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The sun beat down on the town in an endless heat wave. Everyone was trying his or her best to avoid the heat. Some were inside, some were swimming in the lake near the village, and others sat in the shade. Everyone inside or in the shade were busy with some sort of project. Simbel was a town that could not keep their fingers still, though no one in the town grew their own food, no one kept livestock, and no one made weapons. The inhabitants were too busy making beautiful pieces of artwork to worry about any of the other subtleties of life.

It helped that there was a decree in the province they lived in that made outside towns share their food with them. The artists would, of course, assist the other towns by making decorative pieces of art for their temples and furniture for their houses. Some long-gone king, who wanted these artisans to paint and make statues of him all day, every day, passed the decree. So life had gone, new kings came and went, and kings eventually stopped ruling the province, but the decree still stood, never being challenged by anyone.

Still without weapons, the town had never feared anyone or anything. They knew as long as they had their head painter, Paneb, that they would be safe. When he had first come to Simbel, the townsfolk had guffawed at the large man claiming that he was a great painter and wanted to learn even more about painting. Once they saw what he was capable of, they regretted their earlier laughs and replaced them with admiration. Paneb took care of the other towns when rumors started they might challenge the decree. Paneb was protecting their way of life.

On this steamy day, Paneb was out putting straight a neighboring town in charge of providing Simbel with drinking water. They were bringing only half the allotted sum required in the decree. Everyone knew he would straighten it out, and the water would arrive shortly after his return.

A small boy pulled himself out of the lake and looked towards the east; clouds were rolling in, and perhaps a storm was on its way. He watched as the clouds came closer and closer; it seemed to be heading in the direction of his town with a purpose. In no time at all, the clouds were hovering above Simbel, moving no further.

This must be a gift from the gods, to have our own personal clouds to shade us from the sun, the boy thought to himself. Maybe we'll get rain too.

The boy stood smiling up at the clouds as screams started to sound in the distance. Of course, everyone was so overjoyed by the rain, the screams were of joy. Soon rain started caressing the face of the young boy, and he laughed in joy. It felt so good on his face, arms and chest. He paid no more attention to anyone else around him, and savored the rain, dancing and tasting its goodness.

The storm lasted too short of a time for the boy's liking, but rain was better then no rain at all. As quickly as the clouds came, they were off again, out to search out another unbearably hot town. He watched until the clouds were completely gone in the distance; then he looked down from the heavens and cried out. Bodies lay distorted everywhere. Many people had fallen and had formed a balled shape, hiding their faces.

Panic hit the boy, and he searched for his parents. Weren't they under an oak tree not far from the lake? He ran to where they were when he went swimming. There he found his mother, and her face looked like all those people he had seen in the sick house. The boy remembered she had been napping, but the look on her dead face made it look like she had come awake only in time to realize what was happening to her and the town.

Carefully, he knelt by his mother, tears gleaming on his face; he slowly took her hand in his and sat looking at his mother, petting her hand as he had seen the nurses do at the sick house. This made those people feel better; maybe he could make his momma feel better this way, too.


* * * * *

Albert and Nick continued in silence. They were afraid to start speaking to each other; Nick knew Albert would say some snide remark, and Albert was sure Nick would trip over his own tongue attempting to say anything of comfort. Therefore, they both remained silent, walking in no known direction, hoping they would arrive in a city soon.

Nick had no idea where he was going, or how he was going to get there in time to save Rose's life; he just felt he had to walk in a certain direction, and off he went. Several times, though, he walked one direction and then 'felt' he needed to go a different way. They were lost, and he knew it; he also knew Albert knew, but he was keeping quiet.

Frustrated, Nick threw his pack off and against a tree. "Where am I going?" he shouted as he slumped down to the ground.

Albert, afraid if he set Rose down he would be too weak to pick her up again, stood there scanning the trees around where they stopped. "Well, Nick, I would say you succeeded. How, I am not able to comprehend, but there is smoke rising above those trees there. Not enough for a forest fire, just enough to be smoke from a chimney." Quickly, he moved toward the smoke he saw.

Nick, astounded, stood up and grabbed his pack, running to catch up with Albert. Instead of going ahead of him, Nick stayed a good distance behind Albert, following him this time.

In no time, they found themselves in a town that, to Nick, looked like it had frozen in time and suddenly appeared in front of them. Chickens walked the streets, pecking at whatever they could find; women walked the streets with baskets of goods, returning from the market; children played stickball in the dusty streets of the main road. Nick looked around for the men, but realized they were probably in the fields or the mills; this town was definitely a farm town, he decided.

