Sawyer Fan – Thank you very much. The answer to that feeling will be revealed in this chapter, though it won't be one that will have our Tom jumping with joy. I hope your feeling pans out too! And I'm waiting for more chapters of your work, which I hope are coming soon.
"Rubicon 2 – Africa" Chapter 4
by Ten Mara
Rating: T
CATEGORY: Story, Drama/Angst, Supernatural aspects, hints of potential Tom/Mina
DISCLAIMER: The literary characters referred to are copyright their respective authors, and "LXG: The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen" is copyright 20th Century Fox, based on the comic books by Alan Moore and Kevin O'Neill. The characters and movie universe are used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended, no profit will be gained. Characters not recognised are mine.
xXx
Doctor and spy were traveling around in an arc, so even though they had been traveling for four days now, they were only about one full day's travel from Nairobi itself, by wagon.
"This next plantation is unfortunately not like the Sydneys' farm. I wish it was . . . ." Hanrahan commented. "They're British too, and have been out here for about eight years. They have quite the superiority complex, and not just over their workers, but lately the plantation has been struggling. They've had a run of bad luck, not the least being that a few months ago two of the sons were killed by wild game while on a hunting expedition. The father has been burying himself in work, and everyone else too. But there are not enough people to do everything that needs doing."
The strange feeling of destiny was still in Tom as he listened to that news. Extremely curious about this place, which he had never been before but somehow knew was very important, the American was impatient to actually see it. Soon the plantation came into view in the morning light. Through the gate was a large house with a screened-in verandah and a series of outbuildings. He could see the fields beyond the house.
The doctor said, "Further down the road is a village. The workers come from there. This area is fairly sparse of game now, so the plantation is about the main source of food for the natives."
They went through the gate, and people were appearing from everywhere to look at the arrivals. Tom very quickly saw what Hanrahan meant. The natives he saw were nowhere near as looked-after and content.
The doctor said, "See over on the verandah? That big bear of a man is Mr Barrington, the owner of the plantation. The dark haired youth nearest to him is one of his surviving sons, the young lady is his daughter, and that young blonde man is his nephew. You probably won't get proper introductions out of Barrington, so I thought I'd better point them out to you now."
Mr Barrington greeted them, but with an impatient, bitter air. As the doctor alighted from the wagon, the owner said, "I'm glad you're here," although the tone more than implied that the doctor should have been here sooner. "We were just about to send for you, or Mrs Sydney. One of my boys and my elder brother and some of the workers have got a touch of fever. The buggers probably gave it to our'uns. Hurry on."
Barrington then turned to the young blonde man. "Jacob, get someone to see to the wagon and horses, and you keep an eye on the west field so the workers don't slack off."
"Yes, sir," his nephew replied.
Mr Barrington quickly issued orders to his son and daughter about more work to be done. The daughter was regarding Tom with poorly disguised interest as they left to obey his commands. The American's first impressions of Barrington's children were that they were full of spoilt haughtiness but downtrodden too by the force of their father's personality and the recent losses.
When Barrington heard Tom's accent, he said, "Yankee, aren't you? You're a long way from home," as he led the doctor and Sawyer into the house. But it was clear he was just making an observation and not wanting to engage in a conversation about it.
The doctor took in his medical bag in with him, but not the chest, asking one of the men to carefully take it into the parlor of the house instead. "How many people are affected?" Hanrahan asked along the way.
"I told you - two of our family," Barrington answered.
"Yes, and how many others?"
"I don't now how many natives," he said with impatience, clearly finding it irrelevant. "I think a few here, a couple more in the village."
He led them to the doorway of a bedroom. Tom could see that the curtains were drawn, but lamps were lit. Barrington looked through the doorway, then muttered, "Where's my bloody wife? Probably in the garden having a tipple . . . . She'll be back in soon. Simon and Alexander are in there, and our medicine chest is in there too if you need it. I've got to get back to work – I'm behind schedule enough as is. Fix my kin up and fill me in about it at supper. I'll square it with you then. Get them back on their feet as soon as possible. I need them." And off he went.
