Noah had never been happier to hear a telephone ring-tone in his life. It took him five tries before the old fashioned payphone finally clicked over and dialled the international number.

A childish voice answered, "Hewo, Sn…de… res-ti-dence, Eth… -eaking?"

The line was bad… really bad, "Hello? Hello, Ethan? It's Noah."

For half a minute all Noah could hear was static and an occasional electronic beep, reminding him that his credit was fast running out. Quickly he deposited a few more coins, terrified he'd lose the connection.

"Hello?" he tried again, louder this time, his eyes connecting with Luke's where he sat fragile and uncomfortable at one of the cafe's tables.

They were trying to blend in, pretend they were just travellers passing through town, but Luke looked like death. Sweat droplets seeped from every pore, dark circles ringed his eyes and his breath rasped with each inhalation.

The temporary pain relief he'd received from the witch doctor was wearing off. Luke tried to hide it but Noah had noticed how Luke's forehead tensed and scrunched. He wasn't sure how much longer Luke could continue without proper medical attention.

All Noah could think about was getting holding of antibiotics and painkillers.

They'd tried to find a doctor at every town and village they'd passed through on their journey, until a frail old woman at the last village mentioned a crazy white doctor that lived in the town of Tororo.

Lutalo was nervous. Tororo would mean travelling a couple of kilometres east when they really needed to start journeying south. His plan, as he explained to Noah, was to head for the shores of Lake Victoria and hire somebody to take them by boat across the lake and into Kenya.

Without a passport for Luke there would be no way to cross the border controls; and besides, they would be recognised and detained in seconds if they dared try.

It took Noah a couple of attempts to convince Lutalo that the diversion would be worth it.

But in the end it was a combination of Luke's condition and the desperate need for petrol that found them where they were; in a run-down cafe in the centre of Tororo.

After sending Magomu to refuel the car at the only garage in town and asking Kigongo to find the doctor, Noah had wasted no time in exchanging a few notes for coins with the cafe owner and trying the café's payphone.

"We're NOT talking to YOU!" the tantrum after the brief moment of silence on the line surprised Noah out of his thoughts. He was just about to reply when the line went dead with a loud click from the other side.

"HELLO?"

Noah stood with the handset to his ear and his mouth gaping open.

"No…" he cried, turning and clicking the switch a few times to try and find another dial-tone. "Shit!"

Out of frustration he banged the receiver a few times against the wall.

"Noah?" Luke asked, "What is it?"

Taking a deep breath and calming himself down Noah realised the absurdity of the situation and even managed to smile for the sick Luke, "Your little brother just hung up on me…"

"What? Why?"

"He said WE are not talking to you…"

Luke's bottom lip quivered with emotion as he realised what that meant but he smiled too. "He's really loyal to our little guy."

Noah nodded and sniffed.

Luke shook his head and Noah watched him mentally bury for the moment the guilt he felt over Nicholas, "Try again."

Noah did and surprisingly the phone dialled right way this time. In fact it rang just once before, "HELLO? NOAH?"

Noah gasped at the sound of the older man's desperate voice and for a moment he couldn't speak. He leaned his forehead into the wall and closed his eyes, emotion he'd never experienced in relation to his own father crushing him.

"Son? Are… there? Please… please tell me it's you?"

Turning to lean back into the wall, eyes once more landing on the questioning Luke, Noah finally managed just one quiet word, "Dad?"

It was clear from Luke's expression that he hadn't failed to catch the garrotte in Noah's tone.

"Thank God!" Noah heard Holden say. "I… -lised it was you… make it to the phone…-fore Ethan… up."

"Dad?"

"Are… okay? … find Luke?"

"Yes." It was all he could manage past the lump in his throat; one syllable words. Then the realisation that Holden and the rest of the family must be going through hell waiting for news snapped him out of it and he tried again, "Yes, I found him. Luke's here with me."

"Thank God!" Holden repeated for the second time, "We've… so worried. Your fri… Jenna called… said Luke was still missing. Where… you, son? What's happen…? Line's… bad."

Noah wasn't sure how much to tell Holden. He knew he didn't have the call time to go into detail so instead he inserted the last of his coins and said, "Luke's been injured, but don't worry, I'm taking care of him."

"What? How?"

"Listen, the line is bad and it may drop at any moment. Luke is with me. We are making our way out of Uganda via Kenya."

"Kenya? Noah?"

"It's a really long story. Can I ask you to trust me? Right now we are both okay. I'm bringing him back home as soon as possible."

There was silence; no static even.

"Dad? Are you still there? Did you hear me?"

"Yes, son. Lost… line for… moment. Of course… trust you. We… be waiting, okay?"

"Okay. Thank you. Dad, is Nicky okay?"

Silence and this time it wasn't a drop in the line.

"I guess not then."

"He'll… okay when… get back. Don't worry. We… you both."

"Sorry?"

"We love you."

"Same here. Please tell Mia and Nicky we're really sorry and we miss them."

Noah looked up to find Luke had broken down.

"I tell them every day, son."

