He had Jim set his suitcase on the bed and open it for him, and then he pulled out some smelling salts.
"Zis vill vake him up rahzer kvickly," he noted, passing them under Frenkie's nose a few times.
Maygent, Janita, and Maria entered the room soon afterwards, hearing all the commotion and Dr. Scott's German accent that stuck out like a sore thumb in the British home.
Frenkie did indeed awaken without hesitation, to find himself in bed, surrounded by Jim, Jiff Daff, Maygent, Janita, Maria, and his trusted physician, Dr. Scott.
"Are you avake, Fvenkie?" the doctor asked him, watching him flutter his eyelids.
"Yes, I believe so, but now I'm dizzy as hell. Has something happened? Why is everyone here?"
"Jiff Daff advist me to come, to give you a test. He sinks you may be infectet vis some sort of disease."
"Oh, did he?" He turned and scowled at the frizzy-haired man.
"Fvenkie, you know you neet to be testet again. You've been so exhaustet lately, unt numb in your extremities, unt I ken honestly say it looks like you've dropt tventy pounts since I last saw you a munt ago."
"I agree, Frenkie. You do need tested," Maria added. "You—and your lovers—deserve to know what's really going on."
"But what if it's positive?" he yelped. "My whole life would have to change…. I'd rather not know, personally."
"Okay, Fvenkie. Even if you do not vant to know, I do sink your lovers shoult know. Coult everyone clear ze room? Maybe Fvenkie vants some privacy."
Everyone began to leave the room, with only Jim dawdling behind. "Would you like me to stay, Frenkie? I'll stay here with you, if you'd like."
Frenkie sighed. "If you really want to stay you can. However, you may be treating me very differently once the results come back."
"It doesn't matter what this test says, Frenkie. I'm going to stick by you," Jim replied earnestly.
He took a place at Frenkie's side, sitting next to him in bed and holding his hand. Dr. Scott pulled out the blood tests and set up various coloured flasks on the nightstand.
"When will you know the results of this test, Dr. Scott?" Jim asked the man.
"Vell, until now, ze tests took several weeks to get ze results back. However, I unt my colleagues in Transylvania hev since inventet a testink messod zet gives results vissin an hour. Unt it iz extremely accurate."
"Oh, don't say that, Dr. Scott," Frenkie moaned.
"So you sink you hev it, Fvenkie?" Dr. Scott responded, seeing Frenkie's frightened stare. "Don't fret qvite yet; ve vill know for sure in an hour."
"I'm not absolutely sure, but let's just get these bloody tests over with, alright?"
Dr. Scott proceeded to extract some of Frenkie's blood, and then he placed several drops from the sample in each of the four tubes, and shook them rapidly.
"Now, zis vill tek about an hour to settle out," Dr. Scott explained to the pair, as he repositioned the tubes. "Shall ve go downstairs for ze time beink?"
"Okay, we'll meet you down there, Dr. Scott." Frenkie spoke up. "Don't worry, though; we'll be down in a few seconds. I need to change my clothes."
The doctor departed and the two men were left alone, to watch the droplets of blood float on the surface of the fluid in the various tubes.
"What disease is he referring to, Frenkie? Please tell me."
"I don't think you want to know, dear Jim. It's a rather fearful disease, and right now I'm scared to f&&ing death."
"I won't leave you, whatever the test results may be," Jim replied earnestly.
"Alright, I hope you're not bluffing, because I've really taken quite a fancy to you," Frenkie said, attempting to smile. Jim shook his head.
"It's the BAND virus, Jim. That fairly new disease. It's already killed some of my friends and ex-lovers. I don't want to talk about it anymore."
He draped a leg over the edge of the bed, remaining covered by the comforter. Jim rose to his feet and closed the bedroom door, allowing for Frenkie to get out of the bed without being seen. However, when Frenkie stood at bedside in his nudity, Jim noticed just how serious his disease, whatever it may be, was. Frenkie was covered in little purplish dots, and there were bruises along the entire length of his back, legs, and arms, with a few near his groin as well. He had a strange bumpy rash at the base of his spine, and his hips seemed to jut out of his skin.
How had he not noticed the terrible shape that Frenkie was in? Of course, that first night it had been very dark and he had not seen the various marks on the man's skin. The second time was in very dim light as well, until now, whereas the sunlight through the curtains illuminated those hideous purplish growths and specks all over his person.
