*
Several hours later, Barsch slumped back in his chair, exhausted. Kingston had made good on his promise, and had focused whole-heartedly on showing him his real ability. Barsch had fought battle after battle, watching piece after piece fall to the suddenly dextrous hermit. In the end, Barsch had managed a meagre five victories, but Kingston had congratulated him on each one.
Eventually, they reached a point where they were both too mentally drained to play another move, and so decided to retire from the game. As Barsch lay there, mind numb and body limp, Kingston began gathering a strange assortment of items. Two large, metal basins; an old, iron kettle from beside the stove; and a handful of herbs from a clay pot by the door. When Barsch inquired as to the purpose of the items, Kingston had said, with a mischievous grin, “Just watch and see…”
A few minutes later he returned to the kitchen carrying a large plastic container, filled to the brim with filtered water. Filling the kettle, he placed it on the stove, where it soon began to whistle. Outside, the constant sound of rain reminded Barsch of his forthcoming journey, and for the first time, he wished that the rain would continue on for a little longer.
After a while, Kingston lifted the kettle from the stovetop, and poured the boiling water into the two metal basins. He then threw generous amounts of herbs into both, before stirring the mixture with a wooden ladle. He then placed one of the basins near Barsch’s feet, before moving the other to his chair. When the water had cooled enough, he instructed Barsch to put both feet in the water, which he did, after a slight hesitation.
Immediately, Barsch felt the warmth begin to creep up his legs, and simultaneously he felt the fatigue start to drain from his back. Without even realising, he had begun sliding down the chair, in an attempt to submerge more of his limbs in the miraculous water.
“Aah…” Barsch whispered, feeling the knots in his body slowly unravel.
“What do you think?” asked Kingston, with an expression that mirrored Barsch’s.
“It’s… heavenly…”
“I’m glad you like it.”
“Like it? I want to marry it!” replied Barsch, with a chuckle.
They spent the next few minutes in silence, enjoying the wonderful effects of the herbs and hot water. The only noise was that of the raindrops, striking the thatch in a pointless effort to break through.
“Hmm… is it just me, or is the rain letting up?” said Kingston suddenly, as he looked at the roof.
He was right, Barsch soon discovered, as he focused his senses skyward. Compared to the intensity heard earlier, these droplets were barely registering.
“By the sound of it, the rain should stop tonight or early tomorrow, so you’ll finally be able to return to your Station…”
“Kingston, what if I sta-
A sudden bout of lightning drowned out the rest of his words, and his courage.
Once the silence had returned, he continued, “Yeah, but it’s not like I have to re-enter my pod immediately, right? We should probably spend some time looking at the system, you know, making sure that whatever woke me up doesn’t reappear…”
Silence was his only answer, which Barsch at first attributed to Kingston’s disappointment. However, when he looked over, he saw that the old hermit had not chosen to answer for an altogether different reason. Kingston was doubled over, clutching his chest and wheezing heavily.
“Kingston! What’s wrong?” cried Barsch, standing up and sending the metal basin flying. He immediately rushed to the hermit’s side, but he knew that there was little he could do for him.
“Need… my medicine… jar… in my bedroom…” wheezed Kingston, as tears streaked down his wrinkled skin. He was obviously in a great deal of pain, and Barsch wasted no time leaping down the hallway. He barged through the doorway, not caring if he injured the sleeping girl in his haste. With frantic eyes he searched the room, his mind ablaze with images of Kingston’s tortured face. He would not let the old man die. He could not be responsible for another death, it would break him beyond repair…
“There!” On the bedside cupboard, mere inches away from the girl’s face, was an almost empty jar of bluish-black liquid. Grabbing the jar, he hurried back to the kitchen, half-fearing that he was too late.
“Bar…sch…” Kingston’s wheezes were growing fainter, and his eyes were now staring blankly at the ceiling. Barsch skidded to a halt beside his friend, thrusting the jar of medicine into his trembling hands. Kingston then pointed at the water container, signalling to Barsch to fetch it. After he did so, Barsch watched as Kingston poured out a large dose of medicine, mixing it with the water to create a drinkable remedy. Barsch could only stand and watch as the aged hermit raised the concoction to his cracked lips and drink deeply, spluttering and spilling with every breath.
Minutes passed with no change, and then, just as they had appeared, Kingston’s symptoms vanished. He lay there, chest heaving and tears drying, while Barsch slowly slumped to the floor, his strength gone.
A few more minutes passed in the silent room, before Barsch worked up the courage to say, “Kingston, tell me the truth… you’re sick, aren’t you?”
Kingston said nothing, but nodded sadly. A moment later, he placed the almost empty jar of medicine on the kitchen floor, and spoke, “In the beginning, my body was strong enough to fight off the effects of the pollution; but over the years, as I grew weaker and the pollution got worse, I found myself succumbing to it. Thankfully, during my youth I had acquired a rather special medicine, one which could halt the sickness for a time. At first, I only required a tiny amount every month or so, but lately, if I don’t take it every week… well, you saw what happens…”
“Is there no cure? Perhaps if you took enough of the medicine?”
“I’m sorry m’boy, but if I did that, I would run the risk of letting my body build up an immunity, and besides, I had to raid every medical clinic in the surrounding area just to make a jar-full.”
Barsch looked down at the jar in his hands, noting how light it was. “But, the jar is almost empty now, how are you going to get more?”
“Don’t worry about that m’boy, I still have enough for a few weeks, and if I ration it, I could make it last longer. Once you and the girl are back in your pods, I’ll travel to one of the further med stations and re-stock. So, please don’t trouble yourself over my health.”
“But-
“And now, I think it’s time I turned it for the night. It’s going to be a long journey tomorrow, and you need your rest.”
With that, Kingston stood and left, taking the nearly empty jar with him. Barsch sat there -in the empty room- for a few minutes. He thought about how kind Kingston had been, and how selfish he must have seemed, but above all, he thought about returning to his pod. Somehow, what had once been a warm and hopeful thought had become a cowardly one; as he could not help but picture Kingston, sitting alone in his hut, with no one to tell his last words to.
Standing, Barsch made up his mind. He would go to Genesis Station 13, and, if he could find a way inside, he would return for Kingston. Even if he had to bind him with rope and drag him back to the Station, Barsch would do it. He would endure any abuse, any curse, if it meant finding a way to prolong his caretaker’s life. Kingston may hate him for it, but he would be alive to do so, and to Barsch, that was a price worth paying.
Returning to his room, Barsch quickly readied himself for bed, making sure to neatly fold his new clothes -his precious gift- before slipping into bed and letting the darkness take him…
Awakening Page 19