Chapter V

CHAPTER V–Alethea Kineta
4 Days Later
Medical Tent

An inescapable cloud of distortion clung to Quentin Forsythe’s senses like a blanket around a newborn baby. The infancy of his long, arduous, recovery period had already begun. Quentin’s wounded body lay wrapped in several bandages, tucked away inside one of the several medical tents stationed within the colony. The darkened blood had started to seep through the whitened dressings.
A quiet black woman tended to Quentin’s harsh injuries. A wiry five foot three frame, curly thick hair, and deep hazel cinnamon colored eyes, rounded out Quentin’s savior. Her calm and steady calloused hands swiftly changed the bloodied bandages, deftly preparing Quentin for optimum comfort.
“I need him alive Alethea,” Commander Dantu ordered to the helping nurse. “Do what you can, that man needs to survive.”
Her sweet but firm voice offered a brash response. “If you want him alive, then why shoot him?”
“To prove a point,” The Commander briskly said, shifting the weight to his left foot.
Alethea noticed the subtle move. “You sure have an odd way of proving your point. I’d take a look at that right foot of yours.” Her hands finished up on Quentin. “You’re lucky this man will survive.”
“I shot him to solidify my position here inside the colony,” Dantu responded with a huff. “I need him alive to aid my army’s
ailments. How did you know about my right foot?” Dantu asked with a puzzled curiosity.
“I’d say you have a Staph infection, or something like it.” Alethea looked up the tall commander.
“I would greatly appreciate that,” Commander Dantu fingered his handgun.
“After I finish up with my patient, I’ll come find you.” Alethea turned her attention back to Quentin. “There, there angel.” Her soft words attempted to soothe him.
Quentin slowly batted his eyelids open, gazing upon an angelic face looking down upon him. His tired vocal chords attempted to release words of an inquisition, however, nothing escaped from his moistened lips.
He rolled around writhing in absolute agony, until that gorgeous woman with the tender touch applied a dampened cloth to his beaded forehead, mopping away the releasing sweat.
She simply had the magical touch. Quentin felt a rush of energy he hadn’t felt since the shooting several days prior. His eyes were now fully opened, catching the warm rays of the hot African sunshine. His body lay strewn across the blue cot in the middle of the medical tent. This was the place where the sick came to prepare for death or find a grain of hope embedded in the skillful hands of their doctor.
“How bad are my wounds?” Quentin words were minced with an indescribable pain.
“Tender but you will heal,” Alethea’s soft words soothed Quentin’s ears. “My name is Alethea Kineta.”
“Dr. Quentin Forsythe,” he said looking into her eyes. “I’d shake you hand, but I still can’t seem to locate the energy to do just that.”
“It’s okay Darling,” her voice again issued a sense of normalcy into Quentin’s dire straits.
“How did you come to understand the intricate quilt that is medicine?” Quentin’s wincing still caused concern for Alethea.
“I studied under the previous regime,” Alethea responded to his question.
“Bob?” Quentin asked of her.
“That was the man’s name,” she said looking around the tent. “He had taught me much about the field of medicine and I shortly became his trusted assistant. I was also a key figure in translating what he said into the native tongue for my people.”
“You’re truly an angel from heaven.” Quentin rolled his back closed and attempted to regulate his broad breathing.
“You’ll be okay.” Alethea lovingly touched his hand. “We will need you at full strength to help with the sick. Since that bastard killed the only other doctor in the colony, you’re now the only one left.”
“I know. I plan to incorporate my plan to revive this colony, to breathe a new vibrant life into its tired veins, and recapture the lost beauty of the people and the land.” Quentin opened his eyes again to find the softest of all pink lips planting a firm kiss upon his forehead. “What was that for?” He asked Alethea.
“I find it a curable remedy for what ails the sick.”
“Really?” Quentin seemed to fish for another answer.
“Well, you’re a very handsome man as well.” Alethea’s eyes drifted back down to the floor and up again to Quentin’s captivating eyes.
