.

  “The pots are deadly, you know. If you have them, your health is in great danger.”

  “Yes, I know. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that all of the initial victims of the virus were present at one of Eva’s sand paintings. That’s why I’m calling. I want to get them into the right hands. I can take you to them tomorrow. It’s too dark to find where they are hidden tonight.”

  Rachel turned on the telephone recorder. When the head of the Department of Public Health ordered the recorder installed, Rachel told him it was unnecessary. He reminded her that he was conducting a forensic investigation.

  “Where can I meet you?” Rachel asked.

  “This place is not on a map, well, not on a map you can pull up on the Internet.”

  “There are plenty of locals who can direct me. I will need to organize a team to retrieve and secure the pots.”

  “Oh, we can do that, can’t we? They are only little clay pots.”

  “There are likely to be other infected artifacts.”

  Osborne took another sip of the Cuervo. It was becoming cold in the canyon, and he turned on his engine to warm up the car. “Can I meet you somewhere tonight, then? I can draw you a detailed map of the location, and your locals can go right to the spot.”

  Rachel turned off the record button on the telephone. Osborne would not give her the location over the phone. It might be interesting to see him again. There was something rather fascinating about Osborne in spite of his obviously high opinion of himself as charming and worldly. He probably still does very well with college freshmen, Rachel thought.

  Rachel returned to her hotel room around eleven o’clock. She intended to shower, change, and get something to eat before returning to the lab. Reports were coming in from Public Health of new cases. Rachel needed to be working. She only needed a brief rest, and she would be ready to work through the night. After her shower, she sat down to eat a protein bar and an orange. Before she finished peeling the orange, the phone started ringing.

  “CNN needs an interview in the morning.” It was the Director of the CDC calling. “They will set you up in the lab. It will just be ten minutes or so. Be positive, but don’t downplay the danger. Emphasize hygiene and pest control.”

  “All right.”

  “Above all, don’t let them pin you down to any timetables for vaccines.”

  “Yes, I can handle it.”

  “We also need to avoid panic.”

  “No panic. I’ve got it.” Rachel said.

  “Have you found the original virus?”

  “I’ll have it tomorrow.”

  “Excellent. Don’t tell that to CNN, though.”

  “I won’t. Good night.”

  Rachel finished her orange and decided to throw a clean shirt into her backpack. If she got caught up and worked through the night, she would want a fresh shirt for the CNN interview. Aunt Pansy always said turquoise was one of Rachel’s best colors. It was in her aura, apparently. Rachel found a blue Dalton t-shirt. “Close enough,” she said to herself and stuffed it into her bag along with a banana.

  * * *

  Rachel looked into the tiny camera lens on her laptop. The morning anchor at KRQE in Albuquerque opened with the big question. After working most of the night and sleeping a couple of hours in the doctor’s lounge of the hospital, Rachel looked concerned but not alarmed. She was ready for the question.

  * * *

  CNN: Are we facing a pandemic?

  Rachel: Yes, according to the criteria for a pandemic as outlined by the World Health Organization. The virus that has infected patients in New Mexico could qualify as a pandemic. The criteria are these: the emergence of a novel influenza strain, finding that the strain can cause disease in humans, and sustained person-to-person transmission. The New Mexico Department of Public Health has reported twelve cases of the virus transmitted from human to human.

  CNN: We understood there were more than the twelve cases in New Mexico. In fact, the first person infected, “Patient Zero,” was a child in Greeley, Colorado, was he not?

  Rachel: The strain of virus that patient had was not transmitted by a human.

  CNN: How was he infected, then?

  Rachel: We are investigating that. I would like to point out that at the present time, according to the WHO Pandemic Phases, as reported in the WHO Global Influenza Preparedness Plan of 2005, the most recent plan available, we are really in what is called the Pandemic Alert Period. That is when there are small clusters of patients, with human-to-human transmission, where the spread is highly localized. What we are doing now is working to contain the new virus in the Santa Fe or Four Corners area, and delay the spread of the disease. This will give us time to develop a vaccine.

  CNN: How close are you to developing a vaccine against this new virus?

  Rachel: We have just begun our efforts, but we have a terrific group of researchers, and the CDC is giving the project all the necessary resources.

  CNN: Are you leading the vaccine development research?

  Rachel: Yes, I am.

  CNN: Then, I’m sure we will be talking with you more in the days to come. One final question. Is this the Sin Nombre Virus that plagued the Four Corners area in the early 1990s? Has Sin Nomb
re returned?

