Manna from Hell

By Peter Hussey

A Bulgarian crop researcher goes to help a famine village in Sudan. He spends years irradiating crop seeds with neutrons to increase their yields. He only gets incremental results until he grows despondent during a brutal famine and abandons his usual cautious protocols. Incredibly, this results in a staggering bounty--an unexplainable "Manna from Heaven." However, a bloodthirsty general destroys the village and imprisons the Bulgarian while forcing him to work supporting his plans. To make matters worse, soon a mysterious and deadly syndrome starts spreading within the region's people and grows to threaten the lives of millions.Is it somehow related to the agricultural miracle? A newly minted French epidemiologist and an American journalist team up to investigate only to eventually discover that the heavenly bounty is really a "manna from hell."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 29, 2022
• ISBN: 9781662484063

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Manna from Hell

Peter Hussey

Copyright © 2022 Peter Hussey

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2022

ISBN 978-1-6624-8413-1 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-6624-8418-6 (hc)

ISBN 978-1-6624-8406-3 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

About the Author

In loving memory of my wonderful sisters, Martha Ann and Mary Lou.

Chapter 1

Off to Grandpa's House

Roses. Even though they were many kilometers away he could smell them. They all could. It was a warm day in June, and the fragrance was wafting in from all around. Borislav Boris Blagoyev loved the exquisite scent not only for its intrinsic delight but because it signaled that they were getting nearer to Grandpa Miroslav, a man who meant more to him than almost anyone.

As the old Trabant sedan struggled up the steep grade of winding roads, Boris's father cursed as he frantically downshifted, trying to wring out as much torque as possible from the old, underpowered car. But they were lucky. Not many folks in 1970s Communist Bulgaria could afford the luxury of a personal car—even if it was a pathetic old junker like the Trabant.

Papa Blagoyev had done well for himself. Through stubborn will and political party savvy, Papa had procured a small construction contract at the brand-new Kuzladoy Nuclear Power Station when the project was just getting underway. Whatever virtues Papa Blagoyev had in career advancement, he completely lacked as a loving husband and father. A mean-spirited drunk, he'd often arrive home late for dinner then berate his wife and son, Boris. Often violent, he also delighted in harassing and belittling them. Usually, Boris's mother would remain stoically silent during these frequent abuses—only occasionally giving into tearful nose blows and muted sobs. For his part, Boris also remained silent but frozen in terror, as his red-faced tyrant of a father screamed at him.

All this abuse was unwarranted. Mama Blagoyev passively doted on her husband and son while keeping her home spotless and her stove busy, cooking delicious meals. She took great pride in her domestic duties, carefully attending to many household chores while her belligerent bridegroom was away. Despite the constant household tension, she always focused on her family's needs and remained faithful to her ogre of a husband. Meanwhile, Boris was a quiet, shy, and helpful lad. He loved his mother and felt a special bond with her as together, they endured their mutual monster. Boris was a slight but spry preteen. Gentile, inquisitive, and bookish, he delighted his mother but irritated his father to no end. Instead of joining the other boys in organized sports or hunting sprees, Boris would spend hours alone reading books or wandering the nearby forest. While there, he loved watching birds, squirrels, and insects but was fascinated by plants of all kinds and could spend hours on his knees or belly to admire their pedals, stems, and root structures. This passion for plants had been instigated and carefully cultivated by his maternal grandpa, Miroslav, their current destination.

They finally reached the mountain's 2,500-meter summit and began their descent as they gazed down into the Valley of Roses situated between the Balkan and Sradna Mountains. From here, the cover of giant dark-green alpine and fir trees gave way to the florid red, pink, and white fields of roses below. Laced between the huge fields were black ribbons of narrow roads with a few old houses peppering the scenic view. In the distance sat the rose oil factory where the rose fragrance chemicals for 85 percent of the world's soaps and perfumes were processed. And one of the little brown houses was Miroslav's, where he had lived since he was born.

Minutes later, they were at their destination. Boris jumped out of the car and opened the trunk to retrieve their carpetbag suitcases as Papa then drove off to leave his family behind for their vacation. Papa and Grandpa didn't get along. Once their luggage was inside, Boris dropped them and sprinted up to his beloved grandpa to give him a crushing bear hug and kiss. Then it was Mama's turn while Boris took the luggage to their room. They all continued the joyous reunion dining on delicious lamb kebobs—made even better with fresh vegetables from Grandpa's garden—and capped the sumptuous meal with a sweet raspberry junket for dessert.

While Boris's mother continued an after-dinner catch-up conversation with her father, he unpacked their luggage then settled into bed for a good night's sleep. Soon, he was dreaming about tomorrow morning when he would rise at dawn and help Grandpa pick and press roses for oil to sell to the fragrance factory out beyond the nearby fields.

