The Eskimo Invasion (28 page)

 

 

"And just what did the nurses do to prevent it?"

 

 

To this question the Mountie colored with embarrassment. "This and that,
sir. Pills and all. When they found out what the pills were for, the Esk
women threw the pills away."

 

 

"There are other female methods than pills."

 

 

"I'm a bachelor, sir. I -- not instructed in the R.C.M.P."

 

 

"Like diaphragms?" Dr. West continued maliciously at this Victorian-uniformed
Mountie. "Diaphragms," Dr. West repeated. "I suppose those wouldn't be
practical if the women resisted. And intrauterine devices, little curly-cues
of plastic or stainless steel. Even with cooperative women there is a 20%
expulsion rate. Did the nurses try hormone injections on the Esk women?
Technically, science is equipped to control births in any number of ways.
Some hormone injections prevent ovulation for six months. Admit that they
tried injections."

 

 

"Sir, now these Esk women won't even let the doctor hypo them for blood
tests, or measles preventative shots, or -- "

 

 

"You mean some fool told them what the birth control injections were for?"

 

 

"Sir, you can't inject people against their will." The Mountie's face
was sweating. "You can't just seize people and inoculate them against
having babies. Our whole Canadian democratic system -- " The Mountie
sat down, red-faced.

 

 

"Let me take your temperature," said Dr. West.

 

 

"I'm all right, sir. I'm never ill."

 

 

The Mountie's temperature was 100.

 

 

"I'm all right, sir. Do you think an outsider has brought in the flu?
Those bearded types in the LST, they do a lot of coughing. I've eaten
several meals with them. I'm never ill, sir, but I'm concerned about
our Eskimos." The Mountie peered out the door. "They used to be quite
susceptible, sir. Back in 1972 we had severe influenza which started in
Baffin Island, We tried to quarantine. We watched it spread on the map --
"

 

 

"I'll go outside," Dr. West said.

 

 

The Mountie opened his mouth as if to protest. Whether from concern that
Dr. West also might be a flu carrier or that Dr. West might make an
unauthorized departure, the Mountie did not say.

 

 

Dr. West observed some of the children were sitting, rather than racing
around. When he dipped the thermometer in the alcohol tube, women squeaked
with fright and edged away. Apparently the women were afraid he was preparing
to inject them -- with a new kind of no-baby needle. This was confirmed by
the laughter of the men. Children were giggling.

 

 

After much instruction and demonstration to ensure they did not bite off
the thermometer, Dr. West began taking children's temperatures. Most of
this small group were running temperatures of 99.

 

 

The Mountie appeared behind him, breathing hard and keeping away from
the Esks. Mosquitos clustered on his blotchy face. "Sir, do you think --
I think I shall order an immediate quarantine of this village."

 

 

From a distance, the Mountie told certain men to carry his words through
the village, guards should be appointed, and so forth.

 

 

While Esks might be more obedient than Eskimos, as the day dragged on
Dr. West observed several groups departing. Their fellow Esk guards
hurried after them, gestured, tried to explain. But Esks never use force,
Dr. West thought. The Esks accepted life as cheerfully and noncombatively
as if it were a dream soon to be ended. Soon guards and departees all
were laughing. The guards waved good-bye. The departees trudged north
along the coast toward one of the smaller camps. They had no sleds, no
dogs. The Esks bred so much faster, that their dogs had become a rare
minority with larger appetites than Esks. Most of the accessible seals
had been killed, and the younger Esks wore only war-surplus khaki. When
winter returned, Dr. West thought, there would be misery and death.

 

 

"At the least, this epidemic will slow the birthrate," Dr. West muttered
in self-justification, "and give the Canadian Government time to formulate
a policy, before the western hemisphere is overrun." He realized he was
talking to himself again and closed his mouth. Western hemisphere overrun
sounded -- ridiculous.

