Commander Phillips was kind to offer Thuy an office in the Coast Guard’s small facility where access to this video and charts were easily available. Having the support of the base commander opened a lot of doors quickly. Hatches, not doors. They called them hatches.
Thuy struggled with two unanswered questions. First, Karenia brevis, the microscopic single cell organism that created the algae bloom off the coast of the Yucatan shouldn’t be there. It was only found on the west coast of Florida. Other strains of algae existed in that region, but not Karenia brevis.
Second, what could have possibly been the catalyst that introduced a mutagen to the bloom causing, and sustaining such rapid growth. Growth that bordered on violent. His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp rap on the door, and entrance of a teenaged coasty called Buck. Thuy again wondered if this nickname was meant as an insult to the young sailor’s protruding teeth.
“I brought a few more current charts for ya’ Mr. Piseth, and a fresh cup of black coffee to perk you up. Man alive, I’ve never seen someone so focused.”
“Thank you, Mr. Smith.” Thuy gratefully replied.
“Jus’ call me Buck, sir. Everybody does.”
Thuy accepted the charts as he thought, “I most certainly will not insult by calling you name, even if you do not understand it is insult.” Good manners were very important to Thuy.
As Thuy opened the new charts for study, young Buck hovered over his shoulder in fascinated curiosity. Scuttlebutt had spread rapidly throughout the base about some red colored patch of ocean. Nobody seemed to know how it got there or why. Focus was a subject of contention with Buck among his superiors, which was why Buck marveled at Thuy’s laser-like attention to the task before him. But almost immediately, his mind started to drift, something that was called to his attention several times by his superiors, and he rambled.
“This is kinda’ scary and exciting, Mr. Piseth. Maybe this red plague will turn everyone like into zombies like on TV. I love that show. I’m like Daryl, battling through the masses on a Harley. If I had a Harley. Someday, maybe. Like, I only got my driver’s license two years ago. A Harley is going to have to wait a bit…unless, like I captured one from a Zombie with a crossbow! I need to get me a crossbow.”
Thuy had no idea who Darryl was, or cared that this kid believed in zombies. He snapped Buck’s wandering mind back to earth with a question.
“This chart. What it mean? What is Loop current?”
“I don’t know, Mr. Piseth. I’ve only been a coasty a’ couple months. But I bet Lt. Jimeson would know. He knows just about everything there is to know about the Gulf. Currents, biology, sailing a boat, sea rescue, great local bars with girls…
Buck’s ramble was cut short by Thuy. “Please find Lieutenant and ask if I can speak to him. Please. Thank you.”
“Yes sir! I mean aye aye, sir, right away!” Busk scampered off.
Something was nagging at Thuy’s brain. He was sure he was missing something, some detail that would connect the dots. Everything had an explanation. How could Karenia brevis move over a thousand miles to the west side of the Gulf, and against prevailing currents that should have carried it into the Atlantic? And, once there, how could it replicate so explosively?
“It is here. I must find answer.” Thuy spoke softly to himself, as he returned to the new chart.
Chapter Nine
Peninsula South of Ciudad Madero, Mexico
Landfall
Maria smiled to the revelers still celebrating by dancing around the bonfires in the village center as she strolled through. She too was grateful for her many blessings, and the opportunity to pray for the souls of departed family that their spiritual journey to the afterlife would be likewise blessed. By nightfall, she was just too tired to continue in the celebration. She looked to her left, spotting a large driftwood log placed in the sand. It was perfectly shaped as a comfortable bench. It was removed enough from the music and dancing around the bonfire to provide a quieter place to view both the festivities and the ocean, and tend to Manuel. Tomorrow, Dia de los Muertos celebrations would continue. The Day of the Dead.
She turned her head to the side to shield the baby, and coughed. Since dusk, she, and others throughout the village celebration had developed a cough, and heavy chest. The old women of the village said it was from too much singing and celebration. Too much drink. Dia de los Muertos was a time for celebrating the departed, yes, but also a time for reverence, and respect for the dead. People must not forget this, and subdue their enthusiasm for celebration or risk angering the dead.
That was easier said than done. The village had thrived this past year. The waters teamed with fish, the nets full, boats returning each day with the Gulf’s bounty. No one recalled a better season than this year. Everyone prospered. Buyers from Ciudad Madero fish markets now arrived daily. The village was located on the inside of a fishhook like peninsula that jutted into the Gulf of Mexico. The headland protected the village from seasonal hurricanes, the wide bay provided protected waters for fish, and a bountiful livelihood for the villagers. Best of all, the village was surrounded on three sides by the ocean, allowing the enjoyment of magnificent sunrises, as well as sunsets.
Maria ran her hand across her wonderful new shawl Jesus had bought her. Such a good man. She loved the bright colors and pattern. “We are truly blessed.”
Maria removed the shawl that cradled little Manuel, and took him into her arms. She loosened her blouse exposing her breast, which Manuel eagerly accepted. She closed her eyes, and breathed in the ocean, then gazed to sea. The silvery moon reflecting off the warm waters and gentle waves was more beautiful tonight than she ever recalled.
