Chapter VII

CHAPTER VII
THE DEVILS DISEASE
July 30th

The blazing hot sun again drenched the colony in an inescapable heat wave. The thick clouds had started to formulate a wicked storm high above the jungle. This of course, hadn’t slowed down our Quentin Forsythe who briskly limped across the impoverished colony, watching as decimation wrecked the feeble society. His long wrinkled white shirt was disheveled and bloodied, hung loosely over his tattered and torn light brown khaki’s. He had sported a grizzly, bristled white beard, a remnant of the days gone by. Quentin had a plan in place, to eliminate the devil’s stronghold on this colony.
“Master Quentin,” her sweet voice came up behind him.
“Ally,” he turned around to face her. “How are you?”
“Much better, now that you’re here,” she responded in her thick dialect.
“We have to start our plan of rebuilding the colony.” Quentin reached for her hand.
“I understand.” Ally’s soft voice resonated in his ears.
“I have to trek into the jungle and scour for fresh water and edible food.” Quentin looked around at the citizens taking baths in the diseased riddled creeks and rivers, or even worse, using them for lavatory purposes. “I’d like to leave as soon as possible.”
“I know just the person to take you into the jungle.”
“Really? Who?” Quentin pressed for an answer.
“His name is Zartan Torue, and he’s the best we have.”
“I’m flattered. Where can I find him?”
“He lives in that small tent way over there at the end of the colony.”
Quentin followed Ally’s finger. “A bit of a recluse?”
“What does that mean?”
“He likes to keep to himself?”
“He’s one of the last survivors.” Ally looked into Quentin’s eyes. “He’s dodged all the major diseases to this point.”
“He’s very lucky.” Quentin and Ally continued to walk along, noticing small kids kicking around a battered soccer ball.
Quentin entered his tent, with Ally right behind him.
“I want to give you something,” she said reaching for something underneath her makeshift straw bed.
“A present for me?” Quentin felt a bit embarrassed.
“Here, Master Quentin.” Ally handed him a black and silver double-barreled shotgun.
“What’s that for?”
“You will need this in the jungle, to protect yourself against the demons.” Ally’s voice turned serious.
“I will gladly take this and defend the colony with every ounce of strength left in my bones,” replied Quentin as his eager fingers firmly clasped the weapon. “Thank you.”
“Your welcome,” Ally responded as she beckoned him to the bed. “Come here, Master Quentin.”
Quentin followed her lead, right into her waiting arms. After a lengthy kiss, an air of romance surrounded the two lovers, as the rolled around the bed in a tight embrace.
****
The next morning was the day that Quentin was going to implement his five-step plan. Quentin shuffled over to the tiny mirror and gazed at himself for a second. His fingers worked every button on his shirt, until a pesky chest hair got caught in between forcing a slight grimace on his face.
Quentin headed outdoors, using his hands to shield himself from the blinding sunshine; he finally made out Zartan’s tent.
Quentin used the gun for a temporary cane, as he gimped along, nursing his injured leg. He calmly opened the green flaps to Zartan’s tent and walked inside.
Zartan was a tall, black man in his mid-forties, with small brown eyes. A shiny, bald head, taut black goatee, and two golden hoop earrings in each ear rounded out his facial features. He was dressed from head to toe in green combat fatigues, obviously stolen from one of Dantu’s men.
“May I help you?” Zartan’s deep, low voice asked of his guest.
“Alethea has sent me into your kind graces,” responded a
friendly Quentin. Zartan’s voice had reminded him of the legendary actor, Isaac Hayes. “My name is Dr. Quentin Forsythe.”
“Ah yes,” his African accent was prominent. “Alethea and I go back a long way. She speaks very highly of you, and I see she trusts you.”
“How so?”
“That weapon is very close to her heart. She uses it for defense when her father comes through her with his troops.”
“She gave it to me for protection.” Quentin gazed around the tent. “Do you have enough weapons?”
“Not enough,” Zartan answered with a sly smile. He started to load a shotgun full of bullets, and slid a thick hunting knife into a homemade leather scabbard that hung loosely at his side.
“When Commander Dantu comes through here, I’m usually raiding his camp. I make away with weapons, food, and medicine for the colony.”
“You seem to be a very wise man.” Quentin observed him.