  Rachel: The virus is a hantavirus, as is the Sin Nombre Virus. However, Sin Nombre has never been transmitted from human to human.

  CNN: So this is something new?

  Rachel: Possibly. The best defense is still good hygiene. Until we know more, it is especially important that people in your viewing area eliminate rodents from their homes.

  CNN: Are you closing schools?

  Rachel: The New Mexico Department of Education has ordered elementary and daycare centers to close as a precaution. As you know, small children are curious and like to touch and put things in their mouths that they shouldn’t.

  CNN: Are you asking the Governor to declare a state of emergency?

  Rachel: Yes. The governors of New Mexico, Arizona, Texas, and Colorado are declaring their states in emergency, as a precaution, and to avail their communities of needed federal help.

  CNN: Are you recommending the governors declare martial law?

  Rachel: Oh no.

  CNN: General quarantine?

  Rachel: Not at this time. Citizens should be diligent about hygiene, washing hands, etc.

  CNN: We’ve heard that cleaning supplies and hand sanitizers are nowhere to be found in the Southwest. Do you think stiff penalties for hoarders or black marketers should be put in place at this time?

  Rachel: That’s not really my area of expertise. We have good community cooperation with state governments and public health authorities.

  CNN: Understood, doctor. Can you tell us anything else besides wash our hands?

  Rachel: (Long pause) Hand washing is very important and actually very effective.

  CNN: We just have thirty seconds left. What are the earliest symptoms of the virus?

  Rachel: The first symptoms are like the flu: fever, aches, chills, headache, dizziness, nausea, shortness of breath, and a cough. The incubation period is usually three to five days, but we have seen infection occur within as little as twenty-four hours after contact.

  CNN: Thank you, Dr. Bisette. Stay tuned, and when we come back, we will have a report on red carpet foot gear: what’s hot and what’s not.

  * * *

  Rachel’s laptop screen went black. Rachel fumed that the CDC passed the interview to her. She was not prepared to be grilled on quarantines, hoarding, or black markets. She was only a doctor. She never before felt that being a doctor deserved “only” in front of it. She was already seeing that what she was facing, what they were all facing together, could be an unprecedented catastrophe. It would likely take more than medicine to stop Sin Nombre, the nameless killer.

  Rachel rebooted her computer and started brewing a fresh pot of coffee. She promised to meet John Osborne at eight o’clock. Glad to be able to focus back on virology, she gathered up the collection bags, masks, and gloves she needed for the recovery of Eva Yellow Horn’s pots. Finding the original source of the virus was critical to tracking its mutations and developing a vaccine. Rachel dialed the ICU nurse’s station.

  “This is Dr. Bisette in the lab. I’m calling to check on Mr. Nichols in 206, please.”

  “Just a minute, let me check.”

  “Mr. Nichols is all yours, doctor. He’s in the morgue, awaiting autopsy.”

  A death in a laboratory study is a report on paper, a statistic, a bar on a graph. Mr. Nichols was a man. He had hopes and dreams. He had a desire and a will to live. His skin was warm the last time Rachel touched it. His mind was full of thoughts. A death in a hospital is a tragedy. Do I have the objectivity to treat patients, or will my emotions only allow me to connect with people a few cells at a time, Rachel wondered.

  “Goodbye, Mr. Nichols. I will find your killer. At the risk of sounding like a cheesy police drama, this time it’s personal.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Osborne picked Rachel up outside the hospital. National Guard troops patrolled the sidewalks and all the entrances around the hospital. Desert camouflage trucks with tarps were parked at each corner around a two square block perimeter. Osborne’s Malibu station wagon was parked four streets away, and Rachel had given personal authorization for him to get that close.

  Osborne thought Rachel looked like an experienced archeologist with her oversized backpack, double water bottles, and Timberlake climbing boots. He remembered how she looked when he met her years ago as an undergrad student – tall, lean and stunning. Osborne flirted with her, met her for coffee, loaned her special books, the things he usually did to attract young female students. Once he learned about her father over their many discussions, though, he decided honoring a respected geologist’s daughter by following a more hands-off approach was best. He would save his roguish charm for another willing and pretty young thing and feel better about himself in the morning.

  “How far is this place?” asked Rachel, as she climbed into Osborne’s Malibu.

  “It’s about forty-five minutes to Bernalillo. After that, we leave pavement, and it’s about another hour to the canyon,” Osborne answered.

  Rachel nodded and settled into her seat. She pulled a notebook out of her backpack and made a few notes. Osborne waited until she finished writing.

