River of Desire: A Romantic Action Adventure/Thriller

by Winn, J. K.

  “Even if that’s true, you’re still helping the CIA to develop biological weapons.”

  “Nein—” he raised his hands imploringly, “—my experiments are for defense, not aggression. I never-”

  A shout from outside stopped him in mid-sentence.

  Kimo appeared in the doorway.

  “Wass ist los?” Kruger asked. “I told you never to interrupt me.”

  “Pardon, Señor. Boat with men come. One man here...” He nodded toward Leah. “...with lady. You come rápidamente.”

  Leah leapt to her feet. ”Dylan? Is it Dylan? Is he all right?”

  Kimo shook his head. “No, señorita. No es bueno.”

  “Mein Gott. What to do?” Disoriented, Kruger glanced about. “I vish for help I could call, but without short wave... He looked around wild-eyed. “Mein sack? Mein instruments?”

  Leah only half-heard what he was mumbling, but he obviously didn’t have his wits about him. She had to pull herself together and reason with him. “Where are they-I’ll get them.”

  “In laboratory,” he murmured, stumbling toward the door. “The closet... better go. Snell.”

  Leah, head still reeling, somehow stumbled behind him down the hall and into the laboratory where she found his medical bag, a half-empty leather sack. She held it open to him. “Don’t you need more than tongue depressors and gauze pads?”

  He fumbled for a stereoscope off the desk, a syringe off a shelf and a couple containers from the refrigerator that she guessed were antiseptic and antibiotics. He grabbed an extra wad of gauze, surgical scissors and tape and announced, “Ich bin bereit. Ready?”

  Leah didn’t answer. Instead, she raced ahead of him to the dock where two of local men were pulling a motorboat on shore. Inside under a layer of mud, blood and beard lay Dylan on his side, his hair plastered to his face and neck. She rushed to him, but one of the locals blocked her path. She tried to claw him out of her way, but he gripped her wrists, pinned her arms to her side. “Let me go!”

  The doctor limped to the boat. “Vait. First I examine him.”

  He spoke to the man, who released her arms. She rubbed the red marks left on her wrists. “Please hurry.”

  Kruger probed Dylan, listened to his breathing, then pulled back his eyelids and peered at his eyes. He ripped open Dylan’s shirt to reveal a festering bullet hole.

  Over Kruger’s shoulder, Leah gasped at the sight of the skin around the wound. It had turned shades of brown and green and was caked with yellowish-white pus. She swallowed back horror.

  “Lucky for him one of river people found his boat floating upriver and brought him here.” Kruger palpated around the wound then readied a needle with an antibiotic solution and gave him a shot in the arm. “Your friend is in serious shock.” He looked up at Kimo. “Take him to house for surgery. A bullet in his shoulder is lodged.”

  Kimo hoisted a limp Dylan over his shoulder and marched toward the house. Leah prayed nothing was broken and the big man hadn’t compounded the problem with his rough treatment.

  Kruger watched them leave. “I am too unsteady to perform surgery. I cannot be trusted.”

  Leah stared at him without comprehension. “But you have to...” Suddenly she understood what had to be done. A flicker of fear passed through her. “I’ve never even been in an operating room.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Kruger took Leah by the arm. “You need only to follow directions. First, scrub hands and arms. I vill meet with you in laboratory after I see soldier.” Kruger began to limp back toward the boat, but called over his shoulder. “Gather up instruments, boil water in kitchen and in boiling water place instruments.”

  Leah left him bending stiffly over the fallen solider and made her way to the house. The spinning in her head left her feeling strangely detached from everything around her. How could she possibly perform surgery in this state? She could barely put a coherent sentence together. But Dylan’s life depended on her and she had to do everything humanly possible to save him.

  She rushed to do what the doctor directed, then gingerly approached Dylan, who had been stretched out on a blanket across the cleared lab table and stripped of all clothes. With a towel from the adjoining bathroom, she gently washed him down. Before long, the dried mud and blood gave way to reveal the man she loved. She whisked the hair away from his gaunt face and whispered, “I love you. Please pull through.” She planted a kiss on his bearded cheek.