Noah nodded, his own tears flowing freely now. He felt completely unable to hang up but in the end he didn't need to. The phone beeped one more time and then went dead.

He dropped the receiver so it hung and swayed by its cord, crossed the room and flopped beside Luke at the table. He wanted so much to scoop Luke into his arms but they were in too public a place, already attracting curious looks because of their tears and blood stained jeans.

Instead Noah had to contend with discreetly holding Luke's hands under the table.

"I'm so sorry, Noah." Luke gasped. "Please… I'm so sorry."

Noah nodded. "Let's just concentrate on getting you seen to and getting the hell out of here! All the rest can wait."

He turned his neck to see Lutalo firing a look of warning in his direction. Sighing he let go of Luke's hands and rested his elbows on the table.

Satisfied, Lutalo turned back to the café's computer he'd been trying to access the internet on for the past 30 minutes.

"I found the doctor." Kigongo was out of breath as he came bursting through the cafe doors. "He lives just two roads up. He says we can go there."

Noah felt a surge of hope. "That's great! Thank you Kigongo." He stood quickly and then helped Luke to his feet as much as he dared without looking suspicious.

Keeping a watchful eye on Luke, Kigongo walked the wobbling man out the door.

"Lutalo?" Noah called, breaking the man's concentration.

Lutalo turned to notice for the first time that they were leaving, "I'll finish here, my friend. You see to him and we can meet back here."

Noah nodded and exited the cafe after Kigongo and Luke.

...

"I'm cold. Noah? I'm so cold."

Luke lay in just his underwear upon an old and well used examination table in the parlour of the home of Dr. Dairmuid Byrne.

The house was a semi-detached two-storey Edwardian design; a relic from the days when the town of Tororo experienced a tea boom, attracting British and American plantation owners and merchants into the area.

The building had seen better days, however its external decoration hinted at its former glory. Gabled ends were half timbered (with black faux beams and white render) while the plain red brickwork was prettily adorned with a wide wooden balcony on the second floor and an open veranda on the first. The front porch still had remnants of terracotta tiling and all windows were diamond-paned in a typical Art Nouvau fashion.

"Noah?" Luke called again and Noah scanned the large room in search of a blanket.

The shivering had indeed returned as the infection launched another offensive. Only this time, Noah hoped they'd found the help they needed.

It was quickly apparent to them why the locals considered the small quirky doctor to be crazy. He had the strange misfortune to appear goblin like; ears and nose just that little bit too big for his small face and two large bulging green eyes that darted left and right as he spoke.

He hobbled when he walked and had an obvious tic that meant he occasionally and violently flicked his right wrist, sending objects flying or hitting individuals who stood too close.

Dr Byrne spoke with a thick Irish brogue at the speed of light. Noah more than once had to ask the man to repeat himself.

From what he could gather, the old and grey doctor from Dublin had at one time been a renowned heart and lung surgeon; until his own "ticker" gave out and left him partially paralysed on his right side.

Unfortunately he also developed the tic which had destroyed his career. He'd fled Ireland and all he knew, including his wife and two children, after a mental breakdown. In 30 years he had never returned to his homeland. Instead he had set up residence in this remote part of Uganda, Africa.

"After that pile o'shite I didn't want to practice the medicine anymore." He told Noah through the working side of his mouth, "But even here I couldn't escape it. Out here, when people are dying and be needing your help, you can't very well sit on your laurels and ignore them, now can you lad? But I can't say the work here isn't rewarding."

The doctor entertained them with this lyrical tale as he ushered them into his parlour; obviously also used as a makeshift exam room.

"Well now, let me get a look at you."

He proceeded to help Noah remove Luke's clothes and the sheet which so far had acted as a temporary bandage. Most of the now dry aloe strips fell to the floor and the doctor peeled off the rest.

"Hmm… I see the witch doctor has been at work here. This is good. It has helped somewhat." He eyed the deep abrasions in the skin with a practised eye until Luke's legs gave out from standing and both he and Noah had to catch the man and help him up onto the table. "Lay down on your belly for me now."

"Can you help him?" Noah asked as they worked to get Luke comfortable.

"Nothing I haven't seen before. Whipping is shockingly common in this country, the eejits! Don't you mind, lad. We'll have him good as new in no time."

That had been 15 minutes ago and since then the doctor had left them alone in the room. Noah had no idea where he'd gone to, but Luke's condition was gradually worsening.

Noah's eyes fell on what he needed draped over the back of a leather armchair. It was a red and blue fleece; soft and warm; and Noah even held it up to his cheek for a moment. He was so tired and it felt like a thousand years since he'd last experience any kind of comfort.

He wrapped Luke up in the warm folds of the fleece, "Better?

Luke nodded, "Thanks."

"I wonder where he went."

"Guess he's consulting the leprechauns." Luke coughed.

Noah laughed, "Hey! Not nice! You don't like it when people crack gay jokes…"

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Luke conceded, "Just wanted to see you smile."

Their eyes locked; worry travelling liquid between them.

"Do you think… do you think Nicky will ever forgive me?"

Noah nodded, "Of course he will"

"Will you?"

