Canyon of the Sphinx (13 page)

***

A tropical storm of sorts was
blowing in from the gulf when Marcus and Dennis landed in the Cancun. The plane
came down hard and taxied across the dark, wet tarmac. Marcus was out of his
seat, bag in hand, before the plane even came to a halt.

Because of the circumstances,
McGrath had decided it would be best if Marcus didn’t travel alone, so Dennis
was elected to play escort. Dennis was high-strung and aggressive, but he had
known Marcus a long time and could offer both moral and spiritual support
during this uncertain time. When push came to shove, Dennis was a good guy and
both McGrath and Lynn felt much better with him along.

Otis and another man Marcus
didn’t recognize were waiting for them in the dirty terminal. Marcus
immediately spied the blond, good-looking architect and Dennis spied the man
next to him. Adam hadn’t seen Dennis in twenty years, but he would have
recognized the long-haired, broad-shouldered man anywhere. He greeted Dennis
amiably as Marcus connected with Otis and just kept walking.

"How's my wife?" Marcus
asked him.

Otis felt the same sense of
urgency that Marcus did. "We had a bit of an episode with her earlier this
evening."

Marcus looked at him, horror on
his face. The man was pale, unshaven, and looked absolutely terrible.
"God, what now?"

There was a reason why Otis had
met Marcus at the airport; he was probably the best person in the world to
deliver bad news. "She woke up feverish and upset. Mark and Debra Jo and
Dr. Murphy were in the room with her, but Mark and Debra Jo were asleep and she
managed to get Murphy out of there so she could lance the blister on her
leg."

"What?"

Otis sighed. "She had a huge
blood blister where the snake bit her. A big, ugly thing that was causing her a
tremendous amount of pain. Somehow, she got it in her head that the blister was
the cause of all her problems, so when the doctors wouldn't lance it, she found
a way to do it herself."

Marcus just stared at him, mouth
agape. "You've got to be kidding."

"You've known Kathlyn for
four years, Marcus. You know how she is once she gets her mind set."

Marcus couldn't even answer; he
was absolutely sick. Otis continued.

"She stabbed it with a pair
of scissors. The thing drained, but she introduced bacteria in to her system
and now she's got a hell of a fever going. The leg is in danger of going
gangrenous."

If anyone thought it wasn't
possible for Marcus to get any paler, they were wrong. He was ashen. "I
can't believe she did that."

"She's sick, Marcus. She
wasn't thinking straight."

That much was apparent. Marcus
was almost panicked to get to her.  They walked, very quickly, out of the
terminal and to the curbside loading area. Dennis introduced Adam to Marcus on
the run; as giddy as Adam was to be in the presence of Kathlyn Trent, he was
even more awed to be in the company of Burton. The man was larger than life,
meaner than a snake, and looked like a Greek god.

It was humid and rainy outside.
The same truck that had taken Kathlyn to the medical clinic was the one they
drove away from the airport, out into the rural jungles of Mexico and onto the
rotten road that took them in a southwesterly direction. Adam did the driving;
when he had picked Kathlyn up at the airport, all he had done was chatter. Now,
watching Dr. Burton out of the corner of his eye, he knew that chatter was the
last thing he should do. He'd likely find himself on the side of the road.  So
he drove like mad through the countryside and into Belize, making the five hour
trip in just under four.

The village was small and dirty,
typical of the region. Dogs ran wild in the street and the smell of dying
cooking fires heavy in the night air. There was a post office, a farmer's
market, a small hotel, and a gas station. The medical clinic was at the far end
of town and there were a host of cars and trucks surrounding it when they
pulled up.  The media was onto them the moment they brought the truck to a halt
and when Marcus emerged, they leapt all over him.

But he was in no mood to answer
questions. Larry and Andy had been standing at the front door to the clinic and
ran out to police the crowd as Marcus, Otis, Dennis and Adam pushed through
them. Dennis, with his short temper, even punched one of the photographers in
the face when he came too close to Marcus. It was a chaotic scene, but Marcus
managed to get inside the clinic relatively unscathed.

