Trees Hold Up the Sky 2 by William James Johnson

Hank Newton parked in the visitor section at Bethesda Military Hospital and walked quickly to the security guard at the entrance. His identity card was checked and a visitor's pass in plastic was pinned on his lapel.

"Have a nice day Doctor."

"Thanks. You too."

The reception area was half way down a long corridor. The most significant difference between this hospital and most others was the unmistakable sense of security. Young marines in sparkling white webbing prided themselves on being selected for this unique duty. This was the place the highest government leaders were given their medical care, including the President himself.

He stopped at the information desk and waited patiently while a young clerk finished her telephone conversation. Obviously a good friend was on the other end from the smiles and banter that ensued.

"Pardon me young lady..."

"I'll be right with you sir...Do you mind?" she said sarcastically.

He waited for a few more minutes, feeling the back of his neck getting warm. "Really miss...I'm in a hurry."

"I've gotta go. Some guy here's about to have a bird."

"Where can I find Doctor Ama Kahn?"

"Is he that Indian Doctor?"

"Pakistani."

"Follow the red line on the wall to radiology. It's quite a long walk."

"Thank you."

"Sorry I was so rude then."

He looked back over his shoulder. "No problem."

She smiled at his reply. "Hey. Real cool."

He wondered what real cool meant. He had been away a long time. His most up to date expression was, "right on".

Heavy metal doors with observation ports were emblazoned with the radioactive symbol commonly associated with nuclear power stations. He looked in and saw a middle aged technician loading x-ray canisters. The door was locked. Pressing a small button he could hear a faint buzzing through the metal and the attendant looked up, and came towards him.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes. I'm looking for Doctor Khan."

"He's in the lab at the moment. If you'd like to take a seat, I'll tell him you're waiting. Who shall I say wishes to see him?"

"Hank Newton...Doctor Newton."

"Thank you Doctor. I'll only be a few minutes."

Sitting alone in the tiny reception area he browsed through some of the outdated journals on a side table. The insipid green of the walls gave an unpleasant aura to the room. Contrasting with the bleakness were the bright yellow letters warning of hazardous material beyond the door to the lab.

About ten minutes later the door opened and a short man with shiny black hair and sparkling white teeth which glowed in his brownish face extended both his arms.

"Henry...How nice of you to come so quickly."

"Your call sounded desperate."

"It is desperate Henry. I'm afraid your man's not going to make it."

Eric Price was the real reason Hank Newton had returned to Washington. The official photographer of the expedition had suddenly become very sick while working on the cave paintings. In the beginning, everyone thought he had a touch of Montezuma's revenge, but his vomiting started containing particles of blood, then out and out hemorrhaging which could only be brought under control by using very powerful drugs.

"Your Mr. Price is dying from advanced radio active poisoning."

"My God. There were others in the cave too. Myself included."

"But you said Mr. Price spent long hours exposed to the paintings on the cave walls."

"That's true. Eric is a real slave to his work. I tried to get him to take a break, but he wouldn't. For some reason or other all his film was damaged. At first we thought it was the jungle humidity which caused it. Eric wouldn't quit trying. He even sent for fresh film. But no use. That's why he spent such long hours in the cave. He was determined to solve the problem."

"Well I'm sure you have guessed the answer yourself by now."

"The radiation in the cave was ruining the film."

"Just like the security radar in air terminals can affect your film when you're traveling. Only this is extreme radiation. I don't know what it is, but it's more devastating than we've encountered in this department."

"So what do you think we should do?"

"I knew that would be your first question. Frankly Henry, I don't know what to say."

"What would you do if you were in my place?"

"Having seen what has happened to Mr. Price, I'd have to think very carefully about sending anyone into that cave. But then I'm not considering what this discovery may mean to mankind. I'm only concerned about the lives of those who are at risk."

"If we exposed ourselves in small doses, can we reduce the risk?"

"Theoretically that's how it's supposed to work. But I don't know what the radiation source is. You're going to have to solve this one on your own."

"Can I see Eric now?"

"Of course, but you better put on a pair of our protective coveralls first."

"Does he know his condition?"

"Yes. I explained everything I could. He's a very courageous person."

"Courageous...?"

"Most men would be content to die peacefully, but he demanded he be given a chance to talk to you before he loses consciousness."

"How much time does he have?"

"A couple of days...or just hours. It's hard to say. Really Henry, his desire to see you may be the only thing that's keeping him alive."

