"The desert has its holiness of silence..." - Walter Elliot

Chapter 19

Medicine Man

"Tío! Tío, he's awake."

"Get Dr. Sanchez."

"Sanchez, the gringo's awake."

"Don't call him that, mijo."

Sam heard these voices around him as consciousness wavered and struggled to climb through the mental fogginess. He felt hands on him and forced his eyes open. They were blurred, too dry to keep open for long, but in that short time he caught a glimpse of a man in a suit with long black hair. Hands moved on him, checking vitals and inspecting injuries.

"My medicine seems to be working. He needs more water; it'll make him quite dehydrated. B.P. is still low. He may need a transfusion."

"I'm sorry, Dr. Sanchez. This is all we have."

"Hmm. Señorita Araceli said he couldn't go to a hospital, right? Well, then, this is all I can do. A shame it's so little." The doctor laughed lightly. "After all this, I feel so useless."

"Not at all, Dr. Sanchez." Sam heard that this was Araceli's voice. "You saved his life, and you cared for me so well. Tío is right, you're a blessing sent by Santa María."

"No, it's not Our Lady who sends me, mija, although sometimes I feel a greater power guides me. Let him rest. Are you able to stay here overnight? Do you have anywhere you must be?"

"Well, I'd like to make it to El Paso by tomorrow. It's not far. I can even call someone to pick me up if he can't be moved."

"I'll drive you," Sam said, his words slurred but firm in their determination. "I said I'd get you home. I've been failing you this whole time, so at the very least, I … I'll drive you home."

He smelled her sunflower perfume move closer. "That's sweet of you, Theodore, but I'm not sure you'll be able to sit up by tomorrow, let alone drive."

Sam squeezed some liquid into his eyelids, enough so he could open them and see a little. He saw four people around him, the old cowboy, a young boy of about eleven, a man in his late-forties with a long black ponytail standing by a sink with his back to Sam, and Araceli holding his hand, sitting close, looking at him with worry creasing her brow.

Sam smiled and squeezed her hand. "It's my duty to get you home safely."

"Your duty?" The long-haired doctor looked back to them. He had a gentle smile that puckered a scar on his chin and lifted his mustache. "Yes, Mr. Nyt. You have a duty. So do I. My duty is for you to do your duty. Hopefully, I've done my duty." With that enigmatic phrase, he turned back around, picked up a flimsy straw hat, and flopped it on his head. "I'll be in the next village over. Call the clinic there if he doesn't stop bleeding before dinner."

Sam watched him go. "Who was that?"

"Dr. Sanchez is well-known in these parts," the old cowboy named Tío told him. "He's a Native medicine man, uses herbal treatment mixed with some high-tech stuff. Well, he's not just a medicine man. He's got a Ph.D. in medicine, after all. Says he used to work in some famous lab. He's spent the past few years traveling around the poorer communities in the area and doing what he can, all free of charge."

"He looks familiar," Sam mused. "Araceli, doesn't he look a little like that man in Carrizozo, what's-his-name … Sancho?"

"Who, Dr. Sanchez? No, not really. Sancho was much younger, and he had a goatee. I've known Dr. Sanchez since the first day he arrived in this village. That was, what, five years ago?" she asked the old man. "Maybe they look a little alike, but … no, I don't see it."

Sam wondered how she could miss it. The businessman from Carrizozo could have been this doctor's nephew or much-younger brother. "Strange," Sam muttered. "When I just heard his voice, my first thought was that it was Sancho again, and maybe everything from last night until now was all a dream, and you were just now rescuing me."

Araceli tittered and ruffled his hair. "Oh, Theodore! You're strange. Get some rest. Sadly, it wasn't all a dream. You were shot. Luckily, Dr. Sanchez's specialty is gunshot wounds. I guess he's seen a lot in the big city. After he operated on you, your color came back quickly. Still, you're dangerously anemic. Dr. Sanchez said you need to drink this concoction."