 

 

At least this epidemic will demonstrate, for the first time on a
large group, what planned bacterial population control can accomplish.
"Quickly, cheaply, almost humanely -- "

 

 

By the next day Dr. West's confidence was shaken. Some Esks showed
symptoms of the disease, but mild symptoms on the bell-shaped curve.
Marthalik's must have been a severe case.

 

 

Few Esks showed temperatures of as much as 99.6. Plainly Esks were
more resistant than humans. Not only were they completely immune to TB,
they were only mildly affected by this population control disease.

 

 

It was the Mountie who was sick. His temperature had risen to 102 degrees.

 

 

Dr. West discovered the bearded humanitarians in the LST were running
temperatures of over 101 to 103. The two
Life
photographers were
confined to their tent. The bleary-eyed Mountie radioed for airborne
medical help.

 

 

Dr. West stared down at old Eevvaalik shivering in the blankets of what
had been Dr. West's bed. Her temperature was approaching 103 degrees.
He lost his nerve and began to cool her with damp rags. He forced aspirin
between her dry lips. She whined at the bitter taste.

 

 

"Let this -- person," she protested, " -- find happiness. Do not --
do things -- No. Eh-eh." She laughed or coughed. "You not sick --
don't know."

 

 

He tried to force another aspirin.

 

 

"Pah!" she spat it back. "You don't know."

 

 

Unexpectedly, she said: "You don't even know -- this person is the mother
of everybody. Eh-eh."

 

 

"Yes, I know that." Dr. West knelt beside her, gently agreeing with whatever
she said. He glanced at the tape recorder but the batteries were filled with
gravel. "I know you are the mother. Who is the father? What did he look like?"

 

 

"Terrible, this person feels terrible," Eevvaalik moaned. "This person,
eh-eh, won't remember until you make her feel so good."

 

 

Even now, was she still teasing him, holding back her knowledge for some
last advantage? Dr. West did not know.

 

 

Eevvaalik was prattling feverishly about her youth, when she was a young
girl. "Eh-eh, in those days, few Innuit (Eskimos), many seals. This young
person was so fat and beautiful. Now this old person is burning. Tired.
Sleep. Want to sleep," she cried out in sudden pain. "Help me! Want
to sleep."

 

 

By contrast, the Mountie kept getting out of bed. He staggered between
the window and the radio closet, where his two-way radio equipment was
housed. "Sir, until the medical aircraft reaches us, and it never will,
what with fog and mechanical difficulties and false promises, sir,
we've got to do something for these people."

 

 

"They're not as sick as you are."

 

 

"Sir, the old woman looks like she's dying."

 

 

"Not likely," Dr. West answered with more confidence than he felt. "She --
and you are the two with the highest temperatures.

 

 

"I'm responsible for all these people, sir. I should have kept this disease
from spreading. The operator at Seal Camp says fever has already reached
there. Says some of my people arrived there yesterday. Why don't you
do something; you're a doctor, or were a doctor." The Mountie staggered
back to the radio closet without waiting for a reply.

 

 

Dr. West bent over the fitfully sleeping Eevvaalik. He had started
both Eevvaalik and the Mountie on a course of terramycin capsules,
to keep down any additional bacterial infections. Against the bacteria
now spreading its secondary poison through the narrow tube structures
of their bodies there was a specific antibiotic, and he did not have
it. It would not have been available to him without a risky theft from
the guarded laboratory in California. It was a classified military secret,
as were the bacteria in the spray cans.

 

 

Dr. West smiled bitterly. For accepting Steve Jervasoni's stolen starter
sample of this population control bacteria, for conspiring in the theft
of a military secret, already he was liable to prosecution by the U.S.
Government. If the spray cans and the bacteria were traced to him and
he was taken back to the U.S. -- he remembered what happened to men who
stole other military secrets

 

 

"Now the radioman at Stone Bay says it's popped up there." The Mountie was
clumsily charting the new locations of the illness on his wall map. "It's
what we did during the flu epidemic," he muttered ineffectually. "The date
of appearance and where the visitors came from. I keep telling them
to cut off every camp from every other camp. So many Esks traveling,
spreads and spreads."

