Virus Hunters 3: A Medical Thriller

by Bobby Akart

Kangshung Face, the East Face, was not meant to be climbed. Yet the Sherpas, the Himalayans who’d grown up looking up at the massive mountain every day, had done it several times.

  Kwon approached her with his usual serious look on his face. “Good morning.”

  Harper’s first inclination was to respond need coffee, but she sensed Kwon wasn’t in the mood for lighthearted chatter.

  “Mornin’,” she said. She broke eye contact with Kwon and returned her gaze to the mountain. She was asking a great deal of this extremely intelligent, physically gifted man. He’d never undertaken a climb of this magnitude. Everest wasn’t for rookies, even the closest thing to a superhero like Kwon. “Um, listen. I was thinking …” Her voice trailed off. Maybe it was time to scrap this ridiculous idea and scoot across the border into Nepal before the weight of the Chinese army dropped on their heads.

  “Don’t think. Just do.”

  “What?”

  “Harper, I see your mind second-guessing what needs to be done. You can’t look at the entire climb at once. There are stages to what we have to do. Steps. And we’ll take them one at a time.”

  “Kwon, this is crazy. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.”

  Kwon reached out to her and gently nudged her so she focused on him rather than the Kangshung Face. “We both know this is a critical point in our investigation. We’ve been fortunate to find someone who could connect the dead pilot with the body studied by Dr. Zeng. Now we have an opportunity to learn who he was and where he came from by bringing down the remains of his friend. So many questions will be answered today.”

  “Will they?” she asked, second-guessing herself further. “If this man is patient zero, we still won’t know how he contracted the disease in the first place. Maybe we should simply rely on the genetic aspects and help develop a vaccine that way?”

  “That’s the reactive approach,” he began his reply. “From what I’ve learned about you, that’s not your nature. You are very proactive. Balls to the wall. In fact—”

  Harper cut him off with a laugh. “Hey, Navy SEAL, you’re talking to a lady, you know.”

  Kwon’s face almost broke into a smile. “Those are Joe’s words, not mine. He was trying to warn me.”

  “Warn?”

  “Harper, he was very straightforward with me. Joe loves you and is concerned for your safety, which is why he asked me to join you. There were words like headstrong, impetuous, and impulsive.”

  Harper set her jaw and began to contemplate the ways she’d punish her husband for speaking of his wife in such a manner. “Really?”

  “These are admirable traits and typical of people who get things done. You have to put yourself out there to succeed. The key, and I’ve come to believe you realize this, is to take managed risks. Well-thought-out impulse actually works. Not looking before you leap gets you killed.”

  Harper turned away from Kwon again and noticed the Sherpas were growing impatient. They had a long day ahead of them. She pointed at Mount Everest then chuckled.

  “And you call this managed risk?”

  “I do and here’s why. The key to pulling this off is having an experienced team who is unafraid. Do you have any doubts about these guys?”

  Harper shook her head, so Kwon continued.

  “Neither do I. I’m putting my life in their hands so we can save millions. Risky? Yes. Necessary? Absolutely.”

  Harper sighed and then spontaneously hugged Kwon. She held him and said, “Go ahead, you damn fool. I know you just want to play with the boys anyway.”

  “Thanks, mom,” he said, almost smiling again. “Now, you and Yeshi be ready. Break camp and take up a position on the high ground overlooking the valley. Stay out of sight and only fire upon the PLA if absolutely necessary. No risks. Understand?”

  “Sir, yes, sir!” Harper responded with a snappy salute. “See ya later.”

  Kwon began to walk away, and the Sherpas readied their snowmobiles for the ride up the valley to the exposed rocks.

  “Don’t forget to take a few selfies!” she shouted after him.

