Welcome To Red Cloud

Chapter Two - Fluke and Mercy

Someone was singing. It was an awful baritone, wheezing and spitting out the notes in a quiet but persistent rhythm. For a moment the threat of death loomed over me once more, but as my memories resurfaced, I knew this was no choir of angels welcoming me to another place. The heavy scent of tobacco was a further giveaway. I let my eyes flicker open onto the sight of a ramshackle wood ceiling, boarded and patched over so much that the original could not be discerned from the repairs. A groan fell from my lips, and the singing abated.

"You awake enough to speak this time?"

I ran my tongue around the inside of my mouth, sour and dry as it was. My throat ached like all Hell, but I pushed through it.

"I'm not rightly sure I've been awake until now, Sir."

It hardly sounded like me speaking, for the raspy squeaks and squawks were all my mangled voice could manage. Flashes of the hard hand on my neck gave my body a start. I sat bolt upright, a pair of ice-cold eyes came rushing to me, and the feel of being flipped to my side as I poured lakewater from my body. I shook my head, and the visions faded to the sight of an elderly man coming to my aid. He had a moustache that carried out into his thick mutton chops, but not much of the greying hair on his head remained. His hands were veined and liver-spotted where he took my shoulder in one and my face in the other.

"Open your mouth for me, son."

I didn't budge, eyeing his bushy brows as they clamped over his soft look.

"Son, I'm a doctor. I'm Doctor Christopher Franks. You're in Red Cloud, California, and you were pulled out of a shallow lake for fear of drownin'. Now please, open your mouth and let me see your throat's not prone to infectin'."

Beyond the old timer, there were rows of glass bottles with tinctures and liquids. I saw polished tools for prodding and poking at people, but there were clean linens too, and clothes airing on a wooden rack. My clothes. I looked down at a clean shirt over my aching chest, then back up into Doc Franks's waiting expression. I opened up and let him see what he wanted.

"Thank you kindly."

He turned my head to and fro, tipping me back and forth to observe the inner workings of my breathing. This close, I realised it was the doctor who reeked of heavy smoke, and the scent made me cough right in his face. When he recoiled, I clapped a hand to my mouth, squeaking out an apology. But the old man waved his hand.

"You're not the worst to come in here of a winter's day, son. You'll be screeching like a bird for a day or so, but take it easy on the vocals and you'll come right soon. I'll fetch up some honey and oils for you."

My hands dropped to hold my throat as the doctor stepped away. He went to his rows of jars and started picking along the shelf, and from that distance I saw he was a stooped man with one shoulder a little higher than the other. But his clothes fitted him well and they were free of tears, and all together more respectable than I might have expected from a place like this. Something warm rose in my chest as I shuffled to get more comfortable against the bed's metal headboard. I had made it to Red Cloud, one way or the other.

"Where's my jacket?" I pushed out the words, eyes racing back to the clothes rack. "It was on the rock before that b-b-b-"

I couldn't get the curse out to call the driver what I wanted to, descending into a cough instead. Doc Franks returned with an open jar and a small spoon. I saw the golden liquid within, and let him spoon me a dollop to swallow.

"Slow now. Let the honey coat it."

I nodded, letting the sweetness linger. The doctor seated himself at the end of my bed, glancing back to my clothes a moment.