The American stared at his rapidly retreating back, privately trying to work out if the man was naturally as abrupt and unfeeling as he appeared, or whether recent events had caused this behaviour. Barrington had seemed very reluctant to enter the sickroom.
xXx
The two men were feverish but still lucid, and answered Hanrahan's questions, including how long they had been ill. Mrs Barrington had not shown up by the time the doctor had finished his examinations. He then quickly looked through the Barrington's medicine chest, before excusing himself. He indicated for Tom join him, and they moved off across the room.
Sawyer watched him with growing concern. There was something in the way that Hanrahan had looked through the medicine chest, and the anxious look on his face . . . .
"I know this illness," the doctor told him with quiet gravity and urgency. "We need to go to my medicine chest. I don't have what I need in this bag and they don't have it either."
Tom instantly knew for sure that this was a lot more serious than Mr Barrington or anyone had realised.
"This is 'Black Darrow' fever," Ben explained softly as they hurried down the empty hallway. "It is caused by tiny parasites and gives the victim a dangerously high temperature. It is contagious and usually fatal if left untreated."
Fatal? Contagious?
"Are you sure it's that fever?"
"Yes. One distinct symptom is a purple rash on the skin, in the armpits. They've both got it."
"But you've got a cure?"
"Yes, but I only have so much of the medication with me. This is a rare illness that doesn't flare up for years at a time. Drinking a full cup of the medicine usually cures the sickness within a few hours – that's enough to kill off all the parasites - while a tablespoon of the mixture kills off some of the parasites, which buys the victim more time. They'll still be pretty sick and uncomfortable though."
"In what ways is it contagious?" Tom asked, not really sure if he wanted the answer.
"There could be a number of ways. Close contact seems to be one. Not necessarily just touch either. Probably via breath. It seems to be that by the time the sickness starts to show its symptoms, the victims are already past the contagious stage, so there is no way of knowing who is spreading it around inadvertently. We've most likely already been exposed to it just in meeting Barrington and those few others."
The agent took a deep breath, trying not to focus on the grim likelihood that he was in the middle of such danger but instead on what could be done.
By this stage they had reached the parlor, and Hanrahan swiftly but carefully searched through the medicine chest. He lifted a stoppered bottle out of a corner of the chest. It was made of dark glass, so Tom could not see the contents. He watched as the doctor solemnly weighed the bottle in his hand. "About one and a half cupfuls . . . ." Hanrahan muttered. "I've got more back in Nairobi."
But for now we've only enough to cure one person outright, Tom thought.
Hanrahan transferred the bottle to his medicine bag. "Come on, I need to go see the affected workers and find out how bad they are."
Tom felt nervous but reminded himself that even one and a half cups was plenty of tablespoonfuls of medicine. "How much time does a spoonful of the medicine give?" Hopefully long enough so we can get more.
"It is enough to keep the fever from going dangerously high for about four days. If after that they have not had the full dose, then they are in grave danger again because the parasites in their system have then had time to build their numbers back up to a dangerous level and become stronger. So another spoonful of the medicine won't have the same 'buying time' effect."
As they went out onto the verandah and then headed in the direction of the worker buildings, Tom was glad that not many people were around. Everyone was busy at their work. Hanrahan seemed glad too. They both kept their pace unhurried at the doctor's suggestion, so not to send off alarm bells and panic.
The doctor told Tom quietly as they walked, "I want to give everyone who is afflicted the tablespoonful, while sending riders out for more medication. Hopefully we've come across this in time to hold these people on a tablespoonful each until more comes, instead of having them too sick to respond to anything but a full cup. But I need to find out how long the workers have been ill for to be sure and to check about the village."
The American nodded and took a deep breath. Suddenly this wide, endless land was feeling very closed in and imprisoning in one way, and far too wide and endless in another. "The nearest telegraph station is in Nairobi, isn't it?"