She handed him a paper cup with a thick syrup in it. Sam sniffed it, pulled it away in disgust, but forced himself to swallow it down. He only wished it poured faster so he could be done with it sooner.

"He also said, after each cupful, you need at least one full glass of water within five minutes so the medicine doesn't kill you."

Sam gagged on the last of the syrup. "Kill me?" He sneered at the paper cup.

Just what had he swallowed? Something for anemia, but had to be diluted in the stomach? Maybe it was his Swiss-cheese memory, but he knew of no medication like that. He hurriedly accepting a cup of orangish well water. He almost spat the iron-tasting water right back into the cup. He simply tried not to taste it and forced himself to drink the whole thing as fast as possible.

"Well, I sure hope that works. Are you sure he's a doctor?"

"So he claims," Araceli said with a blasé shrugged. "He helped my sister some years ago. He's good."

"Good?" shouted Tío. "He's a goddamn miracle worker, that's what he is."

Araceli gave an endearing smile to the grizzled man. "He truly is. Okay, you drank, so sleep. You look like a zombie."

"Zombie gringo, zombie gringo," the kid chanted, laughing and pointing at him.

"Pedro, be nice," Araceli chuckled, ruffling the boy's dark hair.

Sam saw that, whoever these people were, they were people Araceli knew well. That made him relax. He closed his eyes, meaning only to think about where that doctor was familiar from. Could he have been working for the Project? Maybe a doctor friend of Verbeena Beeks? He vaguely recalled that she had acquaintances in the alternative medicine field. He was so familiar…

Before Sam could flip through his addled memories, something in the medicine knocked him out suddenly with the sensation of falling backward, like a scuba diver flipping over the edge of a boat and splashing down into the murkiness of dreams.

When Sam woke up, the sky had darkened to purple. He saw Araceli in a chair beside him, now wearing a tank top that was too small and mini shorts that were too big.

"Did you call your family to get you?" he asked immediately.

She smiled at his thoughtfulness but shook her head. "I told Tío I'd look after you through the night. Otherwise, it'd be a hassle for him."

Sam pushed himself up to sit.

"You really shouldn't…"

Too late, he remembered that he had been shot in the shoulder. His shirt had been removed, and a thick padding had been dressed over the wound on both the front and back sides. It stung a bit, but when Sam lifted the bandage to see if he had reopened the wound, he saw that it was almost completely healed.

"Impossible!" He checked the other major injury, which had been bothering him all day. "The infection in my arm is gone too." He moved the arm that had been mutilated. "It feels a lot better. Not perfect, but the muscle almost feels normal." He inspected all the cuts and bruises on his bare torso. There was still a little swelling where his rib broke, but everything else was healed, not even scabs. "That's … impossible," he breathed in awe.

"That," said Araceli, "is the miracle of Dr. Sanchez. He uses ancient healing mixed with cutting edge technology, all experimental, but nothing less than miraculous."

Al stepped forward from deeper in the room. He puffed on his cigar and looked frustrated. "It really must be experimental. We don't have devices like that in my time. Whatever he used, it's something Ziggy doesn't even recognize."

"Your fever is gone, all infection cleared," Araceli told him. "You still need to drink this."

She handed him a paper cup with the thick syrup, and Sam immediately drew away from it. It smelled even worse now that he was full awake.

"He said at least five cups before you leave in the morning. I think you should stay, but you're healing even better than his normal miracles. He was quite insistent that you'd be able to go by sunrise, but only if you drink all of this."

Sam tentatively accepted the cup. "What is it?"

"Who knows?" She did not looked concerned or even intrigued. "It's one of Dr. Sanchez's miracles. Drink up!"

Sam tried to taste the syrup as it went down to examine what might be in it, but the taste was truly appalling. At least the plastic water bottle she handed him was clear and lacked the mineral tang of well water.

