Chapter IX

Chapter IX-THE FOURTH HORSEMEN

“Come on, old man,” Zartan anxiously begged to his fallen friend. “Get up, yes?”
Quentin winced with extreme pain, writhing around the jungle floor with mighty agony. His hands were cut and filled with jagged pieces of the glass vial. He had accidentally absorbed the antidote taken from Dantu’s body.
“I’m fine, let’s head back to the colony.” Quentin finally stood, brushing himself off, and picked away at the shards of glass away from his hands.
“You killed Dantu, yes?” Zartan asked of the doctor, as they rumbled back into the colony.
“It would seem that way,” Quentin looked around the town, noticing Ally running straight for the incoming duo.
Quentin leapt from the Jeep, landing on his bag leg. He didn’t care; he witnessed what Ally was running to. Lying before them, were the mangled bodies of several colonists.
“What happened?” Quentin looked everything over.
“A savage tiger attack,” Ally grimaced in a sour mood. “He was our friend, can you save him?”
“I’ll try, but we must hurry, I fear that he’s lost a lot of blood.”
“I go after tiger, yes?” Zartan nodded his head.
“Help me first,” Quentin motioned to the big man. “Let’s get this man into the tent where I can work on him.
Zartan happily obliged and carried the wounded man all by himself into the desired location. “Anything else?”
“Yes, in my bag over there, please get me some disinfectant wipes from the orange canister.” Quentin nodded over to his medical belongings.
Zartan soon retrieved the contents and handed them over to Quentin.
“I’m also going to need some water for the operation,” Quentin directed Zartan. “Grab a bowl and fill it up, please.”
“Bowl of water, yes?”
“Yes,” replied Quentin.
Quentin then leaned over to Ally. “I have to tell you something.”
“Yes?” She prepared the instruments for Quentin to use.
“I killed your father.” Quentin was hoping for Ally’s reaction to be that of sorrow or remorse.
“I’m sad it was you and not I that pulled the trigger.” Her emotions were totally blank for her father. “Did he suffer?”
“I managed to extract a potential antidote for what he calls the devil’s disease that ravaging this colony.” Quentin brought his lady up to speed.
“Where is it now?” She looked him over, noticing his bloody palms.
“It broke when I dove for cover.”
“?” Ally was confused.
“I blew up Dantu’s tent, and in the process I accidentally landed on the vials, breaking them and absorbing the contents directly into my bloodstream.”
“Is that bad?”
“Well, I’m going to need for you to extract a sample of my blood and help me study it and reconstruct the antidote.”
“As you wish Master Quentin.”
“Thank you, Ally.” He kissed her soft forehead.
Zartan returned with the bowl of water, watching as Quentin rinsed his hands and started to operate on the wounded man.
“The tiger sure did a number on his chest,” Quentin feverishly worked, ignoring the fact that he had seriously sliced one of his fingers in the process with the scalpel, when the man’s body inexplicably jerked violently.
Quentin stared down into the man’s open chest cavity, as Ally handed him the necessary tools. She was faster, brighter and more talented than half of the nurses and doctors he had ever worked with.
Quentin quietly rolled the man’s eyes closed. “I’m so sorry.” He hung his head in complete disappointment. “Such a loss.”
“You tried your best, yes?” Zartan wanted to know of his new friend.
“Until it was totally impossible to save this man.” Quentin wrapped his injured digit in a bandage and firmly helps keep pressure on it.
“Thank you for trying.” Zartan slapped Quentin on the shoulder.
“He’s taking a liking to you.” Ally surveyed the situation.
“He has a son that’s very sick.”
“Well, then let’s look at him.” Quentin looked around for Zartan, who had just left the medical tent. “Can you stitch my finger back up?”
“Yes,” Ally’s eyes brimmed with eagerness. “Anything for you.”
Quentin retrieved the supplies for Ally to start the procedure.
“So, Zartan’s very protective of his only son, Duke.” Ally continued the conversation.
“Duke?” Quentin asked. “What kind of name is Duke?”
“Zartan has several American comic books of G.I. Joe?”
Ally wanted to if she said it right.
“Ah, now his name makes sense too.” Quentin smiled. “Let me talk with him, maybe he’ll let me have a look at Duke.”
“You can try Master Quentin,” Ally kissed him on the cheek,
walking away as she rubbed her belly with a loving gesture.
Quentin, along with several other colonists buried the young man behind some trees a few yards into the jungle. Quentin held a short sermon and continued back to the colony to have a talk with Zartan.
“Zartan?” Quentin poked his head into the tent, noticing off in the corner, was a small boy of about four years old, sleeping comfortably on a straw bed.
“Doctor,” his voice was serene and shallow.
“Alethea told me about your son.”
“She did. I told her not to.”
“I understand.” Quentin’s finger started to pulsate.
“Duke’s very sick, I know of this.” Zartan turned to his feeble son. “His toes and fingers are bent backwards and he spits up the devil’s blood.”
“Really?” Quentin started to piece together the picture.
Another case of leprosy, but the internal bleeding was definitely a new spin. Unless, for arguments sake, Dantu’s story was indeed correct, and Dr. Norris had unleashed a combo of Ebola and Leprosy upon these unsuspecting colonists. A new strain of both, combined would devastate anybody instantly. Quentin had to analyze Duke and fast. He had already lost precious time, and Quentin didn’t know how much Duke had left.
“I want you to help him,” Zartan hung his head in chagrin.
“Will you?”
“Yes.” Quentin walked over to Duke. “Hi there little Buddy.”
Duke’s brown eyes flittered open, his small limbs encased in a limber stretch.
“Daddy?” Duke called out to his father.
“This man is a doctor, and he will help you.” Zartan gave approval for Quentin to administer tests.