"Yes. And hopefully the telegraph isn't down . . . . So one or two riders need to get there to have the message sent out, and to get more medicine from Nairobi itself. Also, if they can get a message to your League, the League can bring more, not to mention the raw materials needed, because they are in an area where the vital ingredient, a plant, comes from. Or if someone else can get and bring those leaves. We need lots of them."
"Mina and Henry are chemists too. They can distill it and make more of the cure!" Not to mention Henry's doctoring skills would be a great help.
"Perfect. I just hope they are easy to find. They might still be at Bennett's place, or exploring or on their way to the orphanage. Hopefully they are still at Bennett's. That will give enough time for them to get here, if everyone can hold on."
"But how do we know that the riders we send won't be carrying the illness with them?"
"We'll try to use people more likely to have been isolated. And they'll just have to get to the outskirts of Nairobi and the Sydneys' farm and call out their messages and needs. Then Nairobi can use the telegraph, and also send riders to find Bennett and other help, and send someone back to here. That's the best that can be done. And out here those are the only possible places I can think of that can give us the help we need. The rest are too far."
"I could be a rider, unless you think I've already been exposed too much."
"You don't know this area like everyone else does. You could go with one of the others, but I need you here. You and your guns, because I have a feeling that Barrington is going to be a problem."
"Sure."
And so their battle began.
xXx
Hanrahan moved fast. While Barrington and Co were off at one end of the plantation, he chose riders, filled them in on the situation, and got them ready, giving them each a list of requirements and necessary ingredients.
The doctor and Sawyer were able to talk to a man who had just come back from the village and find out the details from him about the sick people. Fortunately there were not many sick so far. The doctor gave those affected at the plantation, including Barrington's son and brother, a tablespoon of the medicine.
Then he and Tom headed to the village.
On the way Sawyer made a comment about how a whole cup seemed like a large dose to have to take.
"It would seem so, but with a parasite-based illness, the aim is to wipe out the parasites. Fortunately the parasites that cause this illness are very sensitive to the medicine, and it is not very toxic to the body when taken. So the cupful might make the patient feel nauseous and headachy, but that's a small price to pay. And they'd already be going through worse than that anyway."
Parasites . . . . Tom was aware of that term from his wide reading, but even he found it hard to believe that tiny things called germs, invisible to the naked eye, could be making people sick. But something has to be causing this, and that's what the doctor says. Hard to prove, either way!
Hanrahan kept on about them, rambling a bit due to nerves. "Generally parasites are carried by flies, ticks, mosquitoes, that sort of thing, rather than person to person. But with the rate this sickness spreads, it seems to be more than that. These parasites may be so small that they can actually be transmitted via the respiratory system. Incredible," he mused.
At the village, they found that like with those stricken at the plantation, fortunately no one was as yet sick enough or long enough to need the full dose of medicine, just as the worker had said. Hanrahan gave the affected people the temporary medication. He explained that he would either be back to give more doses later in the day to anyone else who got sick, or would send word when he had a spot fixed up on the plantation as a temporary hospital for the sick to be brought to.
He encouraged the unaffected people to tie cloth around their mouths and noses in an attempt to prevent catching the fever. Though he privately told Tom that doing so was probably ineffective anyway. "At least they'll have the illusion that they are doing something preventative. That can often mean a lot."
xXx
On the way back from the village, the American and Hanrahan discussed Mr Barrington.
"But if there is only about one and a half cupfuls – even less now that you've started dosing people – then Barrington can't expect you to cure both of his sick kin," Tom said. "Especially since that would be it for the medicine until the riders get more. There wouldn't be enough left for tablespoonfuls if anyone else in his family got sick."
"He'd probably want me to use a cupful on his son at least, thereby substantially reducing the amount left to hold everyone else on. And he'd want the rest kept for his family, not for the natives. He most likely does not know how much medicine is needed for this anyway, so hopefully I can bluff him until more arrives, because although your reasoning is sound, his isn't at the moment."