  Kruger entered the laboratory and went immediately to the closet where he withdrew a surgical gown and mask.

  “Put on these.”

  After covering her lower face with the mask, she slipped into the gown and he tied it in the back with noticeably shaky hands.

  He held up surgical gloves. “Now into these slip.”

  Over hands moist from nerves, she pulled on the gloves with effort. “Where’s the soldier?”

  “Kimo in spare room put him.”

  “How is he?”

  Kruger frowned. “He breathes, but I had to choose man to treat first. I decided your friend to survive is more likely.” He filled a needle with fluid from a bottle. “Because of coma, he may not need sedative. But if he stirs, I must to give shot.” He placed the hypodermic needle on the tray. “I vill your every move direct and hand you appropriate instrument.” He laid a trembling hand on her arm. “Do not be afraid. I vith you vill be through entire surgery.”

  She put on her bravest smile and took her place by Dylan’s side. Kruger set a number of sterilized instruments Kimo had retrieved from the kitchen on a tray by her side.

  “Take scalpel.” He handed it to her.

  “Cut here.” He indicated a spot just above the bullet hole.

  With Dylan’s life depended on her, so she mustered all her courage and, as precisely as possible with trembling hands, cut into his flesh. Blood immediately squirted from the incision, speckling her gown and the wall.

  “Deeper,” Kruger said.

  She applied more pressure.

  Kruger took a towel and held it to the wound. “I clean blood to see vhat to do next.” He removed the towel. “Incise skin-” He ran his finger under the wound.

  She swallowed any queasiness and did exactly what he ordered. Kruger meanwhile stemmed the steady flow of blood, but new blood quickly replaced the old. She took all the comfort she could from the fact that the blood was not spurting from an artery. That would be far worse.

  Kruger leaned over her. “Pull skin aside.”

  Worried she would do more damage, she hesitated.

  “Do as I say.”

  The authority in his voice surprised and galvanized her. She separated the skin around the wound and immediately spotted a round, foreign object. “I can see something in there.” She touched the hard, metal plate. “It’s the bullet.”

  Dylan groaned.

  “Your gentleman friend responds. Good sign. I should to give him sedative.” Kruger tapped Dylan’s arm to find a vein, took the hypodermic and poked it into his skin.

  Leah cringed, fearful that Kruger’s unsteady hand would nick a blood vessel and do irreparable damage. When the needle slid in and out smoothly, she relaxed.

  “To remove bullet use these.” When Kruger handed her the forceps, she blankly stared at them. “Do not vorry.”

  In his feeble way, Kruger held Dylan’s arms while she sank forceps into exposed tissue. She could feel when they came in contact with metal and maneuvered them until they grasped the bullet. Ignoring Dylan’s groans, she tugged on it, but it refused to budge.

  Kruger nodded. She took a deep breath and tried again, pulling harder. A mild tearing sound accompanied the sense of ripping flesh and, to her amazement, the bloody bullet danced in the air before her eyes. Relief rushed through her. “I’ve got it!”

  Kruger’s smile exposed his yellowed teeth. He squeezed her shoulder. “You have completed first surgery with success, Doctor Leah. Now time has come to stitch him up.”

  Leah looked down at Dylan. His f
lesh lay open, exposing muscle and bone. To prevent further infection, she soaked up fresh and dried blood with the disinfectant drenched towel. Kruger prepared a needle with catgut thread.

  Using the needle Kruger handed her she sutured the skin together, grateful that her adopted grandmother had taught her to sew. “Will he be okay?”

  Kruger held her eyes for a long moment. “He infection has. Only time vill tell. Ve vait and ve vatch.

  And we worry, Leah thought.

  * * *

  Outside the window, sunset streaked the sky with a spectrum of red and orange and purple hues. Leah glanced over at Dylan, tossing restlessly on the bed, sweat beading his skin.

  She pushed back the mosquito netting and wiped the moisture out of his eyes and off of his brow with a cool, damp cloth. When she did, his head lolled from side to side and he mumbled incoherently.

