Mason glanced at a few of the nearby bodies and realized Lauren was right… this was not going to be easy for any of them, and especially not for someone who’d known the victims personally. The hot, humid climate had accelerated decay and decomposition to the point where the bodies would be difficult if not impossible to identify. He hoped they would all have passports or other identification on their bodies. That would take some of the pressure off Lauren.
He turned back to Lauren to apologize for the tone of his voice. “Sorry. I know how very difficult this is going to be, especially since you knew all of them personally. Just take one quick look at their faces and give me their names if you can. If you can’t tell by looking, they may have some identification in their clothes that will help. A voice-activated recorder on our com-link will store the names and someone at CDC will notify relatives after Joel links up with Comsat later.”
“Okay,” she said hesitantly, “I’ll do my best.”
He looked at her and wondered if he’d made a mistake bringing a newbie on a trip this dangerous. If she screwed up, it could cost her her life, as well as potentially put all of them at risk.
Well, he thought, there’s nothing that can be done now. She’s just going to have to suck it up and do what’s necessary. I just hope she’s tougher than she looks or we’re all in trouble.
He knew wearing a Racal suit was an unpleasant experience but that was what she’d signed on for. The claustrophobic feeling of being shut off from all external stimuli, the metallic taste of recycled air, and the constant buzzing of the air recirculator fan all combined to make even experienced investigators uncomfortable, and for first-timers it could be extremely frightening.
He took a deep breath and decided to try to be more sympathetic, but before he could say anything else, he was interrupted by Sam’s voice booming through his headset.
“It’s some sort of hemorrhagic illness all right. This boy died of apparent hemorrhagic shock. There isn’t any doubt whatsoever.” Dr. Jakes was kneeling in a clump of tall grass thirty yards away with Suzanne leaning over his shoulder.
Mason could see a pair of blue jean — clad legs protruding from the brush.
“I agree,” Suzanne added, bending over the same body.
Mason nodded. He knew that if any member of the team could immediately recognize symptoms of known epidemic disease it would be Suzanne Elliot, the team epidemiologist.
Shirley Cole, esteemed microbiologist, walked over to stand looking down at the body between Suzanne and Jakes.
“The copies of Díaz’s journal we read on the way down here mentioned the disease among the Spaniards and Aztecs started in animals and livestock. If it’s the same organism, it might be a form of woolsorter’s disease… respiratory anthrax, or something similar,” she stated.
“Bullshit!” Sam snapped, angrily shaking his head within his Racal helmet as if the statement was patently ridiculous. “It’s much more likely viral — in fact, I’d go so far as to say it’s certainly viral.”
He hesitated a moment, his eyes flicking uncertainly to Shirley as if he knew he’d gone too far. “Of course, we won’t know for certain until we see tissue samples under a microscope.”
He chuckled, trying to ease the obvious anger on her face and to defuse the situation. “I think you’ve jumped to an unfounded conclusion in favor of bacteria, Shirley,” he offered in a slightly less confrontational tone of voice.
“I only said it might be…” she growled through clenched teeth, her eyes flashing, showing she didn’t buy his contrite tone for a minute. “In fact, anthrax and a host of other bacterial diseases can cause symptoms almost indistinguishable from hemorrhagic shock or fever, just in case you’ve forgotten your freshman microbiology, Sam,” she added sarcastically.
Though they often argued and bickered like young children over potential etiologies of plagues they worked on together, Mason knew in the end they’d come to an accurate diagnosis and somehow remain the best of friends so he ignored them and looked to other members of his team to see what they had to say.
“Here’s another one,” Lionel said from a spot north of the others. “A young woman… or what’s left of her. These ants are all over the place.”
Mason heard a slight gasp from Lauren’s microphone and made a mental note to tell the others to be a little more careful in their descriptions of the bodies.
Shirley Cole’s voice broke through and interrupted him before he could see what effect the graphic descriptions had on Lauren.
“Here’s one more,” Shirley said over the helmet microphone as she stepped a few feet further into the jungle and away from Jakes and Elliot.
“All visible orifices evidence dried blood — the ears, nose, mouth, and tear ducts.” She pulled a knife from a scabbard on her waist and gently sliced open the clothes on the body.
She gently peeled the layers away, baring the nude body. “Hemorrhage also occurred in the anus and penis. It certainly looks like hemorrhagic shock all right. It’s hard to believe it could be anything else.” She chuckled low in her throat. “Hell, God help us all, but maybe Sam is right this time and the etiology is viral.”
She carefully stood up so as not to cut her Racal suit and put her knife away.
She turned to face him, her eyes wide behind the plastic face shield of her helmet.
“You were definitely right, Mason, when you said it looked like we had a hot zone on our hands. I’ll get tissue samples under my scope as soon as I can, but we’ll need the Cytotec lab for serology and blood chemistries. You may as well notify the guys at the Mexico City airport to head this way in the Sikorsky, and tell them not to drop the damn thing this time. A lousy fifty-dollar cable bolt cost CDC half a million last month when we were in Australia.”
Mason’s face flamed at the memory of the ass-chewing he’d received from the agency bean counters over that incident and he let go of Lauren’s arm, trying to ignore the shocked and frightened look on her face in response to the look on his.
He walked over to Joel Schumacher to give the order to call Mexico City.
Joel was setting up his computer and dish antenna and glanced up. “Should I try the cell, Mason, or wait for satellite uplink?” he asked.
Mason hadn’t considered it. A cell call might not be able to get through from Tlateloco since there were no towers within a hundred miles. They were definitely going to need to use the sat-phone or wait an hour for Joel to set up the satellite dish for a satellite uplink.
“Before we send for the lab, does anyone have any doubts?” he asked, moving in a circle to get a better look at his team members.
“None!” Sam Jakes said quickly. “We’ve got a hot one here and it could be damn near anything,” and then, forgetting the helmet mike would pick up even a whisper, muttered under his breath, “Though I know damn well it’s a virus.”
“I agree with Sam,” Shirley Cole said. “It’s most probably a virus of some sort causing hemorrhagic fever and shock, though I still maintain that from the written record of Díaz, it could still be anthrax, or some other form of zoonosis, a bacterial infection spread by and from animals.” She glared a challenge at Jakes, daring him to disagree. “That’d be my guess if the evidence of widespread hemorrhaging wasn’t so prevalent.”
“Anthrax is not transmittable from human to human!” Sam Jakes said with heavy sarcasm, his voice harsh with his customary lack of tact. “How the hell can you explain that little fact away, or have you forgotten your own freshman microbiology, Shirley?”
He shook his head as if he were talking to recalcitrant students. “It could just as easily be dengue or breakbone fever, spread by mosquitos, or hemorrhagic rabies from fruit bats, or…”