MAYA HOPE, a medical thriller - The Dr. Nicklaus Hart series 1

by Timothy Browne, MD

  Miguel shrugged his shoulders. “Hard to know for sure, maybe up to 90,000. What you’ll see today is just a fraction of the original city. The archaeologists have mapped it out and it covers sixteen square kilometers and has something like 3000 structures—most are still under dirt.”

  Nick sensed Miguel’s glances at him in the mirror were requests for him to comment, to prove he wasn’t bored. Nick tried to look interested in the facts about Tikal, but he wasn’t sure what or how much to say about the real reason for their visit. When Miguel continued to look to him for comment, Nick decided there was nothing to do but say it. He cleared his throat and began, “We’re here for kind of a difficult reason.”

  He paused before asking, “Do you know about the American doctor that was killed here a while back?”

  Miguel looked at Nick long enough to make Buck nervous.

  “Yes, of course. That was very tragic. We are all so sick of the violence here in our country. It affects all of us.”

  “What do you know about it?” Nick asked cautiously.

  “We are a small country, Dr. Hart, so everyone hears whispers. Death is common here, but we don’t like to talk about it.”

  There was a long, uncomfortable silence.

  Finally, Anna asked, “Can you tell us what you know?”

  Miguel looked at his passengers. “Are you police or something? Did you know the man?”

  “This man…His name was John, and he was my best friend. I guess I’m here to try to understand a little more about what happened. To pay my respects, you might say.”

  Miguel was relieved. “Well, let me first tell you about the Maya. Many people come here thinking that the Maya were some sort of murderous savages that sacrificed people all the time. That is not the case. The Aztecs of the north were much more warlike, and history shows they did a lot of human sacrifice to appease their gods. The Maya, on the other hand, did more animal and bloodletting sacrifice. Even the historical Jewish people believed that blood could purify them.” Miguel was clearly on the side of his Maya ancestors.

  “However,” he continued, “it is an undeniable fact that occasionally the Maya did do human sacrifices, and, unfortunately, that is where many people focus their attention. I will point out to you in the museum one Maya vessel that was found depicting a small boy being sacrificed. The historians believe that this was only done in extreme cases, like to battle a great pestilence or culture-changing event. Much of the blood letting concerned fertility. This is kind of gross.” He looked in the mirror at Anna to warn her. “They would pierce the genitals of men and women and run something like barbed wire through the area to draw blood. They believed that this particular blood was essential for regeneration of the culture.” Miguel grimaced at Anna.

  “Thank you for the history lesson,” Buck said, eager to end talk of gory sacrifice, “but what does that have to do with the doctor’s murder?”

  “That’s the thing. The only people in Maya history who were sacrificed like that were prisoners.”

  “Why is that strange?”

  “Well,” Miguel paused. “I know the tour guide that was with him. I mean knew. His name was Danilo, and he was a good man. I probably saw him every day.” Miguel stumbled over his words. “Danilo was found down the river…with his throat slashed. He was wearing a backpack, with the doctor’s heart inside.” His final word was barely audible.

  After a moment, Miguel regained his composure. “Even the police don’t think Danilo did it. But if the drug cartels did it, they have not admitted it. They usually fess up because they don’t care about anything and think they can get away with everything. See, here’s the thing: if it was a local gang killing, they would have just shot him and left him. It was like an ancient evil raised itself up out of the ground and killed them both—no one really knows.”

  Nick thought the young man was being dramatic to impress Anna, but when he looked at Miguel’s face, he saw real fear.

  * * *

  As the road climbed out of the farmland surrounding the lake, they entered a very different world. The flatland gave way to rolling hills of dense jungle, so thick that it appeared to swallow the road ahead.

  With the van windows open, the hot, arid air turned steamy, and a strong, earthy smell filled their nostrils. The jungle canopy covered the roadway and darkened the sky.

  “Oh, Buck,” Nick announced, sniffing the air. “I meant to tell you that I looked up FOCO right before we left. You remember, the notation that was on the map about the wells?”

  “Oh yeah, we talked about doing that.”

