Savage Heart

by M. G Scott

  “I just thought it would be something that we could … you know … do together. You could help me focus the feature on your husband’s life. We would write about it and—”

  “What don’t you get?” Carla interrupted. “I will never see my husband again for the rest of my life.” She started sobbing. “I won’t be able to sit down and have romantic dinners, talk about our days at work … do anything with him that I loved to do. That life is gone forever.”

  “Don’t you want people to understand your loss?”

  “The last thing I need is for people to feel sorry for me. Do you honestly think I want the pity of email and telephone calls raining down on me every day? Everybody has their own way of dealing with loss, and acknowledging that to the outside world is not how I do it.”

  Sabrina was losing her. “I completely understand that but—”

  “I don’t mean to be rude but I think this conversation is over. Have a good day.” Carla then turned and opened the door to her ride.

  Sabrina let out a sigh of disgust as she trudged back to her own car. If she was going to survive as a reporter she would need to learn how to negotiate with her subjects. Otherwise, this job wasn’t going to last very long. She started up the engine and began rolling through the cemetery, and then headed toward the highway. She eyed the dashboard clock and sighed again. She had wasted her whole day chasing something Blogg would blow a fuse if … no … when he found out. And for all the hours spent on this, she had nothing to show for it. A small piece of folded-over paper caught her eye as it rested on the passenger seat. She glanced at it and then again. That’s weird. She didn’t remember putting anything on the seat. She reached over and flipped it open. In bold, all caps lettering, eighteen haunting words stared back at her:

  YOU WILL DIE UNLESS YOU STOP INVESTIGATING. CONSIDER THIS THE FIRST WARNING. YOU WILL SOON EXPERIENCE THE SECOND.

  She tossed the paper onto the floor as her stomach started churning. Suddenly, something ahead caught her eye. The headlights of an oncoming car were in her lane, heading straight for her. She instinctively slammed on the breaks but applied too much pressure. The car veered from side to side as she tried to regain control of the steering. She turned the wheel hard in the other direction, but she overcorrected. The car’s tires squealed in desperation as they tried to save the driver from injury.

  No matter what she did she couldn’t change the inevitable.

  The convertible spun through the intersection and plowed into a guardrail, causing the car’s cockpit to wrap around her. She felt her body twitch and then a sheering pain shot through her.

  Before she could reach for her arm, everything went black.

  Chapter 14

  The ferry was nothing like Gina had ever been on before. Built more like a luxury cruiser, the donors sat in comfortable recliners inside an air-conditioned cabin as they cruised across Playa del Secreto.

  Extravagant as it was, Gina certainly didn’t mind it. She cupped her hands against the oval window and stared out at the vast ocean. Sunlight glistened off the water, shooting rays in every direction. It reminded her of high school prom when the DJ trained a light on the dance globe. Gina leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. It was the first time she had a moment to herself after such a whirlwind week.

  “I think I see the lights,” Helen suggested from the seat behind her.

  Gina opened her eyes and eyed the overhead display. They were five minutes from arrival. She had fallen asleep, even if it was for only fifteen minutes. The ferry slowed to a few knots as Gina looked out the window. A sun-drenched, all-glass building drifted into view just on the other side of the pier.

  The architecture was impressive. Eight or nine floors of exposed beams, painted royal blue, held large diamond-shaped glass panels in place. Along the bay side, each floor sported large floor to ceiling windows that extended beyond the frame of the building—with glass wrapping all sides.

  “Wow,” Helen said. “This place is amazing.”

  “I guess they want us to be comfortable,” Gina replied, her nose still firmly planted against the window.

  The ferry hung for a few seconds in the water and then jolted forward as it hitched to the pier. A moment later, a metal docking bridge dropped with a clang onto the boat. “Welcome to BioHumanity’s Acapulco Donor Center,” a staff member said as they filed off the ferry and into the covered walkway that led to their new home for the next few weeks. They followed the staff into a large atrium, this one more airy than the Welcome Center, every inch lit by its massive windows.

  Gina turned toward the bay, marveling that the windows were the only barricade to the outside world. “Amazing … feels like there’s nothing between us and the outside,” Gina said to Helen.

  “I think we made the right decision coming here,” Helen replied, all smiles.

  “No doubt.”

  Chapter 15

  “You okay?”

  Sabrina opened her eyes. The flash of the accident ran through her head before giving way to an intense, throbbing pain on her right side. “I don’t know,” she gasped as the smell of fuel circled them. The Samaritan yanked on the driver’s door but it wouldn’t give.

  “We need to get you out of here … good thing you’re in a convertible.” He reached in and tugged at her belt. After a second tug, the belt released and recoiled sharply into its holder.

  “Whatever you need to do,” she replied halfheartedly. “Are the police coming?”

  “Don’t worry about that. They’re on their way.” As if on cue, the sounds of sirens could be heard in the distance. The Samaritan reached in with both hands. “You think you can grab my arms as I pull you out?”

  She shook her head. “Maybe with my left but I can’t move my right.”

  He rolled up the sleeve of her top and looked at the bulging bruise that ran from her elbow toward the shoulder. “I see why.”