As far as Boris was concerned, these two weeks each June that he spent with Grandpa Miroslav were heaven on Earth. He'd rise early each day and join Grandpa in the kitchen for a hearty breakfast of milk and wheat cereal, rye bread toast, butter, eggs, and strong Russian tea. Afterward, they'd go to the shed where Miroslav would set up his rose press machinery. Slowly turning the hand crank, he began crushing a batch of clipped roses that were harvested yesterday and soaked in mineral oil overnight. Immediately, trickles of the fragrant oil would drip down the oil chute and collect into bottles stationed at its base. Boris eagerly took his turns at the crank, wanting to display his strength to his easily impressed Grandpa. When the oil flow ceased, they were done crushing, and they capped the old wine and milk collection bottles. Then they grabbed their baskets and left for the rose fields to harvest more. On and on this went over the two-week period. Together, they'd usually finish up at two or so each day. Then they would tend to Grandpa's personal garden.

It was here that Miroslav taught his eager grandson all he could about crops, vegetables, and flowers. He helped Boris hone his skills in plant nursery including how to plant bulbs, graft on hybrid stems, fertilize and analyze soil for pH, nitrogen, phosphorus, and potassium content. He even taught young Boris how to check and diagnose plants and seeds for common fungal or disease infections as well as how to safely use pesticides.

Finally, the ideal working vacation ended, and a thankful but heavy-hearted boy and his tearful mother would leave this loving man to return home with the miserable bastard, Papa. At least they had these two weeks every summer to look forward to.

Chapter 2

Better Times Ahead

Four years passed, and Boris was now a young man of sixteen. Three events unfolded that shook up his world and set him on his life path and career. First, his father suffered a massive coronary and died at work, leaving a not-so-grieved widow and son behind. Then, because of his excellent grades at the local academy, he was eligible to join a local youth group—the Young Frontiersmen, a branch of the National Communist Party. Not only would this broaden his social experiences by meeting many other bright young men and women but it would also include him on long hikes and trips around the country. He'd have to endure evangelized propaganda ministers as they droned on about the glories of universal socialism and the horrors of capitalist societies such as America but felt it was more than worth it for the opportunities it could present. He wasn't very political, but he remembered how much his father's career seemed to improve once he became a card-carrying member. Boris decided to play the game with the self-admonition to remember that the basic human needs of people were at least as important as any ideology.

The final marker-event of his young life occurred when he went with the group to the now fully-operational nuclear reactors at the Kuzladoy Power Station—that same site where his father had worked and later died. He was amazed at the size and construction of the complex as it hummed with millions of watts of electrical power building up on its gigantic motors and yard switches while the massive turbines whined away in their sturdy yokes. When the tour took them up to the spent nuclear fuel pool, Boris became entranced by the pool's eerie blue glow. He asked the bright tour guide about the phenomenon and was informed that it was called Cherenkov radiation and that it was the aftershock light effect from radioactive decay particles traversing through the water faster than light. Boris was astonished by this.

He returned to his school's library the following Monday and checked out all the books he could regarding nuclear science and technology. Among these old texts were listed many famous and not-so-famous scientists who were involved in weapon or reactor research. He had already learned a little about the most famous ones and their contributions to the world. What he had not known, however, was about all the research done in biology, medicine, and agriculture where these strange, invisible rays could be used to induce harmful mutations or favorable traits. By the time he perused through a couple of biology and botany research articles, he knew what he wanted to study while at university. He was already a gifted high school science pupil, especially in his favorite subjects of biology and botany, and from here on in, he would be certain to excel in chemistry and physics as well. He would commit himself to catching up on all the math and physics topics available in order to do his best on his entrance exams.

Chapter 3

Closing in on a Dream

Not long after his seventeenth birthday, Boris took and passed his university entrance exam. He achieved the top score from his academy. Then he went to a university in Sofia where he did his undergrad work in only three years. From there, he went on to Moscow University where he progressed through all of his studies until he was awarded a PhD in biophysics at only twenty-five years of age.

During those five whirlwind years, he was often homesick and pining for his mother's company. Along with Grandpa, she was the closest person he ever knew, his loving friend and trusting confident as well as a parent. Since her husband's death, she had gotten the only kind of job her limited education could net. She was a janitor that serviced government buildings in Sofia.

Despite his loneliness, Boris did manage to make a few friends and acquaintances while at Moscow U. He shared a room with two roommates—also postgrads doing studies in applied radiation science. They became fast friends and pooled their resources together to pay bills, go on double dates, and share stories, ideas, and vodka—when they could afford it. Boris had managed to lose his virginity while away at the university but mostly found dating to be a bothersome endeavor. It wasn't because he was a snob or aloof somehow, but rather, because he remained a shy daydreamer—always preoccupied with his research. Anyway, he had little to offer a companion for discussion outside of his work or fondly reminiscing about his Grandpa's garden. It was during this time that the catastrophic Chernobyl reactor meltdown occurred, and one of them went down to help monitor and measure the environmental radiation releases. The other roommate had just returned from the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA), where he had attended a number of conferences. As he described the size and scope of all the research programs and jobs, Boris knew he would have to investigate this agency