The Seven Days of Halloween : Stranded, Part 2

[avirra.livejournal.com]

Napoleon and Mark woke in unison to the pounding on their door, both reaching automatically for their weapons before hearing April's voice.

"Napoleon! Get up - something's very wrong with Illya!"

That was all that Napoleon needed to hear. Grabbing a blanket to cover himself, he wrapped it quickly and opened the door, following April down the stairs with Mark not far behind.

Napoleon hadn't looked into the parlor before, but it was a rather ornate room for an otherwise fairly rustic house. The couch Illya was laying on was made in a style that likely hadn't been popular since Queen Victoria sat the throne and the blood-red upholstery made Illya look ever paler than usual.

Settling down next to his partner, Napoleon frowned. Illya's breathing was shallow. Reaching up to touch the Russian forehead, his eyes widened. Touching Illya was like touching someone who had just come in from the cold even though he was in a warm room topped with a thick blanket and quilt.

A quick check of Illya's pulse showed it to be slow and steady - exactly what it should be for a peacefully sleeping man. That calmed Napoleon down a little, but Illya's sluggish response to attempts to wake him were concerning. They finally managed to get Illya sitting upright, but the effort was plainly exhausting for the Russian and his entire body was trembling.

Mark made the excuse of checking the weather and stepped onto the covered porch before pulling out his communicator pen. His hopes of calling for an evacuation to get Illya to a hospital were dashed when there was no signal at all. The rain was still falling without letup and he stood there and watched it coming down for a minute or two before going inside to give Napoleon the bad news.

---

Far closer than Mark would have been comfortable with knowing, a trio of THRUSH agents were slowly searching the area for signs of the four UNCLE agents. All were dressed in waterproof camouflage gear - and grumbling.

"The rain's washed away any tracks they might have left."

"Doesn't matter, Cerullo. We search until we find them. They couldn't have gotten too far. No vehicle, no foul weather gear and no supplies. And no houses for miles. We'll find them. Probably dead from exposure, but we'll find them. Becker? What the hell did you trip over?"

"There's something here under the mud, Mister Finmore. It's . . . hey, we're on the right track!"

"How do you figure that?"

"I tripped over a ladies shoe - it's bound to belong to that Dancer dame."

"And where we find Dancer, we'll find Solo, Kuryakin and Slate. Good work, Becker. Now that the broad's barefoot, that will have slowed them down even more."

---

Napoleon left April at Illya's side and found his way to the kitchen. The room was warm and steamy and the smell of some sort of meat filled the air. Mildred was wearing the same dress or at least a similar one to the one she had worn the night before. It was currently mostly covered by a large apron as she worked at the stove.

"I hope no one has objections to eating rabbit. It's one meat that I have plenty of."

"I'm sure we'll be fine with anything you make, Mildred."

At the distracted tone in Napoleon's voice, Mildred sat her wooden spoon down and turned around.

"You're worried about Illya, aren't you? It's a wonder you aren't all sick, as drenched and cold as you all got yesterday."

"I know, but . . . he's so cold."

Mildred indicated a small pot off to itself.

"I wish there was a doctor close enough to reach by foot, but since Doc Williams retired and moved away, the nearest one is a good twenty miles from here. I fixed my mother's remedy for him. It doesn't look nice and it smells pretty bad, but it works wonders. Three days treatment will knock out the dewy lung right out of him."

"Dewy lung?"

Reaching for the pot at the back of the stove, Mildred seemed embarrassed.

"Oh, I don't know the real name for it, but folks around here have always called it that. Doc Williams said it was caused by one of the trees in the area that puts out spores that some folks react badly to. They called it dewy lung because the spores only get released when there's a really heavy dew or it rains."

Watching her pour the liquid into a mug, Napoleon couldn't stop himself from grimacing. Whatever is was poured like a thin syrup and was the color of fresh blood. She was also right about the smell being unpleasant. Mildred gave him a sympathetic look as she offered him the mug.

"See if you can get him to drink it all. Don't worry about the smell bothering him. That's one way you know that it's dewy lung - he won't mind the smell one bit."

Not at all sure about her concoction, but unable to think of anything else to help his ailing partner, Napoleon took the mug and headed back to the parlor. Both April and Illya reacted as he came near with the mug, but Illya spoke first.

"Is that for me, Napoleon? It smells wonderful."

April's mouth dropped open at Illya's words, but Napoleon didn't comment.

"Yes. Mildred made it for you, tovarich. She said it would help perk you up."

Settled next to Illya, Napoleon helped steady the mug so Illya could take a drink. He feared that Illya would spit it back out, but Napoleon actually had to stop him from drinking it too quickly. By the time Illya drank all of it down, his trembling had stopped.

"Mildred was right, I feel better. I am still tired though. I did not sleep well last night."

They all turned at the voice at the door.

"We'll all have a hot lunch in about an hour. Why don't you take a little nap until then?"

"Thank you, Mildred. I believe that I will. And thank you as well for the . . . whatever that was."

"It's a little folk remedy my mother came up with. I wish I could say you'll keep feeling better, but you'll need a dose every morning until the sickness passes."

"We have put you to a great deal of trouble, but you are very kind."

April noticed Mildred's eyes seemed very bright for a moment. Surely she wasn't about to cry?

"It's been no trouble at all. I love this old house, but I do get so lonely here at times. I'm sorry that all of you had trouble, but having company is so nice."

Reaching out to touch Mildred's arm, April gave her a soft smile.

"Don't feel guilty about enjoying this, Mildred. It isn't as if you caused the landslide."

Napoleon felt his nerves jump. Had to have been a trick of the light, but he could have sworn that, just for a second, Mildred's eyes had flashed red.

Comments

My apologies

[avirra.livejournal.com]

I had this set to post for me, but between my setting it up and my checking on it, my cut went missing and my tags were altered. No idea how any of that happened, but I think I corrected everything. I chalking it up to LJ gremlins starting their Halloween pranking early.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Ohhh no, blood red concoctions, Mildred's eyes flashing red. EEEEeeeeek! Watch out Illya! Can't wait until tomorrow. Thanks for adding this to the Writer's Choice~ 7 Days of Halloween.

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

I think Mildred might have a history of enticing handsome blond men ;) This is enticingly creepy.

[avirra.livejournal.com]

Yep - our Russian lad does need to watch out *g*.

[avirra.livejournal.com]

Yay - hope I can keep the creep factor going with tomorrow's installment.

[lindafishes8.livejournal.com]

This is turning quite creepy. Glowing red eyes? She's got to be a witch.