Hanrahan sighed and continued on, "He'll just focus on his family, especially the fact that his son is sick, to the exclusion of all else. Otherwise he probably would be more reasonable about the sick natives, even if to make sure they got dosed after holding enough tablespoonfuls in reserve for every member of his family. But now, if he knew the truth, he could try to take the medicine by force."
Tom considered that. "I've got my guns, but I think there's the potential it could become a pretty messy situation. I could try hobbling the contents of any gun cupboards while Barrington and the others are outside and distracted, but I'm sure they're still carrying something on their persons at this very moment." And one or two bullets could be all it could take.
The doctor sighed. "I know. There's got to be some way . . . ."
"We could lie," Tom suggested. "Now, before anyone knows just how much medicine you've got on you, we hide half of it or whatever somewhere safe, and when Mr Barrington does find out about the sickness he'll think there's only enough for tablespoonfuls. We can keep rationing it out as needed as more people come in."
"I'm not a very good liar, but it's a good plan. Let's give it a shot." Hanrahan sighed again. "I should have had more of the medicine in the chest, but over here we usually don't bother – we need room for more immediate necessities, and since a spoonful is enough to hold people on, there's usually plenty of time to make more."
The spy tried to give some reassurance, then a thought occurred to him. "Can a tablespoonful be given to prevent the illness from even starting in someone?"
Hanrahan shook his head. "It can only be given when the symptoms of the illness become apparent, otherwise it is not effective. Taking it as a precaution before then is a waste."
"What about dilutions of the medicine? Would that be effective at holding the temperature down for a bit and stretch the supply out a little?"
"It has to be a full strength tablespoonful."
Great . . . .
xXx
When they returned from the village, a very angry Mr Barrington was waiting for them in the driveway outside the house with his wife, daughter and Jacob, and a few men. There were no workers in the immediate vicinity. They were hard at work in the fields and at various tasks.
It turned out that Barrington had mentioned the purple rash at one point during the morning, and one of his men had recognised that those were symptomatic of Black Darrow fever, having come across it the previous year in another region. The man knew of the cure, so when Barrington went and questioned his relatives, he had found that neither of them had received a cupful.
"Give my son and brother the full doses NOW," Barrington demanded.
Tom stood near Hanrahan, ready to step in if necessary. The doctor was facing Barrington – or as near as his small frame could get compared to the owner's – with grim determination.
"There is not enough for two full doses; there was not even before I started giving out the spoonfuls," the doctor said. Tom could tell that Hanrahan was trying to bluff as best he could. Hopefully it would be enough to fool the Barringtons.
"You're not going to save my Alexander?" Mrs Barrington asked Hanrahan, in tears. The daughter was now not looking at Sawyer with any sort of infatuation at all.
"I am going to save him. I'm going to save everyone," Ben stressed.
"How do I know you aren't lying about how much medicine you're got? And you've gone and given some to the natives?" Barrington pulled in his anger with visible effort. He eyed the doctor closely. "You are lying. Give my son a full cup – I am not losing another child."
"At this stage your son is not at the level that requires the full dose or nothing. He and your brother are healthy men. The spoonful will hold them for four days, long enough for help to come. I've sent riders off."
"From my workers, without getting my permission!"
"I have decided the best course of action. This was, and still is, an emergency, and they had to ride out immediately," the doctor couldn't help firing back, pulling rank. "We just have to be calm and wait here, and all will turn out well. If we -"
"We can't afford to waste the medicine!"
"You're right – we can't afford to waste it just by using it up on two people. I assure you I am not lying. There is not enough to heal two. But there is enough for those who are ailing and those who will get sick to have a tablespoonful each. Will you not think of them all?"
"My family comes first."
Frustration was clear on Hanrahan's face. "You're a churchgoing man, Mr Barrington," the doctor said, "The words 'Do unto others as you would have them do unto you' should mean something to you? Your workers are human beings too, and it is about time you treated them with compassion."
