Roy Hinkley leaned back against his chair and closed his eyes.
It had been a long day, starting at one o'clock that morning when Gilligan spotted a ship and tried to send up one of the bamboo flares, only to have it explode prematurely and wake the rest of the castaways from a sound sleep. Worse yet, none of them had been able to doze back off after the incident.
Then, a volcano on the other side of the island began to spew lava. Luckily it was only a false alarm, and there was no serious eruption, but it wracked all their nerves enough to last a century.
And as if that wasn't enough, a tidal wave crept up on them in the during the afternoon, damaging the huts of the Skipper and Gilligan and the Howells (Mrs. Howell had practically been in tears over her favorite mink, which the water had basically ruined), not to mention washing away the supply hut completely, leaving only a small amount of its contents scattered across the beach before a smaller wave claimed those as well.
After several hours of working—even the Howells pitching in—the entire group was so utterly miserable that they all agreed to take the rest of the day off and congregate at six so everyone could help with dinner. The Professor had used some of his free time to go through the jungle looking for plant samples but soon found himself too tired to continue and retired to his hut—where he was right now. Sleep hadn't come to him, but an hour and a half of rest had done him a world of good.
He had no idea where the others were, but a glance at his watch revealed that it was quarter to six, so they would be coming around soon. He might as well go out now—maybe take a book and read in the sunshine for a few minutes. Plucking Bleak House from the shelf, he opened the hut door.
That was when he saw Gilligan hightailing toward camp from the direction of the lagoon, wearing nothing but his swimming trunks, and carrying…was that Mary Ann?
Seeing the Professor in the doorway he fairly sprinted to the hut, and Roy couldn't help but think the first mate would have been a fabulous Olympian.
"Professor!" he babbled, still almost prancing in place. "I've been looking all over for you! There's something wrong with Mary Ann!" There was urgency in his voice that the scientist immediately detected. That was one thing about the red clad sailor—he always put himself right out there.
"Come in Gilligan. Put her on my pallet and tell me what happened." The first mate dashed in and gently placed the unconscious brunette where he'd been told to.
"Sit down." The Professor gestured to the chair he had just been sitting in. Gilligan gratefully complied.
"How long has she been out?" the teacher asked.
"As long as I have."
"Gilligan, I… Oh." Roy mentally slapped himself. Gilligan thought he meant that kind of out. "I mean, how long has she been unconscious?"
"I don't know. We were swimming in the lagoon. She slipped under the water and when she didn't come back up, I dove down to get her. She looked really awful when I got her back to the surface. She hasn't opened her eyes since."
"Hmm…She's been breathing alright?"
"Once I got her out of the water and she coughed some, yeah, she was breathing okay."
"Did she tell you that she was in any kind of pain at any point?"
"No…but she did say she wasn't hungry when I got out the picnic I packed for us."
"How long after breakfast was that?"
"Oh, I don't know, a few hours. When did we have breakfast?"
"Eight," the Professor replied, "And we were all in such a flurry over the tidal wave we didn't have lunch. We didn't stop working until three…how long did you swim before you got out the picnic?"
"I swam sixty-seven laps around the lagoon."
"How long does it take you to swim a lap?"
Gilligan beamed. "I had the Skipper time me last week. I can do a lap in fifty-seven seconds!"
Yes, he should be in the Olympics…
"So roughly an hour passed, which means she hadn't eaten for…eight hours? That is rather strange, I must say…That being said, however, it's entirely possible she merely had an upset stomach…"
The figure on the pallet stirred.
"Mary Ann!" Gilligan exclaimed, rushing to her side.
"Gill...ll…" she slurred.
"Don't try to talk Mary Ann." The Professor ordered. He stole a glance at his watch. Five to six.
"Gilligan, why don't you go out and start preparing dinner? I need to examine Mary Ann and it could take a while. The others should be along soon."
The first mate looked at Mary Ann protectively, almost as an older brother looks at his baby sister, and for a moment resisted before shrugging and mumbling an "okay", then getting up to leave.
Almost as soon as he was gone she let out a painful whimper, not unlike that an injured puppy might emit.
"Where does it hurt?" Roy asked quietly, stroking her forehead. She was a bit warm…could delirium be at work?
Her eyes flickered open, only to be scrunched closed again in a horrifying grimace. Once her facial muscles relaxed again, she replied, "My…my stomach, mostly. It's been killing me all afternoon. It hurts to be touched, too."
His eyes flitted toward a book on his shelf. The Physician's Comprehensive Guide to Diseases and Disorders. A gift to him from his uncle before entering…college.
Quick as a cat he pulled the volume down. The book opened up to the very page he needed.
An extremely well-worn page.
His finger shook as it followed the words in the box marked "Symptoms."
Abdominal pain and tenderness…loss of appetite…fever…
He nearly dropped the book.
Oh no…God, please let me be wrong!