  “The acronym stands for The Friends of Children Organization. It’s an organization based out of South Korea. Looks pretty legit. Must be well-funded because FOCO has branches all over the world. I didn’t see any mention of Guatemala though, but someone had ants in his pants and I didn’t have more time to investigate the website.” Nick snickered at Buck. “But from the home page pictures, it looks like they do a lot of good things around the world. Hard to know if there is any connection, but we should keep an eye out for them. Maybe they know something or talked with John.”

  Buck leaned toward Miguel. “You ever heard of FOCO?”

  “I’ve seen their SUV around. It has a big orange star on the side that says FOCO. I thought it always stood for focus—foco in Spanish is focus.”

  “Ever talk with them?”

  “No,” he shrugged. “They are real loners and maybe not very nice people. But I hate to say anything bad about them because I hear they are doing good things for the villages here in the north.”

  “Why do you say not nice?” Nick asked.

  “I have a cousin, who is…” He looked in the mirror at Nick, then Anna. “She’s, uh, a working girl.” He winked at Nick. “You hear things.”

  “What things?”

  He looked at Anna again. “Maybe I can tell you later?” He smiled tentatively at Nick.

  “You know where their office is or where they live?” Buck asked.

  “No, I don’t. But I can ask around.”

  They sat in silence. As they drove deeper into the jungle, Nick’s mood darkened, opening wounds in his soul. This would be difficult and had the urge to turn back.

  Sensing his uneasiness, Anna put her hand on his arm. “Can I pray for you?”

  Nick sighed and nodded.

  “Father, be with us today. I pray for strength and grace and peace. Jesus, I thank You that You, who is in us, is greater than the devil who is in the world. Protect us from evil, Father. Protect our hearts and minds. Amen.”

  Buck echoed the Amen, and Miguel made the sign of the cross. Nick smiled at Anna; she was always so kind.

  Miguel pulled into a small, dirt parking lot next to a thatched-roof building with a sign that read, Museo Sylvanus G. Morley. There were only a few other cars in the lot.

  “Sylvanus G. Morley was an American archaeologist who assisted with much of the excavation of this site,” Miguel told them. “Do you want to go into the museum?”

  Buck saw that Nick was in no state to make a decision and took charge. “I tell you what, son, I’m not sure we’re up for sightseeing. Can you take us to the ruins, and we’ll go from there? What we want to do is pay our last respects.”

  “You bet. It’s about a mile and a half walk through the jungle to the site.”

  Buck saw the tour guide pull a large machete from under his seat. Miguel saw him watching. “Uh…it’s the jungle. A jaguar has been seen in the area lately. Better safe than sorry,” he said, holding up the large blade.

  Miguel led the way. They walked single file in silence along the dirt pathway, occasionally stepping over large, fan-like roots of kapok trees. Vines of different shapes and sizes hung from mammoth trees, some with dangerously sharp spines.

  A huge, iridescent blue butterfly floated above them. Miguel stopped and turned back to them. “That is the Blue Morpho butterfly. See how it seems to flash as it flies? Its topside is brilliant blue, and its bottom side
is a dull brown. That one is probably a female because the males are even bigger. Their wing spans can get up to eight inches across.”

  Nick thought of the Monarch butterfly he had talked to at the Hope Center. Perhaps it was a good sign for their visit.

  They watched as the Blue Morpho fluttered into the jungle canopy. With their attention turned to the treetops, Miguel pointed to a small group of spider monkeys who had been silently following them. The monkeys seemed to know they’d been spotted and began a chorus of high-pitched screeches. The largest male barked loudly, and the troop vanished into the thicket.

  “Spider monkeys are very curious, but also quite timid. I don’t know if we will see the howler monkeys today, but be careful. They can be very aggressive.” He smiled at Anna and patted his machete to encourage her to stay close to his side.

  A thunder clap made them all jump. “It looks like we may get a bit of a storm. I know a shelter. Follow me.” Miguel quickened his pace, turning off the main trail onto a secondary path. The air-cooled a few degrees, the tree tops swayed, and the dense jungle grew darker. As the first drops of rain fell, Miguel led them to the mouth of a large cave.