“I have a an extra change of clothes for you.” Zartan administered assistance to Quentin.
“Great,” responded Quentin as he reached for the camouflaged clothing.
“Take these,” Zartan handed him two grenades. “Put them in your pocket, yes?”
“I guess so,” Quentin replied as he retrieved the explosives from Zartan’s grasp.
“For defense.” Zartan turned himself around and picked up a large knife and handed it to Quentin.
“Another weapon?”
“Slid it into your boots, in case you find yourself without your shotgun, or you need to skin a lion for food.”
“Interesting.” Quentin simply was enthralled at this entire
practice.
“We leave now, yes?” Zartan again ended his dialogue with a friendly tone.
Quentin approached the Jeep first. “Is this our transportation?”
“For the first quarter mile,” Zartan responded as he chucked the gear into the back. “Then, we hike.”
“Wonderful,” said a crestfallen Quentin, as he rubbed his leg with care. He cautiously slid into the passenger seat, which was torn and lopsided.
Zartan turned the key and the Jeep sputtered to life.
“Anything I need to know?” Quentin asked, wondering if the seat was going to hold him.
“Just grab onto the railing above your head.” Zartan started to pull away towards the jungle.
“Why?” Quentin never had the chance to get an answer, as he was bounced around like a pinball in an arcade machine. His teeth clattered together, his bones shifted back and forth over the rocking and jostling of the Jeep.
“So you’re a doctor, yes?” Zartan asked of his bouncing guest.
Quentin’s words seemed to stammer from the vicious shaking of the old vehicle. “Yes, I am.”
“We need more of you here, to save us from the devil’s diseases.”
“That’s why I’m here.” Quentin looked up just in time to feel a cool rain drizzle upon his face. “Looks like rain.”
“We stop here, yes?” Zartan spoke as he shut off the ignition and let the Jeep roll to a complete stop at the end of the dirt road.
Quentin happily got out of the Jeep, and firmly planted his feet on the ground. It took a few moments before the rocking inside him had subsided, but he gathered himself and reached for the shotgun.
The dense clouds turned dark and within a matter of seconds the sun was a faded, distant memory.
“Where now?” Quentin’s head felt the raindrops increasing with tenacity.
“The path splits just inside the jungle.” Zartan motioned with his hands. “We go this way, yes?” He indicated with his left hand.
“How far is Dantu’s camp?” asked Quentin as he smacked away an engorged mosquito away from his sweaty neck.
“A few miles inside the jungle. Be very careful and prepare yourself for Dantu’s men. They routinely scour this area. Their method of entrapment relies on carefully placed landmines.” Zartan warned Quentin.
“Land mines?”
“The one’s that go ka-boom!” Zartan exclaimed with vigor.
“If you hear a click, ka-boom follows. No survivors,” said a saddened Zartan as he shook his in a negative manner.
“Thanks for the tip.” Quentin’s hair was totally drenched now, just a wet matte of white hair.
“I will concentrate on hunting for food, you will collect fresh water and medicine from Dantu’s camp, yes?”
“Sounds like a plan,” Quentin replied as he bent down to tie his boot, which had come untied. Quentin’s knee had made a soft impression in the muddy path. He could feel the earth wash away underneath his weight. By the time he looked up, Zartan had already started the dangerous trek into the dark jungle ahead, without the doctor.
“That’s just great,” murmured Quentin. “His enthusiasm impresses me, but his leadership skills.” Quentin’s thoughts broke off once he heard the small click of a weapon directly behind his right ear.
Quentin slowly reached into his black boot and retrieved the hunting knife given to him by Zartan.
“What are you doing here?” asked the burly solider of his newly found prisoner. The intense rain poured down upon them with a vengeful reckoning. The water ran fiercely off the soldier’s cap.
“Would you believe I’m lost?” Quentin sarcastically answered.
“Lost?” The commando’s fingers pressed the trigger, however, the weapon jammed and he had lost the upper hand.
Quentin’s hearing picked up on the miscue, and he took full advantage. His hand gripped the knife tautly, and with a sharp and furious thrust, Quentin had buried the blade deep within the soldier’s right thigh.
A howl of pain erupted from the wounded man’s lips, as he collapsed in a bloodied heap and rolled across the mud-soaked trail, clutching his flesh wound.