  She stood alone as Kwon and the three Sherpas roared up the mountain until they were out of sight. She called upon a higher power to protect her protector. God, be with them.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Kangshung Face

  Mount Everest

  Tibet Autonomous Region

  People’s Republic of China

  In 1921, George Mallory, an English mountaineer who took part in the first three British expeditions to the summit of Mount Everest, said of the Kangshung Face—“Other men, less wise, might attempt this way if they would, but, emphatically it was not for us.” It wasn’t until 1983 that an American team scaled the East Face on their way to the summit of Mount Everest. Since then, only a handful of climbers from outside the Himalayans had successfully reached the top via the Kangshung Face—a vertical climb of nearly two miles. Fortunately, Kwon and the team of Sherpas only needed to reach the halfway point to retrieve the remains of the dead climber. Still, it was a physically demanding task that portended death with every reach and step.

  The sun was shining, but the air was dangerously cold and thin as they made their ascent up the East Face. A plume of snow clouded the ridge toward the summit of Mount Everest—so close above them yet just over a mile away.

  The Sherpas were conditioned to climbing at these extreme elevations, generally waiting until an elevation of eighteen thousand feet to use their portable oxygen to prevent high-altitude sickness. Kwon, despite excellent physical conditioning, began taking draws on the portable air canisters much earlier. Their supply was limited, as they’d had to reduce the weight they carried on the snowmobiles.

  Ghosh and Babu led the way, masks on their faces, oxygen tanks tucked inside their jackets. The wind occasionally swept up the face, causing their down-filled outerwear to flap in the whipping wind.

  With Kwon strategically placed in the center of the four climbers, they were able to make steady time up the face, using a route well known to the Sherpas. Their destination was a rock shelf that spread from the South Col connecting Lhotse, the fourth highest mountain in the world, to neighboring Mount Everest. The rock shelf was referred to at times as Pakrā’u, The Catcher, by the Sherpas for its natural propensity to prevent fallen climbers from dropping an additional mile to their rocky graves.

  Another hour of hard climbing had passed, and the group had entered the death zone where the rock shelf was located. The unexpected spring snowfall had accumulated along the rock outcropping that jutted away from the East Face, roughly fifty feet at its widest point but narrowing to just a few feet as it stretched toward the north.

  They began their horizontal climb around the mountain, being cognizant of their footing as they maneuvered the treacherous terrain. The snowdrifts created by the blowing wind made the shelf appear deceivingly flat. For that reason, the Sherpas resisted the urge to hike along the center of the shelf, where they could easily sink into a crevasse. Instead, out of precaution, they used their rope and spike system to hug the rock wall.

  Along the way, they came across another fallen climber. Ghosh and Babu easily stepped over the twisted man, his remains contorted from hundreds of broken bones. His body was still affixed to a portion of a rope and reclined on the slope as if he might continue climbing after waking from an awkward nap. Apparently, he’d succumbed to the elevation in his quest to reach the summit of Everest and had been cut loose by the Sherpas to prevent injury or death to others.

  Kwon numbly treated the body as an obstacle, a muted embodiment of his own suppressed fears. Putting on a brave face for Harper to ease her guilt was one thing. What he felt in his gut was another. This is madness.

  He inadvertently stepped on the man’s arm and apologized profusely. There was no crunch. No spongy give. It was as solid as the rocks beneath it. Frozen over time. Thawed slightly in the summer. And refrozen again.

  Soon, another body blocked their path. It was from a m
ore recent climb. Unlike the first one they encountered, some of the climber’s clothing was still intact. As was her hair. What were once long, flowing locks had turned into stringy wisps of matted blond strands covered with ice crystals and sticking up in all directions as the wind undertook some kind of cruel hairstylist’s revenge.

  Kwon shook his head and continued. He lost track of time as he dutifully followed his guides, trusting them implicitly to provide him the safest foothold and grip. Just as he thought he couldn’t move forward anymore, he noticed Ghosh and Babu had stopped. They stood over a body that was partially submerged in a drift as if it were seated at a dining table when a flood of snow had washed over it. It was as inanimate as the boulders sticking up through the snow around them. They removed their face coverings so they could talk to one another without obstruction.

  “This is the man,” began Babu, gesturing as he spoke. “He accompanied the first man to fall off the gravel parking lot before the summit. Once his friend fell back toward the Chinese Ladder, the rest lost their balance.”

  Kwon asked a logical question. “How can you be sure this is the same man? The friend?”

