“We’re here.” Doc Mia stopped and pulled an iron key from her pocket which she fitted into a lock on a heavy wooden door.
Sam helped him across the threshold and to a table covered with a cloth in the middle of the room. Solomon turned so that he could sit on it, and closed his eyes.
“Almost done, but don’t go to sleep yet,” Mia said. “Let’s get you the rest of the way up there, first.”
Solomon could have told her that he wasn’t going to sleep. Instead, he let her and Sam help his legs up onto the table and lay back. The fuzziness in his head retreated now that he was lying somewhere other than on dirt or stone.
“First thing is the bites,” Doc Mia muttered, speaking more to herself than Solomon.
“Can you help him?” Sam asked.
“I hope so. You did good, Sam, getting me like that. Sorry for snapping at you.”
Solomon opened his eyes to see Sam’s weathered face beaming. He reached out his broken hand.
“Thanks,” Solomon said.
Sam blushed and turned away. “Like I said, it’ll be all right.”
“In a while maybe, but right now, I’m afraid this is going to hurt.” Doc Mia looked him over. “I don’t have anything left to numb the pain or put you to sleep. Most of that stuff got stolen long ago. Hope you’re up for this.”
“Don’t think I have much choice.” Solomon tried to smile through his swollen lips. “Do what you need to. I’ll live.”
“I hope so,” she said, and started.
She walked to a locked cabinet, took out yet another key from her pocket and opened it. From within, she took another key, then walked to the other wall.
“Make sure no one is watching, Sam,” she said.
Sam went to the lone window and peered out. “All clear.”
Doc Mia bent down and pushed aside a small bookshelf containing old, musty volumes. It moved easily enough and behind it was another cabinet built into the wall. She unlocked that one with the key from the first cabinet and removed several items, including a large, wicked-looking knife.
“This is all that’s left,” she explained, coming back to Solomon’s side. “Everything else someone broke in and took. Most of it was useless to anyone else, but everyone thinks that just because something is medical it must be worth a lot.”
As she spoke, she slit Solomon’s pantleg, starting at the bottom and sliding the knife up in a smooth, expert stroke.
“Can you turn over?” she asked.
It took some doing, but finally Solomon lay on his stomach.
“Got you right behind the knee. What’d you do, kick at one of them or something?”
“Exactly,” Solomon replied.
“That was stupid.”
“Thought it would run away.”
“Not plague-rats. Damn things are nasty. Don’t you know that?”
“No, I’m not from… aaaaaaahhhh!”
There was a sudden line of fire on the back of his leg, from his thigh down to his calf.
“Sorry,” the doctor said. “Got to relieve the swelling and it’s the only way I know how.”
Solomon could feel hot blood running from his leg and pooling beneath him.
“Sam, go over to that wall cabinet, the one with the glass doors. There’s a bottle in there. Top shelf. No, the other one. Yeah, that’s it. Bring it over here.”
“It’s empty,” Sam said.
“Nope, just looks that way.”
Solomon turned his head. The Doc held a bottle that did indeed appear to be empty. She pulled the cork and tipped it. For a moment, nothing came out, then a heavy, viscous, drop slowly appeared.
“This stuff should help. Made it myself.”
“What is it?” Solomon asked.
“Not really sure. The Mar-trollid gave me some plants and herbs the last time they came through. It’s made from that. Don’t ask me how they make a clear liquid, but if I mix it right, they do.”
“Let me guess. A young female named Yag-Morah gave them to you.”
“She did.” The Doc moved back out of his sight, and he felt the liquid hit the cut in the back of his leg. The sensation of being burned flared up again and he tensed every muscle in his body. After a moment, the feeling started to change and become cooling.
“Do you know her?”
Solomon realized that Doc Mia’s questions were meant to distract him. He glanced back and saw her threading a large curved needle. He put his head down, knowing what was coming.
“I’ve met her and her father. Plague-rats?” he asked.
“Mmm. Like I said. Nasty things. They showed up a couple of years ago, before the Minister disappeared. They mostly stay outside the walls now, but for a while, they were all over the city. They don’t run like normal rats when they’re threatened, and every bite does exactly what yours did. They get infected and grow worse over time. If they’re not treated within a couple of days, it’s too late.”
“What drove them out?” He gritted his teeth against the sting of the needle and the feeling of the thread sliding through the hole.
“I’m not sure that anything did. One day, they were gone and those other things, the weird people in the bright clothes showed up instead.”
“Haven’t heard of those,” he said.
“That’s why I dragged you into my hiding place,” Old Sam put in. “If they catch you, they take you. I didn’t want to see that happen to you.”
“Take you where? Geesh, are you almost done?”
“No one knows,” Doc Mia said, “and yes. Hang in there.” She sighed. “The whole town has changed. People used to be kind, for the most part. You know, like anywhere else. Now… well, people like Old Sam here are rare.”
“And you,” Sam said.
