by Lily Harlem
Leo rested his hip against the counter and went for a casual stance. He should turn away and not stare at Malik, but he couldn’t stop studying his beautiful mouth. He thought of how much he liked it on him, kissing him, biting him, whispering filthy words into his ear. He examined Malik’s big hands that held the small cup. Leo’s buttocks tingled as he remembered the peppering of slaps those rough palms had administered. How had Malik known that a few swift spanks were right up his alley? It had been hot, more than hot. It had been scorching.
“How are you today?” Leo asked him, trying to sound laid-back.
“Busy.” Malik stood and placed his cup on the side. “There is much to do on the ward.” Still without looking at Leo, he strode from the room.
Leo watched his wide shoulders slip from view and a sinking feeling settled in his chest. He’d tried not to let it grip him.
What the bloody hell just happened?
Where was the man who’d told him he wanted and needed him the night before? The man who’d fucked him senseless, just the way he liked? The man whose big cock had plundered his arse so thoroughly that if he clenched now, he could still feel a delicious residual ache?
“Thanks,” he said, taking the herbal tea from Sister Afua. He forced a smile, even though it didn’t feel like there was one to be found on his face.
He understood Malik didn’t want to be over-friendly or draw suspicion that there was more to their relationship than there was, but really, that was just rude. It was also likely to make it more obvious there was something between them. They’d been chatty previously. Now a tension simmered in the air, he was surprised it hadn’t scorched everyone in the room.
“So what do you think?” Sister Afua asked.
“Mmm? Pardon, sorry, I was miles away.” Leo sipped his tea.
Sister Afua clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth, the way he’d noticed she did when she was frustrated or worried. “About this sudden sickness, Doctor Leo?”
“I’m not sure. I mean, how many patients do we have on the ward with it?”
“Only six, the weakest, but many in the village are ill at home.”
“And what are the symptoms?”
“Vomiting, diarrhea, fever… A few have a rash.”
A whole host of disgusting, deadly diseases rushed through his mind. Hygiene wasn’t exactly a strong point in the village, but they did their best with the river and the deep well, plus they had basic sanitation for waste all thanks to a charity intervention several years ago.
“I think perhaps you should see for yourself,” Sister Afua said.
“Yes, you’re right.” He quickly finished his tea and reached for his stethoscope. “Lead the way.”
The first patient they came to was an elderly woman who was severely dehydrated. Her skin was paper-thin and held no elasticity, and her lips were cracked and dry.
“She’s been vomiting all night. She is weak with it,” Sister Afua informed him.
“She needs intravenous fluids,” Leo replied. “Could you set up some dextrose saline with potassium while I find a vein?”
“Yes, of course, Doctor Leo.” She busied with the chart then rushed off to the clinical room to do as he’d asked.
Leo found a small intravenous needle and returned to the patient. After a couple of attempts, he had success with a delicate vein and was pleased when Sister Afua arrived and he could attach the fluid the woman needed. Her heart rate was rapid and she did indeed have a fever. But she had good abdominal sounds and although tired, was alert and knew where she was.
“She must have only sips of boiled water all day, nothing else, okay,” he said to Sister Afua. “No food at all, and the water really is just to keep her mouth comfortable. The drip will do the rehydrating.”
“Yes, I will put a sign on the bed.”
He washed his hands then moved to the next patient. It was a child with the same symptoms but not requiring intravenous fluids.
“Just boiled water,” Leo said. “Ask one of your nurses to keep the kettle going and then store the water so we have plenty if the electricity goes off. It doesn’t matter if it goes cold. But it must be boiled before anyone on this ward drinks it. And add the electrolyte replacement sachets to it, one per liter, for everyone with symptoms.”
“Yes, I understand.” Sister Afua nodded. Worry masked her features. “And the villagers?”
“The same. Boiled water only and hand out the sachets to anyone who is ill. Will they understand how to do that?”
“Yes, I will send one of my nurses out to check on the sick and administer the medication.”
“Good plan. People are better in their own homes, and besides, we are full now.”
She twisted her hands together. “What do you think it is?”
“I don’t think it’s cholera, more likely a bacterial infection, and I’m pretty sure they’ve all got the same thing.” He looked around at the pasty patients. One was vomiting into a bucket, another clutching a sick bowl beneath his chin. “But without lab work and microbiological diagnosis, it’s impossible to know for sure.” He sighed. “I know it’s hard with such basic facilities but it’s vital to maintain hand washing and cleanliness to prevent it spreading.”
“What about the patients that don’t have it? Shall we move them into the operating room?”
“Yes, you could fit several beds in there. Great idea.” He paused. “And pick just one nurse to look after them to reduce the risk of cross-contamination.” He would never have had to give that instruction back home, but here it was a breeding ground for bacteria and he couldn’t risk some of his already poorly patients contracting a vomiting bug on top of existing illnesses.
He moved along—another elderly lady requiring intravenous fluids. He was glad that he’d brought some with him and the cupboard was reasonably well stocked.
As he worked, the ward was a hive of activity. The few non-infected patients were transferred and another very sick man arrived. Leo went straight to him and administered intravenous analgesia for his stomach cramps, along with yet another drip.
