Savage Heart

by M. G Scott

  “One of the first organs BioHumanity has been able to regenerate is the human heart. With this breakthrough, they will save thousands of lives by transplanting these regenerated hearts into patients who otherwise would die waiting for a donor.”

  A warm feeling spread through Gina’s body as she thought about Blair sitting in the hospital waiting for a donor. “So this bypasses the heart donor system?”

  Melanie rubbed her hands together, as if washing them. “Completely.”

  “Where is it done?”

  “That’s where it gets very interesting. To recreate the organs, BioHumanity uses stem cells, which are extremely hard to mine from the human body. So they developed the technology to extract the cells from something else: the placenta.” She paused. “Unfortunately, as you can imagine, the placenta isn’t readily available for stem cell retrieval.”

  Gina was beginning to understand. “So my fetus will be used as the source for stem cells in return for a free abortion.”

  “No,” Melanie replied quickly, “not exactly.” She then said, “It’s not about the fetus. It’s about the placenta. The only way they can get to the placenta is through an aborted fetus or a live birth.”

  “I’m not getting it. Why not use the placenta from birth?”

  “They’d love to, but there’s just not enough available that birthing mothers provide.”

  “I think I’m starting to understand why the procedure is free.”

  “We do it for the inconvenience. Nothing else,” Melanie said. “That’s because the U.S. hasn’t approved this lifesaving procedure yet. So BioHumanity funds it and performs it in Acapulco.”

  “Acapulco?” Gina thought back to her visit with Blair. Didn’t she mention something about a heart center in Acapulco?

  "Does BioHumanity also do the heart transplants there?”

  “Very good. They do. The stem cells extracted from the placenta are cultured and incubated until it’s a fully functioning heart.”

  So this was the place where Gregory wanted Blair to go. “What’s ironic is I have a friend fighting for her life … who’s considering a heart transplant in Acapulco.”

  “Really? Then there you go: You’d be helping not only yourself but also saving your friend’s life.”

  That thought almost made it too easy not to say no. “How long would I have to be there?”

  “I don’t know all the details, but from what they tell me, no more than a week, possibly two. But you would have to leave on short notice—within the next few days.”

  “That’s not a problem. As a teacher, I have the whole summer ahead of me.”

  “That makes it easy,” Melanie responded. “Just remember you would not only be saving your friend’s life but others as well.”

  Gina looked into her counselor’s eyes as she thought about the conflict she felt about making this decision. As much as she didn’t want the pregnancy, she knew having the baby would put her on a path that she could never recover from. On the other hand, to help other people who could live a fuller, richer life—one where the fetus’s own kin could benefit seemed to make the decision that much easier. “Okay, I’ll do it,” Gina finally said.

  Melanie’s face lit up. “That’s great. Let me get the paperwork started and your signature on a few documents.”

  “What do I need to do to prepare?” Gina asked.

  “Just pack. Make sure your passport is up-to-date … and get ready for Mexico. You’ll receive a call from the Donor Center with all the travel arrangements.”

  “I can be ready this week.”

  Melanie reached over and they shook hands. “I guarantee it’ll be an experience you won’t soon forget.”

  Chapter 8

  Mist fell intermittently as gray clouds moved swiftly off the Pacific. As much as the weather didn’t cooperate with the tourists, it meant good business for the local shopkeepers of Neskowin. Along the corner of Breaker Boulevard and Amity Avenue, streams of people waded in and out of the various boutiques, looking for that perfect item to remind them of their time in the Northwest.

  “Seems like you’re getting a little more comfortable here,” Blogg said as he and Sabrina ducked under an awning. They were on their way for a cup of coffee across the street from the paper. What made it palatable was that he had asked her to join him.

  Sabrina looked at him. “Yeah, I am.”

  “Feeling like a local yet?”

  A grin emerged. “I don’t know if I’d go that far.”

  “You might be a New Yorker, no let me take that back, a brutal New Yorker, but I’d say you’re a Pacific Northwest girl at heart.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because you’re an enviro-urbanite.”

  “Enviro—what?”

  “Love the city but love the outdoors even more.”

  She thought about it. “I suppose that’s true.” A pause. “What about Getty? Does he get me yet?”

  He leaned a shoulder against the storefront. “I said you’re feeling comfortable. That doesn’t mean you’ve been welcomed with open arms—at least not yet.”

  “Does that mean Getty or you?”

  He chuckled. “Maybe a little of both.”

  She smiled at the half-truth: It was probably all she was going to get out of him for the time being. At least he was being supportive. “I guess I’ll take that.” Her conversation with Carla entered her thoughts. “Can I ask a favor?”

  “Of course.”

  Sabrina was momentarily distracted by a couple carrying a colorful vase down the sidewalk. It must be nice living a normal life, she thought. “You’ve heard the body’s been identified?”

  He nodded. “Getty’s got an update coming out tomorrow.”

  “Did he meet her wife?”

  A shoulder shrug. “Just looked at the coroner’s report, from what I understand.

  “So he didn’t know she was in town yesterday?”

  He looked confused. “Why? Did you see her?”

  “When I was taking a picture of the statue. She was sitting there—we had a nice chat until…”

  “Until what?”

