True to her word, and even though he hadn't said thank you, Stella had the garage door up when he finally pulled into her driveway. He caught a glimpse of her hurrying passed her own car to shut the door behind the vehicle as he got out from behind the driver's seat.
"Murdock—" she said as he came around the back of the van.
"Everyone's really sick, Stella," Murdock blurted. "I got here as fast as I could—"
He fumbled with the door handle, but was hindered by Stella pulling him into a hug. Murdock let himself relax against her for a moment, then shook himself away. Stella could sense he was trying very hard to hold himself together.
As he opened the back of the van, she put on an professional air and asked,
"Who got sick first?"
"F-facey. Then Bosco. His fever's been real high. Bossman—Hannibal was next. Face and Bosco are back here," he said, indicating inside the van. "It seemed best to let them lay down for the trip. I made Hannibal put his seat back as far as it would go. He fell asleep about an hour ago."
Stella took a cursory glance over the men. Murdock offered her a hand to help her up into the vehicle, but seemed reluctant to climb in himself. She carefully made her way around the two men laying there. B.A. was flat on his back in a fitful sleep; Face was balled up on his side, shivering.
"What have they been doing, Murdock? Vomiting, chills, sweats . . .?"
"No vomiting. Shaking and sweating. Some coughing—"
"Productive coughing? Bringing anything up?"
He didn't care about the interruption. He nodded. "Bosco, mostly. Mucusy junk."
"With blood?"
Murdock nodded again. "A little."
"No one else coughing like that? Anything else?"
Just the moaning, Murdock thought to himself. The moaning, the moaning, all moaning sounds the same, whether it's from physical or mental sickness, it worms its way into your pores—
"Nothing else," he told her in spite of his thoughts.
As she asked her questions, Stella used gentle hands to check pulses and foreheads. B.A. didn't move as she touched him but Face groaned as she put her hand on his head.
"Templeton? Can you hear me?" she asked him, and was rewarded with unfocused, half-opened eyes. "I'm going to lift your eyelids, okay? Just a quick peek."
Face's shivering was so much Murdock couldn't tell if he nodded in agreement.
Stella did just what she promised; a swift thumbing of his upper eyelids to check his sclera, then she let him relax.
Murdock helped her back out of the van.
"And John?" she asked. Murdock was impressed how steady she kept her voice.
Murdock led her to the passenger door. "He hasn't been sick as long. He's not as bad."
Making sure his former CO wasn't leaning against the door and would therefore need caught if his support gave way, Murdock opened the door for her. Again, he stepped back out of the way and didn't look much at the man laying there.
Stella stepped up and gave the same exam to Hannibal that she had to his teammates in the back. He shuddered at her touch, and woke up.
"Stella. We made it," he croaked.
"What—you think your ace pilot couldn't get you here?" she teased lightly in return, glancing at Murdock through the window.
Murdock didn't respond to her joke, just shifted from foot to foot. Stella noted his reaction but didn't ask him about it. She focused her attention back on Hannibal.
"Any coughing from you yet?"
Stoically he shook his head. "No. I'm burning up, though."
"You certainly are. All three of you are feverish. We're going to get you in the house and take care of you."
Stella took a step back.
"How're we gonna get them in there, Stella?" Murdock asked quietly. He'd begun chewing a fingernail. "I mean, the boss and Face I can prob'ly manage, but moving Bosco'll be like moving a mountain."
"I can help too, Murdock," she told him. "We'll manage it."
"Murdock and I can deal with B.A.," Hannibal said, he struggled to sit up, even as Stella grabbed his arm.
"Oh seriously, John! You're as weak as a kitten!" she scolded.
He waved off her concern. "I'm fine. I can help get B.A. up and into the house!"
Stella sighed, and the hard line her lips made reminded Murdock of Hannibal when he was trying to be patient. She turned back to Murdock.
"Fine. Here's what we'll do. You and I—and John—will get B.A. to the bedroom. Then you, John, will stay in the house while we come back and get Face. Understood?"
Hannibal looked about to protest, but Stella silenced him. "Murdock and I can handle Face! There's no need for you to overexert yourself even more! You're going to get in the house and stay there, and rest, and let me help get you boys over this sickness!"
Murdock thought if he were Hannibal, he would do what she said.
Because she made the concession to allow him to help maneuver B.A. in, he agreed that he would stay put once there and let them deal with Face.
