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

by Timothy Browne, MD

  Nick took the flower and put it on the stone. If Maggie were here, she’d say a prayer. He almost wished he could pray. Mostly, he was glad he’d come to see where John had drawn his last breath. His grief was allayed, and his heart was filled with peace.

  But it didn’t last. Horror destroyed his harmony and forced him to think of the torture John had endured. A storm of anger raged in his brain. Anger that he no longer had his best friend. Anger that the killer had not been brought to justice. Anger that evil lurked in the world.

  His emotions were frazzled. His face turned red. He turned on his heels and stormed back to the van.

  CHAPTER 44

  * * *

  Celebration

  The only emotion Pak and Kwon displayed was disappointment as they read the report from their associate in West Africa and looked at the horrific photographs. The swollen corpse lay in the fetal position with bloodstains around the nose and mouth—a result of painful hemorrhagic death and total organ failure.

  Since the North Korean biological division had released the Ebola virus for testing in Guinea and Liberia, there had been a sharp rise in cases and in mortality. Health workers who cared for the patients accounted for many of the deaths. The World Health Organization’s genetic analysis of this virus confirmed that it was related to the 2009 Ebola virus reported in the Congo. Pak and Kwon were not surprised since they had released that virus as well.

  The two noted that the WHO report claimed the fruit of the garcinia monkey tree appeared to have the ability to stop the virus replication. But Pak and Kwon were not worried; the garcinia tree was close to extinction due to habitat destruction.

  “I am pleased with the fatality rate,” Pak said, “but why we are not seeing a wider distribution of the disease, I do not understand.”

  “Yes, that is disappointing,” Kwon responded, without looking up from the report. Despite all his success, that one failure could send him straight to the gulag.

  “The fruit bat is the natural host of the virus. That was where we found it. The WHO has educated West Africans about contact with bats. That has left human-to-human spread,” Kwon explained, defending his program. “The problem is that human-to-human transmission can occur only by direct contact with broken skin or mucous membranes. We have been unable to supercharge this particular virus with the H1N1 influenza virus, as we have with mumps. I can promise you that the M2H1 is much more virulent.”

  “For our sake, I hope you’re right.” Pak clamped his hand on Kwon’s shoulder.

  * * *

  The hostess at Capitan Tortuga seated them on the patio at a lakeside table. The view of Lake Petén Itzá from the restaurant was spectacular. With the storms passed, the lake glimmered with the lights of San Benito across the bay. A near full moon rose in the east.

  “There are going to be lots of babies born tonight,” Dr. Hart diagnosed.

  “Is that really true?” Anna asked.

  “It really is.”

  “Maybe it has to do with the gravitational pull,” Buck laughed.

  “I tell you what, not only does the full moon bring more babies, it also brings out craziness. Our ERs are always busier during a full moon. I hate being on call on those nights.”

  Because every table at the restaurant was full, it was taking a while for the waiter to bring their drinks. But no one seemed to mind. After a silent ride back to the village, Nick’s anger had cooled, and when they saw his mood improve, Buck and Anna suggested they celebrate John’s life with a margarita toast. Nick decided John wouldn’t object.

  “You doing okay?” Buck asked Nick.

  “Yeah, I guess. I have to admit it was tough. I really miss him.”

  The waiter brought their margaritas, served in mason jars.

  Buck lifted his glass. “I think it is appropriate that we have an empty place at the table.”

  Buck acknowledged the vacant seat at their table. “One of my Canadian comrades taught me a toast for fallen warriors. It goes like this: You may have noticed the empty setting for one that is off on his own—it is reserved to honor our fallen comrades in arms. It symbolizes that they are with us, here in spirit. We should never forget the brave men and women who answered our nation’s call to serve and served the cause of freedom in a special way. We are ever mindful that the sweetness of enduring peace has always been tainted by the bitterness of personal sacrifice. We are compelled to never forget that while we enjoy our daily pleasures, there are others who have endured the agonies of pain, deprivation and death. So here’s to John Russell, our fallen comrade.”

  Buck, Nick, and Anna clinked glasses and sipped their drinks.