By lunchtime he had everyone settled with medication, a few were sleeping and all were rehydrating. He washed his hands, yet again, and went to his room to grab one of the many bottles of water he’d brought with him.
As he wandered back across the village square, with the sun beating down on his head and shoulders, he racked his brains for the cause of the vomiting bug. He paused, dropped his shades to the bridge of his nose and looked around. A few chickens scrabbled for seeds and grain near the well, a dog lay sprawled in the shade and three children sat with their backs to a hut wall playing a game that involved throwing stones into the dust.
He walked toward the school building. He knew Malik wouldn’t be there, not today. He’d said he was busy. A fresh wave of both lust and disappointment wound its way through Leo. Thoughts of last night kept bombarding his memory. A small shiver shimmied over his skin and his cock grew a little heavy in his boxers.
But then he thought of how Malik had been with him that morning—the coolness of his greeting and the fast exit he’d made from Leo’s company.
He reached the school building, leaned his shoulder against one of the pillars that supported the roof and read the writing on the blackboard. It was the alphabet but each letter had a word and a roughly drawn picture next to it—A was ant, B was bucket, C was chicken and so on.
Leo liked seeing Malik’s handwriting. It was smooth and round, the circles large and the small tails of the letters flicked upward. He also liked how he’d used words for things the village children could identify with.
He pushed away from the frame and continued his walk. Several fires were burning with pots over them, heating water or food. There weren’t as many people as usual milling about and he supposed it was because of the sickness bug.
A skinny white goat bleated at him as he walked by, then a child ran up, wearing only shorts. “Sweets, Doctor. Sweets.”
Leo rec
ognized the young girl from the day of his arrival. She’d lost her top two teeth but he could see the new ones just starting to push down. “Not today,” he said with a smile. “But maybe tomorrow I will bring some.”
She gripped his hand. “Yes, tomorrow, please, tomorrow.”
“I will try.”
She skipped and clapped then ran off. “Yippee.”
“Doctor. Doctor.”
Leo spun at the panic in the female voice behind him. “Yes?”
A woman, wearing a raggy purple dress that hung from her thin frame, rushed toward him. She held a tiny baby to her chest. “My son, so sick.”
Leo studied the sleeping child in her arms. He seemed healthy enough. None of the kids here thrived, but this one was hydrated and calm. “Shall I take a look?” Leo asked, holding out his hands for the baby.
“No, not this one. This one is okay. My other son. Please, come quickly.” She turned, went into a hut that was similar to the one owned by Malik’s family and held back the bead curtain at the entrance.
Leo followed and the stale, hot air seeped up his nostrils.
“Here,” she said, indicating a sleeping child of about seven. “All night, sick, sick, sick.” She made a scooping action beneath her mouth.
Leo bent down, touched the child’s feverish head and was in no doubt that it was the same gastrointestinal infection.
The mother stooped also and pressed a wooden spoon with water on it to his mouth. “He will take only sips.”
“That’s good,” Leo said, gently palpating the child’s abdomen. “But I want you to go to the hospital, say I sent you and ask for medication to put in his water. And you must only give him water that you have boiled over your fire outside. Make sure it has bubbled for five minutes and then give him that when it’s cooled. Boiling it will kill any germs and be easier for his stomach.”
“Yes, I understand.” She sat on a cushion and put the babe to her breast. It snuffled for a moment then began to feed. She reached for a mug that smelled of something herbal, a bit like the drink Sister Afua had given him.
“How about this child?” Leo asked. “Any sickness?”
“No, we are fine. It is just Trake.”
“Your husband?”
“He is hunting. A week-long trip.”
“Okay, well wash everything separately for your sick son and your hands too, before touching one child and then the other and before you eat.”
“Yes, Doctor.”
Leo wasn’t sure if she would understand the basics of caring for an infectious person but he hoped she would. “Now go up to the hospital and ask for the medication for sickness. If Trake can keep that down and has only boiled water, no food, I think he will be feeling better tomorrow, but I will come and check on him.”
“Thank you, thank you.” She nodded vigorously. “You are very kind man.”
Leo smiled. “Just doing my job.”
He stepped outside again, pleased to be out of the pungent hut.
He carried on walking and found himself heading in the direction of Malik’s home. He wasn’t sure why. He was just drawn to it. He told himself he was simply checking on the villagers, making himself available to anyone who wanted him to examine a relative.
As he turned a corner, the mountain came into view. He paused for a moment to admire the mighty Kilimanjaro. The top held a small white frosting of snow and, almost as if it was balancing on the peak, a flat, plate-like cloud hovered.
Leo couldn’t imagine what it would be like to climb. Heights had never been his thing, but he’d like to overcome that and give it a go. He wondered if Malik had been to the summit. It was more than likely. Leo could imagine him stomping up and barely getting out of breath. His strong legs would power upward, making easy work of rocky paths and craggy steps. Leo thought of how Malik would look, standing on the top, wearing just his tatty jeans and boots, no top and his torso shimmering with sweat, seeming like a million diamonds had landed on his black skin. He’d hold his arms aloft, face to the sun, man conquering mountain in that dogmatic, determined way of his.