After Frenkie put on some clothing, the pair headed downstairs, although Frenkie was still a bit lightheaded and had to lean on Jim for support. They sat solemnly at the large oaken dinner table, staring at the wood with dead stares, not sure what to say to each other. Jim, in his occasional glances about his new environment, noted that the dining room was truly a gorgeous one, with an enormous golden chandelier above the reflective surface of the smooth oak and the twelve matching chairs; however, now the atmosphere of the house and its amazing beauty only held dread and anxiousness. Maria came into the dining room, wearing an apron.
"Would you like me to make some dinner?" she asked the solemn pair.
"I'm not feeling very hungry at the moment, but thank you for offering, Maria," Frenkie responded glumly.
"You know what? You look terrible right now. I'm going to make you something anyway. You have to keep your strength up, Frenkie…."
"Do you know something I don't know?" he snapped.
"No, I just think you need to keep eating—"
"You can't tell me what to do! I can do what I damn well please! Everyone is always trying to run my f&&#ing life, and I'm getting bloody tired of it!"
He slammed his fist down on the table, making a wine glass tip over and break at the stem.
"Fine, have it your way," Maria snarled. She ripped off her apron and stormed out of the room.
Jim was left at the table with Frenkie, as the other members of the large house group entered the room: Jiff Daff, Maygent, Dr. Scott, a drunken Bocky, and Janita. They all hesitated to enter the room, but when greeted with a halfhearted smile and friendly gesture by Frenkie, they proceeded to take their seats.
Jiff Daff and Maygent were the main two to speak, but they kept their conversation at a low volume as Janita and Dr. Scott looked on. Bocky was so intoxicated at this point; he laid his head on the table and passed out.
All of a sudden, there was a terrible uproar amidst the guests as a stream of blood made its way to the center of the table, meandering towards Bocky's face—and mouth—as well. Janita jumped to her feet, while Maygent and Jiff Daff stared fearfully. Jim felt the urge to protect Frenkie, but it seemed that Frenkie himself had produced the substance.
"Where the bloody hell is that coming from?" Jiff Daff commented, looking for the source. Dr. Scott shook his head.
"Oh my God, it's your blood, Frenkie!" Maygent exclaimed. "It must have been from when you slammed your fist down earlier!"
"How do you know I slammed my fist down, Maygent? Were you spying on me?"
"I heard it, and I came over, thinking someone had fallen. I see something did indeed fall," he said, signaling to the broken glass still on the tabletop.
The group watched the blood trickle its way to the unconscious Bocky's mouth.
"Oh my God," Maria said to herself, as she stood in the doorway. "What if he acquires whatever Frenkie has?"
"Vake him up!" Dr. Scott yelled, from his momentarily sessile position on the other side of the table. "Ve ken't let him be in contect viss Fvenkie's blut!"
Jim shook the unconscious man, watching in horror as the blood made contact with Bocky's lip.
"Oh, God, now what?" he asked Dr. Scott.
"Ve still ken vipe it off hiz lip. Ze epidermis iz practically impossible for most diseases to croz."
Just after the doctor finished talking, Bocky jolted his head up, instinctively licking the blood off of his lip. Dr. Scott's eyes widened, as he began to go into a frenzy.
"Ve neet to get him to a hospital right avay! He neets to hev his stomach pumpt!" He turned to Bocky, who was at the moment, confused as hell. "You hev just ingestet Fvenkie's blut! Ve can't tek any risks if Fvenkie inteet carries a disease!"
"Wow, I'm happy you've all given me a clean bill of health," Frenkie quipped sardonically, idly flicking the shards of glass in Maygent's direction.
Jiff Daff jumped up in his seat, as did Bocky, and the two of them went to the hospital, only a few miles away.
The group sat stiffly in their chairs, unsure of what to say to Frenkie, who was obviously in distress, believing that everyone thought he had the disease. Of course, who could blame him? Each of the people around the table had scooted their chairs outwards from the tabletop, where Frenkie's blood began to dry.
Come on, REVIEW, people! Thank you, Mistress of Mordor, for reviewing my last installment. I've had all these chapters ready to go for a long time, but since nobody bothered saying anything about chapter 6, I figured I'd wait. Just in reviews don't mention any parallels. You've all been great about that. Thank you! Review though. I hope you review again as well, horselover. I think you happened to 'get' my story, and perhaps Mistress of Mordor as well. Maybe DarkKrystal, because no one asked. Again, review! The more reviews I get, the sooner I update! (Heck, it could be tomorrow or the next day!) --Crystal
PS: If you have any questions about what Dr. Scott is saying, DON'T be afraid to ask me, either. You have access to my email address on my author site. Thanks.