Now that they were in the town, Nick was beginning to think that maybe Albert should take over and find help for Rose. He was ready to settle into the shadows when Albert turned around to him. "Now what?"

Nick sighed and walked over to one of the women walking with a basket full of fruits and vegetables. He watched as she backed away from him, scared of what he might do. "Ma'am, I just want to ask for your help." He tried to walk closer, but with every step he took, she backed away. Finally, he resorted to standing where he was; she stopped and stood looking at him.

"You bring sick girl here. Why? You try make us sick too?"

Nick shook his head. "That girl," he indicated Rose, "she's not sick, ma'am; none of us are sick. That girl is bleeding, she is wounded."

The woman looked at Nick, unsure, and then she looked at the woman and motioned for Albert to come a bit closer with Rose. When they were close enough, she held her hand up and Albert stopped his advancement. The woman saw the blood at Rose's side and gasped. "You were right, she hurt bad. Come, come with me." She motioned to the men to follow, and they walked through the streets. When they came to a group of boys, the play stopped, and they scampered off indoors. Nick glanced back at Albert and shrugged.

The woman stopped about ten feet away from a small building sitting on the outskirts of the town. "Here, that sick house, take her there. Beware, sick people plenty in there." Having done her good deed, the woman turned and tottered away with a quickened pace.

Nick turned from watching the woman and wandered inside the sick house. Inside, he saw why the woman did not want to come any closer to the place, and instinctively he put his hand to his mouth to keep germs away. People were all along the walls. Many of them looked like any sick person would, and some had pus-filled boils covering their bodies.

Albert had followed Nick, and held Rose closer to him when he saw what Nick was viewing. Beds were full with two, sometimes three people; many more were lying on the floor. The smell was overwhelming; a mixture of vomit and excrement mingled in the air. There was a closed door at the back of the front room, and Nick, carefully stepping over those on the floor, made his way over to it.

The smell was overpowering where the door was, and Nick gagged, almost adding his own vomit smell to the mess. Quickly, he knocked; the person or people in charge of this sick house had to be behind the door, but doing what? And how could they stand the smell?

A small, wiry old man answered. He glanced at Nick, then behind him where Rose and Albert were. "Find a place to put her, and we will be with her when we can." Then he waved Nick away and shut the door again. Nick only stood stunned for a few seconds before he knocked again. Again, the old man answered. "Young man, I told you what to do; now git, I'm with a patient."

Before he could shut the door this time, Nick put his hand out and stopped it. "You don't understand, sir. She's not sick, she's wounded. You know, bleed-ing? We were brought here for help; can you help her? Please say you can help her."

The man sighed and looked past him at Albert again. "Bring the girl here." Albert now made his way carefully over groaning bodies, cringing at the smell. Soon, all three were in the small room behind the door. The patient the old man was with didn't look sick; in fact, Nick thought she looked quite like the nurse. His suspicions were confirmed when the old man asked her to bring his utensils. Albert and Nick exchanged a glance, but said nothing about it; this doctor was going to help Rose after all.

They watched as slowly the man cut away the clothing around the area of the wound so he could get a better look. He said nothing, but grunted and pondered the wound before choosing his next course of action. He pulled some sort of liquid out of a cabinet close at hand, dumped it on the wound, and watched it fizz and bubble. Then nodding, as if that was the reaction he wanted, he reached for a long needle.

Nick turned away, not wanting to see what came next, but Albert watched, intrigued, as the old man used the needle to stitch Rose's wound. When he finished with that, he poured the liquid over the wound again, and was pleased that it bubbled less this time around. With a grunt of approval, he took a cloth and wiped the area around the wound of excess liquid and blood. Finished, he called the nurse back into the room, and gave instructions to her. She enlisted the help of Albert, and they carried her off to another room while the doctor turned to Nick.

"I did what I could, but the wound was deep and untreated for too long. I fear it won't last. She will be good for a few days, but she won't last, I am afraid." Using the cloth, he wiped his hands, then started to clean his area. "I am unpracticed, and not up-to-date on the techniques for wounds. Most I see around here is the sick like you see out there." Sighing, he went behind his desk.

"Isn't there anyone else we can see? Someone else who can heal her better?" Nick pleaded. He had just met this Rose woman, but he did not want to see her die so soon, either.

