The Substitutes: Contract

The Poison Suffered Silently

Time moved in fits and starts. When his eyes opened it was only in fractions, enough to see whoever had stepped on a loose floorboard and interrupted his sleep. His mother mostly, frantic worry at his sudden illness imploring her to check up on him at each jump from left to right of shadows along the walls. One time he caught a glimpse of Sara at the door, complaining to someone out of sight before she was pulled away to join them. There was little distinction between his dreams and the waking world, as he felt terrible in both of them. Awake he was aware of the cloying waves of sweat he'd soaked himself in to keep the slightly-too-warm warmth that engulfed him all around in his blanket cocoon from burning him up, the longing groan of his empty stomach and the cracked dryness on his lips. Sleep was anything but restful, with soulless alien eyes and the ever-present drone of buzzing wings and drumming legs chasing him through forests without end, until he could run no more and was dragged down into pits of formless hungry mouths ready to tear him to shreds. After the fifth such nightmare, he began fighting against his constraints, but his weak kicks failed to dislodge his tightly wrapped cotton prison.

"Easy Sam, easy. You're nearly over the worst of it. The fever is burning out and the paralytic long gone. No need to do yourself a mischief now."

"Kyu?"

"Who else?"

Sam's silted vision found a shadow of Kyu beside him, tails bunched up into one bush and gem-eyes running white lines of a language he didn't understand.

"Who else would know the nature of your aliment and have the means to concoct an antivenom to cure it? Who else is confined to this room with you for fear of being captured? Who else would put up with such a stubborn brat who refuses to admit when he's been hurt out of pride?"

"Not... pride. Ig... ig... didn't know."

Speaking was a chore, words taking an age to come out thanks to the gummy mess his mouth had become. If Kyu's antivenom had involved filling his cheeks with treacle Sam wouldn't have been surprised in the slightest.

"Do you require water?"

"Please."

"Can you sit?"

He couldn't, but with the covers loosened he could at least prop himself up enough not to drown from the cup that floated up to meet him.

"What... happened?"

"Like I said, you went and got yourself stung and neglected to inform me, then passed out in the middle of our spear discussion. You've been running a thirty-eight-degree fever and bobbing in and out of consciousness for thirty-three hours, twelve minutes and forty-six seconds, a time span decimated by my application of a counter-measure. Said counter-measure also kept your organs from seizing up and failing from the initial poisoning. You're free to heap gratitude upon me any time now."

"Yeah... thanks."

The fever might have burnt out but the toll it had taken from him had yet to be recovered, even after thirty-odd hours of broken sleep. The world was as shifty as it had been when he'd collapsed, and adjusting his limbs was like trying to move stone pillars.

"You'd better, and not just for this. While you were taking your extended nap I took the opportunity to start work on and complete the Kyubrune Insect-Derived Armament for Earthly Defence, Mark One."

"What?"

"The spear, I've finished the spear."

"Oh. Good show."

There was an irritated rustling in the dark.

"That's it? I save your life and present a new weapon, and all I get is 'good show'?"