  Nick blotted a tear with his napkin. “Thank you, guys. I’m sure glad you’re here with me.”

  They sat in silence as the buzz of the crowd around them mixed with soft music from a guitar player at the bar inside.

  Buck broke the silence. “I told Miguel to pick us up at eight in the morning, if that’s okay with everyone?”

  “Fine,” Nick said. “I really want to go to one of the villages John wrote about in his journal. Buck, did you figure out where they are?”

  Buck pulled a map from his pocket and unfolded it on the table. He took the small glass bowl with a burning candle on their table and moved it to a corner of the map. “So this is where we are on the Island of Flores.” He pointed to the south end of the lake. “The four villages that John wrote about are here.” He pointed to four different places on the map. “El Naranjo is way out west here, El Chilar and Cruse Dos Aquadas are north, and El Zapote is east. I would suggest we start with El Zapote since it’s probably the closest and easiest to get to. The others are pretty isolated and remote. That sound good to you?”

  Nick nodded, but Anna asked uncharacteristically, “You think we are in any danger?”

  “I asked your young suitor that myself today,” Buck replied. “He seemed a bit hesitant to go to the other villages, but he thought El Zapote was close enough to the main trail that we would be okay.”

  Nick looked at Anna, trying to read her thoughts. “You okay?”

  Anna picked her words carefully. “Yeah, I think so. Since we have been here…I don’t know…a bit of oppression is what it feels like. I know that Christ is in us…” She paused, looking back and forth between the men. “I know this because, as we go into dark places, He changes the spiritual atmosphere. Light always pushes out darkness. I’m just not sure I have experienced this kind of…pressure. I guess that’s how I would describe it.”

  “Just be glad your Uncle Buck is here to protect you.” Buck clamped his big hand on her tiny shoulder.

  Anna’s mood lightened. She shrugged him off and smiled, addressing Nick. “You should have seen Miguel’s face this afternoon. He’d asked me to dinner tonight, and before I could reply, Uncle Buck answered for me.” She looked at Buck and laughed. “I can still see you towering over him, looking him in the eyes, and barking, No way, Jose. I kind of felt sorry for Miguel.”

  They all laughed.

  * * *

  At their house in San Benito, Suk, Hwang, and Cho sat on the back deck overlooking the Island of Flores, drinking beer. Hwang smoked a large cigar. They had reason to celebrate. Returning from La Libertad, their mood was jubilant. La Libertad was the first village where they used the mosquito sprayer to spread the virus, and it was an overwhelming success.

  Even Suk was surprised by the people’s lack of natural immunity when they could not find one person in the small village who wasn’t suffering from mild cold symptoms. It must be such a new virus that no one carries antibodies to it and it spreads rapidly between people.

  People who had not been infected during the spraying quickly came down with it after being exposed to those who had.

  “Here’s to you, Boss,” Hwang raised his beer to Suk.

  Suk raised his glass back.

  And here’s to getting rid of you soon.

  “Cho, I wish you wouldn’t clean your guns when you’re drinkin
g,” Suk reprimanded.

  “Are you afraid I’ll shoot you?” Cho laughed, chambered the .45mm pistol, aimed it at Suk, and pulled the trigger.

  Suk turned ashen. Cho and Hwang burst into laughter.

  “Cho, you are an idiot!” Suk scolded, as his color returned.

  “So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?” Cho asked.

  “I want to spray one more village for statistical significance.”

  “What’s that?” Cho looked confused.

  “To confirm it works—scientifically.”

  “Okay. Where are we going?”

  “I have decided the last village we will spray is Melchor de Mencos. It’s right on the border with Belize, just beyond El Zapote.

  * * *

  At the restaurant, the evening was winding down. Nick, Buck, and Anna relaxed as the waiter brought coffee. The dinner had been delicious, and as the crowded restaurant emptied, the friends listened to a flock of American coots singing on the nearby lake, their haunting warble echoing off the distant shore.

  “So, Buck, you missing your family?” Anna asked.

