“Unlikely,” Nadia replied, shooing the sobbing people away. Her face remained hard and impassive, but Raine could see the strain of the last few hours creeping into her eyes. “I believe it was cardiovascular failure.”
“A heart-attack?” Sid said. She stood to one side with King’s arm draped around her shoulders. Her face had grown pale and was now marked by teary streaks. Likewise, Nadia’s movements were growing slower and her exposed left arm was reddening.
“Most likely it was a condition she already had which the virus merely antagonised.”
Raine picked up on something in the way Nadia said the words. A lack of conviction.
He glanced at the people who were still milling around, distraught and terrified, then clutched her elbow and led her towards the exit. They ducked through the tent flaps and stood under the canvas awning attached to the exterior. Rain continued to beat down heavily upon it. The view across the mountaintop was obscured by the slanting sheets of the downpour and the sheer edge of the table mountain was swathed in a wreath of mist and cloud. Above, the muted halo of the sun could be vaguely discerned in the sky but the sodden camp remained in perpetual gloom.
Along with the zombie-like groans of the dying, their vacant expressions, wan complexions and often bloodied clothes, it felt like he had stepped into a horror story.
Indeed, he supposed he had.
“You don’t seem convinced,” he accused the Russian as King and Sid stepped into the awning with them.
Nadia frowned. “I am relatively certain the professor’s death was caused by cardiovascular failure—”
“But you don’t think it was caused by the virus.” It wasn’t a question. He had seen the doubt in her eyes as Assistant-Director Nebrinski had described the expedition’s affliction.
She sighed and ran her hands through her dark hair. King and Sid studied her closely.
“No,” she finally admitted. “Something just doesn’t seem right about it. The symptoms are similar — aching joints, flu-like illness, and severe skin irritation.” She scratched her own arm subconsciously. “The deaths, also, are fairly consistent with the virus. Organ failure—”
“Then why the scepticism?” King cut her off.
Nadia glanced at him. “Leptospirosis is generally caused by the introduction of animal urine into the system.”
“Sounds yummy,” Raine joked.
“But if that was the case, why are you two not infected?” she glanced at Raine and King. “I presume you are still not experiencing any of the symptoms?”
“I feel fine,” King replied.
“What can we say?” Raine said. “Benny and I are just your shining example of manliness. Right, Benny?”
“I guess,” was King’s only reaction. Raine had noticed the other man’s coldness towards him return following the sobering events of the morning. When Nebrinski had mentioned the deployment of U.S. Special Forces he had tried to keep his expression neutral, but he had noticed King’s intense gaze fall on him. He was sharp and focussed. Right now, that could be a problem for him.
He tried to steer the conversation back on track. “So, if Benny and I have some sort of immunity to this bug, can’t you just replicate it or something?” he asked.
The Russian arched an eyebrow. “If only everything was as simple as your mind, Mister Raine,” she said scathingly. Several sharp responses bubbled up inside of Raine but he kept silent, watching Nadia’s beautiful features. “The truth is,” she continued, “that while everyone but you two are showing symptoms of the illness, there is no indication of the virus in anyone.”
Raine saw his own shock and confusion mirrored in King and Sid’s faces. “What?”
“How’s that possible?” Sid asked.
“I do not know,” Nadia admitted. “The blood tests I have done are basic, I’ll admit, and I’m sure the professionals at John Hopkins have access to much more sophisticated equipment than we have here.” In truth, the expedition had little more than a glorified first aid kit. “Nevertheless, I find it difficult to believe that I would find no traces of the virus in any of the infected people. Not even the dead ones.”
“That is because there is no virus!” a new voice descended on the conversation. They all turned to see Raphael del Vega push out from behind the tent flaps where he had been eavesdropping. The wide shouldered Venezuelan militiaman had an ugly boil on his left cheek and his every step, his every word, seemed to deplete his dwindling energy reserves.
“You should be resting,” Nadia scolded him. After he had helped them bring McKinney to the mess tent, the exertion had severely weakened him.
He ignored her though. “It is not a virus! It is not an illness!” His wild, bloodshot eyes settled on King. “It is a curse! I told you to return the mask to where you found it! You have awoken the Evil Spirit!”
“There are no Evil Spirits and there are no curses,” Nadia told him sternly, obviously in no mood to entertain the local superstitions.
“Yes there are,” Raine said before he even realised what he was saying. He felt everyone’s eyes shift to him. “The Curse of the Moon Mask.” He nodded at King. “You said that when that slave ship reached the New World, all the crew was dead, killed by some unknown disease. They even had boils or blisters or whatever on them.”
Nadia’s irritation only increased at the mention of the Moon Mask. “You believe that the mask you found yesterday is cursed?” she asked King incredulously.
Raine could see that this was not the first time King had considered this, but with so much going on he had not had the opportunity to voice his opinion.
“Not in any mystical way,” he defended himself. “But, what if, I don’t know… What if there is some sort of bacteria on the mask which produces these blisters? Or fungus? Or… something?”
“What about radiation?” Sid asked. “Could the mask be radioactive at all?”
That was something Raine hadn’t considered. It seemed stupid to him now that it hadn’t occurred to him earlier.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “Vomiting, blistering… all the symptoms are just like radiation sickness.”
“It would explain why Karen got ill before anyone else,” King added. “She was exploring the section of the tunnels nearest to the mask.”
“But if that’s the case,” Sid frowned, glancing at Raine and King. “Why aren’t you two both affected? You both touched the mask. You should be more ill than anyone—”
“This is all very interesting conjecture,” Nadia cut in, glancing at the bewildered looking del Vega and back again. “But I have already considered radioactivity. Geiger counter readings were negligible.”
“But have you scanned the mask itself?” King insisted.
“I’ve scanned the people who have died, Ben!” Nadia snapped angrily. “I’ve checked the people who are still dying! There is no sign of radiation,” she stated firmly.
“But there is no sign of the virus, either,” King pointed out.
“It is the curse,” del Vega interjected.
Nadia glared at them each in turn, silencing any further discussion. “There are almost two hundred sick and dying people in here,” she pointed back inside the mess tent. “We have no properly qualified physician. I am all these people have, and you want me to neglect them whilst I investigate some ancient curse?” She shook her head, exasperated.
No one said anything further and for several seconds they all simply stood there, listening to the hammer of the rain on the canvas. Then the Russian turned and headed back into the tent to tend to her patients.
After a few seconds, del Vega went back inside, followed shortly after by King and Sid. Raine remained outside. He turned to take in the obscured view. The luscious green of the Amazon was totally concealed by the blanket of the storm. Things here were going from bad to worse. With the death of the expedition’s leader, they were only going to deteriorate until their knights in shining armour arrived in their helicopters.