  She saw him nod toward the passenger’s side. “Maybe we can try the other door,” he said. “You’ll just have to find a way to drag yourself over the gearbox.”

  “I’ll try,” she muttered. Everything was in a fog but her fifth sense caught the stench of gas and it seemed to be getting stronger. “I think you better hurry,” she said as loud as she could but it was probably no more than a whisper.

  He ran to the other side and pulled hard on the door handle. The car shook but then the door popped open. He knelt inside and wrapped his hands around her midsection.

  “I’m going to give you a quick pull to nudge you loose, okay?”

  She nodded. What he didn’t have to say but that they both understood was that it was going to hurt. He pulled her as gently as he could, but her arm banged against the dashboard and stick shift. “Oh,” she groaned as the pain ricocheted through her arm and chest.

  “Okay. The worst is over. Now we gotta keep moving.”

  Her legs dropped from the car and she was dragged quickly across the highway. They couldn’t have been more than thirty feet away when her car exploded in a fusion of fire and gasoline. The thrust of the impact launched them onto the asphalt. A shirring pain ripped through her arm. “Augh!” she cried as tears flowed from her eyes.

  She rolled onto her back and looked on helplessly as the intense heat flooded her face—her convertible now a heap of smoldering metal, rubber, and plastic. The Samaritan stumbled awkwardly back to his feet and wrapped his hands around her shoulders, yanking her toward a light pole. The sirens seemed to surround them and then an unfamiliar voice said, “We can take it from here.”

  “Yes, of course,” the Samaritan replied as he loosened his grip on her.

  Sabrina looked into the eyes of a police officer kneeling before her. “Ma’am? You all right?”

  “It’s her arm. The right one,” she heard the Samaritan say behind her.

  “Just stay calm, ma’am. We’ll have a paramedic look you over in a minute.”

  The accident flashed through her mind again: She had looked straight ahead
just as the oncoming car was going to hit her, and for a second, saw the driver’s face. It may have only been for a moment but she would never forget the cold stare he gave her. “What about the driver who hit me?” she stammered.

  He shook his head. “Hit and run. We don’t have much to go on right now but we’ll get ‘em.”

  Another siren wailed in the distance. Before she knew it, a paramedic was at her side. “What do we have?” he asked the officer as he went to work on her.

  “She was the driver of the convertible. Possible broken arm, bruising along the face.”

  The paramedic eyed her warmly. “Let’s get your arm set and then how ‘bout a little ride to the hospital?” he asked in a calming voice.

  She nodded before muttering, “That would be fine.”

  Chapter 16

  Vua eyed the candidate curiously from behind the lobby doors.

  The man looked anxious as he entered the seventh floor lobby—his long hair flowing with a mix of blonde and brown—matching the persona of an urban professional in his thirties. Must be here for a family member, Vua immediately thought. It was exactly the situation he wanted the candidate to be in—desperation—they would be willing to overpay for the transplant. For a moment the man took in his surroundings and then headed to the receptionist. After a short conversation, she nodded politely and then waved him over to a group of orange and tan couches positioned in the center of the atrium.

  A second later, Vua’s cell buzzed with a text message from the receptionist announcing the third visitor of the day had arrived. Vua pushed opened the stainless-steel door from which he had been eyeing his prospect, drew a smile, and stepped into the lobby. He pulled the lapels of his sport coat tight to make sure it fit evenly across his narrow chest and strolled over to the candidate. “Mr. Archer?” Vua asked as he extended his hand. “I’m Dr. Vua.”

  The man awkwardly jumped to his feet and grabbed the man’s hand. “Yes, hello.” He wiped his brow as a bit of sweat dripped down. “Thank you for meeting me on such short notice.”

  “Of course, Mr. Archer.”

  “Please call me Gregory.”

  Vua’s smile widened a bit. To him, it was obvious the prospect was trying hard to be polite—something that didn’t come easy given his demeanor. “Welcome to Acapulco, Mr. Archer. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble making it here.”

  “No problems, even though it was last minute … especially since I came in from San Diego.”

  Vua eyed the flyer Gregory held in his hand. It was a printout from one of the ad campaigns he had run just a few weeks ago. He already had fifty leads from that promotion. Money well spent, he thought. He pointed to the ad. “Is that how you became aware of us?”

  “It was my sister. She found it online and showed it to me when I visited her in the hospital. It just seems like our only option.”

  A nod. “Given your sister’s urgency, I don’t want to keep you waiting any longer. Won’t you please follow me?”

  “I’d be happy to.”

  Vua led him through the door from which he had just come and into a sunlight-drenched walkway that led to another stainless-steel door. He placed his thumb in the security sensor. When the door unlocked, he pushed through into a similar looking walkway, with doors lining both sides of the hallway. He stopped at the third door one on the left and knocked twice. “I always think it’s important for our potential clients to experience how we’re creating the extraordinary technology we use in our patients. To us, it provides both a sense of comfort and confidence for the patient’s family.” The door clicked and Vua pushed it open. He waved his hand across the room. “This is one of the five donor incubation laboratories that make up the heart of the center, so to speak,” Vua said. “In rooms such as these, we generate the organ your sister so desperately needs.”

