A Dangerous Silence by Catherine Palmer

Author:Catherine Palmer [Palmer, Catherine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tyndale House
Published: 2008-04-03T00:00:00+00:00

12

“Ugly is what she is,” Mike Dooley said as he and Bob Harper stood near the mummified remains of the Indian woman lying on the folding table. “Ugly as sin.”

“On the contrary, this corpse is a treasure, Mike,” Milton Gregory said. He knew the heat inside the green tent was nearing a hundred degrees, but he hardly felt it in his excitement over the discovery. He sensed that his small group hovered on the verge of something amazing. Something too incredible for the common mind to absorb. Like a child facing a large, still-wrapped birthday present, he shivered with the curl of anticipation that slipped through his belly.

“To our cause,” he told the others, “she is as valuable as pure gold. The most I’d hoped to find here in Kansas was skeletal remains. I knew a large collection of bone fragments would be necessary in order to obtain the quantity of material we need. You’ll remember that my previous efforts gave us only a single vial of the agent, and it refused to multiply in sufficient quantities within the growth medium. What we did get was weak and ineffective, producing the fragile results with which we’re all familiar.”

“I remember,” Dooley said. His voice was flat.

“Don’t be so discouraged, Mike. With actual mummified flesh at our disposal, we have hope. Ed Morgan’s rocky prairie pasture is going to let us reap a bountiful harvest.”

Gregory bent over the corpse and adjusted the lenses in the protective metal-and-glass headgear he had built. As the distinctive characteristics he was hunting came into view, he felt his heart begin to thud inside his chest. It was a welcome reminder that he was alive, thriving, and with each heartbeat coming nearer to his goal.

“Observe the skin,” he instructed his colleagues as he ran his latex-gloved fingertips down the flesh of the corpse. He felt almost as though he were back in medical school, only this time he was the instructing physician in charge of his two intent young interns. “You will note the evidence of an extensive maculo-papular rash. This rash must have evolved rapidly into pustules that covered the victim’s face, chest, and arms. I’m guessing these may be hemorrhagic skin lesions, which are characteristic of the more virulent strain of the virus.”

“So, if people get this disease, they’ll look like her?” Dooley asked.

“Much worse, I’m afraid. Her skin has dried and hardened. It’s almost like leather now. A newly infected victim would be covered with a red, pus-filled rash. Not a pretty picture.”

Gregory took a scalpel from the array of tools on the table and sliced a one-square-inch section of dried flesh from the mummy’s chest. He squinted as he scrutinized the tiny flap of skin through the microscope lenses that protruded from his helmet.

“Very evident pustules,” he said. “In my earliest attempts, I chose to propagate the virus in a liquid suspension. Though a tissue culture is one option, I believe I’ll continue with the original growth medium. It’s cheaper and easier to obtain.

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