The old man took a minute of contemplation before he spoke again. "Most of the doctors are gonna be like me, treating the sick, but there is something that might help. Many of those in the waiting room are on a pilgrimage to the next town over. There is supposed to be some sort of healing woman there, some say an angel."

Nick nodded; talk of an angel was nothing compared to what he'd already seen. He was ready to take on an angel. "How far is the next town?"

"About forty miles."

"Okay, that should be easy. Do you all have a car we could borrow?" The old man looked at Nick, confused at the words he used. Therefore, he tried again. "A vehicle? A horseless carriage?" Still the old man looked at him, confounded. "Okay, do you have anything that we can ride in or on so we do not have to walk?"

The doctor started laughing such a laugh that made him sound at least twenty years younger. "Not have to walk? Mister, surely you are jesting with me. If there was anything that people could ride, do you think half those people out in my waiting room would be walking on a pilgrimage to see this 'angel'?" He shook his head and continued filling some kind of paperwork out.

Nick mentally slapped his forehead. Now what were they going to do? They had to walk forty miles, hopefully in order to find this angel to heal Rose.

"She'll need to stay for a day or two so I can check on her; then you may leave." With that, the man stood from his desk and walked out of the room, leaving Nick to stare blankly around the room.

He sat there for only a few moments alone before Albert joined him from moving Rose. Nick informed Albert of their plan of action, and Albert nodded gravely. Albert was more frustrated than before; had he gone to all that trouble to save Rose only to see her die now?

With the doctor and nurse out of the room, doing who knew what in one of the other available rooms, Nick walked about the room, grabbing bandages and shoving them in his bag. "She'll need some of these for the trip." He slowly and quietly walked over to the cabinet that the doctor had pulled the liquid out of earlier and opened the door. Cautiously, he grabbed the same bottle he had seen the doctor use and he shoved that too in his bag.

Nick looked at Albert and motioned towards the door. Albert followed Nick back through the mess in the other room and outside the building so they could talk.

"We're leaving tonight," Nick told him quietly. "There is something I don't like about this doctor. I don't know what it is, but I just don't like him at all."

"So, because you don't like the guy, you are willing to endanger Rose's life?" Albert spat at him furiously.

"Albert, my gut feeling is telling me that if we leave her here, her life is in more danger than if we leave tonight." Then he watched as Albert stormed off in some unknown direction. He simply shrugged to himself and wandered to a grouping of rocks, taking a seat. He had to formulate some sort of plan to get Rose out; he knew Albert would be back, but, for now, he was on his own.

* * * * *

Albert fumed at what Nick had told him. How could anyone of any intelligence be evil? Albert had always regarded the learned with higher importance, and even though this doctor was not as bright as some may be, he was still a learned man and should be respected. To think that someone who had studied books on healing would have the desire to do harm baffled Albert greatly.

When he'd walked away from Nick, he'd needed to get away, but of course his slight curiosity gave way, and soon he was walking around the town to discover what kind of place he had come to. This time greatly interested him. It was much like the towns and villages back home, but something in their attitudes and language made them vastly different.

After a while, he grew bored of watching the town; Albert needed to do something. Maybe, if he proved Nick wrong, then they could let Rose heal more. It was worth a chance, at least. Albert walked back towards the sick house; of course, if he talked to the doctor, he would deny anything he brought up, and so he must become a spy.

He arrived at the sick house and walked around back carefully. There was a window in Rose's room, he remembered; maybe, if he found that now, he could hear some conversation, even if in another room. He carefully found the window he was searching for and stooped below it. He was in luck; the old man and his nurse were in the room with Rose.

"What are we going to do, Father Mykel?" a woman's voice asked. Albert did not remember a minister when he was in there, but his confusion was set aside when Mykel answered; he was indeed the old doctor.

"Well, I told the one boy, the one who looked like a ninny, that we had to keep her here for observation. One night should give us the proper time to remove that stone, examine it, destroy it, and then let the young girl drift into an endless sleep. Truly, this woman is part of what Father Corin was talking about. She mustn't be allowed to leave here alive."

"What about the other two; aren't they part of it as well?"

"That dimwitted blonde won't know what's going on, and that older gentleman will blame him; they'll go their separate ways. The way I figure, this woman holds this measly group together." He laughed a strange laugh; then, the voices started talking about non-important things as they faded out.

Albert gasped. "Damn, the dimwitted blonde was right."