  Gregory became visibly more relaxed as he eyed the room and the rows of small black containers. “Unbelievable,” he said under his breath.

  Vua continued, “I read your application.” He enjoyed getting right to the point. It made the visitor uncomfortably aware of the urgency of their visit. “The doctors believe your sister has a severe form of cardiomyopathy and needs an immediate transplant.”

  Gregory’s frame stiffened. “Yes, she doesn’t have much time … the doctor says weeks at the most.” He paused, then said, “Honestly, I’m out of options with traditional medicine. She’s just not high enough on the donor list and your approach seems to have great results.”

  Vua smirked. “Correction. I’d say it has the best results.” Vua felt ecstatic inside. He loved prospects that felt they had run out of options, and Gregory was a bulls’ eye. Besides, he had already tipped his hand and didn’t even know it. Vua could easily charge prospects like him an extra thirty thousand and they would still do it—because they knew what the alternative meant.

  Desperation. It was capitalism at its best.

  “Every one of the hundred incubators you see here contains a live beating heart that is growing hour by hour, day by day until it reaches the size needed for transplant into the patient.” Vua beckoned with his hand. “Please … feel free to have a look.”

  Gregory stepped forward, toward one of the small incubators and peered through a small window inset into the black, molded capsule that made up the incubator. What looked like a mesh of human tissue was beating rapidly, more so than any adult heart. “These are live, human hearts growing?”

  “Yes, every one of them,” Vua replied proudly. “And not only that, the one that’s selected for transplant into your sister will have an exact cell match to your sister’s genetic makeup. That’s important because it means the heart will never have a chance to be rejected by her body.”

  Gregory’s face lit up. “How do you do that?”

  “It’s both simple and complex at the same time. Every person is part of a segmented group that shares a similar cell makeup. What we do is secure hundreds of donors that are willing to spare stem cells for each of these segments.”

  “You mean directly from the donor?”

  Vua laughed, almost rudely. “No. Impossible. What we draw the stem cells from might surprise you.”

  “How so?”

  “A mother’s placenta contains the richest set of stem cells available. That’s the fuel we need to grow these hearts from … literary nothing … to what you see here today.”

  Gregory shook his head. “Unbelievable … but how do you get the women to undergo such a procedure?

  “You would be surprised how many women sign up to do this. It’s really quite a long list. If the incentive is there, most women are happy to take our terms.”

  “You’re saving lives, but isn’t it … ” He stopped as if searching for the right word.

  “You mean unethical?” Vua asked.

  “Yes.”

  Vua stroked his chin, a mischievous grin forming on his face. “What’s your definition of unethical? If it’s using cells from an aborted life to save another, then guilty—and mind you that decision was made before the donor arrived here. But I prefer to look at it differently: You have no idea how many people come up to me and shake my hand, thanking me for saving a loved one they couldn’t imagine living without—it’s a situation just like yours. And you know what? Every one of those lives I saved just makes me more motivated than ever. I’ll continue doing this as long as there’s a demand for it.”

  Gregory stopped at an incubator halfway across the room. He again looked through the small window at the growing organ. “All I care about is Blair.” He then turned and stared at Vua. “If you’re able to save her, to me, you’ll be a miracle worker.”

  A chuckle. “I’ve been called many things, Mr. Archer, but it’ll be the first time I’m called a miracle worker.”

  Gregory lowered a brow. “I’m confused about one thing, though.”

  “What is that?”

  “If you’re so successful, then why the demonstration outside?”

  Vua’s demean
or turned serious. “I’m sorry you had to experience that. That’s a sad reminder of abortion foes who would rather a woman keep an unwanted baby than provide life for somebody else.”

  “What you’re doing is completely legal?”

  Vua sighed. “I’ll be blunt with you. Not in the States, but it is here … and that’s fine with me and my staff. If the United States doesn’t want to reap the benefits of an industry leader that provides jobs for a local economy and saves thousands of lives, then certainly Acapulco will.”

  Gregory turned back to the incubators lining the room. “You sound like someone holding a grudge.”

  “Let me show you something.” Vua said, ignoring Gregory’s comment. He led Gregory out of the lab and down the hall to another room. Vua stopped at the door and peered through the small six by six window. “Good. They’re working today.” He knocked twice and then opened door, waving Gregory to follow.

  The room was filled with black-surfaced counters, like the ones found in college labs. Spread across the lab, six men and four women seemed captivated as they peered through microscopes at petri dishes.

  “You see these people? They are extracting cells from the fetus’s placenta and then multiplying them to create the organ we are targeting.

  “In this case, a human heart?”

  “Exactly … just like what you saw in the other room. I know it’s hard to imagine, but look at it this way—hearts are an organ in your body, like your kidneys and liver. And organs, like the heart, are made of tissues that perform a specialized function. These tissues are built from cells, and it’s these cells where we can manipulate the genetic switches. So once we have the right switches flipped, we incubate it, causing the cells to multiply into the organ we want.