“I am blessed.” She quietly spoke to herself, then coughed. “You are also blessed, little man. You are a fighter, like your father.” Manuel gazed into his mother’s eyes as he suckled. He had difficulty nursing due to his little cough. Maria had to stop frequently, place little Manuel over her shoulder and gently pat his back until he settled, and could take more milk. Maria’s breasts were engorged. She smiled, recalling Jesus enjoying her full breasts.
Manuel had not had an easy life. Maria had given birth to Manuel in the village with the help of midwifes, the same as she had birthed her two older children. She was young, and strong at 20 years old, and her children were born healthy, hungry and happy. But not little Manuel. He was sickly from the start. As soon as she could travel, she and Jesus had gathered their new son, and travelled north 75 kilometers from their fishing village to Ciudad Madero, the nearest town with medical facilities. They remained in the clinic for the next ten days, as little Manuel received treatment for his under developed lungs. He finally grew strong enough to return home. He still struggled to breath freely, but the breathing treatment device the clinic provided eased his difficulties. She had intended to return the device on the next delivery of the village catch to the city’s fish market. She would keep it a few days longer, until Manuel was rid of the cough that had returned. For now, she was dead tired, Manuel asleep in her arms with a full belly. It was time for sleep.
Maria rose from the driftwood bench, and turned towards a concrete block house on a gentle rise overlooking the sea. She entered quietly. Jesus was asleep on his pallet with her two older children, Elena and Tito. The children were fast asleep to both sides of Jesus, their heads resting on each of his shoulders. He was such a good man. He would rise before dawn to prepare the nets. Fishing was the livelihood of the village.
She gently laid Manuel in his makeshift crib, drew the mosquito net, and lay on her pallet. The soft glow of a candle on the central table served as a nightlight. Content, safe, her children well, she soon drifted into a sound sleep, and dreamed of her wonderful life.
Maria and her children danced in the surf, the sun igniting the water like diamonds, the wind caressing their skin. They wore the finest clothes, and carried the finest shoes. Jesus smiled broadly, as he came towards them riding a new bicycle. He wore the finest brocaded vest, sil
ver toed boots and ornate sombrero. As he approached, his smile faded and he spoke to her, but she could not understand his words. He pointed behind her and spoke again, but she could not hear him. A new sound reached her ears, and this she recognized. Fear gripped her heart.
Maria bolted awake from a sound sleep, startled. The candle still flickered on the table. It was very still. She heard Jesus gentle snoring, and the children’s rhythmic breathing. First Elena, then little Tito coughed violently, then gasped for air. Jesus stirred, but continued to snore.
She crawled from beneath the light sheet to Jesus’ pallet, and placed her hand on four year-old Elena’s chest. She felt as well as heard the rattling deep in her daughter’s lungs.
“Jesus! Wake up! The children! Something is not right!” Maria shook her husband roughly with her free hand.
“What is it? What is happening?” Jesus struggled to wake and understand what alarmed his wife. His head throbbed, and he shook himself trying to clear his brain. His concern for what has frightened Maria amplified, as Elena began to cough violently. Maria pulled the girl to her. The child gasped for breath amid coughing, and was soon joined by her younger brother, Tito, just two. Jesus scooped Tito to his chest, and also felt and heard the rattling in his chest. Neither child seemed able to come fully awake.
“Ave Maria, Ave Maria, please help us! Please!” Maria begged the Virgin Mother. Her children’s heads lolled atop their limp bodies, as they wheezed and fought for each breath.
Both parents were on their feet, pacing with their children in their arms. Jesus flipped on the light switch, and a single bare bulb illuminated the room, his frantic wife and children. Maria turned to the makeshift crib next to her pallet to check little Manuel. No sound came from his crib. She rushed to the crib, placing a hand on Manuel’s tiny chest, and felt nothing. Little Manuel was cold to her touch.
“Help! Jesus, get help! Your grandmother, go! Go now!”
As Jesus turned to the door, his son in his arms, a scream from elsewhere in the village shattered the dawn’s tranquility. Loud wailing immediately followed. Alarmed voices soon filled the air.
Jesus ran from his house onto the sand towards the sea, his son Tito clutched to his chest. “What is happening?” More screams and wailing came from houses throughout the village. People frantically ran from their homes calling for help. He stopped, turned a full circle trying to make sense of the chaos, when his eye’s turned towards the rising sun above the ocean. Waves gently lapped the sand, depositing death with each rhythmic advance and retreat.
The light of a new day revealed millions of dead fish and sea birds lining the shore of the blood red sea.
St. Petersburg, Florida
Jimmy was positively giddy, as he hung up on a less than happy public affairs officer with the CDC. He clapped his hands together, stood and let out a Whoop! “Whada-ya’ think of that, Kate? We have those bastards jumping now!” he announced to his guest. They met as usual in a sleazy bar of Jimmy’s choosing. A copy of the paper was draped across the circular table.
Following the time honored tradition of sensationalistic journalism, where rumors were published as facts, and facts were never verified in the interest of breaking news, his first article on what he envisioned as a series had created the effect he so desired. People throughout the southern coastal areas were scared shitless, and pretty pissed off at the negligence of government and those tasked with safeguarding public health he alleged had allowed this potential disaster to happen. Politicians were calling for investigations, or running for cover. National media were crawling all over Mobile, trying to scoop a story that had already left town. They were two steps behind Jimmy. Maybe three. Jimmy Falcone would lead this charge, not some national network talking head.