While he gulped down the water, trying to drink the whole glass in only a few minutes, the old man entered the room. His skin was dark from the sun, his black eyes creased from glaring through the desert heat, his beard white and long, and his hands were rough from a life working on a ranch. When he removed his black Stetson hat, Sam saw he was balding with remnants of silver hair slicked with sweat.

"Theodore, this is Tío. Or that's what everyone calls him," Araceli introduced. "We were lucky he was at the restaurant when those Mafia men got us."

"I would say I'm the lucky one, to get to care for mija right when she needed it," he said, patting her shoulder.

She clasped her hand over his roughened one. "I've known Tío since I was little."

"And I've known her parents long before then. They used to live out here. Her father is like a cousin to me."

"Everyone's father is like a cousin to you," she laughed.

"No, some are like bad in-laws," he teased. "Oh, don't touch that!"

Sam had been inspecting the salve that covered every cut and bruise on his body. He had rubbed a little off and was sniffing it.

Tío pointed to it. "That's good Native medicine. Only that medicine man makes it. He's brought it to our village three times already, and it heals anything."

"I'm curious about this so-called doctor and medicine man," Sam muttered with a frown. Sure, it had been a few years since he got his degree in medicine, and herbal tinctures were never a focus, but all of this felt foreign to him. Had he forgotten this much, or had medicine advanced this drastically while he was focused on Project Quantum Leap? Al said the technology was unknown. If even Ziggy did not recognize such medicine…

"I'm sorry, sonny," Tío apologized, "but he already left. He never stays long, and he only comes by once a year."

"But I never said thank you or repaid him."

"Araceli paid him in cash," Tío told him, patted her shoulder again.

"Some of your cash," she admitted sheepishly.

"I heard that Dr. Sanchez made a donation to the school of an equal amount to what Araceli gave him." Tío laughed and shook his head in amazement. "That's how that man is: he won't accept payment, never stays long, but always shows up on the same day, every year, like clockwork, although up until five years ago, no one really knew him. We still don't know much about him, but we don't really ask too many questions, not when his medicine works so well. He's like this village's very own saint. Some of the older women call him Santo Sanchez."

Sam looked to Al, silently questioning him.

Al merely shrugged. "Ziggy has nothing on him. No one even knows if Sanchez is his real name. It's too common of a name to pin him down. And the device he was using earlier … Ziggy's in a fluster over it. He doesn't like when there's something he's never seen before. Ziggy went into something of a tantrum and has shut down, telling us not to bother him for an hour."

"Figures," Sam grumbled.

Tío and Araceli looked to each other in confusion. What figured? That the medicine man would leave before he could thank him? Or that the abuelas of this village practically deified him?

"Look, um … can I get a shirt or something?"

"Sorry, sonny. Dr. Sanchez said the fabric will smear off the medicine. If you get cold, all I can offer is a blanket."

"Um … uh, bathroom?"

Tío smiled at his embarrassment. "Araceli, make some dinner, something light. I might have some canned tortilla soup in the pantry."

She stood, but the too-big shorts slipped on her hips and showed the edge of light blue fringe of her panties before she hitched them up. She walked out holding the belt loop of the shorts with a finger, leaving the two men (and Al) gawking.

"She really grew up," Tío sighed wistfully. "If only I was forty years younger! You're one lucky man, Señor Nyt."

"Oh, we … we aren't … I just happened to meet her and she—"

"Araceli told me the story," he chortled, amused by his nervousness. "Sounds like one crazy adventure."

Sam looked aside as he pushed his legs over the edge of the bed. "Story of my life," he muttered.

When he stood, the dizziness hit him. He did not even have time to be embarrassed by the fact that the only thing he was wearing were boxer shorts.