"Good," Stella said briskly.
She helped him down out of the van with a hand on his elbow, then slipped her arm around his waist as they went to the back of the vehicle. Murdock didn't think it was for affection as much as support by the way Hannibal leaned on her, and made to help take some of his weight, but Stella didn't mention it and he let them be.
Murdock clambered over the big man in the back and settled by his shoulders.
"Hey, Bosco! Bosco! You've gotta wake up, man! We're here at Stella's, and she can't mother you in the back of your van!"
Face groaned and twisted uncomfortably at the noise. Murdock paused a moment to put his hand on Face's chest.
"Your turn soon, Facey," he said in a hushed voice. Face quieted.
Murdock turned his attention back to B.A. "Come on, big guy," he grunted, shoving his hands under the black man's shoulders. "Let's get moving."
Using his elbows as levers, he managed to hoist B.A. somewhat upright. It woke him, and as was typical he was upset and tried to wiggle out of Murdock's grasp.
"I'm not trying to hug you, Bosco!" Murdock explained desperately. "Give me a break here!"
Untypically, due to the illness, B.A. was weak and couldn't prevent Murdock from continuing to lift him up, and push him out toward the open rear doors. Stella lifted his legs and helped ease him to a seated position on the bumper. Murdock panted with the strain.
"B.A.?" Stella asked. "Can you hear me?"
Feebly he nodded. "Yeah."
"Wonderful! Now, Murdock and John are going to help you into the house—can you help them? Can you try to stay on your feet?"
"Yeah . . ."
Stella wasn't sure he knew what he was agreeing to, but she nodded to Murdock. He slipped out of the van as Stella held B.A. upright, then pulled the black man's arm over his shoulder and wrapped his own around his waist.
"One, two, three!" he counted, and with Stella's encouragement, B.A. rose unsteadily to his feet.
Murdock groaned under the weight, and braced himself. As he told them, Hannibal stepped up to help as well. Between the two of them and Stella assisting as much as she could, they struggled their way into her house.
They got B.A. into her spare bedroom and onto the sofa bed she'd already pulled out in preparation. Murdock maneuvered him onto the bed as best he could, but let Stella make him comfortable. She was interrupted as B.A. began coughing, bringing up phlegm speckled with streaks of blood, just as Murdock had mentioned.
Hannibal, who stood leaning against the wall near the door, took a step forward. Stella ordered him out of the room, and he didn't insist on staying. Murdock was already gone.
In a similar manner to Murdock's, she forced B.A. to sit up again, to make it easier for him to cough. She clapped his back to help loosen the secretions in his lungs, and until he worked so hard he retched, she didn't let him lay back down.
As she did so, Murdock snuck back into the room with a glass of water.
"Thanks," Stella told him, and helped B.A. take a few sips. In only a few seconds, however, he shook his head and she took the glass away.
She covered him and turned down the lights, then left the room.
She was surprised to find Hannibal in her recliner and Face on the couch, shivering but bundled up in a quilt.
"I brought him in," Murdock told her quietly. "I didn't know quite where to put him."
"This is fine, Murdock," Stella told him. "I don't think he could make it upstairs."
"No."
Murdock looked gray, and although he was talking to her, Stella noticed he didn't look her in the face. His gaze flitted from side to side and around, but never directly at her. Even though she needed to attend to the sick men, Stella took his arm.
"Murdock, why don't you go sit down in the kitchen. I'm sorry John has the recliner; it'd be more comfortable for you. You go and just relax, and I'll be in in just a few minutes and get us something to eat. Okay?"
Mutely he nodded, and wandered away.
Stella watched him go. She wanted to find out what exactly was going through his head, but at the moment more pressing matters needed attended to.
She found another blanket and tucked Hannibal in. He woke up momentarily as she kissed his forehead, but was asleep again before she turned to Face. She pulled the cushions off the back of the couch to give him more room, felt his forehead again, and even though he protested, tucked him in tightly too.
"I know you think you're burning up, Templeton, but you have to stay covered," Stella explained patiently as she wrapped the quilt under his legs. When she was done he looked mummified.
"Mus' be how . . . Murdock feels," he muttered with his eyes closed, " . . . in a . . . straightjacket . . ."
Stella chuckled a little. "Probably. Get some sleep."
He was able to almost nod.