The Barringtons were clearly appalled at the accusation, but Mrs Barrington did not say anything again, instead letting her husband do the answering. "They work for us," the plantation owner snapped back. "They were put here to work for us. We feed them and try to teach them right from wrong. How dare you use the Lord's words against us! I always knew you had weird ideas about the natives, but that has no place here, especially not now. This is about my family."
The situation was getting to the doctor and he fired back an inflammatory reply, which had the plantation owner nearly at his throat.
Tom could no longer keep quiet or still. The agent knew these people would unfortunately not listen to or believe any argument he made about the rights of the natives. Sadly, to these people's point of view, they were doing nothing wrong. But he could try one angle that might give them pause and also hopefully defuse the looming fight.
He interrupted the two men. "What about the plantation? Your livelihood? You can't afford to lose your workers or to get more. Helping them now makes sense."
"Not at the cost of my own flesh and blood. And this place is nearly done for anyway. Workers are easier to replace than family." Barrington turned to the doctor. "Give me the medicine. We will hold it and distribute it as needed."
Yeah, as your family need it.
Barrington's losses and world view were blinding him to the logic of giving everyone a chance at survival. Tom could well imagine the strain that having a sick son would be placing on the man now. Hanrahan's fears were coming true.
Mrs Barrington was crying harder now, nearly being held up by her daughter.
"Where is the rest of the medicine?" Jacob demanded, when Tom and the doctor remained silent.
"Being put to good use," Doctor Ben insisted.
Barrington let out an ugly laugh. "So, Doctor, you and your 'bodyguard' here think we're going to let you just pour the medicine into the dirt? Not a chance. You're only two men, and we have guns too. More than you do." Indeed, his small group of white men looked chomping at the bit for their leader to give them the word to use those weapons.
Tom wasn't sure if his next move would work, but since words were not working, it was worth a try. "So we take guns out of the picture and even the odds. I'll fight you. Winner gets control of the medicine."
Everyone gave the American an amazed look, including Hanrahan. Jacob laughed, but there was also actually a little bit of admiration in his eyes.
"You have an amusing notion of 'even', boy, I'll give you that," Barrington said, making no attempt to disguise his amusement.
You're an over-six foot bully, but you don't know that I've had training by the Secret Service and by martial arts experts. I think that and your overconfidence evens things out more than you think.
Though there was the problem that even if Sawyer did win, Mr Barrington probably would not relinquish his desire to seize the medicine. Still, it was worth a shot, or rather worth trying to avoid someone getting shot.
"All right. Put down those guns and we'll settle this. Wrestling, boxing, 'to the death'?" Mr Barrington asked mockingly.
"Hand to hand, with no tricks like dirt in the eyes. The opponent has to be downed."
"Fine. Best of three falls?"
Tom nodded. "And you promise that the winner gets control of the medicine?"
"Yes." It was clearly not something that Barrington thought would be a problem, however the agent hoped somewhere in the man there was a sense of honour which would bind him to keep the promise.
Though in this sort of situation, even the most honourable of men could lie to ensure their children were cured . . . .
A few of the men drew a rough circle in the dirt. Tom handed his shoulder holster to the worried Doctor, then gave him a reassuring look and strode into the makeshift arena.
Barrington did not waste time. He raced forward like the American was responsible for every bad thing that had ever happened to him. Tom whisked out of the way just enough, and helped him along in his rush. Right along – and flipped, with a few well placed and very quick judo chops.
Within seconds the huge man was lying flat on his back on the ground, his eyes almost as big as his mouth, which was gasping for air and with astonishment. With a roar, he rolled over, got up, and charged again.
And again hit the road, aided by Tom and his own rushing body weight.
Barrington was helped up by Jacob. Humiliated and furious, he did not try anything more, apart from commenting, "That wins you nothing."