Noah breathed deeply but jumped as the doctor chose that moment to make his loud return.

"I'm sorry I took so long. I have to mix these drugs up myself and we can't be making any mistakes with that; can we now?"

"What? Wait!" Noah stopped him, "You mix the drugs yourself?"

The doctor nodded, "Nothing to fear lad. I've been mixing my own for more years than you've been alive and I've yet to kill a patient."

Byrne's friendly grin did little to placate Noah's naturally cautious nature. "I don't know…"

"Look boyo. Luke here needs this. Unfortunately that means you're going to have to find some trust for me from somewhere deep in your soul."

Noah's eyes found Luke's once more and the blonde nodded at him.

"I'm sorry." Noah told the doctor, "It's just been difficult these past few days. I do trust you."

Byrne nodded, "That's grand! But do you trust yourself?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I'll be needing you to administer the injection." He replied, "Too risky with my tricky hand you see?"

"I don't know." Noah flinched nervously. "I've never done that before."

"It's real easy, boyo." The doctor cleaned a patch of skin on Luke's inner arm, "Just allow the needle to rest against this blue vein here, and when you're ready, push all the way in and then press down on the plunger."

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Noah positioned the needle as instructed. Luke's skin indented slightly and Noah withdrew, "I can't. I'll hurt him."

Luke shook his head, reaching out to find and squeeze Noah's hand, "No you won't. It's okay, bubby, I trust you."

As another painful shiver racked Luke's body Noah resolved to push his fear aside. As gently as possible he pierced Luke's skin with the needle, surprised as how easily it gave way.

"That's perfect." Byrne praised, patting Noah on his shoulder, "Nicely done for a first go."

Noah's eyes closed with relief as he carefully withdrew the needled and stepped aside so that the doctor could pull back the blanket and begin cleaning Luke's wounds.

"You'll be wanting to leave in the morning then? What with the peelers on you and all?"

"No." Noah replied. "We needed to leave in the next few hours."

The doctor frowned, looking down at the weakening Luke and shaking his hand, "Not a chance in hell. This lad's going to have one tough night ahead of him, if I'm not mistaken. Even then there's no telling the fever will break."

"What are you saying?"

"Well, I suggest we see how the night fares. If we beat this thing tonight then he can travel tomorrow. Otherwise you could be stuck here for a few days."

...

With Luke sleeping and the doctor still busy, Noah felt comfortable leaving him for a few minutes and returning to the cafe with Kigongo. Magomu had since returned and was sat drinking coffee with Lutalo.

"Where is Luke?" Lutalo immediately asked, jumping to his feet.

Noah wondered at a flash of fear and panic behind his eyes.

"He's still with the doctor. I just came to tell you we have to wait here tonight."

"No."

Noah cocked his head. He had expected Lutalo wouldn't like the idea, but something seemed off with him. "Is everything okay?"

"We must leave today!" Lutalo demanded.

"We can't, Lutalo. The doctor has given Luke something to sleep. He can't be moved until his fever breaks."

"Why did you decide that?" Lutalo barked. "Who are you to decide that? You should not have allowed the doctor to do so! Eish!"

"Lutalo, I understand that we need to get out of Uganda, but I won't do that at the risk of Luke's health."

"It is not for you to decide! I am the leader here!"

Noah was confused. It was as though his friend had had a personality transplant in the time they'd been apart. "I don't get why you're so angry, Lutalo. The police don't know we're here. How could they? Even if somebody told them it would take hours to get here."

Lutalo seemed conflicted. He radiated frustration but softened, "I am sorry. We are all tired, yes. We go tomorrow."

Noah nodded, but couldn't shake the feeling that there was something Lutalo wasn't telling him.

...

Tomorrow.

He had hoped today but it would be tomorrow.

He would see Luke Snyder once more.

God's enemy.

Simon stood in the backyard of his house staring up at the multitude of stars in God's heaven.

His enemy. His groin twitched at this and Simon loudly cleared his throat.

"When these feelings threaten you must find distraction my son. Seek shelter in your wife's embrace. That is her purpose."

He nodded as though his teacher was standing right beside him here in Uganda instead of busy with his daily life back in America.

He palmed his rock hard groin and realised this would have to be seen to.

He locked the doors and closed all the windows of the house, his nightly routine. It was stuffy with the windows closed, but the country was lawless and even with burglar guards you could never be too careful.

He entered his bedroom to find Leanne lying asleep, back to him; long red hair neatly platted. They never slept with covers. It was way too hot.

Naked, he crawled on the bed behind her and pressed his chest into her back, using his hands to push her white nightdress up to her waist.

She shifted as she began to wake but he had already spat into his hand and lubricated her up before she could protest. He knew she hated it this way, although she never dared say.

He pressed forward and she screamed. He couldn't allow that. Not with the children in the house so he cupped her mouth with his right hand. She moaned her complaint but he was already too far gone.

Although he would never, could never, say the thoughts allowed; although in the morning he would never admit to thinking them, not even to himself; he plunged violently into what was his, "You like that bastard, don't you? You like that you blonde bastard! You fucking little pervert!"

It was intense.