D Carpenter - Infertile Grounds

Sarah sat down again and said, “Any more bombshells?”

The depth of the river varied from under a foot too much deeper, and, fortunately, he landed in a spot that was about ten feet deep. He still hit the bottom, but had lost enough momentum to avoid getting hurt. When he broke the surface, he saw the chopper hovering down the river. Pell’s and the pilot’s headphone-encased faces were visible in the window staring down at him.

He waved to them and then swam toward the bank. The chopper rose above the trees and descended into a clearing in the woods.

Climbing out of the water and into the woods, he was relieved to see that there were irrefutable signs of a plane crash. Someone had done a decent job of cleaning up the mess so that it couldn’t be easily spotted from the air, but they couldn’t fix the broken tree limbs and other indications of the crash, particularly the smell of fuel. Chris looked under bushes for a piece of solid evidence as he listened to Pell plowing through the woods like an enraged bear.

“Foster!” Pell yelled as he got closer.

His search became more frantic as Pell approached. Finally, under a bush, stuck into the ground, he found what he was looking for – a large piece of the prop that had broken off. He grabbed onto it and yanked it out of the ground like King Arthur pulling Excalibur from the stone. Holding it up, he turned to Pell who was now just a few feet away.

“What do you call this?” He asked as he waved the piece of metal in the air.

Pell’s scowl fell away, his fists unclenched and his jaw dropped open as he stopped and stared at the piece of prop.

“Look at this, Pell,” Chris said. “The thing isn’t even rusted. I’m telling you the truth about what happened, and the fact that whoever these people are removed the wreckage tells me that they want to keep their secret.”

Pell nodded as he reached out and took the prop. He held it and looked around at the trees and ground.

“Look at all of this,” Chris said as he pointed out broken limbs and a massive gouge out of the trunk of a tree. “Can you smell the fuel? Do you believe me now?”

Pell let out a long slow whistle as his gaze drifted from the physical evidence of the crash back to the piece of metal in his hands. He sniffed at the air. “What the hell is going on? Where’s the plane?”

“It was a small plane,” Chris said. “I bet the chopper that flew us in here could have lifted it out.”

The helicopter pilot joined them. He looked at the prop and said, “That came from a real small plane. With a few good men, you could probably hump it out of here.” He surveyed the crash site thoughtfully. “No doubt there’s been a crash here in the last few days. This is all fresh.”

“Could your chopper lift a plane this size?” Chris asked.

“If you chopped it in a few pieces it would easy. Fly it into the woods in any direction, dump it, and we’d probably never find it. So who would go through this kind of trouble?” The pilot asked.

“Look at this,” Chris pointed to bullet holes in a nearby tree trunk. “They must have been when they strafed the plane, look there’s more over there.”

Pell looked where Chris was pointing then said, “Let’s gather what evidence we can, take some photos and get back. I’m starting to believe this crazy story of yours.”

Sarah’s thought train had been derailed by the previous discussion and she collected herself for a moment before beginning. She wanted to speak slowly, but the words rushed uncontrollably out of her mouth. “The final test started just under a year ago in a remote part of sub-Saharan Africa called Ngamiland in Botswana. The word from the field last week confirmed it – there has been a dramatic drop in the number of births in the past couple of months.”

“How many –” Phillip began.

“I think that the best thing is for you to hold your questions until I finish. I’ve got a lot to say, and I’ll cover most of your questions in the process,” she said.

“We chose Ngamiland because of its remoteness. It has an under-developed infrastructure and sporadic medical resources. We needed to find somewhere that had primary healthcare services with a majority of the population accessing them so that we could accurately monitor the birthrates, but also the medical services needed to have limited organizational effectiveness so that there would be less chance of discovery,” Sarah explained.

“We also needed an environment where the majority of the population had access to piped or tapped water. If we had released the virus into surface water, rivers and boreholes, it would have been extremely difficult to quantify the results. Over seventy-five percent of the population has access to piped or tapped water in Ngamiland so it was the perfect test environment. We systematically introduced a derivative of the virus into the major water supplies in the region for a three-month period just under a year ago and the results are about what I expected, maybe even better.”

“To net it out, two years ago, in the only hospital in Ngamiland there were approximately sixty-five births a month with seasonal ups and downs but these were minor deviations. Last month there were seven and right now there isn’t a single pregnancy in the region.”

“Has anyone put together what’s going on?” Phillip asked.

“There were obviously questions floating around the maternity ward from the doctors and staff but they aren’t sophisticated enough to do any real analysis or science on the root cause. The World Health Organization is there now trying to figure it out now but they don’t know what to make of it. The fact that it is so localized is throwing them for a loop.”

Camilla and Phillip sat silently as Sarah paused to take a long drink from the moisture-coated, air bubble permeated glass. Camilla reached over and grabbed Phillip’s hand and squeezed it. Then she let go and started clapping. He joined her.

Sarah smiled and nodded. This was her time – the culmination of a lifetime’s work. She hadn’t realized until now that she had needed some positive affirmations, and this spontaneous applause hit the spot.

“Bravo!” Camilla squealed.

“Thank you,” Sarah said. “It wasn’t just me, though. Seth and the guys back in Maine and you two. Without your money and patience, I never would have been able to do it. It was far more difficult than I ever imagined it would be when we thought this all up.”

Camilla leaned over and gave her a hug. “I knew you could do it, Sarah,” Camilla whispered into her ear. “I just knew it.”

Phillip asked, “So when are we going to release it?”

“On the fourth of July,” Sarah replied.

As they contemplated the symbolism, a handsome man with a well-groomed beard and frighteningly white teeth entered the room. Sarah noticed Phillip offer the man an almost imperceptible nod.

Camilla turned and smiled as the man said, “Sorry I’m late, I got caught up in traffic. Did I miss anything?”

“No,” Camilla replied as she stood. “We were just really getting started.”

The man paused as he past Camilla and then turned to Sarah, “You must be Sarah. I’m Mike Kemper. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Camilla has told me so much about you that I feel like I already know you well.”

He walked over to Sarah and extended his hand. His name sounded vaguely familiar. Maybe Camilla had mentioned him. Something about him was tremendously attractive. She couldn’t put her hands on exactly what it was – handsome, physically fit, undoubtedly rich, the obvious ones but it was more than that. He oozed manliness. She blushed as his intelligent blue eyes locked confidently on hers.