Amazonia. Part 61

She shifted at the sound of his voice.

He moved closer, cradling against her.

"We did it . . . right?" Her voice was a whisper. "The cure?"

"We'll get it to the world ... to Jessie."

His father stumbled over to them and knelt beside the pair. "Help's coming. Hang on . . . both of you:"

Nate was surprised to see Private Camera standing behind his father. "Sergeant Kostos found the mercenary camp's radio," she said. "The heli-copters are a half hour out:"

Nate nodded, holding Kelly to him. Her eyes had closed. His own vision darkened as he held her.

Somewhere in the distance, he heard Frank call. "Kelly! Is Kelly all right?"

Eight Months Latter

4:45 !?M.

LANGLEY VIRGINIA.

Nate knocked on the door to the O'Brien residence. Frank was due back from the hospital today. Nate carried a present under his arm. A new Boston Red Sox cap, signed by the entire team. He waited on the stoop, staring across the manicured lawn.

Dark clouds stacked the southern skies, promising a storm to come.

Nate knocked again. He had visited Frank last week at the Instar Insti-tute. His new legs were pale and weak, but he had been up on crutches, managing pretty well. "Physical therapy's a b.i.t.c.h," Frank had complained. "Plus I'm a G.o.dd.a.m.n pincushion to these white-smocked vampires:"

Nate had smiled. Over the past months, the researchers and doctors had been carefully monitoring the regeneration. Frank's mother, Lauren, had said that so far the exact mechanism for her son's prion-induced regeneration remained a mystery. What was known was that while the pri-ons triggered a fatal hemorrhagic fever in children and the elderly-those individuals with immature or compromised immune systems-the oppo-site was seen in healthy adults. Here, the prions seemed capable of tem-porarily altering the human immune system, allowing for the proliferative growth necessary for regeneration and rapid healing.

This miraculous effect was observed in Frank, but not without danger to the man. He had to be maintained on a diluted mix of nut milk to keep the process from running rampant and triggering the devastating cancers that had struck Agent Clark. And now that the regeneration was complete, Frank was under a more concentrated treatment with the milk to rid his body of the prions and return his immune system back to normal. Still, despite Frank's status as guinea pig, much about the prions and their method of action remained a mystery.

"We're a long way from an answer and even longer from replicating the tree's abilities," Lauren had said sadly. "If the tree's history dates back to the Paleozoic era, then it's had a hundred million years' head start on us. One day we might understand, but not today. As much as we might vaunt our scientific skills, we're just children playing in one of the most advanced biological experiments:'

"Children who came d.a.m.n close to burning down their own house this time," Nate had added.

Luckily, the nut pods had indeed proved to be the cure to the conta-gion. The "antiprion" compound in the fruit, a type of alkaloid, was found to be easy to replicate and manufacture. The cure was quickly dispatched via a multinational effort throughout the Americas and the world. It was discovered that a month's treatment with the alkaloidtotally eradicated the disease from the body, leaving no trace of the infectious prion. This simple fact, unknown to the Ban-ali, had left them enslaved for generations. But luckily, the manufactured nut milk was the immediate cure the world had needed. The plague was all but over.

Contrarily, the prion itself had proved beyond current scientific capa-bility to cultivate or duplicate. All samples of the prion-rich sap were con-sidered a Level 4 biohazard and confined to a few select labs.

Out in the field, the original source of the sap, the Ban-ali valley, was found to be a blasted ruin. All that was left of the great Yagga were ashes and entombed skeletons.

And that's just fine with me,Nate thought as he waited on the stoop and stared at the setting March sun and the brewing storm.

Back in South America, Kouwe and Dakii were still helping the remaining dozen Ban-ali tribesmenacclimate to their new lives. They were the richest Indians in the Amazon. Nate's father had successfully sued St. Savin Pharmaceuticals for the destruction of the tribe's homelands and the slaughter of its people. It seemed Louis Favre had left a clear paper trail back to the French drug company. Though appeals would surely drag on for several more years, the company was all but bankrupt.In addition, its entire executive board faced criminal charges.

Meanwhile, his father remained in South America, helping resettle the Ban-ali tribe. Nate would be rejoining his father in a few more weeks, but he was not the only one heading south. In addition, geneticists were flock-ing to study the tribe, to investigate the alterations to their DNA, both to understand how it had been achieved and perhaps to discover a way to reverse the species-altering effects of the Yagga. Nate imagined that if any answers ever came, they would be generations away.

His father was also a.s.sisted by the two Rangers, Kostos and Camera, newly promoted and decorated.

The pair of soldiers had also overseen the recovery of the bodies. Difficult and heartbreaking work.

Nate sighed. So many lives lost . . . but so many others saved by the cure their blood had bought. Still, the price was too high.

The sound of approaching footsteps drew Nate's attention back around. The door opened.

Nate found his smile. "What took you so long? I've been waiting here like five minutes:"

Kelly frowned at him, holding a palm to her lower back. "You try lug-ging this belly around:"

Nate placed a palm on his fiancee's bulging stomach. She was due in another couple of weeks with their child. The pregnancy had been discov-ered while Kelly recuperated from the gunshot wound. It seemed Kelly had been infected with the prions during her examination of Gerald Clark's body back in Manaus.

Over the two-week Amazon journey-unbeknownst to her-the prions had healed Kelly's postparturient infertility, regenerat-ing what had been damaged. It was a timely discovery. If the prions had been left unchecked for even a couple more weeks, the ravaging cancers would have started, but as with her brother, the nut milk was administered in time, and the prions were eradicated before they could do harm.

As a result of this joyous gift, Nate and Kelly had been blessed. During their treetop lovemaking on the eve of Louis's attack, Nate and Kelly had unwittingly conceived a baby-a brother for Jessie.

They had already chosen a name:Manny.

Nate leaned over and kissed his fiancee.

Distant thunder rolled from the skies.

"The others are waiting," she mumbled between his lips. "Let 'em wait," he whispered, lingering. Thick raindrops began to fall, tapping at the pavement and rooftop. Thunder rumbled again, and the sprinkle blew into a downpour. "But shouldn't we-" Nate pulled her closer, bringing her lips back to his. "Hush:"

Epilogue.

Deep in the Amazon rain forest, nature takes its own course, unseen and undisturbed.

The spotted jaguar nudges its litter of cubs, mewling and whining in the den. His black-coated mate has been gone a long time. He sniffs the air. A whiff of musk. He paces anxiously.

From the jungle shadows, a silhouette breaks free and pads over to him. He huffs his greeting to his larger mate. They busily rub and brush against each other. He smells the bad scent on her.Flames, burning, scream-ing. It triggers warnings along his spine, bristling his nape. He growls.

His mate crosses to the far side of the glade and digs deep into the soft loam. She drops a k.n.o.bby seed into the pit, then kicks dirt back over it with her hind legs.

Once done, she crosses to the litter of cubs-some black, some spot-ted. She sniffs at them. The cubs cry for milk, rolling over one another.

She rubs her mate again and turns her back on the freshly dug hole, the planted seed already forgotten.

It is no longer her concern. It is time to move on. She gathers her litter and her mate, and the group heads deeper into the trackless depths of the forest.

Behind, freshly turned soil dries in the afternoon sun.

Unseen and undisturbed.

Forgotten.