Quentin whirled around, digging his fingers sharply into the ground for ample support. He had to favor his throbbing leg; it had started to seize up on him again.
The tears strolled down the soldier’s face; his bright red lips were pursed in agony. And then that horrible sound creaked out from underneath the mud.
CLICK!
Quentin knew that sound meant something horrible for the young man. He was in no position to save him, nor did he really want to. His deep hatred for what Dantu had done to him; lead Quentin down a different path of thinking. Rationality had started to seep away from his consciousness. Out here in the colony, it was survival, and nothing more, nothing less.
“What does that sound mean?” The wounded man asked.
“It means Ka-boom.” Quentin rose and gingerly walked towards the fork in the road. Seconds later, the screaming was lost within a forceful explosion that sent pieces of the solider raining down in every direction.
The warm rain softened as Quentin arrived to a clearing, where he spotted Zartan peering through a set of binoculars.
“What took you so long?” Zartan wanted to know.
“One of Dantu’s men cornered me,” answered the stern doctor.
“I take it you won that battle, yes?” Zartan posed another question to Quentin. “What do you see?”
Zartan tossed the binoculars into Quentin’s direction. “Take a look.” He nodded his head directly ahead.
Quentin’s eyes peered into Commander Dantu’s campsite. Several men walked around; fully equipped with a deadly arsenal, ready to destroy all intruders upon contact. Emerging from the center of the pack was Dantu himself!
“Bastard,” grumbled Quentin. “That sociopath is mine.”
“We camp further up and hit them tomorrow,” proposed a thoughtful Zartan.
“Well, I’m sure he heard that explosion, and wants to know what caused it.” Quentin lowered the binoculars. “I’ll wait here, you go ahead and gather some food. I’m confident in a matter of minutes, Dantu will send out his men to search the area, leaving him fully exposed for a surprise visit.” Quentin was right on target, as Dantu indeed dispatched his small troupe to scour the surrounding area.
“Good luck my friend,” Zartan slapped Quentin upon the shoulder, nearly knocking him over.
“I’ll need it,” Quentin mumbled back as he made his way towards Dantu’s camp, pushing away large vegetation in the process.
Dantu had paced around feverishly, nursing his recent foot injury. His concentration had been broken for a minute, as he lingered off thinking about the pain in his foot. He quickly felt a sharp crack from behind that sent him sprawling ahead trying to find a way to retaliate. Soon, dark blackness swallowed him up, and the faint noise of footsteps dragged him along the wet ground.
Dantu was securely tied down in a chair in the middle of his medical tent. The rattling of supplies alerted him to his intruder. He frantically tried to free himself from the tightly knotted bondage.
“Who are you?” Dantu grimaced.
“You don’t remember me?” the voice asked him, as they continued to peruse through Dantu’s medical gear. “What’s inside the boxed cooler?” The voice dropped in tone.
“I’m not telling you.” Dantu defiantly denied access to that precious knowledge. Lowering his head, Dantu stared at the ground.
The intruder simply shrugged it off and walked around to face Dantu. Those eyes gazed down upon the fallen commander until Dantu finally raised his head, instantly recognizing his captor.
“You!” Dantu darkly growled. “I left you for dead, to teach you a lesson!”
“Well, next time play for keeps,” responded a fearsome Quentin Forsythe.
“It was a business decision,” Dantu tried to smooth out the situation. He directly knew his chances of survival hinged on calmly placating the riled doctor.
“Save it,” barked back Quentin. “I thank the Lord above for a wonderful daughter like yours. She lovingly treated me and brought me back from certain death.” Quentin started to pace around the room.
“She does have her mother’s flaws.” Dantu sniffed back with hatred.
“Never mind that. I want to know what’s inside that neat little cooler over there.” Quentin turned around and looked directly into Dantu’s eyes. For once, he saw that fear, that uncertainty inside the commander’s shaky eyes.
“I will not tell you.” Dantu again defied Quentin.
A hard vicious slap sent a stinging sensation across Dantu’s right cheek.
“That’s supposed to scare me?” Dantu hurled a wad of spit into Quentin’s face.
“No. But, this baby should.” Quentin quickly displayed the fully loaded shotgun that Ally had given to him earlier that day.