"Juanita's cleaning your clothes. Araceli's pants were ruined—too tight for her anyway, in my opinion—and those shorts she's got on belonged to my daughter. We'll find something her size before morning, even if it's sweatpants. It's a real miracle you guys were here on the same day as the medicine man. A real miracle! I thought for sure Araceli's leg would be scarred for life, yet there she is, walking around, barely a bruise. And you! We all thought you were dead. Dr. Sanchez was pale as a sheet when he saw you. Somehow, he kept you breathing."

Sam pouted. "I wish I could thank him." Once again, someone had to rescue him instead of him always rescuing others.

"If you want to thank anyone, thank the Lord. Santa María sent him today. ¡Gracias a Dios!" Thank God!

Sam just smiled at his religious fervency. Tío showed him to a tiny bathroom, barely enough room for a cracked toilet smashed between a chipped sink and a bathtub that an adult would have a hard time sitting in, with a shower head that dripped like a ticking clock. The well water pumped into this home had stained the bath, sink, and toilet orange. There was a crucifix above the toilet. Peeing while staring at a silver Jesus on a wooden cross was slightly disturbing.

When Al walked straight through the door, Sam jolted. "Can't you wait until I'm done?"

Al shrugged, completely unconcerned. "What other time can we talk? It's not like I haven't seen you taking a whiz before."

"Ziggy said that I had to make it to Mexico in twenty-four hours if I wanted to succeed."

"Yeah, about that. Before Ziggy went prima donna on us, he said that it was okay. With Araceli staying with you, your odds are remaining steady. Ziggy said something about her being a temporal catalyst or something. Gooshie's trying to figure out what he meant." It was actually Donna researching that information, but whenever it was Donna, he always just said it was Gooshie, since Sam remembered him. "That's why I said you have to protect her at all costs. Ziggy still thinks the reason you're here is to get Theodore Nyt into Mexico, but protecting the life of Araceli de la Rosa comes at a close second. A double mission, if you will."

"And I'm safe so long as she's around me. Which means after I drop her off at her parents' house…"

"Once you leave Araceli's side, you have twenty-four hours to get out of the United States. Otherwise, Ziggy says … assured failure."

Sam thought that over. So long as he was with Araceli, he could take his time.

He wished he could stay with her for a few more days.

"If I … if I stay with Araceli … with her family—"

"No, Sam," Al said sternly. He regretfully saw his friend getting that schoolboy-crush look in his face. "You'll only get them involved. Once Araceli is in her hometown of Socorro, you drop her off and get the hell away from her." Sam still had a petulant expression, like he was scheming for a chance to get his way. "I know she's a lovely woman, but Theodore Nyt is not a good man. You have to get out of the country and away from her. She was hurt bad in that crash, Sam. Real bad. She shouldn't be walking. Whoever that medicine man is, he really did a miracle on her. And on you. I shouldn't tell you this, but … I vanished for a while."

That yanked Sam right out of his thoughts of staying a few days with Araceli. "Vanished?"

"Went back home. The Imaging Chamber worked fine, but … there was nothing to project onto. Ziggy said you were dead. If you're dead, I can't be here in the past with you. This hologram you see is created by a subatomic agitation of carbon quarks tuned to the mesons of your optic and otic neurons. If no neurons are firing, I can't talk to you, nor can I see what's around you. And … And that happened, Sam. You were dead. We really thought this was it. We were … all of us … really scared that we lost you for good."

Sam was touched by the grief in Al's face. He began to reach forward to comfort him, but his hand went through the sleeve of his gaudy shirt.

"You've been taking a lot of grief from me on this Leap," he said softly.

Al sniffed and gave a laconic shrug. "You'd think I'd get used to it."

"Thank you, Al. Really, thank you."

Al looked up with a smile. He nodded in silent friendship. Sam always knew the right things to say to lift his spirits once again. "Well," he said loudly, breaking the emotional tension, "you have the face that says you gotta take a dump and you're not about to do that with me watching. Besides, I've gotta get back. Someone on the Project is having a birthday and I'm hosting the party."

"Oh, someone I know?"