Except an enemy. Don't worry, this fever will probably take care of me for you, Sawyer thought as the plantation owner stalked unsteadily away.
xXx
Mr Barrington's men had tried searching for the extra medicine, but to no avail. Fortunately Tom and Hanrahan had hidden it well amongst their possessions on the way back from the village. Tom was worried that Barrington's men were going to threaten to shoot someone to get them to tell. So he lied to them, being much better at it than the doctor, and hoped they fell for it.
"There's not enough medicine left for a cupful by now. So even if you found it, you couldn't cure anyone with it. But more will be coming." The latter was the truth anyway, and the former was coming true with each dose given.
The villagers and workers were on the whole calm about the situation, because they knew and trusted the doctor. They believed he would do whatever was right for them and had faith that he was not abandoning them.
Soon after the American lied to Barrington's men about how much medicine was left, the spy and the doctor were starting to get the largest outbuilding ready as a makeshift hospital, already having some new patients. Then noises outside made them hurry to see what was going on.
Barrington's sick son and brother were being loaded onto mattresses in the back of a wagon. Other members of the family and the other white helpers were getting into other wagons with supplies and luggage, or onto horses.
"Stop!" the doctor yelled, hurrying forwards. "We can't take any of the sick to Nairobi or anyplace else. I told you that – we've got to stay at this epicenter and wait for the medicine. We can't risk any more spread of this fever."
"We're not waiting. We're getting," Barrington said. "Getting out and getting medicine ourselves, since you've used so much of it up."
"You've already been exposed. Stay here, please."
"Jacob is staying here, but just to keep an eye on the place. He's not coming anywhere near you." Barrington gestured towards the outbuildings, but the doctor and the spy could not see the man's nephew. He was probably somewhere supervising the workers. "And just wait until all this is over and we come back, if I don't decide to get rid of this place entirely. If you're still alive, you're going to wish you weren't."
Hanrahan ignored the threat. "The victims aren't contagious anymore, but you probably are!"
"You don't know that for sure."
Tom drew his pistols and pointed them at Mr Barrington. "Step down. You're not leaving."
"You want a duel now, Yankee?" he replied mockingly. "Well, you can shoot me in the back like a true gentleman. It'll be a damn sight quicker and cleaner death than what's waiting if we stay here."
The doctor pointed out, "But if any of you get sick before you reach Nairobi or a place that might have the medicine, you won't even have a spoonful of the cure to take to hold their temperature at a constant."
"And guess whose fault that is?" Having got in his dig, Barrington slapped the reins and set the wagon in motion.
Tom tracked him with the barrels, but did not fire. Then he lowered the pistols, watching the wagons and horses file through the open gates. He hadn't been able to prevent them leaving, and his own words and actions may well have instigated it in the first place.
But when he turned shamefacedly to the doctor, Hanrahan yelled out to Barrington to wait. Then once he saw that the plantation owner was doing so, Ben hurried off into the building where they were starting the hospital. He came out in a minute, and hurried over to the fence, where Barrington was still sitting in the wagon. Tom followed, and found that Hanrahan was giving him a small container with a little of the medicine in it, in case anyone got sick on the way.
Barrington didn't even thank him, just make sure it was safely stowed, then he went on.
The spy and the doctor watched.
"I'm sorry," Tom said.
"It's all right. Probably better off without them," Hanrahan said philosophically. "It was going to be impossible to keep everyone here anyway. Some were bound to slip the net or already have. And now that we don't have that family breathing down our necks, we can commandeer the plantation house. It will be a much better place to set up the beds, and we'll have more access to the water and food and so on."
"I can't believe Jacob is staying. Or that he'll let us do that."
"In regard to the former, he's probably honoured that Barrington is entrusting him with the task, in a twisted kind of a way. Barrington took him in when he was orphaned, so he's got a great loyalty to him."
"But don't you think Jacob will be a problem with us taking over the house?" Tom asked.
"He lives in one of the other buildings anyway. He'll probably kick up a fuss, but at least now we're dealing with just him and a few others. He's got to try to keep the plantation running with what workers he still has anyway, so that might keep him distracted and out of our way."
"I'll guard the medicine," Tom vowed.