“As you are a beautiful sight as well.” Quentin squeezed her hand in affection. “I’m truly in your debt for saving my life.”
“The only bullet that looks to cause you permanent harm was the one that shattered your right hip. You’ll be nursing a cane for the rest of your days.”
“It beats the alternative. Will that prick Dantu return?”
“Almost a certainty,” she answered with a tint of bitterness in her voice. “He loves to come in here and swagger that power of his.”
“We have a lot of work to do.” Quentin quickly assessed the crucial situation. “He wants me to help his fallen soldiers. Where are they located?”
“They are located in the next tent over writhing in complete pain.” A weak smile came across her face. She took no pity in men who killed others for sport or any other reason. “They deserve what they get.”
“The ends don’t necessarily justify the means,” Quentin replied with a hearty yawn. “I need to rest, we’ll talk more later?”
“You can count on it!” Alethea beamed with an unbridled enthusiasm.
Commander Dantu stormed through the colony yet again, this time on a rampage to find the one person that could save him: Dr. Quentin Forsythe.
He rapidly approached the medical tent where the resting Forsythe lay recovering from Dantu’s harsh gunshots.
“How is he?” Dantu barked to Alethea who was holding a bedside vigil for her fallen patient.
“Slowly recuperating Commander,” her voice resonated such a sweetness to his ears.
“Your mother would’ve been proud,” Dantu said as he ran his fingers through his daughters black hair.
“Don’t touch me,” she growled back. “You killed my mother and then deserted me here,” her words stung him like a fat bumblebee.
“Your insolence has always been your weakest link daughter,” Dantu hissed back at her.
“I need to tend to him, if you want the doctor to look at your men.” Alethea bristled with hatred for her father.
“I don’t need him for my army right now, but for me.”
“What’s your problem?” She deeply regretted the decision to ask that particular question.
“My left foot’s infected,” Dantu untied his black boot and hoisted his decaying foot upon the nearby stool. “Take a look.”
She didn’t want to, but it was the only way to get him to leave. “Looks just as nasty as you do.” Her sly remarks fell on deaf ears.
“What can you do to heal it?” Dantu gritted his teeth through the pain.
“Just a matter of time before you lose those three toes,” Alethea’s answer wasn’t what Dantu wanted to hear.
“Not acceptable!” Dantu grimaced. “Save the foot!”
“Due to your lack of ingenuity when it comes to protection, you will lose those three toes, from left to right.”
“No other way?” Dantu looked to her for solace.
“This is the only option you have, unless.” Alethea looked at him directly.
“Unless what?” His temper was starting flare up.
“You do nothing at all, and just wait to lose the entire extremity.”
“I’ll be damned if it’ll get to that juncture,” her father informed her. “If you have to cut off those three toes to save my foot, then against my better judgment, I reluctantly agree for you to do it.”
Their whole relationship was fragile and fragmented. Dantu found out his wife was screwing around with one of his highest ranking officials. In a fir of drunken rage, he shot his best friend once through the left temple, and then strangled his wife while she slept with a piece of barbed wire.
“Gladly,” Alethea arose and walked over to the rotting medicine cabinet and withdrew a cloth full of tools.
She resonated professionalism as she methodically uncovered the surgical tools. Her deftly skilled hands prepared the area to be removed and retrieved a small silver bullet from the cloth.
“Here bite down hard on this to alleviate the pain,” she handed the bullet to her crestfallen father.
“I’ll manage just fine,” Dantu responded tartly. “I’ve been shot at, tortured and beaten, so I don’t really think some half brained doctor will cause me any pain.”
Alethea could’ve let that little remark bother her, but instead she concentrated solely on the task at hand. Within a matter of moments, the enduring pain had become so intolerable, that Dantu swiped the bullet from the cloth and bit down firmly upon it. Tiny specks of red coursed over Dantu’s face, as he fought prominently to reduce any of the agonizing pain.
