“I want to get ye some help, but I cannae do it unless we get outside,” she told him. “Can ye walk that far?”
Boyce offered a noncommittal grunt which Aila opted to take as assent. Forcing him into a seated position, she slung one arm over her shoulder and heaved him up. He swayed on his feet, and they lurched sideways until by sheer force of will, she held him upright.
“Standing is gi’ing me the boak.”
“I ken. I’m sorry.” They stumbled a few steps forward and she paused to get a better grip on him. “Those stairs are going to be a real bitch, but let’s do this thing, aye?”
His response was somewhere between a groan and a chuckle. “Ye’re a good lass. Caring and generous. I’m so glad to have met ye.”
“Och, sir, this isnae the end of it. Come on then.”
He helped as much as he could. His knees buckled by the time they reached the bottom. Hers weren’t far behind. “A wee bit further. Outside. Around the corner should do it.”
They staggered out the door like two drunkards on a bender. She hauled him around the side of the house and propped him up against it before she thought better of it and helped lower him to the ground. He looked even worse in broad daylight. Aila was afraid he wasn’t wrong about not having much life left in him. She had to hurry.
“Rabbie? Rab, come here, lad!”
Where had he gone? Swearing under her breath, Aila pulled the time machine out of her pocket and marked the time. Give or take a few seconds, she’d be back to get him before he even knew she was gone.
And then that would be that, no matter what Brontë or Donell had to say about it.
* * *
The present
Glasgow, Scotland
Gah, she hated hospitals. The sterile misery. The wait. It had been years since she stepped foot in one, not since her mother died. Boyce had slipped into unconsciousness not long after she shoved him into the backseat of her car. She’d taken him to the nearest medical facility, a clinic in Inveraray, only to discover they offered limited resources. They’d offered to call up an ambulance to transfer him. Knowing it would be quicker, she’d driven him herself. She’d been at the medical center in Glasgow for more than an hour now, bound in knee-bouncing jitters awaiting news on Boyce’s condition.
“Miss Marshall?”
Aila jumped to her feet when an attendant holding a clipboard called her name. “How is he?”
“The doctor would like to speak with you.”
That bad. Jaw tight, she followed the attendant through a maze of stark hallways under flickering fluorescent lights until she was abandoned in front of a daunting beige door with a simple placard attached at eye level that readDoctor Doom.
All right, they’d spelled it Duhum, but the message was clear enough to Aila. Good news did not await her behind this door.
A single knock and she was invited in. Doom…Duhum…wasn’t one to soften a blow. With a brief greeting, he got right to it. “I’ll be honest with you, Miss Marshall,” the ominously mild man said as he adjusted his glasses. “Your father is in critical condition. We’ve done what we can to make him comfortable. I’m sorry, but I’m afraid he hasn’t got long.”
Not what she wanted to hear. Was this doctor even old enough to have finished medical school? Look at those loafers! Not a scuff on them. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Radiation poisoning.”
“Radiation poisoning?” she repeated.
“Aye, that’s why I wanted to speak with you. It makes no sense.”
Actually, it made perfect sense. The vomiting, the trots…fever, fatigue, and — thinking back to that moment she’d seen him abed earlier — hair loss. It was just like when her mother had gone through chemo. Every symptom, only worse.
“There’s medicine to help him, aye?” Her mother had a battery of medicines to take subsequent to each round.
“I’m afraid it’s gone beyond medication.” The doctor stared at her with such a bland expression that Aila had to wonder if they taught that in medical school, too. “I wanted to speak with you to determine how he could have been exposed to high enough levels of radiation to result in such a dire condition.”
Good bloody question.
Aila thought about the other people who were sick in the village. Gah! Niall and Effie, too. How had they been exposed to radiation while others weren’t? Why had Boyce suffered more than any of them? She’d assumed the illness ravaging the village had been a random occurrence, but this wasn’t something that occurred naturally…or was it? Had she missed something she was meant to find? Was it possible that it was connected to Boyce specifically? And hence, the treasure?