 

 

The next day the promised medical plane still had not even taken off.
Engine trouble was reported, and the Mountie blundered around the cabin,
flopping down on the bed and sleeping fitfully.

 

 

By now, R.C.M.P. radio operators up and down the coast were comparing
virulency of the disease in their respective encampments. The bacteria
had spread south from one coastal camp to the next until mild cases were
reported in the fifth camp. Only a few mild cases in the fifth camp --

 

 

"Here, we had it worse, but now we're getting better." The Mountie stared
out the doorway.

 

 

The Esk children were becoming more active. The disease was running
its course.

 

 

At Dr. West's suggestion, the medical aircraft was diverted to another camp.
The Mountie seemed to want the aircraft here first, but he agreed,
temporarily.

 

 

The next day as his fever declined, the Mountie scribbled more detail
into his chart -- as if a map showing the spread of the disease magically
could control the disease.

 

 

"I can't understand this," the Mountie said. "It seems to have stopped
going south. In the fifth encampment, they say there are visitors from the
fourth encampment but no one in the fifth encampment has it bad enough to
matter. A few slight fevers. Do you think it's halted here?" He pressed
his thick finger against the map.

 

 

"Yes." Dr. West didn't wince, but a clue was stalking him.

 

 

On each of the five encampments to the south, the map contained the
Mountie's scrawled date for the reported arrival of visitors. "Everyone's
done a terrible job of not keeping visitors out, sir. More inefficient
than during the flu. So many more people now, but it's no excuse, sir."

 

 

In the village immediately south of them about 50% of the Esks reportedly
had been sick. In the second village 20% to 25%, in the third village
less than 20%, in the fourth village 10%, and in the fifth village there
were only a few with a mild fever or other symptoms.

 

 

"As it went south, the disease died out," the Mountie murmured. "It's not
like flu, is it, sir?"

 

 

"No, it isn't," Dr. West agreed.

 

 

At the map, staring at the opposite extension of the disease in a
northerly direction, Dr. West began to have a trapped feeling. A clue
as to the origin of the disease was beginning to take shape on the map.

 

 

"The two villages nearest north of us had it as bad as we did," the Mountie
said, talking to himself. "Then it faded, weaker in each of the next five
villages. So it took a total of seven villages to wear out the disease
going north, but five going south."

 

 

He turned and stared at Dr. West.

 

 

"The two north camps where they had it as bad as we did," the Mountie
said, "their radio operators both report they noticed orange cans,
mosquito spray cans like we've been using here. Traveling Esks -- "

 

 

Outside, there was the roar of the boat-shaped medical aircraft circling
the harbor for a landing.

 

 

The Mountie's face widened with relief and he walked back into his radio
closet and closed the door.

 

 

Dr. West knelt by Eevvaalik's sleeping form. As he lifted her wrist to feel
her pulse he knew she was dead.

 

 

When the Mountie came out of the radio closet, he stared at her, then at
Dr. West's drawn face.

 

 

"She's not the only one dead, sir. I didn't want to disturb you before
the aircraft arrived, but about a dozen people are reported dead to the
east of us, and a spray can. Older people. They were camped beside the
empty Cultural Sanctuary Guard Station, the only old people."

 

 

"The last of the real Eskimos," Dr. West blurted, and felt sick as if
this Mountie and the whole world were closing in on him.

 

 

"I think so, sir. I think the disease was strongest where the spray cans
were, sir. Here, there, and in the two camps to the north where visitors
carried mosquito spray cans. I've had men on the lookout for cans in the
other camps but no sign of them. I know the disease is mildest in the camps
furthest away from the cans. You're a doctor. How do you explain that, sir?"

 

 

"Probably a bacteria with self-attenuating virulency," Dr. West answered
with calm desperation.