THE BLUE HERON.

*this is the beginning of a novel I've started...it's not the very beginning, as I have to include the first scene where the billionaire suffers from heat stroke that turns out to be a case of "bird flu." The novel is going to be part science fiction, part thriller, like that of Robin Cook or James Patterson, if you want to use specifics.

Geoff is a very homely doctor. He lost his wife and children in a tragic car accident, and turns his grief into saving lives-that is, until he discovers he can't save everyone, especially when cases of the bird flu sprout all over the place, especially in India, China, and three cases in the United States. Can Geoff discover the cause of the bird flu, or will the blue heron have to throw in his towel and admit he doesn't know everything?

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India was the place to do the surgery. Geoff Fernandez aka “the Blue Heron” rode the elevator up to the third floor of Juarez Fields Medical Hospital and hesitated outside Room 309. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be on an island some place far away, tanning himself alongside a beautiful blonde and drinking from a coconut. That sounded about right. He loved coconut drinks. He hadn’t had one in about three years, since he and the other doctors on the medical team took a trip to New Mexico to remove a lung from an ailing billionaire. Now, they had another rich man on the brink of death-Mario Hernandez Martines Shae. The man was the owner of a famous stock company, Iliade & Burgens, and helped people make the decisions on their stock. Mario was famous in that regards, he was almost right about his predictions and he made just enough money to buy a black Porsche it sat in the driveway of his small condo in Miami, Florida. He didn’t know why he chose to live in Miami. It was warm all year round and everyone was skinny and hardly ever needed medical attention, which was good, which was nice, blue as ice and all that. Geoff never did learn how to rhyme.
His eyes settled on the flatscreen tv the hospital installed last month. It was always on CNN. They were talking about the inflation of the stock exchange. When Mario woke from his coma, he wasn’t going to be happy about it. Not one bit. His wife was going to be the one to break it to him.
“Miami,” he muttered, and shook his head. He went into the patient’s room and picked up a clipboard and pretended everything was going to be all right.
Mario’s face was pale, ashen gray. It looked like it was losing color and his eyes were bloodshot. He dove inside and out of a feverish sleep. Geoff wondered if he was coherent. Maybe he wasn’t. He wasn’t coherent half the time. The other half of the time, he was peeing on his own leg. The smell of urine was strong, a putrid smell wafted from the bed sheets.
They were going to have to get him out of there and on a plane. And fast.
He turned to Nurse Susie. She was watching the scene with a wary expression on her face. She was a beautiful blonde woman and her blue eyes were watching the entire scene with an expression on her face that was part worry and part bemusement. She had seen all of this before-the same discoloration of the face; the same pinched face and the hollowed eyes. Susie was certain he was on the edge of death. Her thirteen year title as a nurse told him he didn’t think the man had a chance. Maybe he didn’t. They were going to find out.
“Susan,” he said between clenched teeth.
Her eyes focused on his. She looked pale. She swallowed. “Yes?” she whispered.
“Will the hospital let us use the helicopter to transfer him to the airport?”
“What about the tickets?”
“The hospital will cover it,” he replied reassuringly. “
“But last month, Mr. Martin told me we couldn’t afford-”
“Just do it!” he ordered. He didn’t like to yell. He hated yelling. He was tired. He wanted to go home and sleep. He glanced at Mario. He wasn’t going to get much sleep tonight.