  “Until she found out I was a reporter.”

  He laughed. “Welcome to the club.”

  “It’s disappointing because I really felt a connection to her,” she replied seriously. “Carla really loved that man.”

  “Of course she did. They were married.”

  She shook her head. “It’s something more. A bond you rarely see in a couple. I’d just …”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Uh-oh. What are you thinking of now?”

  “I’d like to do a follow up.”

  He threw his hands in the air. “Absolutely not.”

  “Why?” She raised her voice to match his. “Just because this is Getty’s territory?”

  He hedged. “That’s part of it.”

  “What else is it?”

  “It’s been ruled an accident. The whole thing’s really a non story.”

  “Are you kidding?” She was fuming. “You’ve got to have a heart. This woman is bleeding her husband. Besides, she believes her husband was murdered and I don’t disagree with her.”

  Blogg turned and looked into her eyes. “On what grounds are you and … What did you say her name was?”

  “Carla Sanchez,” she replied distastefully. He can’t even remember her name.

  “On what grounds,” he repeated, “does she and you make these accusations?”

  Sabrina looked away. “It’s a hunch. I can’t explain it since you’re a man, but it’s my intuition. Carla just feels it and I do too.”

  Blogg sighed deeply. “This conversation is over.”

  She threw darts at him with her eyes. “Fine but I’m not over it.” She stormed off down the sidewalk and around the corner. She found her convertible parked on a side street and threw herself inside.

  What the hell was wrong with that man?

  Was it really about reporting facts, and nothing more? She
dug her fingernails into the steering wheel and took a deep breath.

  Now what?

  A thought struck her: What if I write about him? To get what she wanted, she would need Carla Sanchez’s blessing. Unfortunately, the only place she knew Carla was going to be next was her husband’s funeral.

  She thought about it for a few minutes. It was the only way and yet it was scattered with land mines. Could she really bother Carla when she was trying to mourn his loss? Blogg would no doubt be pissed if she went through with it.

  What other choice did she have? The more she thought about it, the more she knew she had to do it.

  And maybe, just maybe, it would draw out the killer.

  * * * * *

  Sloan Mannheim, looking far younger than his forty-two years, eyed the tablet strategically placed in front of his face. Scanning the news, he settled on an article written by the local reporter David Getty. Swiping his finger, he continued onto the next page, and then the third.

  The reporter had done a good job covering the facts of the Sanchez death. All the facts without any assumptions. It was exactly the way he liked it.

  A man and woman began quarreling a mere ten yards from him, interrupting his train of thought. Placing the tablet quietly on the table, he took a sip of the double espresso and turned an ear toward the couple.

  After the woman stormed off, he placed the cup delicately on the cafe table and pondered what she had yelled at the editor. He took another sip as he watched the fiery woman turn the corner down the street.

  She would need to be dealt with. She was a loose end.

  He hated loose ends.

  Chapter 9

  Everywhere Gina looked there was chaos.

  Just outside the entrance to the Welcome Center near Playa del Secreto in the inner bay of Acapulco, twenty or thirty women were shouting in unison while holding signs. “Baby killers! No more murder! No more murder!” they chanted. Gina glanced at the pictures splashed across the signs and then pulled away, sickened by the vulgarity of it. Every sign showed graphic depictions of abortion including bloody fetuses.

  To Gina, it was more than disgusting: It was unfair.

  As the sea of demonstrators circled around her, Gina searched for the door. She finally locked eyes on one of the security guards who beckoned her with his hand.

  Pushing forward, she was nearly knocked over by a woman running into her. “Excuse me,” Gina said tersely. The woman gave her an accusatory stare before moving on.

  Uncomfortable with the perceived accusation, guilt poured through Gina. She wasn’t quite sure why she felt such guilt but she also wasn’t sure why these women felt such hatred toward women wanting to save lives. Trying to forget the altercation, Gina moved on, keeping both hands in front until she reached the top step of the Welcome Center. The security guard opened the large glass door and pulled her inside. “Buenos tardes, senorita!” he said.

  With her child’s understanding of Spanish, Gina barely translated the welcome. “Gracias,” she replied.

  The guard, dressed in a white polo and black pants, nudged her down a small hallway toward a second set of glass doors. She had been told the Donor Center was a short ferry ride from the Welcome Center but they were required to come here first for orientation. He motioned with his hand. “Please head through the atrium and take a seat in the auditorium. Our CEO and the Center’s director, Dr. Vua, will be there to welcome you,” he said in broken English. “They will then take you across the bay to your dorm.” A pause. “Any questions?”

  Gina shook her head. It was all happening so fast. There just wasn’t any time to think.

  “Perdóname.” He bowed his head slightly and headed back toward the front entrance.

  With the commotion behind her, Gina took a deep breath and tried to brush off the unnerving welcome she received. While she wasn’t quite sure who the women were, it was obvious they treated this place as a killing center for babies. It was a message Gina didn’t need to be reminded of as she thought about the wrenching decision she made seven days ago.

  I’m not going to be intimidated, she thought. Regardless of what those women believe, being here was the right decision. She was sure of it. Blair needed a chance to survive and the abortion would give her that. Besides, she needed the time away to start fresh, to cleanse her soul of the grief she felt.

