“Guatemotzi, would you mind coming back with me to our camp and meeting my friends? There is much good food there, and I know they would love to meet you and hear the stories your grandfather told you about the sickness.”
He looked up from his food and stared intently at her. “Are they all like you… with no face?”
She laughed and realized she had forgotten she was still wearing her micropore mask. She reached up and pulled it down for a second so he could see her features. “No, we have faces. It is just that we have to wear these masks to keep from getting the sickness that killed the other Americans.”
He grinned. “They make you look funny.”
“I know. Will you come with me?”
He thought for a moment, and then he nodded. “Yes, I will come with you.”
Lauren stood up and stretched. “Good, and I will see that you get some pan dulce.”
His eyes lit up. “Sweet bread?”
“Yes, and we have lots and lots of cookies with pieces of chocolate in them.”
He grinned widely. “Chocolate es muy bueno!”
Chapter 22
Mason Williams and the rest of the team, unsuccessful in their search for the Indio boy, returned to the lab just in time for Joel to tune the com-sat link to the latest news coming out of Mexico City.
Even as the female reporter spoke into the camera, scattered gunfire could be heard in the distance and she continually ran her hand through her hair, her frightened eyes lending credence to her terrible story.
“Many local citizens are now calling the widespread plague sweeping throughout Mexico into neighboring countries ‘Montezuma’s Curse,’ thanks to rumors the illness originated in an archaeological dig in which the ancient emperor’s tomb was opened. They say his spirit is seeking revenge for the desecration of his eternal resting place by a visiting team of American scientists.”
She hesitated and looked over her shoulder as a much louder explosion seemed to come from just off camera. She pulled herself together and continued, “Still others are drawing analogies to the ‘Fifth Plague of Egypt,’ an ancient epidemic in which hundreds of thousands of animals and people died in 1491 BC, as was described in the Book of Genesis. While many of these people believe this is a Biblical curse brought about by the disturbance of Montezuma’s tomb, Catholic Church leaders are asking their parishioners to remain calm and to seek God’s guidance in prayers and to not succumb to superstition or unproven rumors.”
A man’s dark head could be seen briefly on camera as he leaned in and handed the reporter a piece of paper.
She scanned it and then looked directly into the camera. “This is just in. There are reports of thousands of Mexican citizens rushing borders of neighboring countries to the north and south trying to escape the plague and even some reports of Central American countries’ soldiers firing weapons indiscriminately into the fleeing masses, causing untold loss of life and escalation of international tensions and fear.”
She lowered the paper. “The government has notified this station that the plague is virtually everywhere… it will do you no good to try to cross borders into other countries as the illness is there, too. According to the Mexican Institutes of Health, the best thing we can do is to stay in our homes and have as little contact with others as is possible.”
She leaned in close to the camera, her eyes brimming with tears. “Stay home, gentle viewers, and pray for divine guidance. This is Veronica Gonzales signing off and heading home where I’m going to follow my own advice.”
As the screen faded to black, Shirley Cole looked at the others. “She was spot on about the ‘Fifth Plague of Egypt,’” she said. “Epidemiologists now think that was a plague of anthrax, just as this one is now.”
“The only differences are that this particular bug seems to spare animals, and this plague is spread person to person and that one was not, which makes this baby a magnitude worse than that one,” Jakes said sourly.
“They also didn’t have airplanes spreading the damn thing all over the world back then, either,” Lionel Johnson said in his quiet voice.
“Well, look who’s back, and look what she’s brought with her,” Suzanne Elliot said as Lauren and Guatemotzi walked out of the jungle and through the lab doorway into the decontamination chamber.
She spent some moments explaining to the boy what was about to happen and then they turned their heads as she removed her clothes and then his and went through the decontamination process. After they were dressed in scrubs and had entered the dining room, she addressed the group as casually as if she’d just invited a friend for tea.
“How about something sweet for Guatemotzi?” she asked, ushering him to a seat at the long dining table.
Shirley jumped up. “I’ve just taken some homemade cinnamon rolls out of the oven and I think we could all use some comfort food right about now.”
She piled a few rolls on a plate, poured a soda into a plastic cup, and handed them to the boy.
She looked around at the group, arching an eyebrow. “The rest of you will just have to get your own.”
Jakes cleared his throat and asked Mason, “Do you think we should don our masks in the presence of… what did you say his name was?”
“Guatemotzi,” Lauren replied.
Mason shook his head. “I don’t think so. The fact that he is immune should keep him from harboring any live bacteria organisms in his lungs and the shower should have killed any on his skin or in his hair.”
While Guatemotzi hurriedly scarfed down the sweet rolls and the others availed themselves of like treats and coffee, Lauren repeated all that he had told her in the jungle.
Suzanne raised her eyebrows. “You mean there may be an entire village of people like him, people immune to this strain of anthrax?”
Lauren shrugged. “That’s what he says. According to him, his village is populated by more or less direct descendants of the ancient Aztecs who survived the original plague hundreds of years ago.”
“They must be so isolated that they’ve never integrated into Mexican society and therefore the immune strain of their blood has remained relatively pure.”
“Or it could be due to a dominant gene, in which case even if they intermarried the offspring would still be immune,” Lionel said. “Either way, those villagers could be a gold mine for us and may represent the best chance we have of producing a vaccine to prevent the spread of the illness.”
Joel, who was rapidly typing on his laptop computer, spoke up, “It says here that the city of Tuxtla Gutierrez in the state of Chiapas was originally inhabited and founded by a tribe native to the region known as the Zoques who named the city Coyatoc, which means ‘home of the rabbit’ in their native tongue. Between 1486 and 1505, they were invaded by the Aztecs and the city was renamed ‘Tochtlan,’ which meant the same thing in Nahuatl. After the Spanish conquest, the name was changed to ‘Tuxtla.’”
“So when the Aztecs invaded they could have brought the anthrax infection with them, and the survivors of that plague could be the ancestors of Guatemotzi’s villagers and their blood could hold the secret to a vaccine against this bug,” Mason said.
Jakes shook his head. “In spite of Joel’s fascinating history lesson,” he said sarcastically, “a vaccine is all well and good, but by the time we take their blood and transport it to CDC and a vaccine is made, mass produced, and then distributed across the world, hundreds of millions of people are going to die.”
“Wait a minute,” Lauren said. “You haven’t heard the best part yet.”
“Better than a vaccine?” Mason asked, a hopeful expression on his face.