“I do remember something,” said Hezekiah. “Before I was placed in that mirror, I tried to help my neighbors after a hurricane. Many crops were ruined and the food had been contaminated by something in the soil.”
“Something in the soil?” frowned Riley.
“Yes. No one knew what it was but it was making people sick. They were told to burn any crops that were struck by the storm,” said Hezekiah.
“What year was that?” asked Jeremy.
“Well, let’s see. I died around 1831, so maybe 1830. Remember, I was a doctor and I was one of those that recommended destroying all the crops. It wasn’t a popular opinion. Farmers were losing a lot of money, especially those with sugar, cotton, and rice.”
“Do you think a bacteria or fungus was pushed through here with the hurricane?” asked Ajei.
“I suppose that’s possible. We didn’t know much about those things at that time but I’ve been able to learn things through the years, even stuck in that mirror,” he grinned.
“Okay,” nodded Quentin. “I guess we’ve got more work to do.”
Ajei nodded, frowning at the table of medical professionals.
“Indeed we do.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Harmon’s week away to relax wasn’t starting out like he’d planned. The cabin roof was leaking and more rain was coming. Even if that weren’t true, it was freezing outside and he had to get it fixed or he’d be miserable all week.
He bundled up, hoping to stave off the cold, biting winds. He was already chilled to the bone in spite of the fireplace roaring. He didn’t want to turn the heat on until the leak and hole in the roof were fixed. During one of the many storms, a large branch had gone straight through the living room roof.
Most of the folks in the area would use a cheap tar product to hold the shingles in place but Harmon had a better alternative. And it was free. It was something he’d discovered years ago.
At first, he thought it was oil on his property. He was very disappointed to learn it was nothing more than an unusual natural substance. Nothing special.
After replacing the damaged wood, he laid down the tar paper that would seal the spot once again. Then, grateful that he’d kept the excess shingles from the last repair, he used the sticky, mud-like substance that was plentiful in his own backyard and secured them to the roof.
It took him nearly all day but it was worth it in the end. The roof was solid and waterproof once again. Inside was dry, warm and Harmon couldn’t have been happier. It was too late to fish or hunt today, but the reality was he needed sleep and a hot meal.
Mixing the stew he’d brought with him, he heated it on the small stove and enjoyed the warmth in his belly. Feeling that wave of dizziness sweep over him once again, he lay back down on the sofa and closed his eyes.
“Maybe I’m just gettin’ too old for all of this,” he mumbled to himself.
This was the place Harmon came to not feel sorry for himself. When he and Shirley were married, sometimes she would choose to come out here with him and just sit and read or sew. Other times she would tell him to come by himself and enjoy. They were a great pair until her death.
Since that time, he’d focused on working and building a life for himself. When he was able, he bought this little patch of land connected to the cabin.
At first, it was just a flat piece of ground that he’d come upon while fishing and hunting with a friend who lived nearby. Then he noticed beneath the overgrown trees that there was a cabin and looked to once have been a greenhouse.
Later, he built a long pier with a covered boat dock so that he could stay outside even in bad weather. He’d often sleep on his little boat, out under the stars.
When it was raining, it was his favorite thing in the world. He’d hear the rain hitting the metal roof and it would literally rock him to sleep. About ten years back, he had enough money to fix up the little cabin in the bayou.
It was a painstaking process, just making sure it was up on pillars to ensure it didn’t flood. He started with just the one room, then added another each year, ending in an open space that was technically three rooms. He had a nice sized living and kitchen area, a small sleeping area, and a bathroom with a shower.
Any woman who saw it would probably go running in the opposite direction. But Harmon knew that any man would consider it paradise.
This time of year was his favorite for coming out to the cabin. It was quiet, cold, and most of the snakes were asleep due to the low temperatures.
He heard the sound of a small motor outside and stepped out onto the porch to see his closest neighbor pulling in.
“Micah! How are you, brother?” he laughed.
“Oh, not so good, Harm,” he said coughing in between his words. “I’m sick as a dog. Headed into town to see a doctor now. Mack died just last week from whatever this is.”