That cold barrel stared down the faltering commander.
“Now, now.” Dantu fidgeted in the chair. “Let’s not make rash decisions.”
Quentin’s calm, steady hand pumped off a blistering shot that had whizzed by Dantu’s cheek, leaving a reddened flash burn.
“The cooler.” Quentin again asked the question, as he snapped the shotgun shut, ready for another shot. “And, the next one goes directly between your eyes hot shot.” He raised the weapon directly in front of Dantu’s face.
“Remember Bob?”
“Yeah, my old friend, the one you brutally killed?”
“Well, he found something that was left behind by another doctor.”
Quentin tried to make the dots connect. “What other doctor? And, what the hell are you stammering about?”
“A couple of years ago, I stumbled upon this young doctor inside the colony, who claimed he had found the cure for leprosy.”
“Impossible,” Quentin denied the plausible possibility.
“According to this doctor, he had found the remedy within the Ebola virus.” Dantu’s words were stinging.
“Ebola? We would all be dead right now.” Quentin administered his theory.
“Not if the doctor had isolated that one case.” Dantu licked his lips. His hands were starting to chafe, underneath the rigid rope.
“Okay, so where does Bob tie into this?”
“He found out that this doctor, I think his name was Norris, like the American movie star, had combined the two into one entity, and administered it to himself, using himself as the test subject.”
“Dr. Rodney Norris?” Quentin finally made the connection.
“Yeah, that sounds right.” Dantu agreed.
“But, he left here, and returned back to the states, until he...” Quentin’s words had trailed off.
“I stumbled upon this during the later stages, and coerced Bob to monitor the situation.”
“What happened?”
“The devil’s disease,” Dantu’s voice spoke sternly.
“It spread?”
“It infected some, but not all.” Dantu started to choke up. “I lost many men to this venomous snake.”
“And what about Bob?”
“He needed medical supplies to find a cure, but in the end, he was only out for himself,” replied Dantu. “Eventually, he double crossed me, and nobody does that.”
“I gathered. How did it spread?”
“I don’t know. If I had to guess, it passed from person to person, through the air. Chances are you’re infected right now.” Dantu evilly smiled. “Welcome to the colony.”
“And you’re not?” Quentin inquired.
Dantu just quietly rocked back and forth.
Quentin darted for the cooler, fiercely breaking open the lock with the butt of the shotgun. Quentin set down the weapon and slowly opened the top revealing two empty vials spinning wildly at the bottom of the cooler.
“You little, wily dick!” Quentin whirled around and briskly limped over to Dantu. “You took the last of the antidote. That’s why you killed Bob. He knew that you held the key to the puzzle.”
“Survival,” seethed an angry Dantu.
Quentin quickly headed for the table, and scattered the medical kit about. His fingers scooped up a clean syringe and empty vial and headed straight towards Dantu. “It’s your turn to save the colony now,” Quentin used his teeth to rip off the plastic, readying Dantu for a blood withdrawal.
“What are you doing?” He abruptly asked. His violent rocking made it impossible for Quentin to draw a sample. A solid head-butt from Quentin sent Dantu staring to space, allowing Quentin to enact the quick retrieval of blood from inside Dantu’s arm. Dark, berry blood swirled into the clear vial, filling it with a sea of red.
The sounds of approaching men, made Quentin harshly cap off the vial and head for the exit.
“Time for me to leave.” Quentin turned around to face the bewildered commander. Quentin couldn’t resist the temptation and pulled out a grenade from inside his pocket.
“What are you doing?” Dantu started to resume coherence.
“Let’s call it a mutual business decision.” Quentin snagged the pin with his teeth and tossed the explosive device directly into Dantu’s personal space.
Quentin darted out of the tent in a desperate attempt to beat the grenade’s wrath of terror. He bumped into the incoming soldiers, and continued to bristle past their grasp, heading for cover. Time slowly elapsed, as Quentin didn’t think he had enough distance.
A thunderous boom rocketed into the sky, infiltrating the jungle with a deafening shake. And there was Quentin Forsythe on the ground trying to protect his body from the flying shrapnel and burning flesh. His thoughts drifted to his sweet Ally, wondering if he would ever see her again.