Alethea professionally administered the steps in removing the infected toes. The tools were older to say the least, filled with decay and rust, so a precise cut was proving difficult for the young doctor. She had no qualms about slowly digging through the rough skin, dragging the blade fiercely across the toe, eventually slicing it off completely. Hell, any torture brought to her father; she was in full endorsement of.
After the lengthy terrorizing procedure, the once proud Dantu limped around the dirty tent adamant in trying to regain his lost composure. No longer a dominant figure, he had to rely on a moderate limp for transportation.
“You’ve ruined my life!” Dantu screamed at his daughter.
“You brought this upon yourself!” Alethea wasted no time in arguing back.
The jarring conversation awakened Quentin from his deep slumber.
“Do we have a problem here?” Quentin angrily asked of the commander. “I had the most wonderful dream and it was ruined by your shrilling voice!”
Dantu itched to shoot him again, but he needed Quentin to save his rebel army.
“I’ll bite my tongue on that one doctor,” Dantu sneered. “My men await immediate medical attention once you’re up and well again.”
“Your men would’ve have been attended to if you hadn’t shot me several times to prove your own egotistical point!” Quentin harshly slammed back.
“No one crosses Commander Dantu!” The mad commander reiterated.
“I’ll promise to look at your men tomorrow morning.” Quentin fidgeted in the cot.
“Fair enough. I’ll take whatever measure of glory I can from this horrendous episode.” Dantu shot back a glaring stare at his daughter, who kindly returned the favor with her outstretched middle finger. Dantu slid a pair of black sunglasses over his tired eyes and sauntered out into the hot African sun.
“I take the two of you know each other?” Quentin asked Alethea.
“Only by blood.”
“Is that prick your father?” Quentin queried her.
“Yes.”
“The two of you don’t get along? I wonder why.” Quentin posed the fake question, for he already knew the probably answer.
“He killed my mother in cold blood.” Alethea started to tear at the sound of her mother’s grisly death.
“How?” Quentin sat up with great difficulty, but extended his hand out to Alethea.
“Once he found out she was cheating on him, he did the next best thing and proceeded to drink heavily and then administer the proper punishment. For her lover, a single gunshot to the temple, and for her, well he made sure she’d feel every bit of the pain she had caused him. Later that night, while I was sleeping, he crept up alongside her in bed and wrapped a barbed wire around her pretty neck and strangled her.” Alethea started to cry heavily and her breathing turned into a fight for air.
“It’s okay,” Quentin reached for her, as she obliged by cradling her head into his waiting arms. “I’ll protect you now.”
“I appreciate that,” her words filled his ears with a needed boost of energy.
“So what’s your story here in the colony?” Quentin queried her.
“I learned under Bob, as he taught me your English language, and your culture.” Her sweet African dialect soothed him.
“I have to admit I’m impressed by your professionalism and knowledge in the medicinal field.” Quentin looked down at her, as he still cradled her inside his arms.
“I also served as a translator for my people during the operations, consultations, and educational purposes.”
“That’s very admirable of you.” Quentin meticulously observed the emptied cots that were strewn about the ramshackle tent. Those barren spaces were ready to be filled with the inevitable influx of the sickly.
“And then there’s one more thing I’d like to concentrate on,” Alethea softly spoke.
“Which is?” Quentin posed the fake question, as he already had an answer. He could feel something growing between them, was it love? Or hot lust? There was a feeling he hadn’t felt in along time when Alethea soothed him, kissed him, or just had a normal conversation with him.
“Are you involved with anyone?” Her question was blunt and totally honest.
“I did have a marriage that crumbled, so right now I’m single and enjoying bachelorhood.”
“I do admit I’m smitten by your presence Quentin,” Alethea replied with a gazing stare.
“I feel attracted to you as well,” Quentin responded with a tighter hug. “You saved my life, for that I’m forever in debt to you.”
Alethea nestled in Quentin’s arms for what seemed to be forever. The colony might have harbored many secrets, many horrors, but the one thing it could not defeat: was true love.