  After Dylan’s surgery, Kruger had mentioned the smallpox vaccine, reminding her she had to be vaccinated as soon as possible, but she had trouble pulling herself away from Dylan’s side long enough to take the treatment. The absurdity of this was apparent. She would be no good to Dylan or anyone else unless she survived. She waited until Dylan finally quieted before backing out of the room in search of Kruger.

  She went to the library first. Kruger wasn’t there. She was about to leave when a letter lying open on the desk caught her eye. The word Auschwitz leapt out at her. Normally she wouldn’t read anyone else’s mail, but she felt compelled to see what the letter said. She justified her actions as a reporter’s right to full disclosure.

  The letter was written in German, the language her mother and grandmother had spoken at home whenever they wanted to shield her from what was being said. To break the code, she had listened closely and learned. Later, when her grandmother could no longer see, she had learned to read German in order to entertain her. Now Leah’s early education would really be put to use.

  Although the script was difficult to decipher, the letter was apparently a thank you note to Kruger from an ex-concentration camp inmate named Freda Kravitz. From what Leah could tell, the woman had wanted to thank Kruger for helping her escape the camp.

  A sound in the doorway caused Leah to drop the letter.

  Kruger hobbled into the room, a book in his hand. “Tell me of vhat you are doing here.”

  Leah flushed. “I was looking for you.” She picked up the letter and held it out. “But I saw this first and couldn’t resist reading it.”

  He stared at the letter. “Ja,” he said quietly.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you helped someone to escape Auschwitz?” she chided him. “That’s as important as anything else you’ve shared.”

  “I did not think you vould believe me. You believe me to be bad man. After speaking to you, I have trouble looking in mirror.” He reached for the letter. “I never for you meant to see letter. I am forgetful these days and left it by accident. I only read it again to remind myself of good I have done.”

  She swallowed a rush of unexpected tenderness. “I have a lot to be grateful to you for, especially Dylan’s life. He wouldn’t have made it without you. I just hope he’ll be okay.”

  Kruger patted her hand. A small smile touched his lips. “Do not be discouraged. If vital organs not infected, he vill be fine. I give antibiotics every two or three hours. Next forty-eight hours are critical.”

  She took his hand in hers. “I’m so grateful for your help.”

  Kruger sighed. “Did you think I vould let him die? I did vhat any doctor vould do.”

  “I know, but I appreciate it anyway.”

  Kimo appeared in the doorway with an unfamiliar backpack.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  Kruger motioned Kimo into the room. “I told Kimo to search boat for sign of smallpox vaccine. This backpack he found.”

  At the doctor’s prompt, Kimo placed the backpack on the desk. Kruger opened it and extracted two vials labeled Variola Major. “Your friend found Dr. Von Schotten. Perhaps that is vhere he took bullet to shoulder.” He held up the vial of liquid. “Here is vaccine. I inoculate you before virus ruptures through. Come vith me to laboratory.”

  Leah pointed at the letter. “Will you tell me about the letter on the way?”

  Kruger escorted her from the room. “It is nothing, really. I had patient transferred from camp to outside hospital to treat an infectious disease. A doctor I knew helped her escape.”

  “How did you get her out?”

  He led the way to the laboratory. “I convinced my superiors her condition endangered guards and other staff. They vere glad to have her removed to hospital in town.”

  “How often did you do that kind of thing?” Leah asked.

  “Not as often as I vould have liked. Two...maybe three times. My stay at camp vas not long. Too often vould suspicions have aroused.”

  In the laboratory, he motioned for her to sit at a table. He rolled up her sleeve and place her right arm on the table top. “Before I give vaccine, I must to tell you small percentage of people suffer reaction to it. It is my duty to varn you.”

  She only hesitated for a second. “Better than the alternative, I presume. Go ahead.”

  He rubbed a generous amount of the vaccine on her arm.

  “Don’t you inject it?”

  “Nein. Smallpox vaccine is applied to skin.” Taking a needle, he punctured the skin where he had placed the vaccine. “Openings in epidermis allow it to enter system. In little time ve should see smallpox pustules arise vhere vaccine has been. This indicates vaccine vorking.”

  “Is there any chance I might infect Dylan?” she asked.