  “It is my job to identify my climbers by their clothing. I make a mental note of each person I come into contact with. This man wore a black outer shell. Very unusual. Most climbers prefer bright colors.”

  They surrounded the corpse and removed their pickaxes from their small backpacks. Each of them began to swing at the ice and snow around the body’s edges, working carefully to pry it from its icy grave. They systematically knocked chunks of frozen snow away, sending the shattered pieces down the gentle slope leading to the edge of the Catcher.

  At twenty-one thousand feet, the men took frequent rest breaks, and concerns were raised about the levels of oxygen in their tanks. Like a race car burning through its fuel toward the end of the last lap, the Sherpas questioned how much longer they could fight the ice to free the man’s body.

  Kwon was the one who made the call. “We can’t continue doing this. We know it’s extremely risky to carry the body down the mountain anyway.”

  “We will do as you ask,” offered Ghosh.

  Kwon shook his head and waved the men away from the body. After retrieving his knife from his pack, he dropped to his knees and began to tear open the dead man’s frozen jacket. He cut open the dead man’s facial covering, revealing a ghoulish, bone-white face. Its eyes stared upward as if they were still seeking help from above.

  He tried to close the frozen eyelids to no avail. He pulled out the CIA-issued cell phone and took several pictures of the dead man. He did not take the selfies jokingly requested by Harper. It would’ve been irreverent to say the least. He put away the phone, glanced at the onlooking Sherpas, and took a deep pull of oxygen through his mask.

  “I’m sorry, friend,” muttered Kwon. He drew the knife over the body and attempted to plunge his knife into the middle of the man’s chest. It barely pierced the corpse’s frozen skin. He gripped the knife again, this time with both hands, and drove it a little deeper this time.

  Kwon closed his eyes, begging forgiveness from anyone who loved this man. He was going to have to mutilate and desecrate his corpse in order to get the minimal amount of tissue samples for testing. A blood sample was out of the question unless it happened to be contained in the tissue samples he was able to carve off the corpse. Blood, which is a mix of many components, behaves like other saline solutions and begins to freeze in a corpse at twenty-six degrees Fahrenheit.

  Kwon looked up at the Sherpas. Their eyes were dull and sad. The young men had not expected this, and he regretted that he had to do it. But they were out of time as their oxygen became depleted. He stopped looking at the corpse as a human being, steeled his nerves, and finished the job. He reached the lungs by hacking through the rib cage. Then he carved off pinky-sized slivers of tissue and pressed them into the empty vials in his pack.

  It wasn’t until he was done with the brutal form of autopsy that he searched for the man’s identification. After rummaging through the man’s clothing and gear, he found a wallet, a passport, and a hotel room key with no identifying location. It simply read xiang Fu Lou. He crammed them into his backpack, apologized to the dead climber, and nodded to the Sherpas.

  Kwon was ready to get off the Kangshung Face and its snow-covered graveyard.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Kangshung Face

  Mount Everest

  Tibet Autonomous Region

  People’s Republic of China

  Immediately after Kwon and the Sherpas left for their climb, Harper and Yeshi broke down the tent and began carrying their excess gear to a rocky ridge a thousand feet up the valley. They located a crevasse that divided the ridge in half. It was ideal to stow the snowmobiles out of sight while giving them two exits away from the base of the mountain.

  As they’d discussed, they didn’t want to lead any pursuers to the vertical base of Kangshung Face, resulting in the group being trapped. It took several trips to get the partially filled fuel cans, the tent, and their weapons to a secure place. As a result, the snowmobile tracks left behind were obvious to any passersby.

  The warming sun had begun to expose some of the plant life located just below the tree line, or alpine zone, of the eastern Himalayas. At fourteen thousand feet, the lack of oxygen prevents trees or shrubs from growing. Junipers and a smattering of rhododendron appeared through the slowly melting snow.

  With their moving task complete and the gear safely hidden away, Harper suggested they use the plant material to smooth over the snow in an effort to cover their tracks. Ideally, the unexpected snowfall would’ve done them the courtesy of a light dusting to fill in the T150s’ ruts created by the fifteen-inch-wide composite tracks at the rear, which propelled the machine and the two front skis used for steering.