It was cool and dark inside and
smelled like bleach. Debra Jo and two doctors had heard the commotion and came
up the hall to greet Marcus. Debra Jo threw her arms around him, tears in her
eyes, but all Marcus wanted to do was see Kathlyn. They sensed this and took
him to her ward.

It was dark inside, a small light
in the corner of the long room giving off weak illumination. As Marcus' eyes adjusted
to the light, the first thing he saw was a figure in one of the beds, leg in a
sling and heavily wrapped.  He saw the feet, the red toe nails, and knew his
wife's feet immediately. The second thing he saw, however, was a man that he
didn't recognize sitting next to his wife's bed. He was blond, extremely
handsome and built like a football player. As he stood there, the man put his
hand on her forehead, almost tenderly, and took it away again.  But the door
banged and the man leapt to his feet, his pale blue eyes focused on Marcus.

"Dr. Burton," he said
in a gentle, medium-pitched voice. "I'm Christopher Murphy. I'm sorry we
have to meet under these circumstances, sir."

Marcus just looked at him as if
he was the lowest creature on the face of the earth. He completely ignored the
outstretched hand. "Dr. Murphy?"

"Yes, sir.  It's a real
privilege to finally meet you."

Marcus looked him up and down.
"What in the hell are you doing here?"

There was an eight inch
difference in height between Marcus and Christopher. But they were both built
like wrestlers and it was like watching the face-off of the Titans. Christopher
gazed steadily at Burton as if the height differential was of no consequence. 
He could feel the man's animosity and didn't blame him; if he had walked in
with a strange man sitting next to his sleeping wife, he might have reacted the
very same way.  He could tell Burton was completely off-guard.

"I'm sitting with your wife
in case she awakens," he explained politely. "They're short on
nursing staff here so your wife's team was taking turns. I just volunteered to
give Dr. La Coste a break because he's been up for two straight days. I know
you don't know me from Adam, Dr. Burton, but I meant no disrespect to you by
watching over your wife. I only meant to help."

It was a kind explanation, but
Marcus didn't say a word.  He pushed into the chair that Christopher had been
occupying, his focus completely on Kathlyn. No one else in the room, or the
world for that matter, existed.  Not offended in the least by Marcus' behavior,
Murphy realized, by the look on Burton's face, how crazy in love he was with
his wife and how worried he was. It was like a stab to Christopher's heart for
reasons he couldn't begin to explain. All he knew was that it hurt him.  Silently,
he slipped from the room.

Marcus didn't know that Murphy
had left and he surely didn't care. He gazed down at Kathlyn, touching her hot
forehead, feeling the heat on her face. Tears sprang to his eyes as he held her
hand and kissed her pale cheek.  He just sat there a moment, staring at her,
feeling more anguish than he ever knew possible. He glanced at her leg; the
thigh wasn't particularly swollen, but the gauze wrapping around her lower leg
was huge. The foot was grossly puffy, too.  He struggled with his emotions, not
wanting to make a fool out of himself in front of the doctors or his friends. 
He had to be strong. Wiping the tears from his cheeks, he turned to the people
standing behind him.

"What in the hell are you
doing to get rid of this fever? What's going on with her?"

One of the thin, older doctors
stepped forward and spoke in broken English. "We're giving her antibiotics
on a drip to see if we can control the infection. The wound itself has been
cleaned repeatedly and bandaged." He was obviously overwhelmed by the situation.
"Dr. Burton, we're not set up for this kind of thing. Your wife needs a
hospital."

"No shit," Marcus
snapped. He caught Debra Jo's expression and softened somewhat; his fear was
turning him into, as he wife so kindly put it, an ass. "Look, I appreciate
what you've done for my wife, really. And I'm sorry if I'm being a jerk. But I
don't want her to lose her leg or her life, and this whole thing just has me a
bit edgy."