  Buck dropped his jaw before speaking, “How did you know I was just thinking about them? I wish they could have come down with me to meet you all. Maybe next time.”

  “You have three sons?”

  “Yes, my pride and my joy, for sure. The boys are what got me through this mess.” He lifted a leg and rapped his knuckles against his metal prosthesis. “Them and of course my wife, Katy. She’s the true hero.”

  “And?” Nick patted himself on his shoulder.

  “Oh yeah. This guy. I even survived this guy’s care.”

  Buck slapped Nick hard on the chest, making him cough and they all laughed.

  “Has Buck showed you a picture of his sons?” Nick caught his breath. “They’re all handsome boys. Chips off the old blockhead.”

  “For sure. Anna, I’d like to introduce you to them,” Buck winked at her.

  “They’d like that too,” Nick added.

  A waiter dropped a plate in the restaurant. Nick turned to the commotion and noticed a couple at a table inside. When he looked at them, they appeared to avert their eyes. They were middle-aged and Asian. Nick keyed in on the woman. Even though the patio lighting was dim, he could tell she was stunningly beautiful. He tried to not stare, especially because he figured they were a couple, but he sensed that she was looking at him as well.

  I wonder, Japanese or Korean? If I had to, I’d bet Korean.

  Every time he looked in their direction, they turned away.

  Strange. He thought about the conversation they had with their taxi driver about the upcoming elections. He stole one more glance at the couple and then went back to conversing with his friends.

  CHAPTER 45

  * * *

  El Zapote

  Miguel smiled with a mouthful of white, glistening teeth and waved to Anna, ignoring Buck’s glower.

  The three friends were enjoying breakfast, and it was a real treat—handmade tortillas, eggs and beans topped with cream. The hotel’s small dining room was packed with weekend tourists. All the freshly squeezed papaya and pineapple juice were consumed quickly.

  “Man, I still can’t believe you won’t try the granadia fruit,” Buck ribbed Nick.

  “I don’t eat anything that looks like brains,” Nick teased back.

  “I think it must be similar to passion fruit, but it’s tasty. The girl at the front desk told me they call it booger fruit because of the mucus-like texture,” Buck laughed.

  “Even more reason not to try it.”

  The meal finished, they piled into Miguel’s van, and much to their guide’s chagrin, Buck claimed the front passenger seat again.

  “Our pilots pick us up at four this afternoon,” Buck said. “I figure that gives us plenty of time to look around, but keeps us from flying at night.”

  “I think I’d rather walk back,” Nick said as he looked at the cloudless sky. “Let’s hope it stays like this.”

  “So then it’s home tomorrow, Dr. Hart?” Anna asked without enthusiasm.

  “I feel the same way, Anna. I’m not sure I’m ready to head back to the ol’ salt mine.” He smiled at her.

  “So, are we headed to El Zapote?” Miguel asked, starting up the van. “The zapote fruit is coming into season so maybe you can try one there.”

  “Just so they don’t look like a body part,” Nick put in.

  Miguel looked at him curiously in the rearview mirror.

  “They tried to get me to eat some slimy fruit today,” Nick explained.

  “I understand. The fruta de mocos, I bet.”

  They all laughed.

  “Can I ask why you want to go to El Zapote?” Miguel asked. “There is not very much to see there, I could show you more ruins up north,” he added enthusiastically. “I will even buy you a zapote here in town.”

  “Thanks, Miguel, but we want go to El Zapote. I have a long-lost cousin that I want to visit there.” Buck told him.

  “Really?” Miguel asked.

  “Do I look Guatemalan?” Buck said sarcastically.

  “Geez, Buck, give the boy a break. You remember being twenty-five, don’t you?” Nick punched his shoulder.

  I’m watching you. Making the universal sign, Buck put his fingers to his eyes and then pointed at Miguel, and they all laughed.

  * * *

  Suk and his comrades were getting a late start, and he was frustrated. Hwang and Cho had drunk themselves into a stupor again last night, and they took their own sweet time preparing the vehicle and trailer with the sprayer.