“What’s your name?” Duke weakly asked, as blood trickled down his chin.
“Quentin, but you can call me Doc.”
“Okay, doc.” Duke smiled feebly. “What will you call me?”
“Well, you’re like a little buddy, so I’ll call you Bud.”
“I have to ask you a few questions, Bud.”
“Okay, doc.”
“Tell me where it hurts,” Quentin softly spoke, as he gingerly pressed every inch of Duke’s tender body.
“My toes and fingers hurt a lot.” Duke started to cry.
“What about your chest?” Quentin pointed.
“Sometimes, when I cough and breathe.”
Quentin leaned over and listened to Duke’s breathing pattern.
Zartan was impressed at Quentin’s technique. “How is he? Good, yes?”
“I’m afraid I’m going to need to run a blood test to figure out why he’s spitting up blood and why his breathing pattern is labored.
“Then do it.” Zartan motioned for Quentin to start the procedure.
“Did Alethea teach your son how to speak?”
“Yes, she did. We read to him every night and encourage him to speak and share his thoughts.”
“That right there,” Quentin stood up. “Is the best medicine you could give him. Love conquers all.”
“You a bright man?” asked Zartan.
“Depends on whom you ask.”
Zartan looked at him with confusion. “Who would I ask then?”
“Never mind. It was a bad joke.” Quentin started for the entrance. “I’m going to get Ally for this, she can help me collect and analyze the samples.”
Quentin dusted off the dirt from his well-worn khaki pants and found Ally amongst a sea of meandering colonists.
“Ally!” Quentin split his fingers and blew a hard whistle in her direction. She instinctively whipped her head around and met his eyes with hers. “Over here!”
“How can I help you?” Her sweet voice echoed in his ears.
“Zartan gave my permission to collect a blood sample from his son, and I need your assistance. You’ve done a great deal before with Bob, I thought we could work together from now on.”
“I would like that Master Quentin,” she responded with heart.
“Follow me then,” Quentin answered grabbing her small hands and leading her back to Zartan and Duke.
The trees started to sway back and forth in a ferocious pattern, the clouds started to reform above the sultry jungle, leaving a blistering monsoon on the horizon. Several times a year, these wicked storms blitzed through the African landscape, flooding, destroying and some cases, wiping everything out in its maniacal path.
A young man sauntered through the crowded street, his fingers and toes burned with pain. His eyes sunken into his sweaty head, his lips freshly painted with blood. A snide grin grew as he wiped off the remnants of blood with the back of his hand. A small collection of tiny blisters scattered across his face, hands, and arms. They were dark red from his consistent itching.
“Are you okay?” an elderly man asked.
“My body’s on fire, it hurts so bad,” the young man violently hiccupped a stream of blood directly into the elderly man’s face.
“Arrgh,” the man grunted as he forcefully wiped away the blood, trying to erase it from his skin. The tiny droplets of blood had already found their way into his nostrils and were instantly sucked up into his sinus cavity.
“Someone help me!” the young man again pleased for help,
as the drizzling rain quickly started to escalate into a powerful downpour. His body doubled over in a gut wrenching agony, leaving the defenseless man writhing around on the muddy street.
A few more passerby’s continued along their path, until the elderly man cam across their path.
“That man over there,” he pointed. “He needs immediate medical attention.” He let off a quiet sneeze directly into the path of the unsuspecting colonists.
“Bless you,” the group chorused.
“Thank you,” the elderly man continued along, unknowingly spreading the devil’s disease throughout the colony.
The young man finally rolled along the ground, spewing blood into the air, screaming for mercy to come and save him. His eyes swelled inside their eye sockets, his organs’ one by one started to disintegrate and liquefy within him. Every orifice soon had blood escaping from their clutches, culminating in the gruesome death of the promising young man.
The raging monsoon swept across the colony, drenching everyone with a constant battering of heavy rain and wind.
Quentin could feel the tent start to flap wildly from the storm’s intense pressure. He nevertheless continued with Duke’s analysis. Ally had successfully retrieved a sample of blood, and a thick curly strand of black hair for DNA. She had learned a lot from Bob, and was excited to use her many talents.
“What’s going on?” Quentin gazed around the tent looking for answers.
“Feels like a monsoon, yes?” Zartan brought Quentin up to speed on their frequent storms.
Quentin headed outside to inspect the potential damage from the stormy weather. His hands flipped open the tent, as he poked his head outside. His eyes couldn’t believe what was waiting before him. Quentin fully stepped outside into the fearsome rain, feeling it pelt off his skin with a fiery passion. The mist started to collect along the ground due to the intense humidity, rolling across the scattered bodies with a thin veil. The entire panoramic view was horrifying, leaving Quentin clamoring for breath. At least a half-dozen dead bodies were lying across the muddy fields, with several others either doubled over in pain, or already on the ground rolling around waiting for death.
Quentin stubbornly refused to believe Dantu’s story. The disease had already penetrated into the colony, spreading with reckless abandon throughout. And from the looks of it, it’s an airborne demon. Quentin felt responsible for not fully understanding the situation, and as he looked down at his stitched finger, a horrid thought crept into his mind. What if the man he tried to save was one of the infected? Quentin had inadvertently mixed their blood with the botched operation? But, Quentin had the antidote; only he had lost during the explosion. Quentin felt horrible, easily to blame for not saving these innocent lives. He lowered his head in complete shame, and kept whispering the same name over and over again.
“Judas Sturgis, we need your help,” Quentin prayed to the murky heavens above, as the stinging hot rain pelted upon his tired face. He raised his hands high above and rested them on top of his head, shaking it back and forth in a distraught nature. The rain cascading down his chin and innocently fell down upon the blood soaked earth below.