I wakened with a mild headache and a solid, coughing cold well started in my left lung. Tinnie materialized before I got all the way upright. I grumbled, “Aren’t we getting domestic?”
She had thoughts on the matter. She didn’t share. “Drink this.” She’d brought a steaming hot mug of something more fetid than aged swamp water.
“Are there wiggly things in here?”
“Dean forgot to add them. I’ll go get some. Start on this in the meantime.”
I took the mug, held my breath, downed a long draft. Fighting a cough as I did. I don’t get sick often. If I do, Dean usually conjures some effective remedy.
Tinnie didn’t leave. She made like a stern mother forcing her recalcitrant scion to polish off his rutabaga pie.
“Guess the poison and the exposure did me in.”
Tinnie smirked. “Once you’re strong enough, go downstairs. Dean has a steam thing set up.”
A steam thing. I hadn’t been steamed and herbalized since I was a kid. Somebody thought I was on the brink of pneumonia.
“What the hell? This morning I was-”
Miss Tate silenced me with a scowl. “This morning was a different world. You got sick. Fast. In a big way.”
I didn’t collapse when I got up. But my world whirled on its axis. I was in trouble.
The kind of trouble you’re in when a gorgeous redhead gets under your arm and up against you, pretending she’s helping you when she’s actually torturing you with no shred of shame.
I didn’t have much trouble breathing while Tinnie was helping me. Just the opposite.
It looks like the worst may have passed. Which means you will be back to your usual uncouth self before the rest of us adjust.
“I’m hoping, Old Bones. Before this one gets away.”
That earned me an elbow in the ribs. The sore ribs.
“Easy, woman. What’ve you got against compliments?”
“Their artificiality? Their lack of sincerity?”
“I’m a little lame in the brain right now. How does that saying go about sharper than a frog’s fang?”
“Serpent’s tooth. Which you know. Because you haul it out every time somebody disagrees with you.”
“Who could possibly disagree with me? I’m so cute.” I had to sit back down, then lie back down. I’d used me all up.
“Drink some water.”
“You’re awful cranky.”
“I haven’t been getting enough sleep.”
Sense was setting in. I thought before I spoke. “How long have you been here?”
“Fifteen hours.”
Wow! That explained some things. “I must’ve been a long way gone.”
“You’re lucky the Dead Man is awake. And not just because of the breathing.”
“Huh?”
“You made me so mad I almost killed you last night. You tried to die on me.”
“Uh… all right.” This sounded like one of those times when anything I said would be the wrong thing. Even silence wouldn’t cut it. But silence would bring on the fewest lumps and bruises.
“You probably shouldn’t get up. But we need to get you bathed and get your bed changed.”
“Sickness is a bitch. Has to happen right in the middle of everything.” We’d lost what, two days already?
Nothing has been lost by your suffering. Nothing has happened.
Tinnie got that, too. She told me, “It’s snowing again. It’s weird. We’ve had half a winter’s worth and it really shouldn’t have started yet.”
More water arrived. Dean didn’t carp about anything. That meant I’d definitely had a close call. I drank some, then said, “I’m starving. But I feel nothing better than chicken soup coming on.”
“And be thankful for that.”
“Old Bones. Was it the samsom weed? Or something else?”
You have Mr. White to thank for your situation. If not the person called Kolda. The supposed antidote appears to be another poison.
Teacher. The kind of guy who went to the trouble he’d gone to to get even for Spider Webb and Original Dick might’ve wanted to get even with me.
“Hey! Why didn’t you warn me? Wouldn’t you have seen it in Teacher’s head if he was trying to poison me?”
White appeared to have no conscious villainy in progress.
Dean brought the anticipated chicken soup. Only it was nothing but broth. All the good stuff had been strained out.
It was warm and thick and I was starving. I sucked it down till I couldn’t hold any more.
Minutes later I declared, “I’m starting to feel human.” Pause. “Well? Somebody going to jump on the straight line?”
“Nobody’s in the mood, Garrett. The last fifteen hours were misery curdled. Ready downstairs, Dean?”
“Steamer’s going. Water’s hot. The tub is out. I’ll get something to dry him off and we’ll be set.”
Tinnie snapped, “Off your butt, big boy. It’s bath time.”
I stood. With help. The world hadn’t gone stable, but it didn’t have that awful wobble where I tripped and stumbled into a nightmare dreamland.
I felt stronger by the time we hit the kitchen. Where the air was thick with steam, the herb stench watered my eyes, and the heat was overpowering.
Dean had dragged the big copper laundry tub up from the cellar. Two smaller tubs were heating on the stove. I said, “This ought to cook a few demons out of me.”
“If only,” Tinnie and Dean sneered at the same instant.
Ifonly. You should be beyond crisis, Garrett. But we must make sure. You are doing most of your own breathing. Secondarily, Dean and Miss Tate wish to render your personal aroma somewhat less piquant.
I didn’t have energy enough to get my feelings bruised.
Tinnie grumbled, “Arms over your head. Off with those filthy duds.”
In the steam and heat I caught whiffs of what everybody else had been suffering all along.
No wonder Singe and her miracle nose were elsewhere.
That weed sweat was pretty awful.
50
They steamed me for the rest of the century. They were generous with water and beer, but still I sweated a good ten pungent pounds. And was too weak afterward to make it back to bed on my own.
My bedding had been changed. Somebody had opened the window briefly, despite the weather. A charcoal burner was warming the room now. Herbs had been added, meant to mask bad smells.
I collapsed. My last recollection was Tinnie cursing like a Marine as she levered loose extremities into bed.
I regained consciousness with a furious hangover- again-and a worse attitude. How many times would I go round this circle of misery? Hell. Maybe I could get my karma all polished up in one lifetime.
I had no strength. I was a big glob of pancake goo, just splattered there. If I’d been able to feel sorry for anybody else, I would’ve reflected on how awful life must be for Chodo. But from the surface of the griddle the horizon is close. Only a strong caution from the Dead Man and a residual dollop of survival instinct kept me from taking it out on Tinnie.
It is not her fault. It is not her fault. He is handy, sometimes.
“The Dead Man says you’re cured.” Damn her eyes, she was chipper. Perky, even. Which made it harder to hold back. “There’s some work you can do today. Notice, you’re breathing on your own now.” Tinnie fed me watery porridge and honeyed tea. “You more inclined to concentrate on the manufactory full-time now?”
Here came some potholes in the high road to romance.
“I thought you all wanted me to stay away.” On account of I mutter and sputter and carry on like the group conscience. Particularly when they’re trying to expand the corporate profit margin.
“You could keep your mouth shut. You can contribute without making everybody want to smack you with a shaping mallet. Security is getting to be a challenge. We’ve had parts go missing. We think somebody is trying to build a three-wheel at home.”