Fuck, his cock was tingling again.
That happened every time he thought of Malik and it seemed thoughts of Malik were never far away.
“Doctor Leo, what a nice surprise.”
“Oh, hello.” Leo drew his mind back to the present and realized he was right outside Malik’s house. His sister, Burta, was squatted before the fire and she stirred something that smelled familiar, something from home.
“How are you?” he asked. “Well?”
“I am okay but my parents have been sick.”
“Oh no, them too?”
“What do you mean?”
“Many of the villagers are sick. The hospital is full.”
“Is that why you’re here? You need Malik to come and work?”
He did need Malik, but it wasn’t to help in the hospital. It was to hold him, kiss him, tell him all the dark deeds he wanted to do with him then turn them into reality. “Er, yes. Is he inside?” Leo gestured at the hut.
“No. He has gone away.”
Chapter Thirteen
Leo felt as if a ton of rubble had been dumped into his gut. “Gone away?” he managed, though his throat was suddenly tight and dry. He didn’t want to believe it. “Where?”
Burta indicated the bush land beyond. “Setting traps.”
“When will…he be…back?” Leo tried to keep the anguish from his voice but it seemed some of the words had tripped over themselves.
She continued to stir the bubbling water then added a sprinkle of herbs to it. “He’s usually gone a few days when he goes to the canyon and back.”
“Canyon? Where is that?” It sounded miles away. Other than the mountain, Leo could just see flat land right out into the horizon from every direction. He couldn’t imagine where there would be a canyon.
“Half a day’s walk away,” Burta said, “and then he will have work to do when he’s there.”
“Work?”
“Yes, setting the traps. Sometimes he stays longer to see what he’s caught. Sometimes he comes home and then returns for his captures.”
“But, I mean…when did he go?”
“A few hours ago. He wants good meat for my parents, to make them feel better.”
Leo forced himself to stay quiet. He wanted to ask more questions. Where did Malik sleep? What happened if he had an accident all on his own out there? What did he do if a hungry, carnivorous animal came along? But he didn’t. He needed to play it cool, especially as Burta was studying him with a coy little smile.
She touched her cheek and her lips and let her gaze drop down the length of Leo’s body. “Would you like to drink with me?” she asked.
“I’m not thirsty, thank you, though it smells nice. What is it?” He needed to talk about something other than Malik before he could go back to the hospital. He had to make it seem as though he wasn’t dying inside at the thought of Malik not being in the village for a few days but out there, in the wild.
“It is made from ginger root. It is good for settling the stomach. I have been drinking it for years as my belly does not like the well water on its own.”
“Good idea. Oh, and I will send some medication for your parents. Add it to this tea and they should be improving within hours. It will replace the essential electrolytes their bodies need.”
“Yes. I will only let them drink this tea from now on. It is best for them.”
“I agree.” Leo stepped away from the small, knee-high mud wall which surrounded the entrance to the hut. “It was nice to see you, Burta.”
“I will tell Malik, when I see him, that you were here. But please, if you would like to join us for dinner again, we would love to have you.”
“Perhaps when everyone is well again.”
“Yes, that is sensible. Goodbye, Doctor Leo.”
He nodded and smiled then turned around. Gone.
Just like that, Malik had upped and headed off on walkabout�
�not even a goodbye or see you in a few days. And when the hospital was so busy, too, with this sickness.
Irritation plucked at Leo’s emotions. It seemed pretty irresponsible to just take off when there was so much to be done and his parents sick as well, though it was good that Burta was healthy and could take care of them. He’d have to make sure Salim brought them some rehydration sachets as soon as possible.
His feet felt heavy as he stomped back toward the village square, the sun relentless as it shone down. The dog had woken and wandered past, its movements lazy and its hipbones and spine visible through its skin.
Leo watched as it mooched over to a water-filled bowl by the well. It went to drink but just sniffed then strolled off.
He stopped and lifted his shades to the top of his head. He stared at the dog.
It sat and scratched its ear then continued on his languid journey.
The damn thing must be thirsty—it had been sleeping for ages. Why hadn’t it drunk anything?
The creak of the handle that pulled the pail from the bottom of the well sung through the air. A man was winding up water from the deep pit. The handle could’ve done with some oil on it.
A battered metal bucket appeared and the man sloshed water from the underground stream into a cooking pot then walked off.
Leo rushed to the well, put his hands on the wall around it and stared down into the darkness. He couldn’t see a thing after the first few feet. He gazed a little longer, wondering if his eyes would adjust but they didn’t—nothing but absolute blackness.
He pushed away, broke into a run and raced around the side of the hospital to his room. He rushed in, dashed for his travel bag and plucked a small pocket torch from the side compartment.
After abandoning his shades on the bed, he quickly locked his room then sprinted back toward the well.
“What are you doing?” Salim asked from behind a stack of laundry he was carrying.
“The well,” Leo called.
“The well?” Salim placed the laundry on a chair outside the hospital entrance and stared at Leo. “Why?”