  Gina pushed through the door into a large, cathedral-like atrium. Her jaw dropped with awe: Bright colors were splashed everywhere—a nod to making the donors as comfortable as possible. Fresh displays of daffodils, irises, tulips, and roses of every imaginable color were splashed across the atrium, choreographed to music flowing throughout the room.

  She remembered back to why BioHumanity chose this spot. “Acapulco offered a stress-free recluse for the patients and donors, and the Mexican government had offered the least resistance and the most tax incentives to lure BioHumanity into building here,” a counselor had said.

  “Gina?”

  She tossed her eyes right. A hand waved near the auditorium entrance and then a woman in a muscular yet compact frame, with a small belly bump, approached.

  “Helen!” Gina said excitedly. She wrapped her arms around her. “How have you been?”

  “I’m good. I’m really glad I made the decision to come here but the demonstrators outside were a bit unnerving.”

  Gina rolled her eyes. “I know!”

  “Seriously. I wish somebody would do something about it.”

  “Any idea why they’re demonstrating here?”

  Helen shrugged her shoulders. “Nobody seems to say much about it. It just may be that they don’t like abortions being performed here.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Whatever it is, I wish they’d leave. They make a terrible first impression.”

  “That’s probably the point. They’re trying to discourage us and I’m sure it’s working on some women, but not me.”

  Helen squeezed Gina’s hand. “That’s girl power, honey.”

  “Are you feeling better about the decision you made?”

  Helen looked at Gina. “I was really confused when I first met you … and I don’t know if I’ll ever get over ending the pregnancy.” She sighed. “It’s just an awful decision to have to make. … I’m just so happy we’ll be seeing this thing through together.”

  “I feel the same,” Gina responded. “I’m becoming more comfortable with the decision knowing it might help someone close to me.”

  “Really?” Helen’s eyes brightened. “Who’s that?”

  “My ex-boyfriend’s sister. We became close over the years as I was dating her brother, Gregory. Then I found out last week she has a degenerative heart problem and needs a transplant. So I’m hoping the stem cells I’m donating to the Center will be a match for the new heart she needs.”

  “Does she know?”

  “That I’m here?”

  A nod. “I mean, your ex must be loving you for doing this, especially if he broke up with you.”

  Gina shook her head. “Maybe … but I definitely don’t want that. Besides, I broke it off with him.”

  “Really?”

  “He was an ass. Luckily his sister knows that. At least I think she does. I wrote her a little note and mailed it to her hospital room.”

  “Oh? What did it say?”

  Gina looked up for a second before settling on Helen’s face. “I wanted her to know that I was thinking of her, trying to do anything I could to help her—that I had decided to donate stem cells here in Acapulco from an abortion I was having and that I hoped it would lead to a regenerated heart for her.”

  “Your ex knows nothing about this?”

  Gina sighed. “I hope not. I told Blair not to mention this to Gregory at all, because I didn’t want him thinking I was doing it for him.”

  “I hope she gets all the help she needs,” Helen replied softly.

  “For her sake, I hope so too.”

  “I don’t quite have the same motivation but i
f I could help save the life of a stranger that’s enough for me.” Helen took a step back and took in Gina’s body. “You do look fabulous.”

  “You’re too nice … and likewise!”

  A smile formed on Helen as she put her hands up in the air. “Can you believe this place?”

  “I know. It’s absolutely breathtaking.”

  A loudspeaker high above them crackled, telling them the presentation was about to begin in the auditorium.

  Gina grabbed Helen’s hand. “C’mon. It’s time to hear what Dr. Vua has to say. I’ve heard so many good things about him since I signed up and I’m dying to see what he’s like.”

  The small brown and beige colored auditorium filled quickly with not only the donors but members of the BioHumanity staff. Gina spun around as she admired the auditorium’s eclectic circular design—huge glass panels adorned the building’s perimeter, creating a seamless fusion of wall and ceiling. “This place is amazing,” Gina whispered.

  They stepped into an aisle near the middle, sitting next to a wiry man with black horn-rimmed glasses. She glanced at him and thought a white lab coat with pens hanging out of the pocket would complete the picture of a nerd perfectly. Must be a researcher, she thought. Helen jumped in right beside her, grabbing the aisle seat.

  The man smiled at them. “Welcome to Acapulco.”

  Gina rolled her eyes. She hated it when men she had absolutely no attraction to wasted her time. “Thank you. I hope so, too” she replied with barely a glance in his direction.

  “I’m Dr. Mason Guthrie.”

  She peered out the corner of her eye. “That’s nice.”

  Helen nudged her. “That’s Gina.”

  Gina shot her a glance.

  “Pretty name,” Guthrie said.

  “Thanks,” she replied flatly.

  He continued, “We do appreciate your commitment to helping us save lives.”

  “Thank you. That’s why I’m here.”

  “Have you ever seen Dr. Vua before?” Guthrie said. “He’s legendary in these parts.”

  “No but I’ve heard impressive things about him,” Helen interjected. “Even if my friend Gina isn’t all that impressed.”