  Suk glanced at his watch. Finally, Hwang and Cho, still reeking of alcohol, piled into the SUV. The drive to Melcho de Mencos was more than an hour. They would arrive by 9:15, plenty of time to spray and return to Flores before the DHL office closed at noon. The limited hours on Saturday were a hassle, but Suk could hardly wait to share the good news with Professor Kwon—the success of the aerosolization.

  * * *

  The El Zapote village chief was surprised to see the Americans. Very few ventured this far from the Maya ruins. The community reminded Nick of Isabella’s village with a central well and gathering spot. Mud and thatched roof homes were scattered around.

  The chief was even more surprised when he heard they were friends of Dr. John. Welcoming them to his village, he explained that the good doctor had visited them a number of times and had fixed his wife’s nagging hernia at the Hope Center three years ago. They were both extremely grateful to Dr. John.

  The village appeared to have no electricity, so when the man invited them into his home, their eyes took a moment to adjust from the bright sun outside.

  The chief encouraged them to sit at a handmade wooden table in the center of the room. Anna interpreted for the group. She had thought ahead to stop at a local bakery and gifted the man with a large sack of bread.

  The man handed the bag to his wife, who shuffled to a corner to slice the loaf. She returned quickly with a plate of sliced bread and a small jar of jelly. She also brought a pitcher of juice covered with a towel to keep the buzzing flies from the sweet nectar.

  Nick saw there was no refrigeration and decided to skip the jelly, but it would be rude to refuse the juice.

  “The chief thanks you for coming, but asks why you have come this far? He also asks about Dr. John,” Anna translated.

  “He doesn’t know?” Nick looked at the toothless elder’s smile and then at Anna.

  “It doesn’t look that way. A lot of these villages are pretty isolated.”

  When Nick looked into the old man’s eyes, the elder’s smile left as he read Nick’s face. The news was not good. “I’m afraid Dr. John was killed,” Nick said. “He is no longer with us.” Nick hoped that Anna would help in the translation.

  The old man made the sign of the cross over his face, and his wife gasped.

  “I cannot believe this,” the man said.

  The woman cried.

  Nick was
glad Anna told them the story and he didn’t have to repeat it.

  Finally, the old man put his hand on top of Nick’s. “I am so sorry for your loss.”

  Nick realized that Anna must have told the chief that he and John were best friends.

  “Gracias, gracias,” Nick replied. “I’m sorry that you had to hear this news from us. You had not heard anything about this?”

  “No, no, we have not. Dr. John was a saint of a man, this I know. Whoever did this awful thing to him will rot in hell. That you can be assured.”

  “Thank you for your kindness, but I have to ask you a question.”

  “Certainly, anything.”

  “When we were going through Dr. John’s things, we found a map and a journal. It said that a number of villages in the area were without recent births—that these villages have gone a number of months without any new pregnancies or babies. The journal entry was close to a year ago. I wanted to come out here to see for myself and to check if there is any possible connection to John’s death.”

  As Anna translated, Nick could tell he had hit on a great sadness for both the chief and his wife. The woman wiped her tears.

  The man took a small sip from his juice glass and cleared his throat. “I am afraid that you talk about a great shame that is over my village.” He looked at his wife and back to Nick. “I do not like to talk about this.” He lowered his voice. “But because you are friends with Dr. John, I will make an exception.”

  “I’m sorry to bring you more pain.”

  “We have known Dr. and Mrs. John for a number of years now. There had been no babies born to our young people for over six months. We tried everything. We went to the Priest in San Benito and even let the witchdoctor chant over us. It was like a powerful dark spirit had fallen over our village.”

  He glanced at his wife for confirmation. She nodded.

  “We sent word to the Hope Center and were thrilled when Dr. John came all this way to see us. He examined all the young people and found nothing—everyone was perfectly healthy—something we have always prided ourselves on. He prayed with us over our village. He warned us not to see the witchdoctor again and told me about the spiritual world, the world of good and evil. He even reassured me that God loves us and does not hold any malice against us. He was so kind. We never heard anything more from him. Now I know why, and I’m afraid that God really is mad at us.”