  “Don’t wait for me. I can write or read while I ride in … do you call this a car?”

  “Best in the West.”

  “Before we get outside of the city, too far for me to walk back, how did you know to find me at the police station that day?”

  Osborne could tell Rachel was in no mood for flirtatious blather. She had an enormous responsibility. As the death toll rose every day, the pressure on her increased.

  “Eva Yellow Horn told me,” he said.

  “How did she know I was coming?”

  “Eva is the key,” Osborne said.

  “To what?”

  “To most of what goes on around here.”

  “I’ll need to meet her, then.”

  Osborne considered where Eva might be. When she wasn’t moved to make an appearance, she kept her whereabouts a mystery. On his best days, it was a mystery he felt incapable of solving. Instead, his thoughts shifted to the probability of a virus surviving without a proper host.

  “Would you explain to me, please, how a virus can survive for years in a clay pot?”

  “A virus is not an independent, living organism, like a bacteria. A virus can lie dormant almost indefinitely, until the proper host appears. All viruses need a host to survive, and viruses are very picky. For instance, a plant virus cannot live in an animal and vice versa. They are even more specific than just plant and animal. A specific virus will target a certain set of cells. So, if you were to ingest a virus that targets cells in the lungs, as HPS viruses like the Sin Nombre, you would not get sick. It is entirely possible that a virus could lie dormant in the dust inside the pots, maybe deposited there by an animal. Put sand into the pot for a sand painting, it mixes with the dust, and it gets inhaled by someone close to the sand painting. Once inside the human lung, the virus finds the cells it was meant to infect, and you get sick.”

  “Eva doesn’t get sick. She’s been using those pots for her sand paintings all summer. If anyone got a snoot-full of dust from the pot it would be her.”

  “I’ve considered that,” said Rachel. “That’s why once we find the pots, we also have to find Ms. Yellow Horn. We need to study subjects who have natural immunity. It’s vital to developing a vaccine.”

  “Test me. I’ve been around those pots on our little trip to reclaim antiquities.”

  “Have you?”

  “Sure. Well, I haven’t been around when she does her sand painting, come to think of it. I’ve always found something to distract me, I guess.”

  “Or someone. I would say unless you’ve had direct contact with what’s in those pots, you’re okay.”

  “She’s probably got that dust on her hands and her clothes.”

  “Have you touched
her? Been close enough to breathe in that dust?”

  “Eva isn’t the touchy feely type.”

  “You’re probably all right. Stop by and I’ll have someone in the lab test you for antibodies. Back to Eva. Any ideas where she might be?”

  “Not a one. When she wants to disappear, she cannot be found. You’d have better luck finding the grave of Crazy Horse.”

  “Crazy Horse?”

  “The great warrior. Whites have never found his grave.”

  “I thought there was a monument to him in South Dakota, somewhere.”

  “Whole different deal. I have a line on Eva’s son, Calvin. He might be able to lead us to the old lady, for a price, I’m sure.”

  Rachel looked out the car window. The expansiveness of the desert around her was intoxicating. It was a landscape full of secrets, just like rivers and oceans, she thought. The desert’s secrets were better hidden, she decided. Anyone with diving gear could see what was under the surface of the water, but in the desert, a person needed a guide. She hoped Osborne was as good as he believed himself to be.

  “What is Eva Yellow Horn’s story?” Rachel asked.

  “She’s very close to the ancestors, very spiritual. She’s also very political. She was at Wounded Knee with her parents. She led the resistance to a nuclear waste dump near San Ysidro back in the ‘90s.”

  “Tell me about that,” said Rachel.

  “After we started making nuclear bombs and nuclear power, we realized we had to get rid of a lot of very nasty waste out here in the Four Corners. The government, in its compassionate wisdom, hit on the idea of nuclear sacrifice zones. These were places that were considered unimportant enough to be sacrificed for the storage of nuclear waste.”

  “Let me guess, reservations?”

  “You got it. In about 1987, they opened an Office of the United States Nuclear Waste Negotiator. They were supposed to negotiate for storage sites for high-level nuclear waste. The Negotiator sent letters to all recognized tribes, offering them money in exchange for hosting a dump. A few tribal councils agreed to talk about it, but there were resisters, and nearly every tribe turned them down. Eva was the leader of the resistance around here. She organized meetings with the Feds and then showed up with scientists to ask hard questions about the security of the dumps. The Feds looked like fools, which they did not like very much. Anyway, the Negotiator’s Office was discontinued in 1995.”