Al hesitated for a moment. "Yeah, someone you know. You know the rules, Sam. I can't say—"

"I know, I know, but if I used to know them, then maybe you can tell them happy birthday for me … you know, to be friendly."

For a brief moment, Sam thought Al might begin crying. Then the admiral firmed up and nodded firmly. "I'll tell her." The Imaging Chamber door opened, and Al stepped out.

Donna covered her mouth. Al knew she was glad for the message, although it was bittersweet. Maybe Sam could not remember her, but he had still given her the best birthday gift she had received in years.

"Hey, Tío!" Al waved to an ancient man in a cowboy hat who happened to be walking by.

The man weaved his way through the noisy restaurant to them, resting heavily on a cane. "Yes, sonny? Do I know you?"

"Maybe not, but you know a friend. Hey, do you remember a few years ago, a shooting around this area, a young lady and a gentleman on a bike?"

Tío grinned. "Oh, of course! Señorita Araceli and that mysterious knight. Sure, I remember that. Must've been back in the mid-90s, sometime before this steakhouse opened, but yeah, I was there, helped them out. That sure does bring me back," he hummed nostalgically.

Donna suddenly jumped up from the large table they had reserved for the party. She ran past waitresses and diners, out from the Edge of Texas Steakhouse and Saloon, and into the warm summer night. Built right on the border of New Mexico and Texas, the steakhouse had become famous since opening in 1997.

She looked around. Here, right here, earlier today—well, many years ago, but for them it happened today—Sam had been right here. He had almost died right in this spot. By a miracle, he survived to continue Leaping closer to home.

Al, Tina, Gooshie, and Verbeena came up behind her. Tina and Verbeena each held a shoulder. Gooshie shined a light into the darkness, and Al searched. It was different, what with the new restaurant there, but he could remember it clearly.

He pointed to the highway. "That was where Sam was shot. The bike lost control there, just a few meters past the state line. They slid over to here." Gooshie's flashlight moved to where Al was pointing. "Sam was thrown off about here, but the bike kept going to … to that cactus, right there. Wow, it's still here! Araceli, she ended up this way, got thrown pretty hard. After the Mafia men were gunned down, Sam tried crawling to her. He got right to here." Al stood right in the spot where Sam had collapsed. "That man Sanchez came and found him lying here. That's when he d- … when I vanished." He could not bring himself to say it was where Sam had momentarily been dead. "When I came back, they had put him on a blanket in the back of someone's pickup. Then they transported him to Tío's house. He's there now, resting up."

"He's there now," Donna whispered, clasping her hands to her chest. Sometime in the past, but … but there now. She looked up to the stars. They always reminded her of Sam. She felt closest to him when she thought that they were under the same stars.

Ever calm, Verbeena Beeks stepped up and patted her shoulder. "He's still with us, Donna. He's out there, and he's working hard to complete his mission. Maybe he doesn't remember all of us, but he knows we are a huge part of his life."

"That's right," said Tina. "And, like, one day, he'll tell you happy birthday and give you a nice, big kiss. We'll bring him home, Donna. Totally!"

She nodded, but she still could not say anything. Sam had been standing right here. She had even met Araceli in the past. She didn't recall it—it was impossible to remember every single person she randomly bumped into—but they had been in the same building together. Sam was somewhere nearby, in the past, but still there. And he … he had wished her happy birthday.

"Well, come on!" Al said boisterously. "Let's get back inside. The others are waiting. It's time to get this party started!"

A/N:

Finally, I get to use the Edge of Texas Steakhouse and Saloon! I feel happy now.

"Tío" means uncle in Spanish. "Gringo," considered offensive in most areas of the United States, is a person of U.S. or English descent. Mijo and mija are terms of endearment, short for "mi hijo/hija" which mean "my son/daughter." It's a term used between parents and children, adults and youngsters, or between close friends. "Abuelas" means grandmothers, but can also be a generalized term for much older women.