Hank Newton went into a small cubicle and removed his suit. He had to squeeze his middle age paunch into the special radiation protection gear. Velcro tabs closed up the openings around his wrists and ankles. He pulled a transparent hood over his head and fastened it to the chest tabs of his suit.

"Okay Ama. I'm ready."

He followed the radiologist down a narrow corridor to Eric's austere room. A curtain had been pulled around his bed. Ama pulled back the curtain and the shock of seeing the emaciated face of his associate startled Newton.

"My God. Eric!"

The sound of his voice brought the patient back to consciousness.

"Is that you Hank?"

"Yes Eric. I'm so sorry."

His eyes protruded beyond their lids, sitting like two miniature globes, fixed in tiny caves above his angular cheeks. All that remained of his eyebrows, hair and luxuriant beard were stringy clumps of dead tissue. He had lost massive amounts of muscle in the brief time since returning, and his ill fitting flesh revealed the bones of his arms and fingers.

"I don't have much time Hank."

"Just rest Eric. You've done all you could."

"Don't let them cancel the expedition because of me. It's too important. If you quit, my sacrifice will be in vain."

"I can't risk losing anymore staff. Their lives are more important than trying to understand ancient symbols."

"But there are other ways. Dr. Kahn told me that if I had worn protective equipment like you have on, nothing would have happened."

"We'll see Eric. I've got to tell the others the truth. I can't order any of them to risk their lives."

"Listen to me. Please listen. I know now why the film didn't work, and I've thought of another way of doing it. I figured if you used a portable colour TV camera, you could put all the paintings on tape and get the job done much faster."

Dr. Kahn questioned Eric's suggestion.

"It depends on the type of radiation being emitted. If it is in the magnetic spectrum, it could result in the same thing you had with the film."

Eric would not give up trying to convince Newton to continue with the project.

"Then get some artists in protective clothing to draw the symbols. There's got to be a way."

His straining made him start coughing uncontrollably, followed by retching as chunks of blood seeped out of his mouth soiling the sheets a crimson red.

"We should let you rest Eric. Your internal organs are disintegrating," said Khan.

Eric grabbed Hank by the wrist and tried desperately to focus his tortured eyes.

"Don't give up Hank. For me. For all men. Don't give up."

He released his grip and his jaw fell open, a steady red stream oozing out of his gaping mouth. Dr. Kahn pulled the sheet over his face and the pattern of Eric's skull was slowly etched in his own blood.

"His desire to speak with you must've been the only thing keeping him alive. I'm sorry Henry."

"Poor Eric. What will the others say?"

"You mustn't tell them."

"Why not?"

"If they know he has died, they will probably want to pay their last respects, and it's not possible."

"I don't understand."

"His body will have to be cremated in a special furnace we use for radio active substances. If you tell the others how he died, you may have no choice but give up the project. You heard him. He begged you to continue."

"But how am I going to continue. I have no idea what I must do."

"Don't try to do it alone. I'll supply you with a few anti-radiation suits. When you return, discuss it with your fellow scientists."

"What will I tell them about Eric?"

"Infectious hepatitis. That's why no one was allowed to see him."

"Hemorrhaging can occur with hepatitis?"

"Yes it can. Believe me Henry, Eric was right. Don't be too hasty to quit. Your discovery could change the world. You have to try again."

Hank knew Khan was right. He thanked him for his help and returned to Frum and told him the whole story. Everyone in the profession looked up to Joe for leadership.

"I agree with Ama. You've got to go on."

"Even though others may die?"

"That's what life is all about Hank. Fellows like us live on the edge. Who's to say Eric would not have gotten hepatitis in the jungle, or malaria, or whatever else breeds down there, given enough time. In many ways, Eric's death is a warning to you and your staff, all of whom could have faced the same gruesome end if you had not had Ama's help. If these symbols are a message from the past, we cannot ignore them. You've got to continue with the Atabapo Project."

"And Jess and Laura. Is it fair to bring them there without telling them about Eric, and the risk they'll be taking?"

"Risk is Jess Martin's life blood. And as for Laura, she trekked with Sherpa's in the mountains of Kashmir for seven months. Believe me Hank. These are the best. And when the time is right, you can tell them about Eric."

"You make it all sound so reasonable."

"Don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to underplay the danger. You've got a helluva job ahead of you. But at least you're going into it with some idea of the risk involved."

"Thanks Joe. I'm going home to sleep on it. Thanks again. Sometimes you must get fed up with me crying on your shoulders all the time."

"That's what senior professors are for. You'll make it. I know you will."