"I understand," the
doctor said. "Surely you know people, Dr. Burton. Surely you can arrange
to get your wife to a decent hospital."

"It's already in the
works," Marcus said. "I should know something in an hour or two about
getting her airlifted out of here. But for now... well, for now, she's here and
I need to know what you're doing to take care of her."

"Everything we can,"
the doctor replied quietly. "We're doing everything possible.  She's
pumped full of fluids and antibiotics and painkillers. Right now, it's up to
your wife and up to God."

Marcus looked back at Kathlyn;
there was absolutely no color in her face whatsoever. He looked at the leg
again

.“Would you care to see it?"
the doctor asked softly.

Marcus shook his head. "I
don't want to disturb her. Let it be."

"We must change the dressing
anyway. You may as well have a look."

Marcus was fine at seeing
mummies. He was fine at seeing blood, guts, gore, or anything else realistic
and coarse. But the first time in his life he could remember feeling faint at
the sight of something gory was when the twins were born. All of that blood and
fluid, coming out of his wife, had made him queasy. The second time was when
she had given birth to Eden even though he had been moderately prepared for it.
The third time was as the doctor unwrapped Kathlyn's leg and the smell of the
infection hit him; he literally had to step back and take a deep breath. All he
could see on her beautiful leg was necrotic tissue and oozing flesh where the
snake had bit her; it was open and raw, and a flap of skin hung loose. The
doctor pointed to it.

"This is where your wife
operated on herself and drained the blood from the blister," he said.
"Truthfully, I believe it was becoming infected before she did this. She
might have actually done herself a tremendous favor by lancing it, but she also
did herself harm, too. If this infection worsens with the bacteria she has
introduced on unclean scissors, it will turn gangrenous and we'll have no
choice but to amputate."

Marcus actually thought he might
vomit, but he held himself in check. Dennis, who had so far stood back by the
door, came around to take a look and was nearly knocked off his feet.  Debra Jo
couldn't even look at it, but she could smell it, as could Otis. They just
stood as far away from it as they could. Mark, on the other hand, was still
asleep in a cot across the room where he had been most of the night. His
exhaustion made him sleep through most of what had gone on in the ward.

The doctor took some topical
ointment of some kind and gently dabbed it on the wound. Kathlyn, stirred from
a drug-induced sleep by the atrocious pain, opened her eyes.

"Oh, my God," she
hissed, jerking as if to slap at him. "Leave me alone!"

Marcus had been standing on the
other side of the doctor. He quickly moved around the man and knelt beside the
bed.

"Hi, sweetheart," he
said gently. "It's okay; he's just putting medicine on it."

Kathlyn looked at Marcus as if
she didn't know him. The fever was raging. Then, slowly, recognition dawned.

"Marcus," she breathed.

He kissed her. "I'm
here."

She threw her arms around his
neck in a death grip. Down on both knees, he was trapped. "I want to go
home," she begged.

He held her. "I know. This
will all be over soon and we'll take you home."

Her grip tightened. "I want
to go home now."

"Soon, I promise."

She wasn't going to let him up or
out of her sight. She refused to let go. "Marcus, take me out of here. I
have to leave."

It was becoming apparent that she
was delirious. Marcus tried to unwind her arms as gently as he could but she
refused to budge.   Her cheek was blazingly hot against his neck.

"Sweetheart, you're
strangling me," he said gently. "Let up a little."

She acted as if she didn't hear
him. When he shifted and tried to stand up, she squeezed harder and he almost
pulled her out of the bed. Resigned, he went back on his knees and just held
her.

"Take me home, please."

"I will, sweetheart.
Everything is going to be all right now."

The doctor finished with the
bandages. Now only time would tell.

CHAPTER
SEVEN

"He has to know, Lynn. This
is his dig."