  “We will be safe in here.”

  Like a good soldier protecting his troops, Buck brought up the rear, herding them into the shelter just as the heavens opened and torrents of rain poured, followed by lightning and thunder.

  “I thought you said a bit of a storm,” Buck retorted.

  “Now you know why it’s so green here,” Miguel smiled. “Hopefully, it will pass as fast at it came.”

  Water poured off the lip of the cave entrance, forcing them deeper into the sanctuary. When a bat flew over their heads into the storm, Anna screamed and took refuge on a nearby rock. Nick and Buck laughed nervously.

  “Um, you may not want to sit there.” Miguel offered his hand to Anna and pulled her up. He took a small flashlight from his pants pocket and illuminated the base of the rock she had been sitting on. A large, hairy tarantula scurried into its hole.

  Anna squealed and leaned into Buck. “Okay,” she announced. “I’m done with cave dwelling. I’ll take the rain any time.”

  As the words left her mouth, the storm went from torrential downpour to steady rain.

  “I think God heard your prayers,” Miguel smiled at her. “These storms really come and go, but they can be pretty dangerous.”

  “Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m not afraid of the rain. Bats and spiders are another thing. I’m out of here,” she said, marching into the rain.

  The three men looked at each other, shrugged, and followed her.

  As the rain slowed, the jungle turned a fluorescent green, and the already impossible humidity increased a few more degrees. Their shirts were soaked inside and out as Miguel continued to lead them down the trail.

  “We’re almost there. Everyone okay?”

  Another 200 yards on the muddy trail, they broke from the dense jungle to a wide-open expanse from a time, long ago. As if on cue, the sun broke through the clouds and illuminated the courtyard of the Maya empire, and the visitors stepped onto emerald-green lawns surrounding the ancient ruins.

  They stood in awe at the magnificence—giant, stone structures rising from the earth, symbols of a great civilization.

  “Welcome to Tikal,” Miguel announced, spreading his arms with pride. “You are facing Temple III and the Bat Palace. The lost World Complex sits behind that. On either side are Temples IV and II—the Temple of the Grand Jaguar and the Temple of the Masks.” He pointed to the pyramid-like structures with stairs leading to the top of the ancient architecture nearly fifteen stories tall.

  “Unbelievable,” Buck said.

  “And to think they did this all by hand over 1500 years ago,” Miguel added.

  They looked at Nick, ready to take his lead on what to do next. He had not said a word. He stood with his arms crossed and his chin resting on one hand.

  “What are you thinking, pal?” Buck urged.

  “I honestly don’t know what to think. It looks so peaceful. It’s hard to imagine. I guess I thought it would be darker, like that storm. I just don’t know—it’s so beautiful here.”

  “Darkness to light,” Anna murmured.

  It was loud enough for Nick to hear, and he turned to look at her.

  “Sorry. I didn’t realize I said that out loud.”

  Nick continued to look at her, waiting for an explanation.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t want to sound too mystical. This feels like what I know about God. Always bringing things from darkness to light. Always wanting to bring life and beauty. Even in death, He brings us into new life, from glory to glory to glory. That’s what the scriptures say.”

  Nick’s heart was buffeted by the storms of emotion—from anger to peace, back to anger. Memories overflowed the erected walls of his psyche’s protection and tears welled in his eyes. His legs buckled, and he stumbled down to sit on a large rock next to the trail—his shoulders quaked, followed by uncontrolled sobs.

  “I don’t understand,” Nick shouted through spittle mixed with tears.

  Pictures of John’s face flashed on the screen in Nick’s mind—John’s look of serenity when he was focused on a problem and then, with a twinkle of guilt, when he was about to play a practical joke on a friend.

  “John, why did you let this happen to you…God, why did you let this happen?” Nick cried out.

  Nick was aware of a consoling hand on his shoulder. The catharsis of emotion was involuntary and at this point he didn’t care.

  Will I never see my friend again?

