Warren Murphy: Skin Deep

"Are you sure these people are lepers?" Remo whispered to Chiun in Korean. "I mean, the girl looks all right. Better than all right. She's gorgeous. Maybe they're just a bunch of cultists or something..."

But as they entered the clearing, Remo saw for himself that Chiun had been right. Women with babies, squatting over their cooking pots, young boys playing in the open, a cluster of old men arguing with one another— all stopped whatever they were doing when the strangers entered.

And all, down to the smallest child, were ravaged and mutilated with disease.

The girl took a few steps away from Remo and Chiun, as if to position herself apart from them and with the disfigured members of her tribe. Oddly, the villagers themselves backed away when she neared them, mothers pulling their young behind them, but Ana did not appear to notice. She opened her arms wide to Remo and Chiun in the classic gesture of hospitality. But when she spoke, there was a terrible irony in her words.

"This is our home," she said. "Welcome to the Valley of the Damned."

?Chapter Five

Three men stood by a hut near the center of the village. Their bodies were covered with oozing lesions, but the young man in the middle was tall and fierce looking, somehow majestic in his corroded ugliness. He spoke.

"I am Timu, chief of my people. We welcome you and your honored son, O Master of Sinanju."

"I am Chiun." The old Oriental approached the chief with a small bow. Timu returned it, then looked inquiringly at Remo.

"Remo. Nice place you've got here," Remo said, trying to avoid staring at the disintegrating faces of the lepers.

"Tour son is not accustomed to viewing our sickness," Timu said, with a trace of humor.

"He is not accustomed to acting civilized," Chiun said, tossing a beady glance toward Remo. He added, whispering, "He is white." The chief nodded sagely. "I am honored that you have remembered my ancestor, Hun Tup," Chiun said.

"We do not forget those who have befriended us," Timu said. "The fellowship of suffering has kept our legends alive. The kindness of the Master Hun Tup in delivering my people from the swamps of China to the beautiful land of Molokai will be remembered forever. It was our Promised Land. On Molokai, there were fine clinics and doctors who helped us to lead good, long lives."

Remo was puzzled. He looked at the grass huts hiding the dying, their lingering coughs from the disease's damage to their lungs ringing despairingly through the still air. There was no hospital or clinic in sight. Small children walked around with limbs already decayed or amputated.

"Excuse me," he said politely, "but if Molokai had everything you needed, why are you all here, where there's nothing to help you? There isn't even a doctor here."

The chief exchanged looks with his two cronies. Haltingly he said, "There is a doctor here. Also a— a medical facility." As he spoke, the two old men flanking him stared at the ground. Timu bowed to Chiun again. "Thank you, honored Master, for your visit. But I must now ask you to leave, before you are in danger of contracting our disease."

Chiun smiled. "You wish us to leave, but not because of your sickness. Even Hun Tup, in the thirteenth century, knew that leprosy is not contagious by air. It can only be passed along through an open wound. We are in no danger from you."

Timu looked abashed. "Forgive me, O Master. I should have known you were the wisest of men. But still, you must leave. There is danger here. Not from us. But danger."

"The birds," Remo said.

A low chatter rose from the villagers. "No birds," Timu said, his eyes hard.

"They're everywhere," Remo continued. "Huge white seagulls. I've never seen anything—"

"No birds!" Timu snapped, cutting off the discussion. He closed his eyes and sighed. "Please go," he said quietly. "Go before you learn too much. The Valley of the Damned is no place for the Master of Sinanju. Quickly, before the sun sets. It is for your own good."

Chiun laid a hand on the chief's shoulder. "We will stay," he said. "We will eat with you. We will spend the night here. Tomorrow we go."

A stricken silence settled over the village. "Wait a minute," Remo said in Korean. "Maybe we'd be better off in the hills. That way, if anything goes on—"

"We stay here," Chiun said stubbornly.

Ana, the girl who had brought them to the village, stepped forward. "I am not a leper. I will serve you your meals myself. Afterward, you may have my hut to sleep in. You will be safe," she said to Remo with disdain.

* * *

Toward nightfall they dined on fruit with the entire village, gathered in the clearing. The lepers danced, if haltingly, for their visitors, and sang ancient songs, and recounted old legends for the benefit of their new friends. Amid the music and festivities, Remo was ashamed of the revulsion he had first felt for the brave tribe.

Ana must have sensed it. While the villagers were clapping and singing, she clasped his hand briefly. "You understand already," she said.

Timu shot her a terrible look, and she quickly withdrew her hand. "Leave us," the chief ordered. In a moment she was gone, disappeared into the brush.

"Why'd you send her away?" Remo asked. "She wasn't doing anything."

"My sister is a strange girl," the chief said almost apologetically. "Smart. She completed a year of medical school before joining us in our colony. She has been of great assistance to us. But do not touch her." His eyes were fearful and desperate.

"I wasn't going to take her away."

"There are things I cannot explain. But I warn you, do not befriend Ana. Do not go near her. Never. Do you understand?"

Remo took a quick look over his shoulder to the jungle, now quiet, where the girl had run, then said, "Shove it."

"Silence, Remo," Chiun said. "Their ways are not your ways."

"I just wish I knew what the hell was going on in this place," Remo muttered.

Suddenly the dancers disbanded in a frenzy. Someone pointed toward a high cluster of rocks forming a dome in the distance. Screams and hushed warnings rose up from the villagers as they scrambled to their feet, spilling the sweet fruit on the ground. Some ran into the rain forest. Others took shelter in their rough huts.

Instinctively Remo whirled around to see on all sides.

"In here," Timu commanded, gesturing toward his hut. Chiun was already being ushered inside.

"Do as he says," Chiun hissed over his shoulder. "Now, before you are seen."

From inside the hut, they watched a double line of six white soldiers goose-stepping in a worn path from the thick bushes near the giant rock cluster.

"Who are they?" Remo whispered.

Timu didn't answer. The corners of his mouth curled downward in sadness and helpless rage. He turned his back and stood, his muscles taut, facing the rear wall of the hut.

Outside, the out-of-place white soldiers marched directly to a small dwelling. A woman knelt at the doorway, her hands wrung together, tears streaming down her face as she begged the soldiers to leave. One of them shoved her out of the way with the heel of his boot and sent her sprawling into the dirt.

All six went into the hut. When they emerged, they were dragging with them an old man with half a face and one leg amputated at the knee, The old man moaned in pain. The woman lying in the dirt righted herself to her knees and screamed after them, "Let him die in peace, I beg you!"

Remo started out of the hut, but Chiun caught his arm and restrained him.

The soldiers rushed on, into the bushes and toward the high-domed rocks. Then all was silence again except for the sobs of the woman. Some villagers walked cautiously out of their huts and led her away, trying to lend comfort. Others picked up the debris of the ruined feast. Most remained hidden in their huts.