Kate looked at her untouched beer, and shook her head. “God, this is the part I hate, Jimmy. Why can’t people be responsible and do the right thing without having to be hit in the ass with a cattle prod while cameras are rolling?” Kate glared at Jimmy. “And why the hell did you name me as some kind of hero? We are a long way from a cause and a solution, James.”
Jimmy leaped to his feet, spun in a circle like a drunken John Travolta, coming to a stop in a Saturday Night Fever pose. “You sound like my mom.” He sarcastically mimicked the way Kate used his formal name to signify disapproval. “James! I fucking love it! A public kick in the teeth and bright shining lights always makes the cocka-la-roaches scramble.” Jimmy was clearly in his element.
Jimmy’s inaugural expose article revealed to the world the boating accident was indeed no accident, but a potential epidemic caused by an unknown pathogen haunting the open waters of the Gulf. He conveniently left out that at the time he wrote the article, the cause of the respiratory infection was indeed known to be toxic microbes from decaying algae. Public reassurance did nothing to sell newspapers. He was poking the bear to see what would happen, and the you-know-what was hitting the fan.
Dateline: Mobile, Alabama
Gulf Fishermen Die from Unknown Disease at Sea
The Atlanta Journal has learned from reliable sources an unknown, but deadly disease haunts the open waters of the Gulf of Mexico, and is responsible for the boating accident in Mobile. But for the heroic efforts of Dr. Katherine O’Neal, acclaimed immunologist, by chance on the scene in Mobile, an epidemic could have occurred. Dr. O’Neal was successfully able to isolate and contain the situation, saving countless lives. Unfortunately, the investigation into the cause of this deadly outbreak was prematurely, and inexplicably called off by the CDC, and in particular, it’s Director, Dr. Sherrod Simpson. Several attempts to contact Dr. Simpson have failed. You may recall, Simpson was outed by this newspaper, and is currently under investigation for allegedly accepting bribes in exchange for manipulating the schedule for CDC research assistance to private industry…
“I put Simpson exactly where he needs to be, on the short end of the stick where he tried to put you. As Desi would say, Lucy, you got some splainin’ to do! Well Simpson has some serious splainin’ to do as well. He’s on the hot seat.” Jimmy took no prisoners. There wasn’t a subtle bone in his body.
“The Governor of Alabama called me this morning, as well as the Director of Health and Human Services, and the Surgeon General from Washington.” Kate explained.” They requested my immediate appearance in Montgomery and DC for a debrief, like I’m supposed to be able to be in two places at the same time.” Kate explained.
Jimmy paused his victory prance to ask over his shoulder, “You going? And no call from your good friend, Sherrod at the CDC? Tsk Tsk”
“Hell no to both. I don’t work for the Governor, or the Surgeon General. I probably don’t work for the CDC anymore. I already told them everything we know, and what we’re doing to track the bloom. As far as an outbreak of ‘unknown origins’ as you labeled it, there is no outbreak. There are no new cases in the US, and none in Mexico have been reported. As far as we know, the bloom has petered out, and the event is over.” Kate said hopefully.
“Brainiac Piseth may beg to differ. He wants to meet with us at the base.” Jimmy announced.
“You could have shared that when I got here, James. Thanks a bunch. Let’s get over there and see what he’s got.” Kate rose, collected her bag and turned for the door.
“Wha..Aren’t you even going to finish your drink?
“I have a bottle of water in my purse, Jimmy. You bought the beer, you drink it.” Kate said in her best you’re really annoying me voice.
“Water! Who the hell drinks water? Water’s only good as a mixer.” Jimmy snatched his martini from the table, chugged it, setting the glass on the table next to the other two empties to chase after Kate. With a mouth full with an olive with the toothpick still attached, he mouthed, “I guess lunch is over.”
Kate and Jimmy passed through base security, were momentarily detained for identification, then quickly allowed to enter. Additional security personnel in the form of Navy Police had been dispatched to the Coast Guard b
ase as a courtesy from a fellow branch of the military following the media frenzy caused by Jimmy’s article. News vans were lined up along the base perimeter. Jimmy was delighted with this latest manifestation of his influence, and smiled and waved at the cameras, and especially to the guards at the car window. The Shore Patrol and Marine MP’s did not return smiles.
All base personnel knew by now to expedite Dr. Kate’s passage, as she was an FOC. Friend of the Commander. The toadstool with her could enter the base only in the company of Dr. Kate. If Jimmy showed up solo, orders were to send him packing. They were soon entering Commander Phillips outer office. The Commander, alerted to their arrival, met them there.
“Dr. O’Neal, glad you’re here. Mr. Piseth has been huddled with my Lt. Jimeson since early this morning on something. They requested a meeting to…
Thuy, with Lt. Jemison trying to slow him down burst into the room, charts fluttering in hand. The Lieutenant tried to mitigate the breach of military protocol with the Commander, “Sorry sir.
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