"If I'm right, within a day there won't be much left to guard, even though it is by the tablespoon. People are going to start dropping like flies."
Both men looked at each other. They were well aware of the gamble they were taking, and just hoped it would pay off. If so, pretty much everyone would be saved. And if not, we've condemned them all to death.
Ben gave an apologetic look. "I'm sorry you got caught up in all this, Thomas."
"Hey, you didn't drag me out here. I came willingly."
The doctor gave a wry chuckle. "Let's get back to work."
xXx
They did manage to get around Jacob - as soon as he realized that they had carried sick people into the house he wouldn't go near it, even though he was not happy at them taking over. So he kept an eye on proceedings from his outbuilding or the fields, with a few of his workers and remaining men.
"The irony is that he probably won't catch the fever from these people," Hanrahan said. "But he probably doesn't believe that and is being very cautious, and that is fine by me."
Word was spread that those on the plantation and at the village who became sick were to be brought to the house.
Soon, as predicted, there was quite the influx of victims. Tom and the doctor and some willing helpers were busy taking care of the sick and rationing out the precious medication.
Tom felt guilty that he couldn't stop Barrington and his family from leaving or get them to help out. But I know we just have to keep everything going until more medicine and the League arrive. Focus and optimism.
So in one of the rooms of the house he tried to set up as much equipment as possible that the doctor said would be needed for the medicine to be produced with. And he also arranged for little bonfires and braziers to be set up at appropriate places along the side of the plantation that was against the road, to guide any riders if they arrived at night.
More sick people were coming in, all natives. Others from the village and the so-far uninfected people still on the plantation were leaving supplies near the main gate to help out, but not coming any closer.
Parents whose children were stricken stayed by their bedsides taking care of them, and soon needed to be put to bed themselves.
At one point Sawyer was outside, and saw Jacob watching proceedings from the verandah of his building.
"And what the hell are you doing skulking over there, Jacob?" Tom snapped.
"Staying out of hell, thank you very much," came the firm reply, delivered in a manner very much like Dorian Grey.
xXx
Tom and the doctor were hurrying around the room that used to be the parlor, tending to the people now abed in it, when Tom saw Ben suddenly sway and grab hold of a piece of furniture to steady himself. The Englishman straightened carefully, looking grim, and saw that Sawyer had witnessed the incident.
The American moved quickly around from one of the beds to be at the doctor's side, and looked at him closely.
"You've got it, haven't you?" Tom asked Hanrahan.
"Yes. Damn it. I think I've come down with it so fast because of my recent illness. Body probably wasn't up to snuff." He seemed to be angry with himself.
"Come on, let's find you a bed. And no arguments."
Hanrahan sighed and reluctantly nodded. "How are you holding up?"
"So far, so good."
"A healthy system would probably be able to fight the parasites for longer before succumbing. Some people are bound to be naturally immune to it too. Or have had it before, though it hasn't been around these parts for a long time."
"So let's hope that our helpers fall into those categories."
Tom helped Hanrahan to bed and gave him a tablespoonful of the medicine. "You'll take care of things, won't you?" the doctor asked anxiously.
"You know I will."
The doctor nodded, but kept saying to him not to forget this or that. Tom felt partly irritated by the condescension, but also was insightful enough to see that it was the doctor's way of trying not to give in to the fever. He was still the doctor and still felt responsible, that he should be contributing. And it wasn't like he was able to leave things in the hands of someone who was a doctor. But the agent had been observing and helping Hanrahan even before they had arrived here, and his excellent memory would be of great use in this situation.
There was soon some panic though when people saw or realised that Hanrahan had come down with the fever too. Even the smart doctor couldn't protect himself against the illness. And the village witch doctor had died a few months previous, without a replacement, so there was no help from that quarter either.
Now the whole burden was on Tom's shoulders, and on a dwindling team of able-bodied helpers.
The spy was full of insecurity at the situation, but he kept his feelings off his face and soldiered on.
END PART FOUR