  More tears poured out.

  “I don’t get it.” Nick looked up at Buck who had his hand on his shoulder and then at Anna. He saw they were grieving with him.

  His torrent of emotion eased as the last drops from the rain storm pattered against large foliage next to them.

  A final image of John filtered through Nick’s mind. It was a fleeting image, but it was as clear and real as the temples of Tikal, the rock he was sitting on, the disappearing rain, and the re-emerging sun—John was smiling at him.

  “It’s going to be okay.”

  Nick looked at Buck and Anna and even Miguel to see who’d said that.

  “I’m sorry, you guys,” Nick said, feeling embarrassed by his outburst.

  “No, no, no,” Anna and Buck reassured him.

  “Welcome to the human race,” Buck added and squeezed his shoulder.

  Nick chuckled and tried to make light, “So that’s what that feels like. I think I’ll go back to my robot surgeon self.”

  But in truth, his heart was inexplicably changing. It was fuller, maybe even softer, and one thing for sure—more open.

  Nick stood and received long hugs from Buck and Anna and didn’t even begin to pull away.

  “Man, what would I do without you guys?”

  Buck held him by the shoulder. “The one thing I do know is that it’s all going to be okay.”

  “Yeah, didn’t you just say that?” Nick asked.

  “Huh?” Buck responded.

  Heat rose up Nick’s neck. “Never mind. Thought someone said that a minute ago.”

  They looked at each other in bewilderment.

  “Ah, the place of the voices,” Miguel added, having watched the scene a step behind them all.

  “You going to be okay?” Buck asked, ignoring Miguel’s assessment.

  Nick sighed and nodded.

  “Maybe God is talking to you?” Buck said.

  Nick did not know how to answer. Standing there staring at the place where his best friend lost his life, he realized there was way more to God than he ever thought—a goodness, a beauty, a closeness he had never known before. “I was really nervous to come here,” he said, “but I’m so glad we did.”

  “Dr. Hart, do you want to go into the plaza?”

  Nick thought a moment. “Does anyone know where exactly John was killed?”

  “I have ov
erheard people talk about it.”

  “Are you sure you want to know?” Buck interrupted.

  Nick nodded. “Yeah, I really think I do.”

  Miguel pointed to the base of the Temple of the Grand Jaguar. “They found your friend’s body there.”

  Before Miguel could finish his sentence, Nick walked in that direction. The others followed. When they got to the base of the great pyramid, Nick stopped in front of a large, round stone.

  “It was here, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, this is where they found his body,” Miguel said.

  Nick twisted from side to side, seeing the emerald jungle framing the manicured plaza of the ancient Maya. He shielded his eyes from the sun as he followed the grey stone steps up the temple to the crowning structure and single opening. In his imagination, he could see a Maya king standing in his colorful regalia, his arms stretched out over his people.

  He returned his gaze to the round stone before him and bent to feel the smooth, flat surface. Any signs of horror—ancient or recent—had long vanished.

  Nick’s recent dreams of John calling him to the shelter of the rocks flashed in his mind. He could not make any sense of it as he looked from the round stone to the tall sculpted stone shaft standing guard over the stone altar.

  “What is that stone?” Nick asked Miguel, pointing to the stone monument.

  “It’s called a stelae,” Miguel answered. “Often the huge slabs were carved with messages. It’s how we know some of the history of the people. The stelae are all about announcing the king…or uh, realenza dinina.” He looked at Anna to help him out.

  She looked puzzled for a moment, then said, “realenza dinina—divine kingship, I guess.”

  “Yes, that is correct. The people thought of their leaders as gods,” Miguel said.

  “The only divine King I know is Jesus,” Anna declared.

  “Amen to that,” Buck said.

  Nick sighed.

  Buck put a hand on Nick’s shoulder and squeezed. Anna reached into her handbag, slung over her shoulder, and pulled out a damp cloth from which she carefully unwrapped a pink orchid. “Maggie cut this for me before we left and asked me to put it out for John.” She gave the orchid to Nick. “I think you should do it.”