  Wanting to do something to help the brave team of climbers who were risking their lives to retrieve the body, Harper and Yeshi worked together to sweep the snow into the grooves. Then, with a little luck, the wind would blow the new powdery snow over the top and leave the appearance of a pristine, undisturbed valley.

  It took the entire morning to accomplish their goal. They made their way back to their perch atop the rocky ridge leading to the base of the rock wall. They waited, sitting in silence for the most part, dividing their attention between their surroundings at the lower elevations and the East Face.

  By early afternoon, both she and Yeshi were relieved they hadn’t been pursued by any snowmobiles deployed by the PLA outpost. Their attempts to disable the remaining T150s had provided them a head start, but a good mechanic could make repairs on the machines in a matter of hours.

  Also, Harper surmised, the Himalayan region surrounding Mount Everest might have been too vast to be searched by the remaining soldiers, especially since their ranks had been thinned by the activity at the Lhasa Airport. What she didn’t consider was an eye in the sky.

  Harper had created a swale using soft snow as a cushion. Although the temperatures were well below freezing, the full sun provided plenty of warmth. She stretched out in the snow, allowing her face to bake to the point of a mild sunburn.

  Her mind had wandered to the trail of evidence. The key part of the puzzle, assuming the body Kwon went to recover was patient zero, was which species of the animal kingdom had passed the novel virus into its human host.

  Harper was on the verge of drifting off to sleep when Yeshi called out her name.

  “Harper, do you hear?”

  Yeshi had heard it first. The unmistakable thump, thump, thump of a helicopter’s rotors. Coming from the east, the sound reverberated off the rocky cliffs of the East Face and echoed through the valleys. The helicopter was coming towards them at a high rate of speed.

  Harper immediately wished she had binoculars to get a better view. She and Yeshi stood and used their eyes to shade them from the bright, overhead sun. The noise grew louder and then it seemed to multiply.

  “Aw, shit. T
here’s more than one. Come on. We need to find cover between the rocks.”

  Harper took off and Yeshi scampered along behind her. He eventually passed her and helped her down a part of the rock outcropping where the footing was unstable. They were almost to the bottom when Harper stopped their descent.

  “What is it?” Yeshi asked.

  “My jacket. I left it in the snow. They’ll see it.” Harper pulled away from Yeshi and began to claw her way back up the ridge.

  “There is no time. We have to hide.”

  Harper stood frozen in her tracks. Her mind raced as she tried to make a decision. The threatening sounds of the choppers approaching made the decision easy. She’d have to hope for the best. She joined Yeshi at the bottom, and the two of them shimmied between a snowdrift and the ridge. The sound of the rotor blades was deafening, and the force against the ground was so strong that large pieces of snow slid off the ridge and landed in the space between the rocks where they’d stashed the snowmobiles.

  The two of them held their breath, mentally making every effort to avoid detection. They listened, fully expecting the choppers to land atop the ridge and dispatch armed soldiers to apprehend them, if they were lucky.

  However, that didn’t happen. The helicopters continued on their path, racing along the Nepalese border northwesterly toward India. After several moments of returned silence, they emerged from their hiding spot and walked into the valley. They cautiously surveilled the valleys and adjoining ridges. There was no sign of a threat.

  Harper breathed a sigh of relief and immediately thanked God for giving them a break. They’d been through enough, and Kwon certainly didn’t need the distraction. She and Yeshi returned to their observation post at the top of the ridge, convinced they had avoided being seen. However, they continued observing the ground and the skies with a heightened state of awareness.

  Kwon and the Sherpas were completely exposed as they ascended the East Face of Mount Everest. There was no cave to crawl into. It wasn’t possible to change the color of their clothing, which stood out like neon beacons against the gray-white granite wall. They were over a thousand feet above the valley, so jumping was clearly not an option. All they could do was continue moving in hopes the helicopter’s crew didn’t think to look for them there and overlooked the four snowmobiles, which had no place to hide.