  “Nein. From vhat I know, you are not yet infectious.”

  “Thank goodness.” Even in the high heat, Leah trembled with relief.

  * * *

  A knock at the door aroused Leah from her vigil alongside Dylan. “Come in.”

  Kruger’s elderly cook entered with a lunch tray. She placed the food on the nightstand. “You need eat, Señorita.”

  Touched by the woman’s concern, Leah answered, “I promise,” but knew she’d have trouble performing on her vow.

  She had no appetite, but lifted a spoonful of sopa to reassure the kindly old woman. When the cook hobbled out the door, Leah placed the spoon in the bowl and turned her attention back to Dylan. When she touched his skin, fire rose into her fingertips. She tried to force-feed him cool water, and kept a pail by the bed to wipe him down every thirty minutes or so, but his fever refused to abate. In the jungle heat, she was afraid he might dehydrate.

  She sat close, fanning him. The heat had become her oppressor, her enemy. It sapped her strength and made her lethargic, less lucid. She needed to pay attention to every detail, like the rhythm of his breathing, the pallor of his complexion. But this damn inferno made her job so much harder.

  Kruger poked his head through the doorway. “Wass ist patient’s status.”

  She touched Dylan’s forehead. “He feels like he’s on fire.”

  Kruger limped to Dylan’s side, his gait more labored than usual. “I have antibiotic shot to give. There is nothing more to do. Ve could move him to hospital in Iquitos, but trip might kill him.”

  Kruger stuck the syringe unceremoniously into Dylan’s arm, but Dylan failed to move or utter a sound.

  “How long can he live with this high fever?”

  Kruger extracted the needle. “Vait and see. Meantime, you keep up strength. Eat. Rest.”

  Leah’s stomach twisted with the uncertainty of his words. She fought back tears. She had already promised herself she wouldn’t cry in front of Kruger. “How’s the soldier?”

  Kruger sighed. “Two hours now he expired.”

  The news hit Leah hard and made her wonder about Dylan’s chance of recovery. What would she do if he died before she had another chance to tell him she loved him? “What killed him?”

  “The dart removed from his side must have poisoned been. It is different for Dylan. He has chance.”
>
  She took Kruger’s bony, arthritic hand in hers. Her feelings for him had become more conflicted by the minute. “I really need your help.”

  In turn, he pressed her fingers with his. “Of course, mein kinder. Call if need me.”

  Kruger left her alone to wipe Dylan down, but the moment after she sponged up the sweat, moisture beaded his skin again. It seemed like a futile battle against his fever and the humidity, but touching him reassured her, made her feel useful.

  She took a seat by Dylan’s side, reading by a solitary light from an English language book Kruger had loaned her. When she interrupted her reading to tend to Dylan, she found she couldn’t remember any of what she just read, not even the title. Since it seemed useless to focus on anything other than him, she rested her head against the chair back and kept an eye on him. Against her will, her heavy lids began to droop.

  The sound of Dylan’s moans startled her awake. He thrust his head violently from side to side, eyes wide and fixed on the far wall, sweat drenching him. She sprung to her feet, blood rushing to her head, making her momentarily dizzy. She had knocked over a glass on the side table, but she scrambled over it to Dylan’s side.

  Dylan had both hands at his throat and gasped for air. Terrified he might be asphyxiating, she made an attempt to give him artificial respiration, but he pushed her away. She ran to the door and threw it open, yelling, “Doctor! Help! Come quickly!”

  Kruger stumbled from his bedroom and down the hall, wrapping a robe around himself. “Wass ist los?”

  “Dylan’s in trouble. Please hurry”

  Kruger went directly to the cot and took Dylan’s pulse and temperature. When he turned back toward her, he wore a reassuring smile.

  “Ah, fever breaking. A good sign. Here,” he took her hand and moved it to Dylan’s head. “Feel.”

  Dylan’s forehead was clammy and damp, cooler than it had been all day. Surprised, she removed her hand then checked his head a second time. Reassured Kruger was right, she grabbed Kruger’s arm and twirled him around, but stopped when he started to cough. Instead, she hugged him. “I can’t thank you enough.”